In 2003, I was invited to see Chek Jawa by my brother Joe Lai. He was a Parks Officer and nature guide then and passionate about his work.
He had brought students many times to Ubin to marvel at the rich flora and fauna there. He was, in particular, taken by a coastal plain off Check Jawa, a former village that stood on the northeastern coast of the island.
That Chek Jawa plain was very rich in marine plants and sealife - things that many Singaporeans pay good money to see in Malaysia waters. That the place harboured such a rich marine habitat (I saw many coral plants and held a giant nobular starfish; and there were seahorses) was itself astonishing. That the place was going to be reclaimed was even more so.
I couldn't believe my ears when my brother told me that. And so I decided to go see the place for myself and find out how I could offer my help. Chek Jawa turned out to be much richer than that I had imagined. It was home to some 28 species of seagrass which even the dugongs from Australia found wholesome.
There were a variety of sea pens, nudi branches, etc., including no small amount of sea stars and sand dollars. Everywhere we walked (and this was before the boardwalk was built) we could see sea anemones half buried in tidal retreat.
The whole Chek Jawa plain itself was a joy to walk on. When the tide was low, over 700m of exposed sandbeds could be seen. I could only imagine the fun kids had when Chek Jawa kampong was alive and well.
For me, the highlight of the trip was meeting Priscilla, the she-boar resident of Chek Jawa. She's tame and people friendly. I believe she was once raised by the kampong folks. Patting her, I only wished I had an apple with me. I was told the fruit was a favourite of hers.
That was my first trip to Check Jawa. On the second trip, Mr Mah Bow Tan was there. By then, my brother had gotten the attention of the authorities to consider holding off their reclamation plans and save Chek Jawa. Besides the minister, Priscilla was there too. It was like meeting an old friend. But it was an old friend with a scar. I found barb wire marks around her neck. My brother told me some construction workers had tried to capture her for meat. We were both concerned, as were other volunteers. But there was little anyone nor I could do anything about. Priscilla was wild, and back then, there wasn't any real management office there that could keep an eye on her.
It was with much sadness to discover on my third trip to that marine wonderland that Priscilla had gone missing, presumably into the stomachs of some itinerant poacher.
It's furious to know that some people just cannot leave a good natured beast alone. One that could have lived a fuller life and bring much joy to the many children that subsequently visited the place. It's a sordid crime, really.
