Vanishing Rivers in the Age of Greed

The river, the flowing clear water, and the Dayak people are one and the same.This is not just a connection. It is identity.Documented by: Lerim Ubang.

Once, the rivers of Borneo ran crystal clear: mirroring the sky and the lush canopy of ancient rainforests. Today, that clarity is fading fast. 

Over the past two decades, industrial expansion has carved deep scars into the island’s landscape. 

Oil palm plantations have spread unchecked, illegal logging has stripped the forests bare, and unregulated mining has poisoned the land and water. What were once lifelines for thriving ecosystems are now polluted channels of silt, chemicals, and slow destruction.

Once-pristine rivers now carry silt, chemicals, and toxic runoff. Water that once nourished now poisons.

Borneo’s rivers poisoned, culture erodes

Satellite imagery confirms what elders have been warning for years: Kalimantan— the Indonesian part of Borneo— is bleeding green. Nearly 40% of its forests have been lost or degraded since the 1990s. And as the forests disappear, so do the rivers that rely on their cover.

“There are children in villages who have never seen clear water,” said a teacher in West Kalimantan. “They think brown is normal.”

For Dayak communities, the loss is not only environmental, but existential. Without clean rivers, longhouse settlements dwindle, cultural practices falter, and the deep spiritual bond with nature begins to erode. The river is not just a casualty —it is a memory, a warning, and a call to action.

A Guardian of the Waters

In Sungai Utik, a remote Dayak Iban village in West Kalimantan, the waters still run clear. The forest remains intact. And at the center of this ecological miracle is one man: Apai Janggut.

With his long white beard and fiery eyes, Apai Janggut —“Father Beard,” as his name translates— has become a national and global symbol of Indigenous ecological leadership. Despite never attending formal school, he carries what scientists and conservationists call natural intelligence; a deep, experiential understanding of the rhythms of the forest and river.

“Air dan sungai adalah darah manusia Dayak,” he says in Bahasa Indonesia. “Water and rivers are the blood of the Dayak people.” His words are not metaphorical; they are ancestral truth.

Under his leadership, the Sungai Utik community has preserved over 9,000 hectares of primary rainforest using nothing but customary law. No fences. No guns. Just tradition, trust, and total commitment.

For his efforts, Apai Janggut has received the Kalpataru Award from the Indonesian government, the Equator Prize from the United Nations, and the Gulbenkian Prize for Humanity. His message is deceptively simple: protect the forest, and the forest will protect you.

The struggle to defend clean rivers in Borneo is no longer a local issue— it is a global one. 

As climate change accelerates and biodiversity collapses, the Dayak way of life offers not only a model of survival but a vision for planetary healing. 

And perhaps, in listening to the rivers, the world might just hear a path forward.

-- Masri Sareb Putra