Families from PNG's Manus province are losing their loved ones to the betel nut trade, with piracy posing a deadly risk

Standing by the shoreline at her home on Los Negros Island, Agnes Boyou looks out at a makeshift ocean grave for six members of her family.

It's been two years since her son David John, his two sons and three cousins set off from Manus province and made the treacherous journey in a small dinghy to Papua New Guinea's (PNG) mainland.

He'd been making the 800-kilometre round trip for five years, earning a living through the trade of betel nut.

But this journey was to be his last.

Ms Boyou says her son's plan was to buy betel nut from Madang and sell it to pay for a new car and his sons' primary school fees.

"The kids didn't listen when we tried to stop them … they both tried to follow their father," she says.

"Their mother was in town and had no idea. When she found out, it was too late and they had already left."

In the early hours of the next day as he was returning from Madang, Mr John tried to call his wife seven times.

By the time she rang back, it was too late. The call went straight to voicemail.

After searching the nearby islands off the mainland and scouring an enormous expanse of ocean for months, the family found no sign of them.

A year after Mr John's boat disappeared, the search was closed off. In a ceremony at sea, families laid wreaths on the reef for their loved ones, lost forever.

Locals on Manus say in the last decade, dozens of betel nut or buai traders have gone missing doing the run to and from the mainland.

They say some of them drown, but others meet their ends at the hands of a more menacing threat: pirates.

'If I don't go, where will I get the money?'

Buai, as it's commonly known in PNG, is the seed from the areca palm.

It's a stimulant drug, chewed by most of the population for its intoxicating properties.

While it doesn't grow locally on Manus, buai is abundant in Wewak and Madang along the northern coastline of PNG.

The lack of local supply and extraordinary demand, combined with the area's limited job prospects, have created the perfect conditions for a hazardous sea trade.

Grace Roy, a young woman from Manus Island, is among those who have witnessed the true dangers of the trade.

"There are cases of crimes out at sea," she says.

"I have a boat and when I want to travel, we go with two or three other boats.

"Other boats go missing or are washed onto an island … a few days later we hear the stories.

"It's not because of nature, men do these things … they're killing people at sea."

Ms Roy says she understands the danger of her work, but feels she has little other choice.

"I see the risks involved as someone who travels with the men, but if I don't go, where will I get the money?" she said.

At a bustling market in the Manus capital of Lorengau, Pauline Palah is selling imported buai to local shoppers.

"I have four children and raised them and paid for their school fees through selling," Ms Palah says.

"My husband is not working, and we've survived through marketing for 20 years."

As supply and demand varies based on how many boats are coming in, she says she can take home between $170 and $430 a week.

Charlie Benjamin, the governor of Manus province, says he has tried to discourage the dangerous trade, but warnings have so far fallen on deaf ears.

"There are instances where a lot of our people have perished through bad weather and piracy," he says.

"I have discouraged them, but sometimes people do not listen."

Tracking down assailants at sea

Suspicious deaths at sea are difficult to investigate — by their nature, these crimes are opportunistic and remote.

Very few people have been charged with piracy in PNG, and even when police are able to pursue suspects, often the charges are downgraded. 

In November 2021, four traders with a boatload of buai disappeared on their way to Manus from Wewak. They were never found. 

Around the same time, three young men were arrested for piracy, after they allegedly hijacked two boats travelling near Manus. 

The young men allegedly stranded the boat's occupants on a small island, but they were discovered and the alarm was raised.

In another instance, a trader named Bobby Namis was taking $7,500 of buai to Manus from East Sepik when he vanished along with five others on board.

They had made plans to meet with a friend on a nearby island on the way to make the trade.  

A year later, Mr Namis's wife heard that the friend who organised the stopover had been spotted coming into port on Bobby's missing boat.

The man was charged with piracy, but due to a lack of evidence, the charges were downgraded to stealing.

Mr Namis's family is still trying to find answers as to how the man came into possession of the boat, as the case slowly makes its way through the courts. 

Thefts and suspicious deaths are not the only risks of the betel nut sea trade.

Police and local officials are also concerned about traders bringing other drugs and guns into PNG's smallest province.

"I would say that not one boat that goes to the mainland and comes back does not bring drugs with it," Mr Benjamin said. 

For grieving families, there are no answers

Two years on, Mr John's family still don't know what happened to him and the rest of the family on board the dinghy.

His brother in-law Charlie Steven believes they were killed by other traders.

"We were really hoping we could find suspects involved in their missing case ... but we were not successful," he says.

"We used all our resources, but we were not successful in finding them. Even today the pain is there but we continue to live."

Struggling to comprehend the enormous loss, Mr John's mother still doesn't believe they died at sea.

"I live with worry, but I commit them in prayers," Ms Boyou says.

"How will I find them? God only knows."