“Staying in village homes during fieldwork has opened some unexpected doors,” Intan chuckled as she fired up the stove that morning. “What’s really cool is that for the last three years, I’ve been crashing with non-Muslim families. It’s been awesome—they not only shower me with hospitality but also give me a real taste of cultural diversity,” she said as she stirred a pot and then served up breakfast.
The early morning sun was still playing hide and seek behind the Tor Simago-mago hills, while a misty veil gave Sipirok a touch of mystery. The ambient sounds of prayers and Quranic verses filled the air from nearby mosques, mingling with the rustle of the wind through the pine trees. There in the quiet kitchen of the TaHuKah basecamp, I sat with Intan Violetta, who coordinates village projects for the Batang Toru team. I was warming up with a cup of tea, watching her busy at the stove preparing her own meal. Our chat was so heartwarming it almost made us forget the morning chill.
Intan’s eyes sparkled as she shared more, “Ramadan really amplifies these experiences. It’s amazing to see how my hosts, though they don’t fast, go all out to respect my routines. They make sure I have everything I need for sahur and iftar. Sometimes, they fuss over me more than necessary, thinking up special dishes and cooking with such joy. It turns every meal into more than just food—it’s like receiving edible hugs!”
“Every meal starts with a shared prayer,” Intan’s voice warmed the room. “My hosts are Christians, but we each pray in our own way. It’s incredibly moving to hear them pray for my fasting to go well and be meaningful. It’s more than just polite—it’s genuine care and support, which really deepens our bond, making these moments valuable beyond just work.”
“So, what does conservation work mean to you during Ramadan?” I asked, enjoying the last drops of my tea.
“I’m not a religious scholar,” Intan laughed, “but as a Muslim, I grew up learning that Islam is ‘Rahmatan lil ‘Alamin’—a mercy for the universes. This idea isn’t just for Ramadan; it’s year-round. But the holy month does sharpen this belief, boosting my drive to protect nature as part of my faith.”
Taking a pause to enjoy her meal, Intan then continued, “Ramadan reminds us that no kindness is too small. Everything counts as worship, even breathing if it helps your body. And in conservation? Well, respecting and nurturing nature is our day job. Everything we do, from saving endangered species to restoring habitats, is continuous worship. Ramadan just makes me feel this responsibility even more—like every step we take not only helps the planet but also feeds our souls.”
“And I truly believe that the good vibes we send out during Ramadan get some special cosmic attention. The Universe keeps a tab on all our deeds, never forgetting. So even though fieldwork can be tough and draining, the kindness we spread through our conservation efforts really does boost our mental and physical stamina, giving us the strength to keep going.”
“Remember last year’s trek, the five-hour one, while I was fasting?” Intan nudged me with a smile.
I nodded. “I definitely remember that challenge.”
“I wasn’t sure I’d make it through the day,” she admitted, her voice filled with a hint of pride. “But I did, right? It’s like, when you put good energy out there, especially towards nature, it comes right back at you. The Universe gave me the strength to get through what seemed impossible with the hunger and thirst.”
“But here’s the kicker,” Intan stood up to clear her plate, continuing, “we’ve got to listen to our bodies. Ramadan teaches us about patience, not just with fasting but also with our physical limits. When our bodies cry for a break or scream for hydration, we’ve got to respect that.” Sitting back down, she concluded, “That’s why I always pack snacks and water for field days. Even though I start with the intention to fast, I’ll break it if I need to. Conservation, like faith, asks us to care for others and for ourselves. Looking after nature starts with looking after ourselves—it’s the backbone of responsible conservation work.”
Our deep dive was cut short as the call to prayer began to fill the air, signaling the start of dawn prayers. Intan excused herself to pray. I nodded understandingly as she left the room, leaving me with my now-cool tea. In the enveloping silence, I pondered on Intan’s words, the morning mist still shrouding the distant hills, the fading call to prayer adding to the morning’s reflective mood. Her thoughts on life, faith, and conservation felt profound, pulling me into contemplations about our interconnection within the vast web of life.
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