Benjamin van der Spek Photography
The Guardians
No. 33 The Guardians
I woke up after a rather poor night’s sleep. My girlfriend was covered in bugbites. The crappy beds on the converted oil exploration rig clearly had space for improvement.
It was another beautiful tropical morning. I could hear the hussle and bussle on Mabul Island and as my sleepy eyes looked over the ocean, I noticed a warship not too far away. It must have been the Malaysian navy. A helicopter flew over. What was going on? Wasn’t this supposed to be a tranquil diver’s paradise?
Today we would dive the shores of the famous ‘Pulau Sipadan’. This was what we came for.
On the speedboat towards the island, one of the staff was proud to brag about the massive twin engines powering the little craft. “We used to be the fastest around here!”
“Used to be?” I wondered. “Yeah, even faster than most of the smugglers.” “Smugglers?” I felt like the kid that didn’t do his homework. “Yeah! But nowadays the police has bigger engines. Like us!” The man smiled.
I never quite understood why staying on Sipadan Island was not an option anymore. Such a beautiful place in a bright blue sea, filled with wildlife. It just sounded idyllic.
We had to pay a fee to dive Sipadan National Underwater Park and sign in on the island. There were no other tourists around but I noticed some men working around what looked like a local hotel. These men were military. They were digging and shovelling and repairing fences.
Then we were told what was going on here. Eight years ago, in 2000, a group of Abu Sayaf islamist terrorists kidnapped 21 people from the island. One of the victims was a close friend of our divemaster. We understood that the thugs were friends with Libyan dictator Gaddafi who paid the kidnappers for their acts of terror. The hotel had been closed since and these soldiers had made camp here. Stationed in paradise, these guys kept us safe from harm.
The Guardians
No. 33 The Guardians
I woke up after a rather poor night’s sleep. My girlfriend was covered in bugbites. The crappy beds on the converted oil exploration rig clearly had space for improvement.
It was another beautiful tropical morning. I could hear the hussle and bussle on Mabul Island and as my sleepy eyes looked over the ocean, I noticed a warship not too far away. It must have been the Malaysian navy. A helicopter flew over. What was going on? Wasn’t this supposed to be a tranquil diver’s paradise?
Today we would dive the shores of the famous ‘Pulau Sipadan’. This was what we came for.
On the speedboat towards the island, one of the staff was proud to brag about the massive twin engines powering the little craft. “We used to be the fastest around here!”
“Used to be?” I wondered. “Yeah, even faster than most of the smugglers.” “Smugglers?” I felt like the kid that didn’t do his homework. “Yeah! But nowadays the police has bigger engines. Like us!” The man smiled.
I never quite understood why staying on Sipadan Island was not an option anymore. Such a beautiful place in a bright blue sea, filled with wildlife. It just sounded idyllic.
We had to pay a fee to dive Sipadan National Underwater Park and sign in on the island. There were no other tourists around but I noticed some men working around what looked like a local hotel. These men were military. They were digging and shovelling and repairing fences.
Then we were told what was going on here. Eight years ago, in 2000, a group of Abu Sayaf islamist terrorists kidnapped 21 people from the island. One of the victims was a close friend of our divemaster. We understood that the thugs were friends with Libyan dictator Gaddafi who paid the kidnappers for their acts of terror. The hotel had been closed since and these soldiers had made camp here. Stationed in paradise, these guys kept us safe from harm.