Where Does the Water Come From? Why Outdoor Education is Crucial
Hands-on experience at the critical time, not systematic knowledge, is what counts in the making of a naturalist.
E.O. Wilson
JUNE 2014
I was standing smack dab in the middle of the Nimanga watershed in the densely forested Minahasa Highlands just outside of Manado, Sulawesi.
I was there to lead a trip for a bossy and demanding highbrow family straight from the luxury of their suburban skyscraper condo in Bangkok. Little did I know I would shortly get the shock of my life from one of the supposedly super-educated, city privileged participants I was showing around.
Shrouded in mystery with tales of giant pythons, fierce pirates, and villages that stash their dead in wooden coffins to be hung high up in stone carved caves or cliffs, Sulawesi has long been a magnet for anthropologists, explorers, and adventure seekers.
And for good reason.
Also known as Celebes, Sulawesi has a long and rich history full of local tribes with curious customs, amazing biodiversity unique to Wallacea and because it’s plopped square in the middle of the Coral Triangle it’s fringed by insane neon-colored reefs and marine life found nowhere else on the planet. All this sprinkled and mingled with a bit of European culture through exploration, trade, and rule by the Portuguese and Dutch at various points in time makes for fascinating travel and adventure.
The morning had been graced by gorgeous weather and a delicious breakfast including klappertart accentuated by several cups of dark, thick Indonesian coffee.
Klappertart literally translates to ‘coconut tart’ and is a Christmasy tasting pudding pastry remnant from the Dutch Glory Days. Infiltrated by raisins and bombarded with cinnamon and allspice, klappertart is a milky palm sugary sweet bit of Heaven. There’s nothing like it to be found on any of the other 15,000+ islands in Indonesia.
If you’re extra lucky you’ll get a hold of a batch spiked with rum just like they do back in the old country! Extra Christmasy!
Next to me was the Bangkok family that I was accompanying on their adventure holiday trip exploring the island. Only once had they complained about the food when the mom asked if I could get chicken that was softer because it was hard to chew and got stuck in her teeth.
Lord help me. It was going to be one of those kinds of trips.
So far, we’d snorkeled with marine turtles while learning reef ecology around Bunaken Island, hiked around a fern-clad volcano for a few geology lessons, and visited a local market in Tomohon for a bit of cultural immersion.
When I say market you probably conjure up images of Sainsbury’s, Carrefour, or perhaps even Piggly Wiggly if you hail from my neck of the woods in good ole Georgia, USA. Those markets with their endless aisles of mind staggeringly sterile wrapped processed foods, plastic-wrapped sugar and salt injected snacks, hundreds of dandruff curing shampoos, and bacteria assassinating soaps are not even remotely related to wet markets in Indonesia.
A traditional market in Tomohon is anything but sterile and plastic wrapped. And there are definitely no bacteria assassinations to worry about.
A quick browse of the foul-smelling, permanently wet concrete petri dish aisles and you will find a bizarre assortment of bush meat ranging from the world’s largest bat known as the flying fox, a genetically confused animal that looks like an accidental mix between a pig and a deer called a babirusa (which literally translates to pig deer) as well as the run of the mill monkey, rat, cat, and dog meat.
Ya know, the usual stuff. All on display in the raw. No wrapping. Head and innards included.
After exploring those cool, albeit shocking spots it was time for a rafting adventure and a smidgeon of stream ecology.
Over the last few days of endless van rides, I’d gotten to know the family pretty well. The kids were cool. The dad was quiet and kept to himself. The mom knew everything, had no patience for the locals, and needed soft chicken to suit her dental needs.
Their son, Keith was going to University in the USA. He was studying bio-engineering. Recently graduated from a top-notch high school in Bangkok with an International Baccalaureate (IB) Diploma, he’d gotten top marks on the IB exam and landed himself into a prestigious school ready to get a Bachelor’s degree and beyond.
His sister was following suit. She’d soon graduate from that same top-notch Bangkok school presumably with top marks and a bright academic future ahead.
We’d been fitted with lifejackets and helmets ready to jump in our rafts for what promised to be a wild ride! We were ready to go! WHOO HOO!
As we soaked up the scenery of the lush riparian zone adjacent to the river Keith glanced over and launched a bomb.
With a long stare scanning the landscape he reluctantly asked, “So, how does the water actually get in the river?”
He had asked in a slow deliberate contemplative fashion that gave the impression he thought he should know the answer but was trying to figure it out as he asked.
I didn’t know what to say. I thought he might be clowning around. Just to get a reaction or see what I might say.
I was taken aback. Flabbergasted. Floored.
I was pretty astounded. We could see the watershed larger than life right before our eyes. We had driven up a steep mountain to get there and the banks of the river were rugged and rocky. A cool mist was falling on us and the blue sky was mottled with wispy clouds.
But as I assessed his demeanor I could tell he was sincere. So, I had to take this top-notch university student seriously when he asked a basic middle school question.
Bear in mind that Keith got top marks on his IB exam. Went to a hoity-toity expensive private high school in Bangkok and was now in his second year studying bioengineering at a prestigious university in the US of A getting outstanding grades there too!
I proposed an answer in the form of a question, “Well, you’ve heard about the water cycle, right? You know, evaporation, condensation, precipitation and all that?”
A eureka moment. The light bulb flashed. Synapses fired. Connections were made.
He had indeed heard of the water cycle. I knew he had! He must’ve. I used to teach it to all my 7th graders. It’s standard fare for elementary, middle, and high school science lessons. I was certain he’d come across it at some point.
The truth is he had.
I knew he had learned the water cycle in school. I knew he could recite evaporation, condensation, and precipitation by heart. I also knew he could draw a picture of the water cycle if asked. I suspected he might even be able to calculate the volume of water flowing through the river if given a few variables and a formula.
But here’s the clincher.
He could not actually understand how water had gotten into the river because the academic study was an abstraction. It had no context. The context of standing on a real river and seeing a real watershed with all the associated tangible sights, sounds, and textures were only made real once we were about to enter the river and float downstream.
During his entire school tenure, he had never made the connection to what he learned from his textbook to any real-world examples.
He’s never seen it in action. Never stood in a riparian zone and pondered the evaporation, transportation and precipitation of water in the clouds above.
I could literally see his eyes light up. Now he understood the water cycle. He was standing in it and could see, smell, and hear it.
The learning was complete.
