malaysian naturalist, january 2015
Text by Ezanor MK, Image by Sze Ming Hui
I’M STRUGGLING to get into my wetsuit. Pulling, twisting this way and that, trying to catch the strap attached to the back zipper to enclose myself in this tight neoprene suit, I wonder why I am punishing myself so.
I’m on Tioman Island, on one of my usual jaunts to this gem off the south-eastern coast of Peninsular Malaysia, and I am gearing up to drop down to its marine-life-rich depths. Dotted around the island, these dive sites continue to draw tourists from around the globe.
And as I heave all the equipment I need to survive in this, the most foreign of worlds that is closest to us, again I hear the refrain: Why are you doing this?
I mean, all I can see when I dive is a whole universe of beautiful wonders. Outcrops of rock five storeys high covered in corals, for instance, with a variety of fishes darting in and out like they’re playing tag. There among these colossi are two slabs tilted against each other, creating a tunnel underneath, where strong fish swim madly against the current to get to the good times on the other side. If I go around the corner I might, for example, spot a blue-spotted stingray, or – with breath drawn in amazement – its cartilaginous brethren, the blacktip reef shark.
What of it? It’s only the home of turtles, cuttlefish, lobsters, giant clams, eels, fish – all things big and small, really – in an element that is completely alien to me. I’m burdened with a tank of compressed air so that I can breathe, and a jacket that can be filled with or emptied of air, to go up or down. And with a mask to be able to see clearly, and fins to help propel me along, I can only traverse this universe any which way I like. Sometimes I glide along sedately with the current, other times I twist and turn as if I were a playful seal, and when there is plenty of space I might even do somersaults.
It’s all too much, however. If you haven’t taken it up, my advice would be: Don’t do it. It’s just too difficult.
I’m on Tioman Island, on one of my usual jaunts to this gem off the south-eastern coast of Peninsular Malaysia, and I am gearing up to drop down to its marine-life-rich depths. Dotted around the island, these dive sites continue to draw tourists from around the globe.
And as I heave all the equipment I need to survive in this, the most foreign of worlds that is closest to us, again I hear the refrain: Why are you doing this?
I mean, all I can see when I dive is a whole universe of beautiful wonders. Outcrops of rock five storeys high covered in corals, for instance, with a variety of fishes darting in and out like they’re playing tag. There among these colossi are two slabs tilted against each other, creating a tunnel underneath, where strong fish swim madly against the current to get to the good times on the other side. If I go around the corner I might, for example, spot a blue-spotted stingray, or – with breath drawn in amazement – its cartilaginous brethren, the blacktip reef shark.
What of it? It’s only the home of turtles, cuttlefish, lobsters, giant clams, eels, fish – all things big and small, really – in an element that is completely alien to me. I’m burdened with a tank of compressed air so that I can breathe, and a jacket that can be filled with or emptied of air, to go up or down. And with a mask to be able to see clearly, and fins to help propel me along, I can only traverse this universe any which way I like. Sometimes I glide along sedately with the current, other times I twist and turn as if I were a playful seal, and when there is plenty of space I might even do somersaults.
It’s all too much, however. If you haven’t taken it up, my advice would be: Don’t do it. It’s just too difficult.
Scuba diving is hard, because when you’ve seen a shark gliding effortlessly and majestically through the water with only the slightest flick of its vertical tail, it hurts when you see pictures of the creatures captured and killed only to feed the market for their fins.
Diving is impossible. Think about it: you can see turtles swimming unconcernedly in front of you, heading towards their favourite eatery in the nearby reef. Yet you know that turtles do mistake human garbage, specifically plastic bags, for its favourite jellyfish snack, and this will kill them, slowly, from the inside.
It’s bothersome, because when you’re in the water while blast-fishing is going on, you wonder if you, too, might be stunned or killed, along with the myriad of marine species not specifically targeted by these fishermen, and which are not going to be harvested anyway. You, with them, might just become collateral damage.
It’s a truly untenable pursuit. See that clown fish over there protecting its little home among the anemones? It’s going to be completely wiped out the next time a barge, well, barges through the reef in an unregulated trip to drop supplies the closest it can to its destination.
How hard can it be, you wonder? Well, that vibrant swathe of corals you see now could be obliterated come your next visit. Due to stress from changes in the sea water, from the climate or man-made pollutants, including certain types of sunscreen, the corals expel the symbiotic algae living within their tissue that gives them colour, thus bleaching them. This will be disastrous if they cannot then generate nutrients and energy to survive, and as a result, marine life that feed on or around and shelter within corals will migrate, and all you have left is a sea bed of “it used to be so beautiful here”.
Why make it tough on yourself? Heard about a pod of wild dolphins jumping and playing in the wake of divers’ boat? In Malaysian waters, no less? Oh well, you can see that on TV. Or read about it in books. There’s always stuff you can find on the Internet. It’s the same with all kinds of animals on this planet – either they’re in zoos or exhibited in museums, as skeletons or stuffed, when they go extinct. No big deal.
Diving is too much of a hassle, really. Making friends with people from all over the world, merely because you have a common interest? Nah. Travelling to places you would never have considered before, just for the sake of seeing an untouched volcanic outcrop, hundreds of metres deep, teeming with marine life? Yawn.
You want to help keep these marvels alive for the sake of future generations, so that they can continue to cherish the Earth and its treasures? Why bother, right? They won’t know what they’re missing.
Ignorance is bliss. So no, don’t scuba dive – unless you’re willing to open your hearts and minds to the wonders of the ocean, and care about what happens to them.
Diving is impossible. Think about it: you can see turtles swimming unconcernedly in front of you, heading towards their favourite eatery in the nearby reef. Yet you know that turtles do mistake human garbage, specifically plastic bags, for its favourite jellyfish snack, and this will kill them, slowly, from the inside.
It’s bothersome, because when you’re in the water while blast-fishing is going on, you wonder if you, too, might be stunned or killed, along with the myriad of marine species not specifically targeted by these fishermen, and which are not going to be harvested anyway. You, with them, might just become collateral damage.
It’s a truly untenable pursuit. See that clown fish over there protecting its little home among the anemones? It’s going to be completely wiped out the next time a barge, well, barges through the reef in an unregulated trip to drop supplies the closest it can to its destination.
How hard can it be, you wonder? Well, that vibrant swathe of corals you see now could be obliterated come your next visit. Due to stress from changes in the sea water, from the climate or man-made pollutants, including certain types of sunscreen, the corals expel the symbiotic algae living within their tissue that gives them colour, thus bleaching them. This will be disastrous if they cannot then generate nutrients and energy to survive, and as a result, marine life that feed on or around and shelter within corals will migrate, and all you have left is a sea bed of “it used to be so beautiful here”.
Why make it tough on yourself? Heard about a pod of wild dolphins jumping and playing in the wake of divers’ boat? In Malaysian waters, no less? Oh well, you can see that on TV. Or read about it in books. There’s always stuff you can find on the Internet. It’s the same with all kinds of animals on this planet – either they’re in zoos or exhibited in museums, as skeletons or stuffed, when they go extinct. No big deal.
Diving is too much of a hassle, really. Making friends with people from all over the world, merely because you have a common interest? Nah. Travelling to places you would never have considered before, just for the sake of seeing an untouched volcanic outcrop, hundreds of metres deep, teeming with marine life? Yawn.
You want to help keep these marvels alive for the sake of future generations, so that they can continue to cherish the Earth and its treasures? Why bother, right? They won’t know what they’re missing.
Ignorance is bliss. So no, don’t scuba dive – unless you’re willing to open your hearts and minds to the wonders of the ocean, and care about what happens to them.