Berta Sanyi and Paula Hamadi, left, stand chest deep in...

Berta Sanyi and Paula Hamadi, left, stand chest deep in water as they collect clams in a mangrove forest where only women are permitted to enter in Jayapura, Papua province, Indonesia on Wednesday, Oct. 2, 2024. Credit: AP/Firdia Lisnawati

JAYAPURA, Indonesia — On the southeastern coast of the city of Jayapura, Petronela Merauje walked from house to house in her floating village inviting women to join her the next morning in the surrounding mangrove forests.

Merauje and the women of her village, Enggros, practice the tradition of Tonotwiyat, which literally means "working in the forest." For six generations, women from the 700-strong Papuan population there have worked among the mangroves collecting clams, fishing and gathering firewood.

“The customs and culture of Papuans, especially those of us in Enggros village, is that women are not given space and place to speak in traditional meetings, so the tribal elders provide the mangrove forest as our land," Merauje said. It's “a place to find food, a place for women to tell stories, and women are active every day and earn a living every day.”

The forest is a short 13 kilometers (8 miles) away from downtown Jayapura, the capital city of Papua, Indonesia’s easternmost province. It's been known as the women's forest since 2016, when Enggros' leader officially changed its name. Long before that, it had already been a space just for women. But as pollution, development and biodiversity loss shrink the forest and stunt plant and animal life, those in the village fear an important part of their traditions and livelihoods will be lost. Efforts to shield it from devastation have begun, but are still relatively small.

Women have their own space — but it's shrinking

One early morning, Merauje and her 15-year-old daughter took a small motor boat toward the forest. Stepping off on Youtefa Bay, mangrove trees all around, they stood chest-deep in the water with buckets in hand, wiggling their feet in the mud to find bia noor, or soft-shell clams. The women collect these for food, along with other fish.

“The women’s forest is our kitchen,” said Berta Sanyi, another woman from Enggros village.

That morning, another woman joined the group looking for firewood, hauling dry logs onto her boat. And three other women joined on a rowboat.

Berta Sanyi stands chest deep in water as she collects...

Berta Sanyi stands chest deep in water as she collects clams in a mangrove forest where only women are permitted to enter in Jayapura, Papua province, Indonesia on Wednesday, Oct. 2, 2024. Credit: AP/Firdia Lisnawati

Women from the next village, Tobati, also have a women's forest nearby. The two Indigenous villages are only 2 kilometers (1.2 miles) apart, and they're culturally similar, with Enggros growing out of Tobati's population decades ago. In the safety of the forest, women of both villages talk about issues at home with one another and share grievances away from the ears of the rest of the village.

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EDITOR’S NOTE: This is part of a series of on how tribes and Indigenous communities are coping with and combating climate change.

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