Ever been curious about what lies beneath? Well, these men take it a step further by literally “digging” for the answers. Meet the new generation of bounty hunters.
Just moments after the killer tsunami ripped through Banda Aceh in northern Sumatra in 2004, the telephone lines in 27-year-old Steven Ng’s workplace rang off the hook.
“Mr Steven, I need an ACE 250 a.s.a.p. Make sure it gets here before the debris clears up!” an Indonesian-accented voice crackled through the receiver.
Similar orders poured in from all over Indonesia within the next few months. Ng’s clients were not a very emotional lot. Rather than spending their time grieving over the massive loss and destruction in Aceh, they descended on the town like flies, with alien-like contraptions slung across their arm, beeping away.
These were metal detectorists (yes, don’t snicker, that’s what they’re called), out looking for some coins, perhaps, and, oh, yes, lots of precious jewels from the family heirloom.
“Business was great back then,” reminisces Ng, the founder of KK Instruments, a Malaysian company that specialises in metal detectors. However, he’s quick to point out that his clients aren’t as heartless as they sound. Passion’s the word, the raison d’être. It’s the classic metal detectorist syndrome.
These are just like any other hobbyist: they’d go to great lengths for their hobbies.
Just how great? A simple online search yielded hundreds of metal detector clubs, from the US to Australia, with wholesome names like Weekend Wanderers and Tameside. Some go as far as to offer free rescue services for the diamond ring you’ve dropped in your backyard. Heck, there’s even a website on how to form your own metal detecting club if none of those appeal to you.
Then, there are the forums.
These are like virtual madhouses in which metal heads can brag about their latest finds, or if that’s not convincing enough, upload pictures of their finds. One may also participate in discussions about the various metal detector models (as if they were cars) or how to master the art of persuasion in order to obtain government permission for on-site excavation (or else, the hobby could turn felonious).
No hunting buddy? Easy; just find one in the forum!
This is treasure-hunting 21st century style. Long John Silver does it with an eye patch and a map; these people do it with GTP 1350, Infinium and Sea Hunters.
According to Emily Yoffe, the writer of Slate magazine who dubbed metal detecting “the world’s worst hobby”, the modern history of metal detecting is ignominious. Alexander Graham Bell used an experimental model in 1881 in order to locate the assassin’s bullet lodged in President James Garfield.
Unfortunately, no one remembered that Garfield was lying on a mattress with newfangled metal coils, causing the machine to emit a continuous whine, resulting in failure to accurately locate the bullet. Garfield’s heart gave out when doctors cut into him.
Since then, those clunky machines the size of my dinner table have evolved into something lighter and easier to use. In the 60s, metal detecting officially became a “sport”.
Gold diggers
It wasn’t until 2003 when news broke that the government had successfully uncovered several historical artifacts underneath Malacca’s old city using a metal detector that metal detecting started taking off as a hobby in Malaysia.
“A friend asked me to source the gadget for him, and pretty soon, I was also getting requests from people I barely knew. Naturally, I made a business out of it,” Ng says.
However, metal detecting remains a relatively untapped market in Malaysia. It’s a male-dominated sport composed of mainly lonesome adventurers in their 30s and unemployed baby boomers.
Enthusiast Saiful Ahmad, 39, an aircraft technician, has about a million “strike-it-rich” stories to tell.
“The Filipinos just uncovered some German gold in one of their caves,” he says. “It was buried there by the Japanese during World War II, but they couldn’t bring it back to Japan after surrendering because they failed to relocate the site.”
Another hot off the rumour mill: “The Singapore government was burrowing a hole for their new LRT line when their drill hit something solid and broke. They found an actual treasure chest from the pre-war days and it’s probably worth millions of ringgit!”
Meanwhile, Saiful himself has amassed quite a collection since he started about a year ago.
“I usually do it with a couple of my buddies over the holidays,” he reveals. “We’ll hike to Kota Tinggi and camp for a few nights. I do my own thing and they do theirs. I’ve found some gold on my trip, but it was in tiny chunks. I still have them with me.”
Ng believes Saiful has hit the jackpot more often than he lets on.
“My clients are very discreet about their finds. But when they keep purchasing newer and more sophisticated upgrades from me, that just leaves me wondering: why would they bother buying anything else if they didn’t find anything?
“You have to probe them for the right answers. Many of them would only tell me after numerous assurances that I could be of some help, that I could recommend them the right add-ons to improve their future searches.”
That’s how metal detectorists work in Asia. They are highly secretive, and work independently, unlike their Western counterparts. Not only that, the professionals (or the people who do this for a living) won’t admit that they are professionals. They’d rather live a hermit’s life than share their knowledge with newbies like me.
Could this stem from “kiasu-ism” or the fear that their favourite hunting grounds will be inundated with other treasure hunters? Or is it something much more serious?
“Ya la, in a sense, if you found a stash of fortune that doesn’t belong to you, you’d have to declare it straightaway, or the Government will seize it from you,” says Saiful. “That’s why people don’t share their stories.”
And what astounding stories these are. Some have found historical artifacts, others gold coins — oh, the list is endless.
In my quest to find out how true these stories are, I ask Ng if I could give metal detecting a shot. So off I set to the hilly forest of Bukit Kiara one Sunday morning with Ng, Saiful and several metal detectors in tow.
No pain, no gain
The one thing that Saiful forgot to mention is that people would stare — some inquisitively, and others suspiciously, as if we were convicts on the loose. I can’t help but feel my face growing hot with embarrassment, as we heave the Scorpion Gold Stinger and Master Hunter CX Plus into a wooded area.
“Oh, get used to it,” remarks Ng. “The time I did this in Malacca with my friends, a huge crowd started gathering around us. All the other passers-by must have been wondering what the heck was happening.”
Since Bukit Kiara was once a rubber plantation, I’m curious about what I would find there. Only recently, Ng and another metal head, Shafiq Adnan, 21, a research engineer, had unearthed a few ancient relics, including a Celtic cross and even a sword, in an oil palm plantation in Johor. I wonder if beginner’s luck could help me score a Celtic cross, or at least some century-old coins, of my own.
“Here, use this,” says Ng, thrusting the Master Hunter into my hands.
The Master Hunter, I’ve been told, could detect objects up to one foot below ground and is the choice gadget for beginners. Although hardly the epitome of style, it has a slick, wire-coiled body and a digital display console that shows you where the hidden treasure is and whether it is iron, gold, bronze, silver or (as if to mock you) a tin foil. This nifty function makes it much easier than conventional detectors, which rely on different sounds to indicate different metals.
Parks are great places to test out your metal detector.
I switch my device on. It buzzes to life, drowning out the constant hum of mosquitoes around me. I am simultaneously scratching myself silly and swinging the bottom of the metal detector over the earth, leaving no bases uncovered.
“Oh, I got one!” quips Saiful, bending down for a closer look. “Cheh, just a tin foil.”
Ten minutes and a couple of miserable tin foils later, the drone of my metal detector gets louder each time it hovers over a certain spot, indicating that something is there.
I push on the pinpoint button like I was told to, and the console says “silver”, seven inches deep. The first thing that flashes in my mind is, “Omigod why didn’t I bring a friggin’ shovel?!”
I move on reluctantly, overwhelmed with the “to dig or not to dig” question that every metal detectorist must face at least once in their lives. Deep down, however, I know my fate has been sealed: I’m not about to start digging up public premises like a rabid prairie dog without getting permission from the Government first.
You shouldn’t either, unless you’re hankering for some downtime in a jail cell. Now I know why the women aren’t interested: it is a painstaking and morale-shattering process.
My next two finds are not as sensational. They are iron, five and seven inches below ground respectively. I wouldn’t know what to do with scrap metal or steel rods anyway.
Ng is not at all surprised with my luck.
“Unless it’s a really crappy day, metal detectorists usually have an 80% chance of finding something,” he says. “Though I can’t really guarantee what kind of stuff you’ll end up with.”
Shafiq, for instance, considers his luckiest treasure-hunting day to be the time when he went scuba diving with his waterproof metal detector off Mersing and uncovered a shipwreck. He took home a few precious items, including a silver cup and some old coins which he has kept to this very day.
On the other hand, Ng had a customer who found a strange amulet the same way. What ensued later, he says, seemed very Exorcist-like: “He started having nightmares every day. Then he got into a car accident. Then his wife found out and gave him a scolding of a lifetime. So he sold it off out of superstition.”
Oh, well. It’s a bit like playing slot machines — you never know when you might hit the big time. The only difference is that with this sport, you could end up with a bad scare and a “metal detectorist elbow”, which is a debilitating case of holding the device at an awkward angle for a prolonged time.---www.thestar.com.my