It appeared suddenly out of the blue, beyond where the reef drops off into the deep ocean. Enormous like a submarine, it caught me by complete surprise. For a brief moment I feared it was a saltwater crocodile (Crocodylus porosus). ‘Salties’ are known to emerge from the brackish estuaries of the islands in Raja Ampat to patrol the coral reefs, and in recent years, a dozen or so people have been attacked and killed by crocodiles in these waters (Tsing and Bubandt 2020). But it was not a ‘saltie’. It was a dugong (Dugong dugon).  Huge and incredibly gracious at the same time.

The back of the dugong was crisscrossed with scars from the rotor blades of an outboard motor.  In recent years, these reefs have become a major tourist destination. More tourists and the income they bring have meant that the number of motor boats has exploded.  At all hours, you can now hear motor boats race along the edge of the reef en route to a dive site or a nearby village. Accidents where dugong, manta rays and other denizens of the sea are injured are just one of the side effects of growing human interest in these reefs .

The dugong was not alone.  At its nose a small school of juvenile golden trevally (Gnathanodon speciosus) were busily keeping close.  They seemed to be both following and piloting the dugong in a ever-changing dance-like pattern.  As adults, golden trevally are huge and voracious fish. They grow to more than a meter long and rule the open waters of the Indian and Pacific Ocean.  But while they are still young, they prefer the protective mass of larger animals, such as sharks, giant jellyfish, or dugongs.  Near the dugong they were sheltered as well as under a coral rock, but were free to roam the open sea and the coral reef both. 

The dugong saw me in the same instant as I saw it. It, too, seemed taken off guard, and for a brief moment it veered off, seemingly getting ready to flee.  But then it was as if it had second thoughts, and it swung around to resume its original course in my direction. Maybe it was curious about this strange being, snorkel protruding from the water. We passed each other closely at the reef’s outer edge.  I gave it some berth before I swung around to follow it at a distance. The dugong continued her patrol of the coral reef, perhaps in search of sea grass, but clearly kept me in her peripheral vision, cautious, curious, but also then at times oblivious. In this way we circled each other over the reef cautiously but calmly for perhaps 10 minutes. I do not know what it was like for her. But for me it was a completely magical experience.  After some time, she had seen enough.  With three rapid strokes of her massive tail, she disappeared from view.

The Beser-speaking people who inhabit these reefs refer the dugong as rowín. They say the rowín was once a human being.  The Sauyai family claim it as one of their female ancestors.  The story goes that one day a woman was foraging the outer parts of the reefs edge during low tide, wading hip-deep in the water, looking for sea grass.  This was an odd thing to do. Women often fish on the reefs at low tide, but to look for sea grass to eat was strange.  So caught up in her eccentric endeavor was the woman that she forgot about time. Eventually, she was swept from the reef by the high tide and disappeared in the water, where she turned into a dugong. 

People say, it was almost as if the woman had wanted to become a dugong. After all, dugong are known for seeking out the shallow parts of the reef to eat sea grass. It is also common knowledge in these parts of Indonesia that the dugong has retained many of her human characteristics.  If one catches a dugong, it cries human tears, seemingly begging to be released back to the sea again.  It also covers its chest with its front flipper, as if in shame. The genitals of the dugong, people say, have the shape of a human vagina. Indeed, all dugong are female to this day, people say.  Members of the Sauyai clan continue to honor their kinship with the rowín and do not hunt it or eat its meat. It is their fafór, their taboo.