OUR GREEN MAN IN ROME

Albertus Herwanta


All roads, it’s said, lead to Rome.

The one that took Albertus Herwanta to the capital of Italy and the heart of his faith started far, far away – in a field in Central Java.

It was as a lad on his grandmother’s farm that he became close to the environment, experiencing the seasonal changes, conscious of the cycles and inter-dependency of plants, soil and animals, aware of the rituals of planting and harvest. He learned that the Javanese are never separate from nature.

All this, plus widespread reading (particularly British economist E F Schumacher’s seminal Small is Beautiful), and research helped clear the way to his present job – Indonesia’s Father Green.

When the young seminarian from Yogyakarta was ordained after theological studies in Malang, he pondered his future. What order to join?

“The Benedictines attracted, though I didn’t really want to shut myself away from the world,” he said. “I thought the Jesuits would be too difficult. My elder brother hadn’t succeeded - and he’s cleverer than me.

“So I chose the Carmelites. That seemed the right compromise. I wanted to teach (his parents had been schoolteachers) and do parish work.”

Which spirits up an image of a cosy living in a peaceful suburb or terraced village, every home easily reached by foot or bike. Here the priest knows the pious and the lapsed, their hearts bright and black, the trembling doubts of the devout and the holiness of the humble.

That picture doesn’t quite fit his present position. As Councillor General for the Carmelites he spends a lot of time squashed in Boeings. His parish covers Asia, including the sub continent of India, and Oceania, including Australia. That’s well over two billion souls, so ministering to all is a task beyond even the considerable energies of this articulate 51-year-old.

So is the brief he’s been given: To implement the charges laid on Catholics by Pope Paul 11 in 1990. The late pontiff’s message for the World Day of Peace was to ensure that “respect for life and the dignity of the human person extends also to the rest of creation.”

In layperson’s terms it means Catholics have to care for the environment. The Carmelites (properly named the Order of the Brothers of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, and established in the 12th century), hearkened.

Father Albertus has drawn the short straw – or won the big prize - depending on your outlook: Get the message to the masses. Green is good and Godly.

Before being transferred to Rome two years ago Father Albertus was settling for a year off from running a senior high school in Malang with 800 students, boys and girls.

Apart from studying for a master’s degree in education in the US he’d been teaching since he was ordained in 1987, and principal for ten years.

“I wanted time out, to recharge the batteries,” he said. “I was feeling tired. I hoped to do research, more reading.” He admired the writings of the late Javanese intellectual and diplomat Soedjatmoko, and Columban Father Paul McCartin’s A Theology of Environment.

Man proposes, God disposes. When you dedicate your life to a multinational corporation and suddenly get shunted to head office for six years then it’s time to shred personal plans, adjust to jet lag and learn how to pronounce spaghetti bolognaise correctly.

“Fortunately I’d studied Spanish while in the US so that helped, along with my knowledge of Latin,” he said. “The first two months were difficult. My colleagues come from eleven different countries so we all use Italian.”

Although he heads the Carmelite’s curiously named Commission for International Justice, Peace and Integrated Creation (is there any other sort?) his basic job is raising awareness of the threats to the environment and the need for action now.

Despite his position he will not be attending the United Nations’ Climate Change Conference in Copenhagen this month (December). Instead he’ll be in the Philippines propagating his message.

“What’s the point in going to Denmark and spending a lot of money on hotels for a few days of talking when I could be in Asia helping address this very serious challenge and maybe influencing thousands?” he said in Malang. He stopped off in the central East Java hilltown to address a seminar for 70 Catholic teachers.

“If we can inspire teachers to be involved in environmental issues then we can have an impact on the wider community. Teachers are still respected. They may not have much status now but they do have authority. The children can help raise awareness in their families that we are talking about an important issue that affects us all.”

Before handing the teachers over to former zoo vet and now green activist Dr Suryo Prawiroatmodjo to give practical tips on making environmental studies fun, Father Albertus spent an hour inspiring his listeners.

Using the sort of energy normally seen in TV commercials for caffeine drinks he sang and joked his way script-free through the barriers brought to the seminar by the overworked educators: Oh Lord - not another topic to add to an already crowded curriculum – and on our day off, too!

“I know they’re under pressure,” Father Albertus said, “I’ve given them the theological foundation for preserving the environment.

“The Genesis verse which says humans must fill the earth and subdue it has been misinterpreted – the earth is not to be exploited and destroyed but nurtured and worked in partnership. We are called to contemplate the peace of God through the beauty of nature

“Altering habits, lifestyles and mindsets is a huge challenge. We can’t change others unless we first change ourselves. We have to start little by little, turning off taps, picking up litter, making compost, recycling. It has to be repeated again and again.

“It means raising awareness, motivating, helping people understand what’s going on, building their knowledge. The situation in Indonesia is getting worse. Governments are slow to respond – these things can be done better through private organisations.

“The next step we’ll take is to run seminars for public school teachers and through them join with the Muslim community. This is not an issue of theology, we don’t proselytise. The critical question to ask is this: Do we want our grandchildren to inherit the mess we are making?”

(First published in The Jakarta Post 15 December 09)

ECENG GONDOK - LAKE KILLER

Minahasa’s green assassin Duncan Graham
Eceng gondok is the Houdini of the weed world.

If it could talk, like the revolutionaries of 1945 it would be forever shouting Merdeka! (Freedom). In North Sulawesi it’s happy beyond measure – particularly in Lake Tondano.

From the Lambean Mountains, studded with tall clove trees in fire-red finery, the 14 kilometer long lake looks tourist-brochure perfect.

Smoke from smouldering rice straw drifts slowly across still waters, shimmering in the sunlight, blue-gray as the heavens. A lone fisher in a flat-bottom canoe carved from hinterland timber rhythmically hauls in his net, hand over hand. His grandfather showed him how and his grandfather learned the same way.

Closer and the scene changes. No water laps the foreshore boulders. They’ve disappeared under a carpet of lush wide-leaf plants so thick maybe a child could run across to the lake, hundreds of meters away.

The village kids know better, so use bamboo walkways. Eceng gondok (water hyacinth), one of the world’s worst waterway pests, is dense but gives no support. And if it’s not controlled soon the lake will no longer support the 300,000 people who depend on it being fresh, full and hearty for their living.

“Lake Tondano has many functions and it’s the responsibility of everyone to provide care,” said engineer Jefry Karlos, boss of water quality in Minahasa Regency.

“Unfortunately many communities won’t cooperate because they think the health of the lake isn’t their responsibility. The Regent is very disappointed,

“The lake water creates electricity from two hydro stations. (The lake is 600 meters above sea level.) We reticulate the water to the towns and villages.

“The flatland paddy that surround the lake provides rice. Millions of fish are farmed in netted ponds in the lake. There’s huge tourism potential but this hasn’t been realised.

“In 1935 the lake was 40 meters deep. Now it’s only 15.”

Lake Tondano, just above the equator, is the center of a resource-rich rural region with landscapes that define rugged beauty. Unlike Java there are few people and a lot of wilderness, some of it little touched. Agriculture is the biggest income earner. This is an area where political candidates promote themselves wearing cowboy hats and on horseback.

Despite its critical economic and lifestyle importance the 4,600 hectare lake, formed by a huge volcanic explosion millions of years ago, has for too long been used as a sewer and garbage pit. Unexploded munitions from the Japanese occupation in the 1940s are believed to lie under a concrete jetty once used by flying boats.

Lavatories and drains empty straight into the lake. Women scrub clothes on the shoreline then toss dirty, phosphate-rich suds into the water. Fertilisers run-off from the surrounding 20,000 hectares of rice fields and market gardens, lifting nitrogen levels.

These effects are invisible. The water hyacinth is not. The weed creates a mosquito paradise. Apart from being an eyesore it starves the water of oxygen and kills fish.

Karlos said his office hadn’t heard of marine life dying, but Irwan Hartonio who has 34 ponds each with 2,000 fish near the village of Kakas has different tales. He also remembers when the water lapped halfway up the stone foundations of his home.

Now it’s far away, under the thick green smothering sward with its deceptive pretty pink flowers. The lower water levels are blamed for regular daily power cuts. Low rainfall has also been a factor. Many businesses and homes have standby generators.

“In 2008 we had a budget of Rp 1 billion (US $ 100,000) to get rid of the weed,” said Karlos. “We can’t spray because it will kill the fish. So every Friday for six or seven months government workers pulled heavy clumps of water hyacinth to shore where it rotted in piles.

“Then the money was finished.” But the free-floating vengeful weed was not, and like a Biblical plague it’s returning in force, seven times seven.

To try and convince the villagers that the lake had to be saved the government put up a huge sign explaining the need for action and distributed pamphlets.

Could The Jakarta Post see these? Sorry, said Karlos, the sign has gone and there have been no reprints. So what are the plans? Hopes that an investor will arrive and build a biogas plant to generate methane. Or maybe a factory to turn the weed into cattle feed or fertiliser.

Have such white knights galloped in to save damsel Tondano in distress, their saddlebags stuffed with greenbacks? Well, not yet, and it seems none are on the horizon.

A proven use for water hyacinth is furniture manufacture. The weed is pulled and sun-dried. The strong brown stalks are plaited to form ropes. These are then woven around wicker and wood frames to make tables, chairs and sofas.

These are particularly attractive to overseas buyers concerned about conservation. Here’s a sustainable product, which improves the environment when it’s harvested.

A small cooperative called Kerajinan Eceng Gondok (water hyacinth handicrafts) at the lakeside village of Watumea employs up to 30 to make the furniture – but only after orders have been received. The government has given some training, but the community says it has no money for marketing, so its products are little known and work intermittent.

“We can’t borrow money from the banks because the government won’t help with a guarantee,” said Sintje Supit, the co-op coordinator. “Without capital we can’t pay the workers.” Her complaint is familiar among small businesses across the Republic.

And still the water hyacinth multiplies, like a horror movie featuring alien slime. When one area is cleared the wind whips across the water bringing mother clumps from afar, moving like bilious squid, eager to colonise empty shores with their fecund daughters.

“We’ve controlled waste from restaurants and hotels getting into the lake,” said Karlos, counting one victory in one minor skirmish in a major war. His agency doesn’t employ anyone to monitor water quality.

“I don’t know how it got here and when it started. Ten years ago. Maybe more. (One report suggested the mid 90s.)

“We’re motivated to save the lake, even though we don’t have any money. The important thing is to get rid of the weed and bring the benefits to the people.

“How can we look after our lake? This is a very serious problem but many communities just want the government to do the job. Yet we lack the funds.”

Eceng gondok lacks neither the resources nor the will. Here’s a tip: If you’ve ever planned to visit this lovely lake, don’t hesitate. It may not be here in the future. .

(Sidebar)

Going feral

Water hyacinth can look lovely in a garden pond surrounded by concrete frogs. But once it escapes into the wild it goes wild. The seeds are tough as cockroaches and can survive for 30 years.

Originally from tropical South America, sales of Eichhornia crassipes from garden shops are now banned in many Western countries.

The weed got into Florida in the 19th century but is now reported to be under control. In Africa is has done huge damage to Lake Victoria. Tondano isn’t the only Sulawesi victim. There are reports of rivers getting blocked near Makassar.

Despite its reputation for blanketing waterways and clogging power station turbine blades, the weed gets a good press with its ability to absorb heavy metals. So it can be used to clean up rivers polluted by factory discharges.

Though only if guarded 24 / 7.

(First published in The Jakarta Post 7 December 2009)

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LALU SYAFI'I- LOMBOK'S MR CLEAN

No place for lazy teachers Duncan Graham

Haji Lalu Syafi’i wasn’t aware of the old English maxim that cleanliness is next to Godliness. However he agreed it matched his rubbish-free campaign, particularly as Mataram is littered with signs saying it’s a progressive and religious city.

To report that the director of education in the capital of Lombok is on a mission would be pushing journalistic licence. But only a little. He’s hot on professional discipline but he’s not a disciplinarian, preferring a persuasive approach. A benign controller.

Syafi’i would like to be Mr Clean, but still has a way to go, though by Surabaya standards under-crowded and orderly Mataram is the Singapore of Eastern Indonesia.

“According to my religion the rivers must be kept clean,” he said. “But because of the culture people don’t follow this rule. They just throw their rubbish in the water, as in the old days.

“We claim to be moral people yet we are abusing the environment. Conservation is a moral message.

“The culture also says the young must obey their teachers, so we are putting this message through the schools.”

It’s one of many. Syafi’i is initiating significant reforms throughout the 300 schools and 82,500 students under his control, starting with the teachers.

There are 5,000 of them and not all are wildly embracing their leader’s ideas. “Some do not want to change their habits,” he said. “They come to school late and they’re lazy. They think that having a quiet class means they’re doing their job properly. That’s a challenge.”

While not excusing slovenly practices in a profession with a high burnout rate, it’s easy to see how some have learned to hunker down in a hostile environment that has long been inimical to best practice.

Classes so crowded that the shy and sly can cruise through semesters without saying a word or being noticed. Oven rooms that bake the brain. Regimental rote learning with the mind in neutral. Protocols that take preference over performance.

Indonesian teachers may have high status but the pay doesn’t match. To keep their family’s rice-cookers full many have to sell cellphone subscriptions and run roadside stalls after work.

A promotion system that rewards long service over merit, and a culture which respects age even when the elderly are inept and idle is another concern. The notion that a smart young chalkie just a few years out of university should leapfrog gray-headed time-servers is bound to cause resentment in the staff room.

Syafi’i understands these factors well. Before becoming the boss of Mataram’s education department five years ago he served 20 years before the chalkboard in a variety of schools. Along the way he picked up a handy Western aphorism – “an ounce of practice is worth a tonne of theory.”

He also used his time to ponder the faults of the education system he served, and to wonder why Indonesian schooling was stumbling behind other Southeast Asian nations.

Not just think – but do. Whenever an opportunity presented Syafi’i took the chance to go overseas and sniff the wind. In 2003 he was in Malaysia. Two years later he was looking at curricula in Taiwan, Hong Kong and Japan.

In 2006 he went to Australia to study vocational education, then to China for a mathematics competition. That was followed by a trip to Japan.

Last year he was in New Zealand and this year he’s been to Holland. All the while he’s been promoting sister-school relationships so Indonesian kids, like their leader, can open their minds to other cultures and ways of doing things.

Class sizes abroad are often a fraction of those in Indonesia where public school teachers can face a room of 40 plus. There are obvious difficulties in cutting workloads – insufficient space and too few teachers, but a pilot project of 18 students per class is now underway.

Earlier this year 19 Mataram students went to NZ for a fortnight. Their experiences pushed them to raise serious questions and stir the winds of change.

On their return the teenagers asked why they have to study 13 or more topics in senior high school when their counterparts abroad are able to focus on just the five or six major subjects they’ll need for post-school education.

And why can’t they question and challenge sloppy teachers who aren’t up to date with their subjects? Should taboos on doubting authority apply in a learning environment?

From his overseas trips Syafi’i has gleaned wisdoms, ideas and techniques that he’s now applying in Mataram. Back in the days of Soeharto’s New Order authoritarianism the word would have been ‘enforcing’, but in a democracy reformers have to shuffle, not march.

“I’ve learned that if you want to change others you must first learn to change yourself,” he said in his spotless office. “You must set an example, become a role model. It’s not do as I say but do as I do.

“That’s why I moved into administration though I love teaching. If I’d stayed in the classroom I could bring benefits to only a few but in this job I can benefit many.

“Teachers and principals must serve. This is the key to education. You can’t force – only the army can do that. But we do supervise and monitor our teachers closely.

“I want staff and students to interact. I’ve found that the best teachers and principals tend to be women – they don’t create so many problems. They are more honest than men and don’t misuse money.”

The rule now is that Mataram’s teachers must be at school ahead of the students, ready to greet as they enter the gates at 7 am. Staff are not supposed to give bleary-eyed grunts or make sarcastic comments on the kids’ dress and behavior, as teachers worldwide are wont to do, but be friendly.

And more than that. The teachers are also expected to have such a good rapport with their charges that they can ask about their families and toss in the odd casual question and comment to show they’re in touch and the pastoral care is genuine.

Syafi’i, 48, came from a family of farmers and was the first to seek higher education – initially at a teachers’ training college in Malang, East Java. He married a teacher, Hajjah Bq Mimi Mariani, who is currently a primary school principal.

He’s not content to remain in Lombok and hopes to get promotion to Jakarta where a new breed of progressive broad-shouldered teachers is slowly heaving the education system into the 21st century.

“We should not think of what we can do to lift education in Indonesia,” said Syafi’i, who is clearly no fan of the NATO (no action, talk only) administrative style often found in the provinces.

“Our job is to put our ideas and plans into practice. The doing is the important thing.”

(First published in The Jakarta Post 17 November 2009)

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EAST JAVA HOUSE FOR SALE

EAST JAVA HOUSE FOR SALE

HOUSE FOR SALE

Unique Opportunity in East Java

Magnificent two-storey, four-bedroom timber home, lovingly designed and built by owner in 1990 with additions in 1999. Imaginatively constructed on traditional East Javanese principles with hand-carved exposed teak beams, posts and screens. Always occupied and carefully maintained.

OTHER FEATURES: Solar HWS. Bathroom spa. Western toilet. Front section 7.8 X 7.4 metres. Linked back section 5.8 X 10.8 metres. Ceilings 4 metres high. External and major internal gebyok doorways and surrounds intricately carved – some sections more than 50 years old. Swiss staircase and major staircase to second floor. Walls of cedar planks, some lined. Two attached pendopo – can be separated. Marble floors. Terracotta tiled roof. Some windows stained glass. Gable windows upstairs.

NOTE: House is being sold for relocation elsewhere – in Indonesia or overseas; land is not included.

REASON FOR SELLING: Western owner moving abroad.

ASKING PRICE: $US 100,000, as is, where is. Owner can organise for dismantling, packing and transportation to buyer’s orders.

LOCATION: This large family home was formerly associated with a well-known cultural arts centre. It’s located outside the village of Tumpang, 20 kilometres east of Malang on the slopes of Mount Semeru, Java’s highest mountain. The house was built in stages and can be easily dismantled, then trucked to another location in Java or Bali – or put in containers and sent overseas.

VIEWING: By arrangement with owner: k.e.sekararum@gmail.com

FOR SALE SEPARATELY: Complete set of Javanese gamelan instruments in excellent condition, always stored undercover: $US 25,000

Large quantity of unused local timber including five-metre carved square house poles, planks and other building lumber in excellent condition. Price on application.

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Visit Babel - a tower of communication

BANGKA'S ENVIRONMENTAL DISASTER

Harvesting rice on a lunar landscape Duncan Graham

Seen from above it looks as though Bangka has suffered a severe case of smallpox. High quality aerial photos are more like X rays, revealing ugly blotches, similar to cancers. Pallid grays instead of once lush greens.

For about 300 years Bangka, the island at the southern end of the Straits of Malacca has been pillaged and raped. The first offenders were the Dutch. Now its local and overseas companies and individuals hosing, hacking and dredging the land for tin.

There are hundreds of small ragged-edged ponds dotted across the island where miners have hunted for the silver-colored ore, then left the gouged land to be flooded. The landscape is lunar

“There are 30 tin smelters on the island,” said Santoso Prasetija, factory manager for the company Donna Kembara Jaya, “and that’s far too many. Maybe we’ll have to start producing palm oil.”

Maybe not. Two years ago a land dispute on the island resulted in palm oil crops being torched. Bangka is not wet and fertile like Java.

Prasetija and his workforce were standing round a furnace with no ore to process. The smelter’s capacity is 800 tonnes a month. It’s now producing only 200 tonnes.

There are many reasons. Easily accessible ore is getting harder to find. Deposits below ten meters are too costly to excavate. Prices are dropping, costs are rising.

Restrictions on mining and environmental concerns are other factors. Earlier this year the Indonesian government said it would cap production – then said that might not be necessary as demand was weak.

Like most primary producers, tin miners are price takers, not makers. The value of the metal – currently around Rp 150,000 (US $15) a kilogram - is set in London.

Last year the price reached US $25.

There are 1.3 million people in Bangka-Belitung, Indonesia’s youngest province created in 2000 from the two large islands off the east coast of Sumatra. The government estimates that at least 10,000 make their living in the industry, though this seems to be a low estimate.

Not all workers are employed by the big companies. Small-scale illegal mining has long been a problem and difficult to eradicate despite penalties for tin smuggling equal to those for drug trafficking. What happens when the tin runs out or becomes unviable is a serious question.

Indonesia is the second largest producer of tin in the world, second to China. There are believed to be reserves of 800,000 tonnes left on Bangka, but the issue is accessibility

“I’m optimistic about the future,” said the vice-governor Syamsuddin Basari. “We are serious about rehabilitation and planting millions of trees. Our goal is that three trees should be planted by everyone on the island. I even do it myself. It’s called Bangka Goes Green.

“We are trying to lift the quality of education in the province so students don’t have to go elsewhere, and we’re looking to tourism to create employment.” In an adjacent office a two-finger typist pecked out a memo on an ancient typewriter. Power outages are frequent.

The potential is certainly there. Fine beaches, uncrowded streets, reasonable roads and a pleasant capital in Pangkalpinang, a city of only 200,000.

Bangka is famous as the setting for Joseph Conrad’s classic novel Lord Jim, and infamous as the massacre site of 22 Australian nurses in 1942 by the Japanese.

Much work still needs to be done to understand the needs of the modern tourism industry. At the little airport, which cannot take international flights despite being within sniffing distance of Singapore and Malaysia, there’s a giant billboard promoting 2010 as the year to visit Bangka-Belitung.

Unfortunately the bureaucrats have folded the province’s name into Babel, which has some unfortunate connotations as all Old Testament readers know.

To charm visitors the sign features neither happy families frolicking on the beach, nor young couples stunned by the scenery, but five stern middle aged public servants. All are men and two in uniform.

They look more like a deportation squad than a welcome team. Malaysia, with its long-running and successful Truly Asia promotion has nothing to fear from the Visit Babel campaign.

Yet despite the enormous environmental damage Bangka could be a good destination for serious eco-tourism.

A consortium of smelter companies has set up a corporate social responsibilities program. This is doing some spectacular rehabilitation work, though on a small scale, in a project called Bangka Botanical Garden.

Heavy machinery has straightened the sides and flattened the floors of old mining pits and used these to plant crops. First attempts to grow rice were failures, said farm manager Jerry Japri, but the companies have persevered and the plants seem to be flourishing.

There are large stands of cattle feed growing in the pits and these are being harvested for 330 beef and dairy cows. The animal waste is used to build the poor soil fertility. The milk is pasteurised and given free to local schoolchildren to boost their health.

The ambition is to supply 20,000 kids, though many aren’t keen. Drinking fresh milk is not part of Indonesian culture.

“We are still experimenting to find what works and doesn’t,” said manager Japri. “This project has been running for three years and we’re not making money.

“We’re trying the meet the challenges of rebuilding the land and making it productive. Seeds from crops that thrive will be given to local farmers.

“We want to build cattle numbers to 1,000 head, but some of the Friesian dairy cows are suffering from the heat.” The first rains for five months fell when The Jakarta Post was visiting.

Plump white ducks paddled around the flower-bordered ponds where laborers once sweated in the roasting heat so the world could buy tins of food. Manicured avenues of trees offered welcome shade.

As a showcase of what can be done in mine site reclamation the Bangka Botanical Garden is a standout. But it’s only scratching the surface of a huge task and no one seems to know how long the companies will maintain support.

The government’s plan to have every person plant three trees may have to be revised to 300.

(Sidebar)

Can it be tin?

Despite the name, tin cans are basically made of steel.

The discovery in 1810 by British engineer Peter Durand that a thin coating of tin on the inside of an airtight steel can could preserve the contents created a revolution in food packaging.

Tin isn’t toxic and doesn’t corrode.

Lighter, recyclable aluminium cans are slowly taking over, but tin is still in demand for electronics where it is used in the solder that ensures good electrical connections.

Tin mixed with copper produces malleable bronze used in Indonesia to make handicrafts and gamelan gongs.

The Dutch moved thousands of Chinese laborers to Bangka to exploit the tin. Their descendants now form 12 per cent of the population – four times higher than in Java.

Race relations on Bangka are said to be so good that some Chinese businesspeople in Jakarta keep homes on Bangka as a safe refuge in case riots erupt again in the capital as they did in 1998.

(First published in The Jakarta Post 27 October 2009)
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Dr Maria Widagdo

KIWI'S CONCERN CREATED YOGYA'S YAKKUM

Maria Widagdo
Helping the handicapped help themselves Duncan Graham

When overseas donors meet the health care needs of Indonesians, does this free the government from its duty to provide for its citizens?

That’s one of the questions concerning Dr Maria Widagdo, director of the Yakkum Rehabilitation Center just outside Yogyakarta.

Another is whether the tiny input from the government – less than one per cent of the center’s running costs - indicates an indifference to the needs of the disabled and therefore a reflection on the national character.

“Of course I want the government to take more responsibility, but I’m not critical,” she said. “They do their best and there are many good people. They don’t have enough money in the social welfare budget.”

When reminded that there always seems to be enough money for politicians’ needs and comforts she sighed but refused to be drawn. No country is immune from hypocrisy and her job means she has to be diplomatic, flexible – and tough. A tricky trifecta.

Fortunately she’s well equipped to negotiate the labyrinth of Indonesian bureaucracy and the complex demands of aid agencies.

Although Yakkum is a faith-based organisation (the name is an acronym for a Christian foundation) it doesn’t proselytise and the overall impression is that it’s a secular show. If there are crucifixes and bleeding hearts around they’re well hidden. Most clients are Muslim and Dr Maria (a Catholic) brushed aside suggestions that there might be discrimination in the provision of services.

“We care for people in need,” she said. “Their religion is immaterial.”

Big donors attach conditions to their grants. Most want the outcome to be a return to the community (see sidebar). They don’t want Yakkum to become a sheltered workshop, so much rehabilitation work is done in the villages.

The overseas donors include NGOs and government agencies in Germany, the US, Holland, Australia and New Zealand

Yakkum’s prosthetics factory turns out limbs and adapts bicycles and motorbikes to give the disabled mobility. It also has a small factory employing 15 producing wooden toys and artwork. Some handicrafts are exported.

Donors that insist on including Bible readings or services as part of the deal are given the flick. “I want to show love, but not that way,” said Dr Maria.

If part of the deal is fiscal accountability, no worries. Dr Maria said administration costs take 15 per cent of the budget and potential donors can scrutinise an audit of the agency conducted by an independent Australian accountant.

“I’ve lived in Australia so I know how people overseas are aware of Indonesia’s reputation as a corrupt country, and that affects their attitudes to donations,” she said.

Yakkum was started in 1982 by an inspirational and driven New Zealander, Colin McLennan. On a visit to Yogya to take part in a Boy Scout jamboree he was distressed by the number of disabled and aimless kids he saw roaming the streets.

“The sight shocked him because he’d never seen anything like this in NZ,” said Dr Maria. “It really touched him and he became obsessed. He met another man of good heart, Pak Parjono, who was an amputee who’d been bitten by a snake.

“He became Yakkum’s first client and staff member. They made a formidable team and together they started collecting kids and helping in their rehabilitation, first as an outpost of Bethesda Hospital.

“Colin (who died in 2007 aged 73) went back to NZ and returned with money he’d raised and established a separate legal organization.” A wall plaque at Yakkum recognises his life. It reads: ‘A New Zealander who cared and made a difference’

From this small start Yakkum now has a major complex where they’ve helped about 9,000 people to build skills and live independently. Following the 2006 Yogya earthquake Yakkum was turned into an emergency center treating hundreds of wounded.

People suffering fractured limbs and spinal injuries filled every available space for about two months. At the time Dr Maria was running the clinic with other doctors and nurses.

The skills they developed are now being put to use in Padang following the September earthquake. A team from Yakkum has set up an emergency unit in the stricken city. It’s also running a center on the island of Nias where thousands were killed and injured in the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami and an earthquake in March 2005.

Dr Maria, 43, was born in Semarang in Central Java and graduated locally in medicine. She was the first person in her family to attend a university, pushed by her working-class parents who were determined their children should be well educated.

Later she followed her engineer husband Sugianto Pudjohartono to Australia when he won a scholarship for higher study. Bored at home she volunteered to assist at a hospital. Her dedication impressed and she was given a research grant.

Eventually she gained a doctorate in geriatric medicine – an accomplishment she plays down with a practised one-liner: “It’s not the degree that counts – it’s the quality of the person.”

“Fear of Christianisation is still a factor that makes some people reluctant to seek help,” she said. “The idea that the birth of a handicapped child is the result of a curse from God is still around, particularly in the villages.

“I’ve learned a lot in this job and particularly that culture is stronger than religion.

“People feel ashamed and try to hide their children. We want them to be able to take their place in the community working to provide for their families because work brings independence and dignity.

“I just don’t know how many handicapped people are out there and unable to use our facilities. You don’t see the polio victims that caught Colin’s eye years ago, but it’s clear that the majority miss out. Apart from accidents and injuries many suffer from cerebral palsy. ”

By the standards of other Indonesian medical facilities Yakkum is reasonably well equipped. It has spacious grounds and a purpose-built factory, workshops and substantial living quarters, all developed on a block of vacant ground.

“Overseas volunteers are welcome, but ideally these should be established professionals in areas like Information technology, physiotherapy and administration,” she said.

“They need to be self-starters because it takes energy to maintain learners. We want people with good hearts – but not missionaries. Finding the right work for disabled people and matching their skills with employers’ needs is a difficult but necessary task.

“There’s a 12-year old Indonesian law that states companies must employ handicapped people - at least one per cent of their workforce. That’s not happening everywhere, so changing community attitudes is a great challenge.”


(Sidebar)

Mobile man

You can’t miss Suwuandi, 37, as he whips his bright red Yamaha motorcycle down the highway and not just because it has a sidecar.

He turns heads because he is small and his disfigured legs and feet are hooked around the bike’s splash shield. The sidecar is used to carry his crutches or passengers.

Suwuandi was born disfigured and spent 15 years at Yakkum before his ambition to be independent could be realised.

He adapted his motorbike himself and now works outside Yakkum making women’s accessories like handbags and belts. He is married to Erna Ekawati, 26, who is not disabled.

“I don’t want people to look down on me or discriminate,” he said. “Most don’t. I can now go most places unaided, including the mosque. I’m no different to anyone else – I just want to work and care for my family.”

(First published in The Jakarta Post 21 October 2009)

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WELCOME TO INDONESIA: PLEASE SMOKE

First impressions count most Duncan Graham

The reflections of foreigners arriving in Indonesia are now part of the nation’s stock of timeworn clichés.

Being mugged by humidity as you exit the plane, asphyxiated by the spice of burning cloves, stung by the acrid tang of hot oil from roadside fry-ups, choked by the endless fug of exhaust fumes.

It was like that in the old days before aerobridges, indoor smoking bans and air-conditioned taxis with tinted windows. You either loved it and stayed - or threw up and never returned. Now the first impressions are no longer olfactory – they’re visual.

It’s a toss up between the airport crowds and the abundance of cigarette adverts as to which dominates. Both make Indonesia a distinctive destination quite unlike any other.

Unless a victorious sporting team has arrived from conquests overseas, security guards at Western airport arrival gates outnumber greeters. Just the odd spouse (and some even ones too), a business partner or company car driver and that’s the welcome party.

Not so in Indonesia. Elsewhere flying is as ho-hum as catching a bus, but here it’s still a major event. So the extended family, friends, kampong – sometimes the whole village - have to be there to celebrate the return of the rover.

The crowds come even when the traveller has only been next door to Malaysia for a short stint of babysitting or construction work.

(It would be churlish to suggest they’re all there to claim a share of the souvenirs that Indonesians returning from abroad must carry.)

With such enormous receptions who wouldn’t feel wanted? Forget the temperature of the weather – this is real human warmth. No one turns on such shows for expat individualists; we just dart out alone to the cab rank, head down, trying not to show our envy.

So far, so good. When Mohammed Nuh, the acting Culture and Tourism Minister was giving out a top toilet award to Surabaya’s new – though already overcrowded - Juanda airport terminal, he reportedly commented that loved lavatories ‘enhance the image of national culture.’

While it might be better to judge Indonesian culture on more esoteric levels, a clean cubicle does help give a good impression on entering a country. If issues at the bottom end of society are treated seriously, then the top end must be splendid.

If only. Such expectations are rapidly flushed away as you hit the highway and a screaming streetscape of advertising for just one product.

Hollywood toga movies featuring classical Rome always include a long shot of a banner-bedecked avenue, an essential triumphal entrance for the victor.

In modern Indonesia the flags and posters flanking Juanda’s roads are for the losers. They look bright. The captions are smart and sometimes funny. But the reality is funereal.

Not mild.

These adverts suggest a healthy country life but lure millions into addictions and disease. This includes the estimated 500,000 Indonesians who will suffer ghastly deaths from cancers of the lung and other vulnerable organs this year, but who are unreliably informed that using the weed will ensure a jolly life, making them slim, sophisticated and popular.

It’s not just Australia and European Union nations that have long-banned tobacco advertising; so has Singapore, Malaysia and almost 170 other countries. Which makes Indonesia a standout exception, and an airport entrance celebrating nicotine a rare international experience.

Is this the ‘national culture’ Minister Nuh wants to promote? This magic and mysterious country has so many world-class products, like batik, original artwork, imaginative handicrafts and fine furniture made from sustainable materials that could be advertised with pride at the international gateways.

And not just goods. There are many awesome attractions in Java, an island so rich in accessible history that other nations salivate with jealousy. How about higher education? Rough in the past but getting better now, with the smarter universities upgrading staff, curricula and facilities and bidding for overseas students.

So what message is the government allowing the tobacco companies to give visitors? There’s only one conclusion: This is an administration that cares for airport hygiene but not for its people’s health.

(First published in The Sunday Post 18 October 09)
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MICHAEL ASMARA

The loneliness of the long-distance composer

An executive search for an international event organizer who could attract local and overseas funds probably wouldn’t give Michael Asmara a second glance.

Anyone who freely admits he gossips with geckos, shares his rice with the little lizards and tells them not to squabble should not be taken seriously.

Naturally the guy also looks a bit wild – certainly not a mile-a-minute man and no Indonesian army-style buzz cut. If he tried to wear a suit it would reject him. He’s so low profile he’s almost horizontal, great for a stimulating conversation through a evil fog of continuous cigarette smoke, but certainly no hustler.

Yet the 53-year old composer gets things done big time – though he says he’s not sure how.

Charisma and credibility have to be factors for the founder and director of the Yogyakarta Contemporary Music Festival. His talent is clearly acknowledged by his peers and his personal moral code means that he hasn’t used the festival to promote his works. Trust must be another for he’s not driven by lust for lucre.

Around him composers were going grey by the minute as their musicians either caught dengue fever or couldn’t catch the tempo. Committee members soothed spirits and boosted egos, sorted schedules and paid bills. Asmara turned off his handphone and lit another smoke

“I don’t know where the money comes from,” he said. “I can’t make a living through music but I survive. It’s quite difficult to explain. Birds get by without money – why not me?

“I tell the committee – don’t be ambitious. Be humble. You are nothing. Just learn, learn, learn. When they fight. I say- ‘don’t do that – live in peace.’

“Perhaps I’m a dreamer. Living in peace is my dream. I’m an atheist. I want to be at one with nature – maybe this affects my music. Sometimes I want to run away from life.” This comment didn’t ring true – Asmara may seek rest but he also has zest.

If Asmara doesn’t go looking for dollars they sure come looking for him. In the past he’s been invited to Europe, Japan, South-East Asia and New Zealand where his work has been performed and he’s given lectures.

This year’s festival picked up US $5,000 (Rp 50 million) from the Asian Cultural Council and support from a chorus of other local and overseas sponsors. That sort of backing doesn’t come for a Mickey Mouse show

The proof of Asmara’s abilities was clear with the staging of the fifth festival in mid October. This drew composers from 15 nations with 41 performances over three nights. Crowds of up to 250 came to hear some challenging music at the French Cultural Center. Most were young.
“I know 80 per cent prefer pop and jazz,” Asmara said. “I don’t force people to come. They can listen or not. I hope they’re stimulated. I’m not a music missionary – I just offer ideas.”

Asmara started the festival in 2003 “because I was lonely and needed friends.” This wasn’t just a slick line in self-deprecation. Other composers, like the immaculately suited Karen Keyhani from Iran – a standout among the jeans and sandals - also confessed to loneliness, the quest for the elusive, teasing tone, the right chord, the fickle note, the need to capture and escape.

If you don’t seek perfection above and beyond all else, then making music is not for you. If your partner is a composer expect to spend torrid nights alone while your lover strives to seduce the muse.

The festival took a rest because of the 2005 Yogya earthquake but is now back bigger and, well, maybe better, though Asmara said he was still dissatisfied with the quality.

But then this seemingly happy man never will be truly content. If you’re dispassionate about contemporary music you’re in the wrong genre.

The biggest applause was given to splendid performances by violinist Rieko Suzuki interpreting works from France and the USA – though both seemed more pre 20th century than post modern.

Hair splitters turned to the enigmatic veteran composer Slamet Abdul Syukur, 75, a Toulouse Lautrec figure always surrounded by elegant women, expecting the violin work to be condemned.

Like Asmara, Syukur is a composer who doesn’t just push boundaries – he jumps them with work featuring unusual instruments.

“I loved Rieko’s playing and the compositions,” Syukur pronounced. “They had emotion – that’s all that counts.” With this verdict the disciples stopped debating whether the works pre-dated the expressionist Austrian composer Arnold Schoenberg who died in 1951. His Second Viennese School is supposed to mark the birth of contemporary music..

“The criteria is that the compositions must be new,” said Asmara whose past work has included Cooking Music featuring kitchen utensils. Another had motorbikes and sirens. Those who define contemporary music as electro-acoustic have closed off the options.

“In selecting the entries we looked for music that has been inspired by tradition. It must explore original ideas.

“We particularly want to encourage women composers, the old and the young like Yuri Nishida from Japan who is doing extraordinary work with the gender (a gamelan instrument).

“I feel uncomfortable if the participants are all men. I want to hear those from Asia. I want the festival to stay in Yogya, but this is not an exercise in nationalism – I hate that sort of thing.

“Yogya is rich in composers but they don’t get noticed. They don’t know how to promote their music. Typical Javanese – just enough is enough. I want them to get exposed to other ideas, to improve.”

Asmara sheepishly revealed he’d come from a Yogya ‘blue-blood’ family; as a child he was familiar with dance and Western classical music. His father tried to dissuade him from a career in music but the lad was already playing the organ and didn’t fancy a future in medicine checking other people’s organs.

He went to the Indonesian Institute of the Arts in Yogya for three years then studied in Japan where he married, though the relationship didn’t survive. He played the guitar and piano but wanted to compose. His work started winning prizes.

“I wasn’t frustrated by Bach and Beethoven,” he said. “I just wanted to enjoy myself, to compare the gamelan with Western music, to experiment.

“I get my philosophy from Javanese culture. I never think I succeed or fail. I want to feel, to think deeply. We couldn’t have done this (run the festival) in the Soeharto era. Too much bureaucracy.”

(First published in The Jakarta Post 16 October 09)

OUR MAN IN SUVA - PINARDI PRIAMBODO

Filling the Fiji vacuum Duncan Graham 2009

One of the saddest sights in Suva, the capital of the tiny nation of Fiji, is the Parliament building.

It’s reputed to be a splendid example of Pacific island architecture representing traditional Fiji values.

But this can’t be confirmed. The gates are locked and rusting. Weeds are pushing through the driveway. Three years ago Fiji went through yet another coup and the power of the ballot box yielded to the rule of the gun.

There have been four coups in the past 22 years but this didn’t stop Indonesia opening an Embassy in this troubled former British colony.

It was a smart move. As the Commonwealth and European Union punished Fiji for overthrowing democracy, other countries have filled the gap.

“Indonesia’s interests in the Pacific islands used to be served by our embassy in Wellington, but because Suva is the hub of a growing region it was decided to establish a presence here in 2002,” said the Indonesian Charge d’Affaires, Pinardi Priambodo.

“Fiji doesn’t produce much so most of the trade is in Indonesia’s favor. In the past five years the growth rate has been 2.77 per cent.

“The other issue that takes our time is caring for the interests of Indonesian seamen and sorting out disputes with employers. Many problems come about because the Indonesians haven’t read or understood the job contracts they signed back in Jakarta.”

Indonesia isn’t the only nation taking a new interest in a zone once dominated by Australia and New Zealand. The imposition of sanctions and other controls on aid, sporting contacts and government visits by fellow Commonwealth countries has created a vacuum largely exploited by China which is now ramping trade and aid.

Last year Indonesia did business worth US $24.5 million (Rp 250 billion) in the Pacific islands served through Suva. By Indonesian standards it’s little more than a mid-size town with only 200,000 people, but it’s the biggest city in the South Pacific outside NZ, and a multicultural mix of locals, transients, other islanders, Indian traders and Europeans seeking a quiet life.

Indonesia’s natural sphere of influence has long been South-East Asia but its push into the Pacific is logical, according to Pinardi.

There are historical Indonesian links with the peoples of Polynesia. The current theory is that they arrived about 3,000 years ago after travelling south from Taiwan and China, then moved through the Indonesian archipelago, the Philippines and then deeper into the Pacific, reaching Fiji via Tonga.

Though Indonesia isn’t part of the 16-member Pacific Islands Forum it has the status of a ‘dialogue partner’. Foreign Minister Hassan Wirajuda attended the forum’s post-summit meeting in Queensland, Australia in August this year.

Pinardi, who is also known as Pak Klik, a nickname that defied simple etymology, is single and “under 40”. He was previously stationed in Seoul where he specialized in economic issues, spending his spare time on the snowfields. By the time his tour of duty had finished he’d skied seven of the 12 slopes near the Korean capital.

Seeing his love of snow it fits the curious posting system of Foreign Affairs that he should be sent to a tropical island. He runs six Indonesian staff including four lively young diplomats seemingly uninfected by the past rigid bureaucracy of the Soeharto era (Pinardi labelled them ‘the fantastic four’), and five local staff.

Unlike many embassies it’s a relaxed low-security office. Despite the military coup and alleged human rights abuses Suva isn’t full of soldiers and most locals seem indifferent to the political tension, more concerned with public service sackings, the devaluation of the Fiji dollar and the resulting high cost of living.

With no direct air links to Indonesia there’s little demand for visas. For Indonesians wanting to see Fiji the good news is that they don’t need visas, prices are cheap and they can stay for four months, enough time to explore the lush, coral fringed 300 islands.

Indonesia has signed a Memorandum of Understanding with Fiji to develop tourism but so far little has happened.

Pinardi arrived in Fiji in June after the departure of the last ambassador. The son of a Christian pastor and academic Pinardi was born and educated in Salatiga in Central Java and educated at the University of Gadjah Mada in Yogyakarta.

“I got into diplomacy by chance,” he said. “I planned to be a banker because I’d trained in economics. But when I went to get the transcript of my studies legalized I chanced to see an advert for the Foreign Service.

“I later spent 18 months at Monash University in Australia learning trade negotiation skills, knowledge that came in useful in Korea.

“In Fiji we’re not just concerned with trade. We’re very keen on providing technical assistance, sending Pacific Islanders for training in Indonesia.”

It’s a strange reversal of positions. While the big Western nations are giving aid to Indonesia, the Republic is busy providing assistance to the Pacific. This has ranged from training farmers in artificial insemination of dairy cattle, using the latest fishing technology and navigation aids, and rehabilitating people with disabilities.

“We’ve been passing on our skills in rice planting,” Pinardi said. “Farmers in Fiji used to broadcast their rice seeds. We’re training them in our system planting seedlings in rows while walking backwards. We’ve also donated small agricultural tractors.

“The other skill we’re teaching is in the multiple uses of bamboo. Fiji people don’t do as much with bamboo as we do in Indonesia.”

So while other countries may consider Indonesia to be a poor, low-tech developing nation, Fijians have another view, particularly those who’ve been the lucky recipients of programs like ‘capacity building for poverty reduction.’

The Indonesian touch can be found everywhere from imported Toyota Kijang vans through to handicrafts and women’s clothing. Fiji was once a big garment exporter but Commonwealth sanctions and cheap Chinese imports have crushed the industry, creating opportunities for smart Indonesian businesspeople and not just clothing manufacturers.

Furniture is a trade where Indonesia has few competitors. The big resorts have been ordering large quantities of tropical style rattan and water hyacinth chairs, tables and sofas that can be used inside and outside. They appeal to the environmentally-conscious because they’re made from renewable materials.

“We want to improve people to people ties and build cultural understanding,” said Pinardi. “We’ve been giving scholarships for higher studies at Indonesian universities.

“Fijians are very musical people and great singers. We do have a set of angklung (bamboo xylophones) but no gamelan orchestra. Maybe in the future.”

(Sidebar)

Deja Vu

Being in Fiji in 2009 is a bit like living in Indonesia during the repressive Soeharto years.

Outside journalists are not welcome and the local media is heavily controlled. Australian publishers have been kicked out. The newspapers originally responded by leaving blocks of white space to show readers that local political news had been cut by military censors, but now they fill the columns with bland tales.

Only those with access to overseas TV newscasts would have known that Fiji had been expelled from the Commonwealth on 1 September.

Fiji won independence in 1970 and became a republic. When the country was under British control in the 19th century indentured laborers from India were brought in to work the sugar cane plantations. Many stayed and now about half the national population of 800,000 is Indian. Most are Hindu, though seven per cent are Muslim.

Although the Indians and native Fijians (who are mainly Protestant) seem to get on together there have been few mixed marriages. The two cultures are radically different and don’t share the same values.

Past coups have been explained as bids by native Fijians to retain control of their country, fearing the democratic vote of one person, one value could put Indians in charge.

But the situations is more complex and involves native Fijians owning the land. The industrious Indians can’t get freehold land and many, especially the better qualified, have fled to Australia and NZ.

The present military strongman and self-appointed Prime Minister Frank Bainimarama says he wants to rewrite the constitution, reform land laws and eliminate corruption.

Despite the sanctions and pressures from his neighbors he is refusing to allow elections till 2014.
First published in The Jakarta Post 29 September 2009
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