- 179 crocodile attacks reported in Indonesia in 2024, with 92 fatalities
- Palm oil expansion disrupts habitats, pushing crocodiles into residential areas
- Protected species status complicates population control efforts
- Local handlers propose regulated farming to mitigate risks
In the riverine villages of Central Mamuju, West Sulawesi, crocodile encounters have transformed from rare nightmares into grim routine. Munirpa, a 48-year-old survivor, embodies this new reality. Her near-fatal attack in August 2023 – where a 13-foot reptile dragged her into murky waters – mirrors experiences shared by 179 victims last year alone. The Budong-Budong River, once a lifeline for fishing and transportation, now bears red warning signs where children once swam.
The surge correlates with palm oil companies reshaping the landscape since 2012. Artificial canals linking plantations to the Budong-Budong River created unintended highways for crocodiles. Rusli Paraili, a local crocodile handler, observes: 'Reptiles that once stayed 30 km upstream now prowl shrimp ponds behind homes.' Satellite data shows West Sulawesi lost 14% of its mangrove buffers between 2010-2023, critical crocodile habitats replaced by monoculture farms.
Indonesia’s 1999 Species Protection Act forbids harming saltwater crocodiles, but with populations rebounding to an estimated 3,400, critics demand adaptive policies. Dr. Amir Hamidy from the National Research Agency argues, 'Protection shouldn’t mean paralysis. Targeted culling in high-risk zones could prevent tragedies.' Contrast this with Queensland’s managed crocodile program, which reduced attacks by 40% through selective removal and public education.
Economic tensions further complicate solutions. The proposed crocodile skin trade – valued at $170 per square foot globally – divides conservationists. While West Sulawesi’s Marine Agency sees commercial farming as a safety-economic hybrid, activists warn of incentivizing poaching. Paraili’s sanctuary, housing 50 relocated crocodiles like the 18-foot 'Tanker', operates on thin margins despite corporate donations.
For now, villagers adopt makeshift precautions. Coconut farmer Suardi, another attack survivor, uses bamboo poles to test water before harvests. 'We’re not asking to eradicate them,' he says, 'just to drink coffee without watching for scaly shadows.' As monsoon rains swell rivers in 2024, the urgency for coordinated action grows – balancing ancient predators with modern survival.