The Fever Trail: Goodwill Hunting in Sumatra

The monkey hunter. Scott Bass

The interior of the uma was dark and smoke-stained from generations of open cookfires. The skulls of pigs and monkeys hung grinning from the beams, honoring the animals so that the uma would be blessed with their spirits and meat.

Around sunset one of the Sikerei trucked in a struggling pig on his back. It was bound with a single twisted palm frond. We watched in hushed stunned silence as the pig was prepared for sacrifice. The shaman assured the pig that although its body was required to honor the uma’s guests, its spirit would be well taken care of. The pig didn’t seem convinced.

The pig was efficiently dispatched with a large knife to its jugular and bled into a large wok. Within minutes the shamans eviscerated the pig and its still-pulsing heart was examined closely for portentous omens.

That evening, as the cooked pig was being divvied up and stored in fresh bamboo, the Sikerei began a long low singing chant. At first no one paid much attention except us; women gossiping, kids giggling, babies crying. By the middle of the second song cycle, however, everyone had quieted down and synched into the shaman’s vibe.

Shortly after midnight the shamans performed their sacred circular dances. Each dance — the Bird Dance, the Monkey Dance, the Chicken Dance — was a slight variation on a common shuffling step performed with nothing more than a cowbell, a small snakeskin drum and their bare feet stamping out a lively beat on the rattling wood floors. With each dance the shaman would channel the persona of the animal to honor its spirit.

We applauded and let out big surfer hoots.

As a gift for the uma, Rasta played his Swiss-made “hang” drum that he carries with him everywhere. The hang resembles two woks welded together and by tapping lightly on the drum, Dave produced beautiful doubled beats that slid effortlessly across a tuned harmonic scale. The clan crowded round and laughed excitedly. They instinctively understood the power of a sacred drum.

“It was amazing…we had thunder and lighting and the whirring of all the insects all around us,” recalled Rastovich, who’d meticulously recorded the Sikerei chants. “You could hear pigs rooting under the house, chickens cackling in the trees. The smells were so organic — rich and thick. It put me in another realm. We could have shot that same scene a couple thousand years ago. Timeless, really.”

“SurfAid, the fledgling surfer-run NGO, is lurching down a short runway, suffering from chronic underfunding and burnout. The situation is past dire. It’s ludicrous. They could likely be gone by the end of the year. But they just might pull it off. And in trying to save the world, or at least a small part of it, they just might salvage surfing's lost soul.” —Author’s log note, enroute to Padang via ferry, Mentawai Straits, June 15, 2002

Strider casually strides into a nice cutty. Scott Bass

Back on Midas, shortly before sunset, I watched Julian ferry Conan back from surfing to the little reef break with the Katiet grommets. We’ve been to Lance’s three times now, and each time seen a small crew of young village kids surfing a short shallow inside break just south of us. They rode a collection of crudely patched boards with a gawky no-fear style and their little asses falling out of threadbare boardshorts.

“That was so fun,” says Conan as he stepped dripping onto the fantail. “I started yelling go-go-go! to this one little grom and pretty soon everybody was yelling: ‘go-go-go!’ Those kids are so stoked!”

Up topsides, I resume my interview with Dr. Dave Jenkins. He is looking relaxed and fit after a day out surfing with a crew of SurfAid supporters aboard Martin Daly’s Indies Trader III.

The last time we talked like this was over two years ago in a rudimentary beach camp near E-Bay where Dave and a small crew of doctors and volunteers had pitched up after a day treating and distributing mosquito nets to the Taileleu villagers. Back then, Dave was still running MASH-style malaria clinics upriver by long canoe. It was a pretty seat-of-the-pants operation. Dave and crew would show up for the day, hand out mosquito nets and various vaccinations, then push off and hope for the best.

Two years ago, Dave and his small crew were fighting for their financial survival. The surf industry had yet to get the message, many refused to even listen. Key personnel hadn’t been paid in months and were dropping out. Dave even took a day job as a ski-resort medic in New Zealand for a few months to patch things over to the next season.

“We were weeks away from locking up the office,” admits Dave.

However, Dave and a core group hung on. Early in 2003, SurfAid USA was established to lobby the U.S. surf industry. Some key contacts were made.

Thanks to Santiago and Fernando Aguerre of Reef, Dave and Andrew were introduced formally to the surf industry at the 2003 SIMA conference. Something struck home. After a short video presentation, Dave received a standing ovation.

“That was the turning point,” recalls Dave. “Things got real hectic after that.”

With a bump in funding, SurfAid’s momentum increased markedly.

As SurfAid’s chief medical director and spokesman, Dave has been logging more frequent-flyer miles than a WCT pro. He spends months on the global road shuttling between the U.S., Australia, New Zealand and Indonesia hustling up support from government health officials and surfwear barons. He reports to an international board of directors who bring a wealth of professionalism from private sector, enabling SurfAid to gain critical legitimacy as an effective world-class aid organization.

Back in the islands Dave’s just hired 30 new Indonesian health facilitators to help Mentawai locals break the malaria cycle. Donations are at record levels due to private donors and ramped-up surf industry support. In partnership with the surf industry, companies such as Quiksilver, Billabong, Hurley and FUEL TV have helped to fund SurfAid’s health campaign through the Adopt-A-Village program.

The numbers: to date, Surf Aid has given more than 20,000 immunizations in some of the most inhospitable terrain in the tropics. As a result, thousands of immunized children will not suffer from tetanus, whooping cough, measles, diphtheria, polio, and tuberculosis. In the SurfAid pilot villages there has been a 75% reduction in malaria-related death and suffering.

“In 2005 we really start hitting the straps,” says Dave. “We’ll be expanding our health program from two to seventeen villages along the length of the Mentawai chain.” Dave is fanatical about Mentawai communities taking ownership of their own health programs. Under a “micro-credit” system, SurfAid will be distributing 10,000 new mosquito nets paid for by the villagers. “That is the only way these programs will be sustainable. We can’t be running them in the long run. My mantra: ‘A hand up, not a hand out.’”

Home base is still Padang for the time being, although SurfAid has recently established a branch office in Encinitas, California in order to be close to the vital surf-industry pulse.

“The Wave of Compassion is an idea we hoped would happen for three years now,” says Dave, allowing himself a smile and a sip of beer. “And now it has. This is an incredible opportunity for the surfing tribe to say ‘thank you’ for providing such an amazing wave region. And subconsciously understand that perhaps the secret to our future somehow lies in some of these ancient cultures.

“Our joy is to link our passion to explore new breaks and different cultures with something positive. Why not let surfing be the best thing that ever happened to these islands?”

Thanks to Billabong, RVCA, Quiksilver, Patagonia, Reef, FUEL TV, SURFER Magazine and the SurfAid team for their support. Special thanks to Anthony Marcotti of Saraina Koat Mentawai surf charters (www.mentawaiislands.com) for first-cabin travel arrangements. Kudos to Captain John Bowden for his skill, patience and nose for good surf. And finally, a big terima kasih to the crew of Midas — Kasta, Sri, Eka, Mebry, Julian and Ajoe — for spoiling us rotten.