“I Am the Tiger”
How Indigenous-Led Conservation Efforts Are Connecting Batak People to Their Ancestral Lands
“One day, I found a baby tiger,” Nayla tells me. “I thought it was just a really cute kitten. So I brought it home. I was with my friend, and she was like, ‘Nayla, it doesn’t look right…’,” she continues.
Nurul Nayla Azmi Dalimunthe, whose full name means “first shining light,” is sunshine in human form. She tells me her story, her smile radiating warmth, her eyes catching light and holding memories, as we sit with our mugs of butterfly pea tea after dinner. We’re in the dining room of my homestay in Timbang Lawan village on the island of Sumatra in Indonesia, where I and four other women participants have gathered to learn about visual storytelling through a Photographers Without Borders workshop. Rainy season has begun, and a deafening storm rages outside. The lights flicker as the deluge gets progressively louder — but still, it feels warm and cozy underneath the corrugated tin roof that shelters us.
“Back then,” Nayla continues, “I was living with my grandparents and we lived inside the palm oil plantations. It used to be forest, and then it was converted to become palm oil plantations.”
With excitement, she had brought the “kitten” back to her grandparents, who were horrified. “Put it back!”, they told the confused child. Her grandfather asked Nayla where she had found the tiger cub and promptly returned it to the same location.
“They locked me up because the smell of the baby was still on me,” Nayla recalls. “So if the mother of the tiger sensed it, she would probably think that I was hurting her baby.”
While the story is a beautiful and nostalgic memory of a child who loved animals so dearly that she brought a tiger into her home, there is a tragic side to it.
“From this story,” Nayla continues, “you learn that this tiger wasn’t living in the proper forest but instead had to endure living inside a palm oil plantation.”
While three-year-old Nayla didn’t recognize it at the time and actually forgot this anecdote until an aunt brought it up years later, she now sees it as her “origin story” — the beginning of her journey to reconnect with her land and the animals in it.
This journey has led her to become the person she is today — educator, conservationist, protector of the forest, and founder of the Nuraga Bhumi Institute. According to the organization’s website, Nuraga Bhumi envisions “an Indigenized, inclusive and equal world that values Indigenous knowledge, Indigenous ways of being, and Indigenous guardianship in addressing conservation and climate issues.”
Nayla is an Indigenous Batak woman, but she only became aware of the full history and culture of her people later in life, due to the impacts of Dutch colonialism. The Batak were violently driven from their lands in the 1800s, their villages burned and their people murdered. Those who were able to escape took refuge in the ancient cave systems in the forest. These caves are still highly regarded today as holy places due to their important historical connection to the ancestors.
As well, the 2,000 Batak holy books, known as Pustaha and Laklak, which contain rich Indigenous knowledge regarding food, medicine, belief systems, and more, were taken out of the country by missionaries and now reside in a German museum, separated from the people who created them.
Knowing this past, and herself suffering from the intergenerational trauma of the colonial genocide, Nayla began the slow and ongoing process of reclaiming her identity and rediscovering her place in the forest.
Nayla wishes to educate those around her in Indigenous conservation and in rediscovering their connection to the land. She does this through several programs and initiatives, including her environmental education class, where she and her team teach students about climate change and the importance of environmental protection.
She also leads a patrolling team, which is the only Indigenous all-female and LGBTQ+ ranger unit in Sumatra. The team checks for dead trees and analyzes the causes, looks out for traps and other harmful devices, prevents wildlife and plant species from being trafficked through illegal logging and poaching, and plants new trees.
One of the patrollers is a 20-year-old Batak woman named Devi. She spent most of her early life on the edges of the forest, living near this land but never entering it or learning about it.
Nayla recalls the first encounter that Devi had with an orang-utan that she saw in the trees above. “She burst out crying,” Nayla laughs affectionately. “And she was so scared! She had never seen an orang-utan before and she was worried it would attack her.”
This is a stark contrast to the Devi of today. Under Nayla’s guidance, she has blossomed into a brave and confident conservationist who steps into the forest without fear.
Devi’s mother, Nova, has also noticed the difference. Through Nayla’s translation, Devi’s mother told us, “There are so many changes that I’ve seen. Devi right now is so strong, due to the fact that she has her own job.” Devi initially had plans to work in a factory in Malaysia, which would have separated her from both her family and her land.
“So now,” Nova continues, “I don’t have to feel worried about her plans to go to Malaysia for work. This job has prevented her from going really far away just to work and support the family, so I am happy for that.”
***
On the second day of our workshop, we head to Gunung Leuser National Park, the most anticipated stop on our trip, where will be able to see the incredible wildlife for which Sumatra is known.
After two hours of hiking, spotting and photographing orang-utans, gibbons, and more, we take a short break in one of the sheltered huts. The shade offered in this spot is welcome after the steamy forest trek in 33-degree heat.
Also welcome are the tropical fruits our guides have brought along. Ripe mangosteens, dragonfruit, and passionfruit have been laid out on banana leaves in front of us, and we eye them eagerly, nobody wanting to be the greedy one to partake first.
But humans are not the only ones to notice the delicious display. A troop of long-tailed macaques has begun to circle around the hut, crouching low behind trees and brush, eyes on the prize.
Nayla notices this behaviour and calls our attention. “So as you can see, although these animals are wild, we can refer to them as ‘habituated animals.’ They have changed their behaviours, including their arboreal behaviours, which is why they aren’t staying in the trees all the time,” she tells us. “They have become accustomed to humans, so you see that they’re not afraid. You won’t see this behaviour outside of the national park — you’ll see signs of animal life, but you probably won’t see the actual animals because they will hide when they hear you approaching.”
Interacting with habituated animals is, of course, rewarding for conservationists and photographers alike, who can enjoy the majesty of these creatures up close while knowing they are still free and in their natural habitat. However, there are some unintended consequences, on which Nayla and her organization aim to educate visitors. Animals that have become accustomed to the presence of humans are easier for poachers to entrap. There have also been serious impacts affecting their health and nutrition because of their changing diets.
“Orang-utans, for example, have a diet of 65% fruit, 20% leaves, 5% tree bark, 5% insects, and 5% soil, all from the forest,” Nayla informs us. “But they are getting used to the sweeter fruits that humans feed them.” She is referring to some of the guides who, in order to entertain their customers and bring the animals closer to eager tourists, will bait them with bananas and other fruit imported from outside.
“Look around!” Nayla exclaims. “Do you see any melon or bananas in this forest? No, of course not!”
She tells us how many orang-utans and monkeys now have digestive and dental issues as a result of consuming this sweet fruit. “The glucose in these fruits is much higher than the traditional fruits they eat,” she explains. “So they now have problems with their mouths, stomachs, and teeth.”
As she is speaking, a cheeky monkey who had remained in the shadows of one of the stone benches in the hut pops out from her hiding place, baby firmly clinging to her stomach. She throws a glance at the group of attentive humans guarding the stockpile of fruit, weighing her options. Deciding to make a move, the monkey charges forward, grabs the banana closest to her, and darts away with the goods.
***
Another important component of Nayla’s environmental education initiative is for people to understand that animals are not just entertainment and subjects to look at and photograph. Rather, they are an integral part of our ecosystem and we are deeply connected to them.
Nayla explains to us that the word for tiger in the Batak language is “opung,” which also means “ancestor.” It is believed that all animals are shape-shifting ancestors, but the most powerful ones take on the form of the tiger. So the prayer that Batak people recite before entering the forest essentially asks permission: “Excuse me, grandfather, our great tiger ancestor. We would like to come into the forest.”
Interestingly, in the Batak zodiac, Nayla’s sign is the tiger. She also identifies this animal as her spirit animal and the one she connects with the most. “I love the tiger very much!”, she tells me. “Especially now, understanding how close they are to pretty much all ancestors, all stories.”
But besides being shape-shifting ancestors and zodiac symbols, animals can also teach us important things about the world around us. “We always think that we are the ones who need to teach animals,” Nayla says, “but actually, animals show us where to find medicine, which plants are edible, and more.”
The next afternoon, we are enjoying some sliced pineapple after a filling lunch. I grab the slice closest to me, as do the other women at the table.
“Ooooh, sour!” I shout, as the acidic juice hits my taste buds. “This one isn’t ripe…”
Nayla isn’t reaching out for a slice yet. Instead, she waits, watching a small bee that has come to greet us. The bee hovers around the cut pineapple for a few seconds before settling on a piece in the middle.
Nayla takes the slice between her thumb and index finger and puts it gently in her mouth, smiling in appreciation.
“Is it sweet?” I ask her doubtfully.
“Perfect!” she nods, savouring the bite. “See? Look what animals can teach us. They always know the best fruit!”
***
Nayla laments the current policies in place that allow wildlife trafficking and unchecked development to be much more prevalent today than ever before. As well, she worries about the apathy that many have towards protecting animals’ natural habitats, in favour of development and profits.
Thinking again about her childhood experience with the tiger cub, Nayla shares with me, “I came back three years ago to the plantation and I was asking around — ‘Do you still have a tiger around here?’ Nothing. All of them are gone.”
She remembers discussions with her mother, who told her that before, you could find so many species of animals in the forest, including elephants, tigers, and rhinos. But now, Nayla says, “all of these important species are pretty much gone. It’s only been two generations, and we’ve lost everything.”
But there is still hope. With the continued work of grassroots conservation efforts like Nuraga Bhumi and Indigenous protectors like Nayla and her ranger team, not everything is lost.
Communities are becoming more aware of the importance of conserving the land and ecosystems around them. They are on the frontline of conservation efforts and are starting their own initiatives. And individuals are starting to see animals not as entertainment but as sentient beings, connected to us and deserving of protections and rights.
And when asked about the Sumatran tiger, her elusive spirit animal, Nayla responds with a laugh, “I am the tiger! And we haven’t disappeared yet.”
Quotes have been edited for clarity, flow, and concision.
To learn more about the work that Nayla and her all-female and LGBTQ+ Indigenous ranger team are doing in Sumatra, head to their website or follow them on Instagram @nuragabhumi.institute. Become a supporter — fund this important work by donating here.
