Nila Kartika Wati
The promise of a lucrative career in the international tuna fishing industry has transformed into a protracted nightmare for Surono, a 47-year-old fisherman from Tegal, Central Java. For more than 11 months, Surono and two of his compatriots, Rizal Harun and Wahyudin, have been stranded aboard the Novo Ruivo, a Portuguese-flagged tuna vessel currently anchored in the waters of Cape Verde. What began as a journey to secure his family’s financial future has devolved into a desperate struggle for survival and a legal battle for nearly a year’s worth of unpaid wages.
Surono is among six Indonesian crew members who find themselves caught in a geopolitical and economic limbo. The vessel is currently docked at the port of Mindelo on the island of São Vicente, an archipelago nation in the central Atlantic Ocean. The crew’s situation grew dire after the ship’s owner allegedly fled, taking with him the sailors’ essential travel documents, including their passports, leaving them effectively stateless and unable to leave the vessel without abandoning their claims to the compensation they are owed.
The Chronology of Abandonment
The ordeal began in early 2025. Lured by the prospect of earning US$1,200 (approximately Rp20.3 million) per month—a sum significant enough to clear his domestic debts and provide for his wife and children—Surono departed Indonesia for Namibia in March 2025. The Novo Ruivo operated in the productive fishing grounds off the coast of Africa, targeting tuna for the global market.
For the first several months, operations appeared routine. However, the situation fractured in September 2025 when the vessel arrived at the port of Mindelo to offload its catch. It was during this period that the vessel’s owner reportedly disappeared, leaving the crew without their wages or their identification papers. Since that time, the crew has remained on the ship, refusing to be repatriated without their pay.
"I don’t know what to do. My wife and children need to eat," Surono told international media outlets. His dilemma is one shared by thousands of migrant fishers globally: returning home empty-handed is often not an option when the journey was funded by high-interest loans or when a year of labor represents the only hope for a family’s solvency. "We want to go home, but if we go home without money, then what? We have worked hard at sea. How can we just be left like this?"
During their nearly year-long confinement on the Novo Ruivo, the crew has survived on dwindling supplies. They rely on remaining stocks of rice and frozen food stored in the ship’s holds. While the physical conditions are grueling, the psychological toll of being stranded thousands of miles from home, with no clear end in sight, is perhaps more damaging.
Global Statistics and the Definition of Abandonment
The plight of the Novo Ruivo crew is not an isolated incident but rather a symptom of a systemic crisis within the global maritime industry. According to data from the International Transport Workers’ Federation (ITF), 2025 marked a record high for seafarer abandonment. The organization recorded approximately 6,200 crew members across 410 vessels facing similar conditions of neglect and non-payment. While these figures encompass the broader shipping industry, a significant and often underreported portion involves the distant-water fishing sector.
The International Labour Organization (ILO) provides a clear definition of vessel abandonment. A ship is considered abandoned when the owner fails to cover the cost of the crew’s repatriation, leaves them without the necessary maintenance and support, or unilaterally severs ties with the crew, including the failure to pay wages for at least two months. By these standards, the crew of the Novo Ruivo has been abandoned multiple times over.
Gonzalo Galan, an inspector for the ITF, has been monitoring the case closely. He notes that while international frameworks like the ILO’s Work in Fishing Convention (No. 188) exist to protect workers, their implementation remains inconsistent, particularly on the high seas and in foreign jurisdictions. Convention 188 is designed to ensure that fishers have written contracts, regular pay, and decent living conditions, yet the Novo Ruivo case highlights the gap between policy and practice.
Legal Hurdles and Repatriation Dilemmas
The Indonesian Embassy in Dakar, Senegal—which oversees diplomatic relations with Cape Verde—along with the ITF, has offered the crew the option of repatriation. However, this solution is fraught with complications. For Surono and his colleagues, accepting immediate repatriation often means forfeiting the leverage they have to claim their back pay. Once they leave the vessel and the jurisdiction, the likelihood of recovering thousands of dollars in unpaid wages from a bankrupt or elusive owner drops significantly.
The ITF has suggested a more aggressive legal route: the "arrest" and sale of the Novo Ruivo. Under maritime law, a court can order the seizure and auction of a vessel to satisfy "maritime liens," which include unpaid crew wages. "The last option that could be a collective solution is to sell the ship to pay off the owner’s debts," Galan explained. However, this process requires a formal court order from the Cape Verdean judiciary, a procedure that is both time-consuming and legally complex.
Adding to the confusion, the manning agency that recruited the crew in Indonesia has reportedly offered a settlement consisting of only half of the owed wages. As of early 2026, no significant progress has been made on this offer, leaving the sailors in a state of continued uncertainty.
The Owner’s Defense
From his base in Spain, Javier Martinez, the owner of Somar Produtos do Mar—the company behind the Novo Ruivo—has admitted to the financial collapse of his enterprise. Martinez claims he has run out of funds to pay the crew but denies that he has "abandoned" them in the traditional sense.
"They are not abandoned. They have everything they need on board: electricity, clean water, and food," Martinez stated. He further claimed that he has been sending a small stipend of approximately US$60 to each crew member every few weeks to cover basic necessities like phone credit and snacks. Martinez also addressed the missing passports, suggesting that the logistical costs of maintaining a docked vessel are exorbitant and that he is searching for a way to resolve the crisis.
Despite these assurances, the reality for the crew remains one of confinement and poverty. A $60 stipend does little to address the thousands of dollars in debt many of the sailors carry back in Indonesia.
Implications for Indonesian Policy and Protection
The case has sparked renewed criticism from labor advocates in Indonesia. Imam Trihatmadja, Director of Programs at Destructive Fishing Watch (DFW) Indonesia, argues that the Novo Ruivo incident exposes the persistent vulnerability of Indonesian migrant fishers on foreign-flagged vessels.
"The government is unable to ensure that the post-repatriation process does not create new problems," Trihatmadja said. He emphasized that while repatriation is a necessary humanitarian step, it must be accompanied by a robust mechanism for wage recovery and social reintegration. Without this, sailors return to their villages in Central Java not as successful breadwinners, but as victims of modern-day debt bondage.
Trihatmadja has called on the newly established Ministry of Protection for Indonesian Migrant Workers (Kemen P2MI) to take a more proactive role in monitoring manning agencies. These agencies are often the first point of failure, as they may lack the financial guarantees required to compensate workers when a foreign employer defaults.
Furthermore, the Novo Ruivo case serves as a poignant reminder of Indonesia’s delay in ratifying ILO Convention No. 188. Advocates argue that ratification would provide the Indonesian government with stronger legal standing to intervene in international maritime disputes and would force domestic agencies to adhere to higher standards of transparency and worker protection.
The Human Cost of Global Tuna
Back in Tegal, the families of the stranded men wait in a state of perpetual anxiety. Kiki Andriani, Surono’s wife, expressed the heartbreak of a family separated by half a globe and a wall of silence. "If he comes home without his salary, then a year of work will be in vain," she said. The family’s hopes were pinned on this contract; now, they face the possibility of financial ruin.
The global tuna industry is valued at billions of dollars, yet the "Novo Ruivo" incident highlights a dark side of the supply chain where the human cost is often externalized. As consumers in Europe and North America enjoy tuna products, the men who catch them are sometimes left to rot on aging vessels in remote ports.
As the legal battle continues in the courts of Cape Verde and through the diplomatic channels of Dakar and Jakarta, Surono and his fellow crew members remain the faces of a forgotten fleet. Their refusal to leave the Novo Ruivo is a final, desperate act of labor activism—a demand for the dignity of a paycheck and the right to return home with their heads held high. The outcome of their struggle will likely serve as a benchmark for how the international community handles the growing crisis of seafarer abandonment in the years to come.
