Chris Packham: In Search of the Lost Girl

Come on, Scratcher.

My name's Chris Packham and I'm a wildlife enthusiast and a

keen photographer.

Come on, let's go.

20 years ago I was filming a documentary in the Sumatran

rainforests of Indonesia.

And there I had an encounter with a tribe of hunter-gatherers.

They were called the Orang Rimba and they lived in perfect harmony

with their jungle home.

And I've never forgotten them.

In many ways, that was one of the greatest moments of my entire life.

I took one photograph that's become particularly special to me -

a photograph of a young girl.

Her lifetime has coincided with some of the biggest environmental changes

our world has ever seen.

And Sumatra has been at the forefront,

with millions of hectares of rainforest being destroyed so that

plantations of highly productive crops can be grown in their place.

She's become a sort of barometer for me,

a way of measuring the condition of our planet.

If she is still out there, living harmoniously in that environment,

then there's hope for us all.

But if we've robbed her of her habitat,

then we really have got something to fear.

So, 20 years on, I'm going back to Sumatra to try and find her.

This is definitely the right sort of terrain.

The photo is my only link.

This girl was about six or seven in 1998.

I've no idea where she might be.

This whole task is far greater than I ever imagined it would be.

I don't even know her name, what's happened to her forest...

Ouch!

..and whether there is still a place in it for her.

So, million-dollar question...

..was this girl one of the children that was killed?

I'm determined to find out what happened.

I've got one chance to see whether these people still exist.

Yeah, here she is.

In 1998 in a sweaty glade in Sumatra,

I found this one girl and her tribe that were living entirely

harmoniously in that environment.

I had found in those people what I've seen in other species

all of my life, and so admired.

What they needed was not any possessions, it was their environment.

That was the beauty.

Now, I don't know exactly what's happened on the ground in Sumatra

over the last 20 years,

but I do know that my chances of finding that girl and her tribe

thriving in those forests are dwindling by the day.

I'd like to go back to that patch of jungle and find that they were still

living there sustainably in that forest.

That would give you some hope?

-I think it would, yeah.

-What if you don't find that?

Her situation might be radically different.

This is so meaningful to Chris.

Very early on in our relationship, I remember seeing that photograph,

I heard the story and it's always been a feature of conversations.

A couple of years ago I was out in Sumatra doing some conservation

work - often we were trekking into the heart of the forests.

It was like a bit of a ghost town, there was just no sign of life.

And how far away was the nearest village, then, from...?

-Oh, miles.

-We would make an assumption

that the younger generation would want to stay.

But would they, if they had awareness of the outside world?

Would they want to gravitate towards that?

You don't know, do you?

I'm excited for him going.

But I'm also kind of dreading him coming back, you know, with bad news.

I know he'll be devastated if he comes back and finds that she is,

worst case scenario, no longer alive, or no longer living as she did.

I am... I'm worried about it if you want to know.

But if it ends badly, let's not hide from the fact.

Sometimes the harsh reality of the world that we've made needs to be

presented to people.

You can't keep on covering up the damage.

Sometimes it has to hurt.

And that hurt can stimulate people to try and make a difference.

So if it's a catastrophe, if there's no forest left...

..then that story must be told.

I wish I'd been Marco Polo because when he came here in the 1200s,

this would have been a paradise, you know.

But there might be little bits of paradise left,

it may not all be paradise lost.

I'm arriving in the city of Padang.

Many of Sumatra's 50 million people earn a living from the island's

rubber, coffee and palm oil trades,

all being grown in place of its rainforests.

And the economy here has exploded since my last visit.

The principal success here is to find this girl,

who is now a woman, alive.

But not living in a shack on the side of the highway or in some

condominium on the edge of a city somewhere.

Searching for one woman on the sixth largest island in the world is going

to be like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.

But fortunately, I'm sharing this rather daunting task with local

producer Shinta.

Are we down here?

-We're here.

-We're just there, are we?

Right, OK. Now, the place that I went to was Sungai Penuh.

We landed at Padang and we had a long,

very torturous drive to Sungai Penuh,

and there we met a lady called Debbie Martyr.

Now, I've got a photograph of Debbie here.

-There she is.

-Oh, yeah.

She knew someone who knew where they would be.

I think our first port of call has to be to try and find Debbie

and see what she can remember.

I know she's still here because my partner met her

a couple of years ago out here when she was working with tigers.

I think that's a good call.

Debbie's hometown of Sungai Penuh is 150 miles to the south.

It was where I based myself in 1998.

Has it changed a lot?

It was more forested over there.

So I remember those hills having trees on.

And the market, I remember the market being just here.

Yeah, yeah.

-Shall we go there?

-Yeah, let's go down here.

Sungai Penuh 20 years ago was pretty off the map.

But now it's rocketed into the 21st century.

Why do they allow mopeds in here? That's crazy.

Yeah, I know. This is not supposed to be like that.

This is madness. Chaos. But it is the perfect place

to pick up some goodwill gifts for the journey to come.

Shinta, I was thinking,

is there some things that we should take?

-Machete.

-Machetes?

-This one.

This one? OK, I'm going to shake this man's hand.

Yes, that's a deal, yes, that's good.

As captivating as Sungai Penuh is,

I'm desperately hoping the girl and her people haven't been drawn out of

the forest by all of its bright lights and trinkets.

-Shinta, there you are.

-I'm just asking. So we have to go there.

This way? OK.

I know the girl's tribe, the Orang Rimba,

are nomadic and they can cover vast distances on foot.

Fortunately, Debbie is in the same house she was 20 years ago.

Debbie is the only one that can give me a starting point on my quest,

really. Because I don't even know where we went on the map.

And I need to know that much.

-Debbie!

-Hello.

It seems like yesterday.

-Hello, mate.

-How are you?

All right?

I've got a bit of a sore throat.

Sit outside shall we, here?

It doesn't seem like 20 years.

-It's not that long, surely?

-1998.

Seriously. I've got some photos, actually, of that encounter.

A long time ago!

So look, here's the group, here they are.

It was fantastic, wasn't it?

What an amazing afternoon.

-Yeah.

-This was the girl that I photographed.

Yeah. That's a beautiful picture.

This picture haunts me, Debbie, I've got to say.

It was so, so magical.

The thing is, I'd like to find her.

I've worried about these people for such a long time.

So much forest has been lost.

As the forest has shrunk it becomes more and more difficult for them to

maintain that traditional lifestyle and they end up on the fringes of

villages and the group you met got mugged, for want of a better word.

It was a nasty, violent robbery.

Four people were killed by these...sons of bitches.

Isn't that awful?

-He was killed.

-He was killed?

Yes.

-And was she killed?

-Yes.

-So she was killed in that too, was she?

-Yes.

But the little girl here, I don't think so.

What do you think of my chances, then, out of ten,

of finding this woman?

-Let's go for three.

-Three?

Do you think that we won't find her because she's dead,

or do you think that we won't find her because she's moved off and we

just simply won't be able to find her?

That I don't know.

-Well, we're going to look.

-You've got to.

You've got a way to go, boy.

The attack happened in September 2000 -

that was two years after I met the tribe.

It's desperately, desperately sad.

And piecing it all together,

they must've been forced out of the jungle because of deforestation,

ended up too close to a village where they were targeted by robbers,

and this tragically cost them four of their lives.

There's a chance that the girl would have survived that attack,

but in the aftermath, who knows?

She could have starved to death. So, Debbie, here's the map.

So I'm going to try and find that spot where we encountered them all

those years ago. How far do you think we got along here?

Can you remember? Do you think we met them on that road?

Yeah.

Right.

What do you think the chances are then that any of those people remain

in that area?

You've got some fragments of forest left for hunter-gatherers

-to live in.

-Well, look, I'm going to try and find this lady.

-Blimey, what the...?

-Yeah.

-There's some weather coming in.

Look at that. That's truly Sumatran weather.

-Good luck.

-Take care.

I'm heading east out of Sungai Penuh into the interior in the hope that

the girl and her family are still hunter-gatherers following

the well-trodden paths of their ancestors.

I know it's a long shot,

but I might just find them in the same spot I met them 20 years ago,

or at least if not them, some clue as to their whereabouts.

Debbie thought that it was somewhere in this valley.

-Around here?

-Yeah, which is where we are now.

That is that valley.

But in 1998 this road, which is the main road, was a cinder road.

And I remember the shape of the road -

it dipped down and then it rose up,

turned to the left, went over a hill.

And we stopped just before the top of the hill.

This is definitely the right sort of terrain.

I remember all of these really steep-sided hills and I remember

looking up and seeing the forest like we are now.

I mean, do you know what, it was a rise just like this.

It went up and then it turned round to the...

It was, it was just like this, seriously.

It turned round, and we stopped about here.

Let's slow down, let's slow down.

Slow down, slow down.

SHE SPEAKS LOCAL LANGUAGE

Seriously, that was... We just passed that river as well.

Yeah, let's stop here. This is mad, honestly.

No, seriously, I never thought I'd recognise this spot, let's...

Stop the car, that was probably it.

Do you want to check it out?

I do want to check it out. OK, let's go and have a look.

-Let's go back down, we need to walk back down.

-Yeah.

Hold on, hold on.

I remember there was a stream.

The sound man was getting tetchy about the sound of the water.

Debbie must have been right.

I absolutely distinctly remember it.

The car was parked about here.

The car was parked about here, and they came walking up through here.

Yeah, this is it.

Honestly, I'd stake my poodle's life on it,

and I love him more than anything on Earth.

I do want some points though, for being able to come back to,

you know, a remote part of Sumatra after 20 years, and find a spot.

Only a nitwit with Asperger's could do that.

Honestly.

CHRIS CHUCKLES

That encounter took place somewhere just up there.

That's the same noise.

That noise...

This is it, this is the spot.

Look, someone's come in, started to clear it, and put oil palm in.

We're within metres of where I took that photograph.

It was just like this.

I...

There's no doubt of that at all.

I'm trying not to cry about it, to be honest with you,

cos it's like... I never believed that we'd find the spot.

So I, you know... I never imagined we'd find the spot.

But it was here.

It's all coming back to me, just how magical this encounter was,

and how important they still are to me.

They have retained so much of what we should be,

what we had been until everything started to go so desperately wrong.

Someone went in there and killed four of them.

That's immensely sad, isn't it?

To me, they were more valuable than...

Well, certainly more valuable than me.

To think they were here...

That was then. We've got to go and find them now, that's the next

thing, isn't it, really? They're not here today, are they?

And they couldn't be here today. And why couldn't they be here today?

Oil palm.

Palm oil harvested from trees like these now ends up in half of all the

products bought in the world's supermarkets.

It's in everything, from our biscuits, cakes,

to soaps and toothpaste.

Now, it might be profitable for the farmers who harvest it,

but there's little left here for hunter-gatherers to live off.

At twice the size of the UK,

Sumatra is an endless expanse of remote and rugged terrain.

It's a huge place to be looking for one woman, so I've asked Shinta

to find someone who can really help narrow the search.

Hi.

-Hello.

-Hello.

-How do you do?

-I'm fine.

-Chris Packham, how are you?

-I'm Christiawan.

-Christiawan?

-Yep, Christiawan.

Yeah, let's go sit down.

Christiawan is a field worker for WARSI,

and they're a charity helping to fight the Orang Rimba's cause.

-Wow, look at that.

-Yeah.

Wow.

He's worked with the Orang Rimba right across this region for ten years.

How many in that Orang Rimba are there left?

The total number of people?

Do you mean there were 3,000 people like the people I met here,

living out in the forest?

That's good. The fact that they can continue...

There is a big enough area of forest for them to continue to live

in that way.

Can I show you some photographs of the group that I met in 1998?

-OK.

-The little glade, which we found up the road.

That was all of those people that we met that day.

I know these people were killed before you started work.

Seven?

I thought there were four? Seven?

-Yes, seven.

-Seven people were killed?

-That's right, seven.

Three children?

Two. Two children out of that.

Yeah.

That's a lot worse than we thought.

Where the robbery took place?

Right.

So he might recognise them?

-Yep.

-Maybe we can go to the village?

Well...

Whatever it takes.

In the grim light of this morning, yesterday was a bit of a game changer.

But I do feel that the odds have been quite significantly, you know,

shortened, to be quite honest with you.

The chances...

..of her being killed are actually quite high.

Am I going to show that picture to a man...

..in the village today who will be able to identify her as one of those

that he pulled out of the river?

Because that would be a...

..tragic end, wouldn't it?

I'm nearing Petekun.

On my map, it's a remote Malay village,

a tiny dot in a vast expanse of virgin forest.

If you look on here, there are no roads,

you imagine this would all be wilderness.

But you look out of the window...

-Yeah.

-..and there are lots of buildings, villages, palm oil.

-It's not forest, is it?

-Yeah.

The Orang Rimba would not survive very long here.

It's shocking to see this ancient rainforest, once so rich

with wildlife, virtually flattened.

And with no wild boar, no deer to hunt,

none of the staples like cassava or yam to forage for,

many of the food sources they need to thrive are now heavily depleted.

Right. OK.

-The robbery took place here?

-Yeah.

Right.

-Are these the men?

-Yeah, they're the men.

This is the person, the young man that found a dead body in the river.

They know the exact spot, yeah?

-Yeah.

-Let's get some water from the car and then head out, shall we?

-OK.

-OK.

HE SPEAKS LOCAL LANGUAGE

I'm told the girl's close-knit group was headed by a man called Arau,

and I remember meeting him really well.

But two years after that,

he must have decided to lead them all close to this village.

Here.

-In here?

-In here.

What about the other six?

Place with the stone, they came out in there.

-Just here?

-Yeah, in there.

Presumably they bought things in the village, they traded in the village, yeah?

The people who murdered them came from the same village, is that right?

-Far from here.

-Far from here?

So what were those men doing here?

They tried to get the money from Arau.

-So they came here deliberately to kill them?

-Yeah.

Oh...

Because they knew this family, if I were to show them some photographs,

they might remember them, yeah?

He say if...

If I can see the photo...

..definitely, I can recognise him.

OK. Let's move over to this rock here.

This man.

Is that Arau?

That's not Arau? Not the dead man that was here?

-No.

-All right.

This is the man that Debbie Martyr thought had been killed.

And what about this lady?

-That's Arau's daughter? So she was definitely killed here?

-Yep.

The child that she's holding there, is that her child,

the one who was killed?

This is Arau's wife,

-also got killed.

-What about the child?

This is...

..her daughter, so also got killed.

Seems everyone in my photographs was murdered, doesn't it?

So, million-dollar question.

Was this girl one of the children that was killed?

He said different, not the same girl, not the same...

They're sure?

Well, that's a... A blessing in disguise.

At least she wasn't among those who were killed.

It's a tragedy, isn't it? Whatever way you look at it.

It can't have been too long ago when these people were able to sustain

themselves here in the forest entirely in isolation.

But these days, they've got no choice, there's not enough forest left.

We've been cutting it all down, we've been planting it with oil palm,

and the villages are expanding, so their habitat's gone.

And as a consequence, they have to come to the villages because they

can no longer sustain themselves, they haven't got enough resources,

and they need our support.

We are part of the problem.

If it wasn't for us, maybe, idealistically,

they wouldn't be cutting down as much forest,

these people would still have a resource,

and they'd be out there and not at the edge, where they're vulnerable,

where they're murdered.

In Petekun, the murders are in the distant past.

And just as the surviving Orang Rimba have clearly moved on and have

never come back, it's time for me to move on as well.

I think the next step is to go and find some of the Orang Rimba that

might actually know her, or more of the people in that group.

And subsequently, I've learned that they're spread over a huge area

of jungle.

So I think, you know...

..that's going to be difficult.

Finding her is going to be a bit more tricky.

But I really, really want to now.

Yeah. I mean, I wanted to before I came out here,

but now I really want to.

If we don't find her,

you're going to be getting on the plane on your own. Yeah.

Christiawan tells me there's one last area of forest for the Orang

Rimba to live in, which he assures me is protected from deforestation -

the Bukit Duabelas Park - it's 60 miles to the east.

I'm hoping that if the girl and her surviving family fled the massacre,

then perhaps this is where they would have come to.

Chris, look at this.

There's masses of oil palm...

25... That's a huge area.

It turns out that since I last came here 20 years ago,

Indonesia's rainforests have been cut down at the rate of over

200 football pitches every hour.

Christiawan tells me that most of this is due to palm oil.

You see, Indonesia is now the world's biggest producer,

and 70% of it comes from Sumatra.

By 2050,

it's predicted that Indonesia's palm oil production will double due to

global demand, putting massive strain on the island's

remaining rainforests.

It's very sad, isn't it? Maybe 30, 40 years ago,

this was forest.

-And now it's all gone?

-Yeah.

-Apart from the reserve we're going to?

-Yeah.

A few months after the murders,

Chris tells me this 600 square km area of protected forest was set up

by the government when it was realised that, soon,

there would be no forest left for the Orang Rimba.

Hey, welcome. This is my office.

-This is your office?

-Yeah.

-I like your office.

-Yep.

It's pretty cool.

Wow, look at that.

It's very nice in the morning, we can hear a lot of monkeys.

HE IMPERSONATES MONKEY

And what about the mast, what's the mast for?

-That's the radio.

-You've got your radio station?

I think we should ask them to come here and see if they recognise

-the girl.

-Yeah. I like that.

-OK.

I've got to say, an Orang Rimba radio station isn't exactly what

I was expecting. But it is of course too good an opportunity to pass on.

So with the help of Benor FM's Orang Rimba DJs,

word of this investigation is going to spread far and wide.

Oh, look at that, that's so cool!

Yeah.

All the Orang Rimba area listen to radio.

-And you've given them little radios?

-Yeah.

-Hi, how do you do?

How do you do? Hello, how do you do?

HE SPEAKS LOCAL LANGUAGE

Let's sit down here.

THEY SPEAK LOCAL LANGUAGE

He wants to know why have you come to Sumatra?

I first came here in 1998, and I met some Orang Rimba,

and I've come back to try and find one of them,

who was a girl at the time, maybe six, seven years old.

My idea is that we can pin this photograph on the wall of the office,

and if anyone who's listening was in that area by the river,

the district border in 1998,

if they recognise this girl when they come to the office,

they could let us know. And we'd be very grateful.

We'll be here for another few days.

Today, I'm heading into the park to see if we can find the girl amongst

the 1,500 or so Orang Rimba who make their home here.

I've asked Christiawan to take me to one of the families who he tells me

are still living their traditional nomadic lifestyle.

But the truth is, I'm beginning to worry that I'll never find her,

or that she might have died after all.

Hello, Bebayang.

If I can help them find their food, catch their food, cook their food...

-OK.

-Tell them I'm not a great cook.

-OK.

-I'm quite good with animals and I've spotted a turtle down here.

Yeah, this turtle.

And these are food?

THEY SPEAK LOCAL LANGUAGE

-It means yes.

-OK.

What means "no"? You better teach me no pretty quickly,

cos if they offer me some of that turtle for lunch, I'll need a no.

What's a no?

HE SPEAKS LOCAL LANGUAGE

That's no, that's no.

OK. What are they going to do this afternoon?

-They will be fishing.

-Fishing?

There was one thing before we go,

I'd like to see if he recognises the girl, this girl.

This girl was about six or seven in 1998.

-No.

-OK, thank him very much for his help.

And also for taking me fishing.

I'm not being funny, but...

..this stream is tiny. This is the sort of stream that

I used to fish for minnows and sticklebacks when I was a kid.

And it's going to have to be rammed full of fish to replenish the energy

that I've expended on this walk.

Fishing in here.

-Yeah? In this part?

-Yeah.

-OK.

Look at that. It's a good weapon.

Did he make this himself?

-Yes.

-He did?

Oh.

It's good. OK.

OK. He found a big fish.

-Big fish?

-Yeah.

He's got it, he's caught the fish!

Yeah, he got it.

Good shot. You caught a fish, I caught the leech.

My leech is nearly as big as your fish.

How many more fish can we catch? Can I have a go?

You want to change your glasses with him?

These are some of the best goggles in the world!

These are good goggles.

The changes, you know, since I was last here 20 years ago are profound.

You can almost see their habitat, their resource just shrinking back.

We caught a big fish, and it was this big.

Whereas 20, 30 years ago,

they were catching fish that were seven or eight kilograms,

so they're going to be a fish of this size.

As the evening begins to draw in,

it strikes me that although the forest once gave him everything he needed,

Bebayang and his clan are now struggling to survive here,

because of the impact of deforestation.

And I'm starting to think that there must be many indigenous tribes like

the Orang Rimba all over the world facing a similar threat.

It's pretty good, actually. There's a bit of spring in it.

I mean...

And it's certainly sturdy enough.

And it's off the ground, snake-free, it's hopefully leech-free.

Thank you.

There isn't a direct translation for thank you in Orang Rimba,

but Chris told me earlier that the expression they use is,

"I will drink your pee." So...

Thank you, gentlemen, I will drink your pee.

I'll drink your pee.

At 1.47, a moped pulled up, and a man on the back had a dead pig,

bush pig.

And this caused an enormous amount of excitement.

They started to nibble,

recounting anecdotes of yester-yore until it got light.

They are desperate to protect what they've got left of their culture

and their lives.

But at the same time they're living on the edge here.

There's a constant traffic of mopeds across this track here.

They're connected to the outside world.

This forest was everything they needed -

it was their shelter, their food.

But it's changed now.

HE SINGS IN LOCAL LANGUAGE

That wasn't a happy song.

What was that about?

Who does he blame for the loss of the forest?

Who's responsible? Does he blame me?

Does he blame us?

What will happen to Njarang when he grows up?

Where does he think that he will live?

OK. One child go out, and now he is joining the army.

-Yeah, his son.

-He's not coming back?

-Not coming back.

-He's angry with his son?

He's angry with him. Angry and sad and everything.

He needs to keep Njarang in the forest, because he's the last son who he has.

He hopes Njarang stay in the forest to keep his family.

I hope that he lives a long life...

..and he can stay in the forest.

And that his son stays here too.

And when he finally dies, he can be buried in the forest

under a big tree, which will never be cut down.

When I see Njarang in this environment with all that freedom

and confidence, that's how she was, that's what she was like.

That was her world.

That was her.

He represents a sliver of hope,

a little sliver of hope that the Orang Rimba's culture might just

remain intact.

But if nothing changes,

he could be one of the last humans on our planet to live in total

harmony with nature. Because for the past century, every year,

one tribe has become extinct.

I don't want the Orang Rimba to join them.

Chief, I've got some gifts.

So there's a new machete.

Here's a couple of knives.

Chris, special for you.

-Well, there we are.

-This is the force of the forest.

-The force of the forest?

-Yeah.

-OK.

-Symbol to save the forest.

OK. The symbol to save the forest?

Yeah. OK. I promise to work hard to help save this forest.

There's no question of that. Thank you very much.

He's a brilliant man, it's been an enormous privilege to meet him,

and to walk with him through his home.

I'll always cherish my time here,

but I couldn't put my hand on my heart and say that in 20 years,

he would definitely be here somewhere in this forest.

That's the truth of it.

Bebayang has made it perfectly clear that he blames the Indonesian

government for the destruction of his forest.

And I want to find out exactly what he means by that.

How did the villagers and the company come to own the land?

How did they get the land?

-So each household, two hectares?

-Two hectares.

So basically they gave villagers the Orang Rimba's forest?

-Yeah.

-So they were sold out completely?

Yeah.

Under its transmigration policy in the 1980s,

the government encouraged millions of people to move from the neighbouring

island of Java to exploit Sumatra's plentiful natural resources.

The majority of Javanese migrants in this area took up the offer of free

land. Vast swathes of rainforest had to be felled just so they could

farm palm oil.

Mr Osman is the villager that came from Java.

-He came from Java?

-Yeah.

-Hello.

-Hello.

Chris Packham, English.

-Osman.

-How do you do, Osman?

This tree's in food, isn't it?

-Yeah.

-It's ready to cut?

Yes.

Chris, they cut them three times a year, don't they?

One month, two times.

Two times in a month?

My goodness me. There's an enormous amount of biomass here.

I mean, you know, this is one block of fruits, it's incredibly heavy.

Well, that's got to weigh 15... No, more, 20 kilos, I imagine.

And they're producing large quantities of this.

If I squeeze it on my finger, see all the oil?

It's that that makes it so incredibly valuable.

Do you know how much palm oil that you consume in a year?

Between seven and eight kilos a year.

Seven and eight kilos a year.

Let's talk about the Orang Rimba.

Does he ever feel sorry that the Orang Rimba's forest has gone,

and these people can't live the way they used to live any longer?

How much money does he make?

Does he make enough for his children to go to school?

Can he buy television?

I mean, what is his standard of living like?

One of the justifications for moving all of these people was to get them

out of poverty,

and to give them the ability to exploit the natural resources that

were here. And it appears that's not really working, then?

It hasn't solved poverty, has it?

I mean, who's making the money here?

Is the palm oil company rich?

I didn't meet the enemy today.

He's displaced as much as the Orang Rimba are displaced.

You can't blame these people.

And what do you do? Do you, say, scale back the palm oil?

And what happens? You've got to scale back,

they're going to take away your livelihood.

Doesn't work like that, you've got to think of the bigger picture.

If you're going to take away people's livelihoods,

you've got to offer them another one.

We've got ourselves in a mess.

All of us, haven't we?

That's the truth.

Now I know there are people who argue that palm oil isn't that bad,

and the alternatives like soybean are far worse,

as they use ten times as much land to yield the same amount of vegetable oil.

And if I was to try and remove it from my weekly shop,

is it really going to undo all of this damage?

Well, palm oil has destroyed so much forest here

that I just can't forgive it.

With just two days of this trip remaining,

I'm now heading back to WARSI's field office.

Sadly, there's no new information about the girl.

But a new day yields a possible breakthrough.

You see, in my absence,

the WARSI team has been out in the field making inquiries on my behalf.

Christiawan and I are now heading to meet some Orang Rimba who may have

a vital lead.

Just excited now, because this is our best chance so far.

But we're making progress now.

This whole task is far greater than I ever imagined it would be.

Chris tells me the Ali group were living close to where the murders

took place in 2000.

But, respecting an Orang Rimba custom that when relatives die,

they can't return to that spot, they headed far off into the hills.

How do you do? How do you do?

-Nice to meet you.

-And this is Ali's wife.

-How do you do? This is Arau's sister.

-Yeah.

OK.

This is the group that I met at that time.

They know these people?

They recognise this picture?

-Yeah, yeah, yeah.

-They know the people?

-Yeah.

Some of them remember.

So, many of these people are still alive?

Like this man? This man, this man?

This is the girl I'm looking for.

Tell them this is the girl I'm trying to find.

Daughter-in-law, Badai.

She is still alive.

-She's still alive?

-Yeah.

How do they know it's definitely her? Are they sure?

Is that him?

-This is Badai?

-Badai.

This is Badai, and here, she's sat in front of him here...

She is still alive.

It's amazing.

That's amazing.

They know exactly where she is.

-And you know that?

-Yeah.

-We can go there?

-Yeah, we can go there.

Thank you. Thank you very, very much.

Enormous thanks.

After everything, all the twists and turns, the ups and downs,

we find out she's alive, we learn her name, and then where she is.

To be able to find her is amazing.

I was elated yesterday when I heard she was alive, absolutely elated.

But all night, I've had a sense of real trepidation.

I'm sat here in this sort of sterile,

sort of spartan hotel in the middle of a bustling city, and I know

that she's an hour from here.

Which means she isn't in the heart of one of those last remaining

fragments of rainforest.

I'm very excited, but at the same time

very fearful of what's going to unfold.

I've looked back at something that I've held in such high esteem,

I've attributed such enormous value to.

And I feel that today it could be undone.

And that would be a very painful process.

It's a palm oil plantation, isn't it?

Yeah.

-They live here?

-They live here.

-This is their home?

-This is their home, yeah.

-Right, OK.

You can see the blue tarp.

-That's it, is it?

-Yeah.

-All right, we are right here.

OK, let's do it.

It's so quiet.

When we met them, I remember it was deafening,

because we were there on the edge of the jungle.

Yeah, sounds completely different.

As you can see,

there's some women here, adults.

-Yeah.

-Which one do you think is her?

Maybe you can...

I can't spot her.

Oh, I think she's hiding behind the...

-She's hiding?

-Yeah, I think she's a bit shy.

-No wonder I can't spot her.

-Yeah.

-She's hiding in there?

-Yeah.

I can talk to her first, and then...

Yeah, OK.

Hello!

Chris, come.

Hello, Sumping. Nice to meet you.

20 years.

I know. It's amazing, isn't it?

She changed her name after getting married.

Her name now is Bunga Mawar.

-Bunga Mawar?

-Which is... Bunga is flower, Mawar is rose.

-Oh, is that right?

-Yeah.

-Yeah.

-Yeah.

-This is her child?

-Yeah.

-How many children does she have?

-Three.

-She has three children?

She has three, yeah. So she has three daughters.

Ita is the oldest one.

This is Ratih.

Mereni's the smallest one.

Hello!

Well...

What about that?

20 years - it's so good that they're here.

And look, they're all smiling.

The kids are happy.

We must get the photos out and show them.

-Chris.

-Badai.

My name is Chris.

Does Badai remember where I met them?

-He remembers?

-Yeah, he remembers. And he remembers you still.

-He remembers me?

-Yeah.

And he said you're still young like that.

Tell him he's a very kind man.

These are the photos that we took that afternoon.

That's him! That is him.

-Young brother.

-That was his brother?

Wow.

One, two, three.

And then there's this photo,

which is the one that's brought me all the way here.

This is the photograph.

THEY SPEAK OWN LANGUAGE

Having found her alive against all probability,

it seems that Bunga Mawar is only here because of one remarkable

stroke of luck shortly before the murders took place.

-Oh, really?

-Yeah.

-Why was that?

Yeah, it does.

So she's a complete orphan, so she was orphaned when she was six or seven?

If she'd been with her parents, she'd have been killed?

-Yes.

-Wouldn't she?

-Yeah.

Wow.

What about that?

-She's lucky to be alive.

-Yeah.

I found the same woman...

..but I didn't find the same human.

Because these people, when I met them, had a habitat, you know?

And now, look...

They're living in hell.

They're living in amongst the very thing that has destroyed them.

Their shelters are built under oil palm.

The rainforest gave them everything they needed -

plenty of game to hunt and plants they could trade outside the forest.

They were rich with resources.

And now they struggle to fend for themselves.

And whose fault is it?

Well, I think it's our fault.

People like us are destroying ecosystems all over the world.

As a people, they're destined for extinction, aren't they?

And that's our story too, isn't it?

Because if we don't stop this nonsense, you know, we've had it.

We've had it.

What is it that we're going to wait for?

What punishment is going to have to be exacted upon our species

before we get our act in order?

And when I look at that beautiful woman, and I think,

"What's the world going to be like for her in 50 years?"

And when I look at my stepdaughter, and I think,

"What's her world going to be like, you know, when she's 50?"

That's what makes me get up and fight this destruction.

Because only if we fight it do we stand any chance of success.

Look, it's crystal clear that it's our consumption that's impacting

on their world.

Come on, Scratchy.

Now I'm back here, aware of the silence of nature,

and the roar of mankind in the background,

and I've been reflecting on my journey and the Orang Rimba

that I've been so privileged to meet.

For the girl, Bunga Mawar, well,

I would argue the battle's already lost.

It was amazing to see her,

but tragic that she no longer has the freedom of the forest that she

had when I first met her.

But I imagine the boy, Njarang,

out there in the quiet, listening,

fishing, being connected in a way which...

..for all of my love of this forest, you know,

I could never be that connected.

I think of Njarang and it brings a smile to my face.

He's become my hope.

Maybe he's all of our hope, because if we can reconnect with nature,

if we can work with nature rather than against it,

then I think we've got a chance.

I think we've got a chance.