For 22 years, Sumadi served in the Royal Malaysian Navy, deployed aboard ships patrolling the shark-riddled waters off the Pacific archipelago. Now as darkness falls, the 51-year-old roams the suburban fairways of Selangor, splashing into ponds as he hunts for balls gone astray.
On each expedition he collects between 500 and 600 balls, which he sells back to the same frustrated golfers who lost them.
With his seafaring days behind him, Sumadi could have chosen a more conventional life. But he could not resist the call of the deep – even if golf-course ponds only go 2m down.
“I’m used to being in the sea,” he told AFP with a nostalgic smile.
Sumadi first heard about the lucrative niche of “golf-ball diving” in a casual conversation with friends. Intrigued by the prospect, the father of three put his specialist skills to use, entering the murky waters for the first time in 2012.
Since his retirement in 2014 it has been his main source of income.
Three nights every week, when the manicured greens are doused in darkness, Sumadi wades into the waters in a designer balaclava. “I don’t bring along a flashlight. Only the moonlight is my source of light,” he said.
“I use my hands as ‘wipers’. When my hands and feet come into contact with a certain object, I’m able to tell whether it’s a ball or otherwise.”
Using no breathing equipment, he collects the balls by stuffing them down his long-sleeve shirt – and emerges from the water with them bunched and bobbing around his midriff.
His current work may seem less risky than his military past, but it has its own set of challenges. The waters are cold and dark, testing both his physical endurance and mental resilience.
“The lakes often harbour palm thorns, debris, and splintered shells of snails. The water is dark, so I often step on them,” he said.
“I’m always worried about getting cramps. So to mitigate the risk, I hired a part-time assistant to keep watch while I dive. If something happens, like I get stuck or injured, at least there’s someone to help me.”
His payday comes every Saturday when he sets up a modest stall at the golf course entrance at 8am sharp, selling his wares in bundles of 20.
Displayed on a makeshift rack and in baskets, standard balls retail for as little as 70 sen each, while premium brands fetch up to RM6.
Sumadi’s job earns him up to RM8,000 each month – nearly three times the average monthly salary of formally employed Malaysians.
Green diving
The sport of golf has long been criticised for its environmental impact: tracts of wildland are cleared to make way for lawns generally preserved for the elite, and which require huge amounts of watering.
Sumadi does not claim to be an environmentalist. But by removing thousands of golf balls containing plastic and rubber from the ecosystem, he is making his own small contribution to sustainability.
Among his customers is businessman Gilbert Tan, a regular player at the course. “I have purchased used golf balls from Sumadi several times,” said the 30-year-old.
“As you know, plastics are not biodegradable. So with me purchasing recycled balls, I’m doing my part to help the environment.”
Sumadi is modest about his impact but proud about presiding over his underwater domain. “I treat the golf course as my own home,” he concluded. “I’ll keep diving as long as I can.”