Whilst exploring the reefs of Sudan I asked myself: As divers, conservationists, and researchers, are we so attached to how things used to be that we can’t see what they are, thus what they could become? Is our constant comparison to the past blinding us to the solutions of the future?
As experienced divers, Tom, Cisco and I, were fixated on the coral's decline during our first dives on the remote reefs of Sudan. It was like arriving in a village ravaged and abandoned, with only remnants of its former beauty remaining. This was the view of those who had seen the reef in its prime or in other parts of the world. We held onto an image of how it "should" be.
But some crew members, new to diving, returned from the same dive site amazed. They marveled at a turtle, a clownfish in an anemone, and a ´pokémon-like worm´—a nudibranch. Their joy offered me a fresh perspective. On the next dive, I focused on life, not loss. I spent the dive watching a vibrant anemone full of juvenile clownfish and damselfish fish, curious and daring, edging closer to me while the cautious adults watched from the safety of the anemone. I imagined them daring each other to get closer to my outreached hand, like an innocent childs-play.
The whole scene reminded me of a picture I once saw of kids playing in Fordlandia, the failed city Henry Ford built in the Amazon. The development promised a ´better life´-defined by western culture at the time- whilst neglecting to recognize the life that already thrived there. The land was cleared for the capitalist venture, but soon , without the protection and benefits of the forest, disease started killing off the local people. The town eventually collapsed, yet generations grew up in its ruins. Like the young fish, these children know only the concrete jungle, finding joy in what exists now. They didn’t experience the forest like their ancestors did, just as the new divers didn’t experience the reef in its prime. Instead of dwelling on change, they embrace the present, finding life in the cracks and adapting to their reality.
For us seasoned divers, aware of what’s been lost, it’s easy to focus on the past-something we cannot forget if we are to learn from our mistakes. But being present—like the juvenile fish and the new divers—offers a chance to truly see what’s here now and how it's adapting to prepare solutions for this new reality. We can't undo the past, but we can learn and appreciate the resilience of what remains.
Ellen Myers