LOMBOK, Indonesia — Suhardi, 43, glides across a technicolor coral garden. Freediving down to the seafloor, he scoops up a handful of sand that he sprinkles over the reef. The reef becomes a blur of color as reef fish scurry from all four corners to see what delicacies can be found among the falling grains.
Suhardi was a fisherman for more than 20 years. He first started fishing working on his parents’ boat, but was then asked to join the crew of a shark boat where he was told he could earn a lot of money. Back on deck, he looks embarrassed to divulge what a meager wage it was, but finally confesses he earned around $50 for up to a month at sea.
Now he and 12 other former shark fishermen are part of The Dorsal Effect, an ecotourism company that helps ex-shark hunters find a new vocation. Each week, the team takes groups of tourists, schoolchildren and university students to off-the-grid locations and guides them around pristine reefs. Each trip is designed to take guests on an exploratory journey of both the shark trade and marine conservation through the eyes of the Sasak people of Lombok.
The Dorsal Effect first launched in 2013, a year after Suhardi met Singaporean ecologist Kathy Xu, who had traveled to Lombok to find out more about the shark trade. The diminutive but quietly determined Xu wanted to protect sharks, but because she knew shark fishing was poorly paid and dangerous, she wanted to hear the fishermen’s stories too. They told her how once they could fish for sharks close to shore, but now with the shark population dropping, the fishermen said they needed to travel farther out to sea, only to come home with a relatively poor catch. The reduced catch also meant reduced pay, so they often couldn’t cover their costs.
“Shark fishing is like gambling,” says snorkeling guide Agus Harianto. “Sometimes big catch, sometimes zero catch. The fishermen are always speculating.”
Shark hunters face other risks as well, he says: Traditional boats without GPS can fall foul of international boundaries. “They use the stars to navigate. The first time they know they have left Indonesia is when they see Jetstar flying overhead,” Agus says, referring to the Australian budget airline. “Then, it’s not long before the Australian marine police take them to shore and jail.”
While they were receiving tourists from across the globe, there was another group that Xu wanted to reach out to. “I think it was the teacher in me who felt impassioned about influencing the young,” she says. She reached out to schools and created a five-day program that would help students understand the shark trade and local conservation efforts. During the program, paid for by the school and students, participants would not only meet the ex-shark fishermen so they could ask them about their lives, but also hear from NGOs such as the Wildlife Conservation Society about their efforts to slow the trade. The Dorsal Effect also hired marine biologists to host nightly lectures and help the students with their field surveys.
While The Dorsal Effect has been successful, it has still faced its challenges. When the volcano Mount Rinjani on Lombok erupted, flights to the island were cancelled and their bookings disappeared. The COVID-19 pandemic also hit hard, but the company still managed to pay the wages of the former shark fishermen. Xu worked hard to keep their profile high by giving talks for WWF and TEDx.
Suhardi says he’s pleased he made the change to a new career. “I prefer to take people snorkeling rather than go fishing because fishing is exhausting, and the income is uncertain. I can earn money much faster offering snorkeling trips.”
His son taught himself to fish after watching his father, but Suhardi says this is just for dinner. Suhardi says his son has other career plans. The former shark fisherman reveals with pride that his son wants to be a policeman.
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