26 Juli 2013

Fayaul: The Earliest Journey of a Nickel


note: photo essay berikut gw buat untuk percobaan kedua gw ikutan photography scholarship-nya worldnomads.com, di mana, gw merasa, sebenarnya komposisi ini bagus sekali #tabok! tapi gara" gw ga menyertakan RAW file-nya, gw pasti sudah tereliminasi di awal sebelum om jason gaul itu menilai -_____- ya bagaimanaaaa pas moto kan gw langsung pake JPEG, ga pake format RAW :''( akh ya sudahlah, impian 'sekedar shortlist' pun terkubur kembali #garuktanah hahahahaa.. eniweiii, enjoy the best composition i have ever made, since i have only made two photo essay compositions in my entire life, sekalian nambah"in tulisan serius di crappy blog ini, hehe ;p

 It all started by the strangers. They called themselves as ‘geologists.’ They came from the capital city to my homeland: Fayaul, North Maluku, Indonesia. Long before they came to look for me, they have talked to the local people in the village. They needed the approval from the most influential people in here, such as the local government, youth figures, and even religious leaders. I heard them talking about job opportunities, the rise of the village's living standards, and other prospects that I did not even know could happen to me. After the contract was signed, explorations were then carried out. Maps were brought along with the navigational tools to locate appropriate areas to dig test pits. To find, me.

Local people were then included in the exploration. They brought logistics, built tents, and most importantly, dug test pits. Those geologists said that test pits were dug to find the nature of my sub-soil strata. Well, all that I know was that I was dug down to 7 meters depth. I was amazed by how the local people could still throw jokes at each other, even with the ‘no-more-strangers,’ while doing this exhausting job. It required 2-3 days to finish one pit and minimum 5 pits were needed. I could not imagine how the local people would react if the geologists were not that pleasant.

The deeper the pit got, the harder it was to climb up, and down to the do the soil sampling. I could not help to laugh every time the tried to reach me, either with ropes, trees that have been cut down, and sometimes they even climbed up and down like spiders. Thank God they were not injured in any way. Samples were taken for every meter using a geological hammer, a bucket and a helping pulley. Finally, I was taken out from my colony.

I was then handed from the local people to the geologists. How I saw it was that, when they handed me to the 'no-more-strangers,' they also handed their life, and their trust. They did not understand my future. They did not even know if the soil that they dug were prospectus. All that they knew was that they have given their best to accompany those 'no-more-strangers' in order to reach a succeed, whatever it really was.

I was finely grounded before I was brought to the capital city to be tested in the laboratory. Then it was my turn to speak for my fellows in the village, my turn to start a new life. I might be soil in my homeland. But I never knew what I would be in the future. I never knew, what I could have done to my people in the village.

NB: foto" diambil saat ikut om jeff eksplorasi nikel, yang sempat membangkitkan kembali hasrat-ingin-geologi :S ahahahaha~~ untung ga keterusan ;p

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