"THERE'S something about the ocean," she murmurs, eyes faraway.
I can almost hear the waves crashing to the shore. It's mid-afternoon and we're seated in a cosy little music club tucked away on the first floor along a small stretch of restaurants in Jalan Bangkung, Bangsar. It's nowhere near the ocean, of course.
But Dr Jillian Ooi Lean Sim's quiet voice brings me to a different place; a place where the smell of seawater is strong and the endless view of the ocean — cobalt blue in patches, sea foam green in others — meets the eye.
"I can't help but feel a sense of calm whenever I'm there," she continues, smiling. "I can't really explain it. I feel like I can do anything… solve problems… the possibilities are endless when I'm near the ocean."
But it's what's beneath the ocean that's given Ooi her life's mission — drawing attention to the plight of seagrass.
Every continent, save Antarctica, is ringed by stretches of seagrass. But these underwater "gardens" are fast becoming one of the most endangered ecosystems on earth.
Seagrass, less commonly known than its aquatic cousin seaweed, is often overlooked in providing a sustainable natural sanctuary for marine ecosystems. Like many other ecosystems, seagrass meadows are at risk of disappearing from the oceans because of climate change and land reclamation.
"We call seagrass the ugly stepchild of marine organisms," admits Ooi wryly, adding: "They don't get a lot of respect compared with corals and mangroves."
"Why not?" I ask, curious.
She shrugs her shoulders and smiles. "They're not as pretty," she finally replies. Looking at me, eyes shining, she blurts out: "But I find seagrass beautiful!"
Her passion is palpable.
It's unsurprising, considering that Ooi is one of the few seagrass experts in the country. Her life's work encompasses researching, mapping and raising awareness on this little-known and underappreciated marine life.
The genial ecologist from Universiti Malaya (UM) had also been selected as a 2022 recipient of the Pew fellowship in marine conservation, where she'd been granted a US$150,000 grant to study the growth and best methods to restore seagrass meadows, and raise awareness of its importance.
PLIGHT OF SEAGRASS
It seems inconceivable to think that the stretch of plain-looking "grass" beneath the turquoise waters play an outsize role in the health of the oceans. They shelter important fish species, sequester greenhouse gases, and filter harmful pollution and bacteria from the water.
With 16 recorded species of seagrass out of the 72 species globally, Malaysia ranks third in the world for seagrass diversity. The most diverse and highly developed seagrass communities are found in Sabah, Sarawak, and the southern and eastern portions of Peninsular Malaysia.
The chug… chug... chug… of the motorboat leads Ooi and her team of students to places where seagrass thrive. Under the blazing heat of the sun, they begin the painstaking activity of mapping the entire region of seagrass by dragging the underwater camera (attached to a GPS) beneath churning waters.
The work can be backbreaking, she admits dryly. "From spending up to nine hours a day out in the ocean, pulling the cameras and collecting data. If the cameras aren't clear, we dive in to check and take samples," explains Ooi. But mapping seagrass is vital. "If we don't know where it is, we can't protect it."
Seagrass occupy less than 0.2 per cent of the world's oceans and account for more than 10 per cent of all the carbon trapped in the sea. "Seagrass ecosystems are just as critical to coastal fisheries as coral reefs, if not more," reminds Ooi, adding that seagrass ecosystems also provide vital ecosystem services, such as maintaining water quality, stabilising the seabed and as natural coastal protection. Seagrass meadows serve as a nursery for juvenile fish and are feeding grounds for marine animals, including dugong, turtles and seahorses.
But across the globe, these meadows are vanishing at a rate of a football field every 30 minutes, according to a United Nations' report that states that up to seven per cent of seagrass habitats are being wiped out every year.
This emergency has compelled the UN to declare a formal World Seagrass Day on March 1 to raise awareness on preserving and conserving seagrass around the world.
There's also another compelling reason why Ooi is determined to ensure that the seagrass ecosystem is protected. "Losing our seagrass ecosystem will also affect the lives of a small group of people whom I feel a lot of affection for," she confides, voice heavy with emotion.
Her face clouds momentarily.
When the tide's low and the water recedes, the hardcore poor will be out there sifting through the seagrass bed to pick out crabs and sea snails that would be their only meal for the day.
"They exist!" she asserts, her eyes glistening. "They're not out there to make a living out of selling crabs and other marine creatures. They're out there to find food so their families can have that one good meal that they'd otherwise not be able to afford."
Ooi has been working with this community for the past one year. She'd been observing the community walking out on the exposed seabed with their children, carefully cradling their pick of crabs and snails in their tattered t-shirts.
She approached a man who showed her his pick — a single crab. "Is this all you're going to eat today?" she asked. The father of three replied: "This is for my children. My wife and I usually don't eat in front of them. We'll eat our rice and kicap (soy sauce) in our room after our children have eaten."
Ooi had interviewed many within the community and their stories are similar. "They're really the poorest of poor. They don't have a voice. I can't imagine how they'll cope if the seagrass completely disappears. They'll have nothing left to eat," she says, voice quivering.
A tear spills out and she dabs her eyes with a tissue. Everybody loses when our seagrass goes, insists Ooi quietly. "The repercussions of losing this vital ecosystem are inconceivable."
AMBITIONS THWARTED
If the lithe, ethereal-looking woman had her way, she'd be cloistered in a convent as a Catholic nun. "I always admired them when I was in school," she admits smiling, adding: "But when I was later sent for piano lessons, I did harbour dreams of being a musician!"
The eldest of three siblings confesses to disliking studying. "I didn't quite take to the maths and sciences. I got into trouble regularly with teachers. In fact, I remember being chased by the discipline master around the school!" she blithely shares, adding: "My mother was desperate. She'd go to church, invoking the help of all the patron saints!"
Things changed when Ooi entered university. "University life suited me. Compared to the rigid education system in school, this felt like a breath of fresh air. I found my footing and began to take an active interest in studying."
She also discovered another interesting pursuit in her third year at university. One day, she followed a friend to the Gamelan Club run by ethnomusicologist Sunetra Fernando. "I was there to watch a friend play. But Sunethra handed me the mallet instead. She didn't believe in bystanders!" recalls Ooi, laughing.
The young woman had no idea what the gamelan was all about. The groups of metal slabs and gong-shaped instruments that collectively form a basic gamelan ("orchestra" is a fair translation) make a sonorous world of beauty that reaches from the bottom to the top of the audible range.
Ooi was intrigued and the first strike of the gong resonated deeply in her heart. "I was instantly captivated," she recalls. Her piano training made it easy for her to pick up the instrument.
"The gamelan has only five notes. It was easy to learn it. I found that playing the gamelan gave me a sense of freedom I didn't experience otherwise. My work grounded me but music gave me wings. It was as simple as that!" she declares.
She soon began juggling studies along with playing the gamelan. "I played the gamelan when I wasn't studying or working. My work and my music were two separate worlds, but I was able to venture into both quite successfully."
After obtaining her first degree in social science, Ooi decided to delve into science for her Masters. "The thinking back then was that only science can solve problems. Social science, not so much."
Adding, she says: "I wanted to be able to learn all the scientific terminologies and hold a conversation with researchers. I later realised that it takes both the sciences to come up with solutions to environmental issues."
Ooi ventured into marine science and found the call of the ocean too strong to ignore. "It's so cliché, I know…" she says, with a sigh.
Sitting on the boat being surrounded by the ocean, she felt both weightless and happy. "I knew I was on the right path," she adds simply.
CHAMPIONING THE UNDERDOG
While working under the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) to track dugong in Johor, Ooi spent a lot of time in seagrass meadows mapping the dugong's feeding trails. She found herself fascinated with the plain-looking seagrass, which was often overlooked by other scientists.
"I've always been inclined to champion the underdog," she admits ruefully. "The seagrass isn't as sexy as marine animals or even coral reefs. Why would anyone be interested in this? But being an introvert, I often veered towards the overlooked and the unpopular."
From starting out as an environmental social scientist, Ooi shifted to studying marine plants, and eventually completed her PhD in seagrass biogeography at the University of Western Australia. She'd finally settled into her calling.
Deep underwater, Ooi hovers over the undulating meadows that stretches as far as the eye can see. Adjusting her eyes in the dim light, she quietly observes. Nothing happens at first.
Then a brightly coloured crab peeks out between the grass. Somewhere nearby, a dugong swims. As she watches, the underwater garden comes to life.
"It's peaceful," she says breathlessly. "It's not colourful like coral reefs. You might think nothing happens at first. But if you're patient enough, the magic happens. The seagrass holds so much of life within it. It's unbelievable."
Now, the scientist intends to replicate that magic into music. As the artistic and music director of Rhythm In Bronze (RIB), a gamelan group founded by Fernando, Ooi's in the midst of translating the beauty and secrets of the seagrass meadows into a multi-disciplinary gamelan piece to raise public awareness.
"For the longest time, I kept my work life and my music separate. They never overlapped. I now feel that was a silly thing to do. I believe that the performing arts can feed into my science and vice-versa." she says firmly.
Adding, Ooi muses: "If we bring them together and hold a conversation, we'll see more crossovers. Science will inspire performing arts and performing arts inspiring science. That's the whole point of doing this gamelan performance under the Pew project."
The language of nature has been steadily draining from the vocabulary of our culture. With the upcoming performances by RIB showcasing the seagrass, Ooi intends to buck that trend.
While music isn't going to reverse climate change or the decline of seagrass meadows, it's a step toward reversing the decline of nature in culture, and that matters. "If we want to change the world to safeguard nature and ourselves, we first have to see it. Art can do that," she insists.
In the meantime, her work continues. From extensive field and lab work to understanding the roots of seagrass and how they can grow well without being swept away by the ocean's currents; to working with local villagers, including fisherfolk and boat operators, the marine scientist is set on finding solutions to restore and rejuvenate seagrass meadows.
As she steps once again into the waters, her music will reverberate through the open seas like a siren song. Yet, instead of being a harbinger of death, Ooi's music will do quite the opposite — bringing life and hope to the secret gardens of the ocean. Seagrass undulates to a hidden rhythm, breathing life in its watery depths. And just like that, music is everywhere.
Copy and paste:
14 October 2025: 4.07 p.m
No comments:
Post a Comment