FAITH IN INDONESIA

FAITH IN INDONESIA
The shape of the world a generation from now will be influenced far more by how we communicate the values of our society to others than by military or diplomatic superiority. William Fulbright, 1964

Monday, December 16, 2013

MARRYING THE FAMILY


William Arie Johannes Vroegop
Making a stamp on RI              


                                  
Western men who fall in love with Indonesians are usually warned by their mates to beware a cultural trap: ‘You think you marry one woman, but in truth you marry her family.’
William Arie Johannes Vroegop, better known as Pim, understood that well. He’d been there, done that.
So when the Dutch entrepreneur wed Malang social worker Pipiet Sulistyowati eight years ago, Pim knew he’d also have responsibilities towards her immediate relations, particularly children.
At first that was just eight people - manageable.  “I haven’t got many resources, but I’m a trader in the Dutch merchant tradition so thought I could handle that,” he said. 
“But Pipiet’s extended family got involved.  Then the neighbors as many were related. Suddenly it was 200 kids. For that I needed help.”
On a trip to Holland Pim spoke at a public function in his hometown of North Voorburg.  He told of his wife’s relatives and neighbors in the Malang suburb of Sukun.
Many in the audience had physical and emotional ties to Indonesia dating back to colonial days.  They offered money, so he set up a foundation to pay schools for the children’s books and uniforms.
“Donors aren’t driven by guilt,” he said. “They just wanted to maintain links.  Even a few Euros can go a long way here.”
It’s an arrangement that carries heavy ethical baggage.
Indonesia is no longer a poor dependent country but a stand-alone democracy with a robust economy. Shouldn’t charity begin at home?
“There are poor areas in Holland where life can be harder than in Indonesia, even though there’s government welfare,” Pim said.
“Indonesians are resilient. There are many social problems in the kampong but the people are better organized, and nicer.
“There are millions of fabulously rich Indonesians.  They’re not interested. We’ve had just one donation from a local – twenty Australian dollars (Rp 200,000).”
When foreigners give money the pressure goes off parents to provide, and governments to follow their Constitutional responsibilities.  Why bother to work if a Dutch ATM has been installed and everyone has a withdrawal card?
“I resent seeing men sitting around idle, smoking, gambling and making babies,” Pim said. “But we can’t ignore the realities we encounter.
“If we stop funding the kids suffer.  The sad fact is that too few care – and that includes religious groups.
“These kids deserve a better world, to break out of the poverty cycle. It’s not patronizing – it’s caring for each other.”
Born in 1949 the son of two war resistance heroes, Pim rapidly realized that the Netherlands was too small to contain his energies and fantasies of life in the tropics.  Of these he knew little, apart from what he heard from an Indonesian beauty.  .
She’d gone to Europe to study tourism and hospitality with the idea of returning with new skills to be used in the family’s Jakarta hotel.
Instead she came back with a baby daughter and a husband, and neither was in Dad’s plan. “He didn’t like me,” said Pim, “but what could he do?  We stayed in his house. I had no qualifications, no money and couldn’t speak the language.
”I was still a teenager and so stupid I expected that everyone had been happy under the colonialists.”
But he had youth, energy and a friendly nature to offset the naivety, plus one more thing:  Pim collected stamps and had been into music in Holland.
He knew there were thousands of unsold magazines and posters available in Europe, though not in Indonesia.  Beatlemania had swept the world and the Rolling Stones were rocking.
Through his in-laws and philately connections Pim scored a permit to import music magazines from Europe – provided be blacked-out bra ads.
When he wasn’t doing that he was on radio, spinning vinyl and broadcasting in Dutch
“It was a gold mine,” he recalled.  “I was just so lucky.  The magazines sold as quickly as we could distribute.”
By then his family had grown to three children, and so had his contacts.
“There was a nostalgia among the older and better educated generation that spoke Dutch.  I was a nothing, but they made me welcome.
“Jakarta was much smaller. I met Soekarno, then under house arrest, though he was a sick man. There was discrimination, but it was all positive towards me.”
Not so welcome was Europe when the young family went back for their children’s education. Pim’s wife was in tulip heaven.  Although working as a tour guide he was in a spiritually arid zone. 
“I realized I couldn’t live in Holland again,” he said.  “I had been changed by Indonesia.  I was a different person.” After a year the couple split and Pim was back in the Archipelago, swearing to remain, free though penniless once more.
This time he found work managing an upmarket Bali hotel, but having to wear a necktie and behave in ways that didn’t affront staff and guests was too restrictive. So he went back to running tours – which he continues.
He’s already staged a cultural trip to the Netherlands by dancers from Sukun and now wants to bring the Voorburg soccer team to play against Arema, the first grade Malang team, to raise money.
 “We haven’t had anyone claim we’re trying to ‘Christianize’ the children because we’re not and my wife is Muslim,” said Pim. “We just want them to continue at school.
“There have been jealousy problems, particularly when Dutch donors visit Sukun to see the kids they’re sponsoring and bring presents.
“We live away from Sukun.  I’ve built an emotional wall – we can’t handle any more. I don’t want the community to become dependent on us so we’re planning to help young women go to Holland as healthcare workers so they can earn to support their families.
“I’ve been lucky and had a good life. The older generation of donors with Indonesian ties is dying, but there’s revival of interest by the young. I’m optimistic the links will survive.”

(First published in The Jakarta Post 16 December 2013)
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Thursday, December 12, 2013

A VIEW FROM WELLINGTON

NZ must lift study if trade with Indonesia is to take wings

Duncan Graham, a freelance journalist and the author of the Indonesia Now blog, says New Zealand risks being left behind in its quest for a slice of Indonesia’s expanding economy because of a lack of knowledge about the country and its people.

A key principle in business is “know your customer”.  We don’t yet properly understand Indonesia, but we can prepare – and discover new friends.
This winter, 52 Kiwi businesspeople returned from an 11-day visit to Indonesia, wallets stuffed with name cards, briefcases plump with memoranda of understanding – even a few contracts.
The Indonesian economy has wings – literally. Last year 70 million passengers flew across and around the archipelago. By 2015, it should be 100 million. Five new aircraft are delivered every month.
In the trade mission’s front row was the aviation industry, keen to sell equipment and services, including pilot and English language training.  New Zealand bankers, manufacturers, food exporters, engineers and academics – among others – were also rattling their products in Jakarta, Bandung, Surabaya and Bali.
By all accounts it was a worthwhile follow-up to Prime Minister John Key’s visit to Jakarta last year.  This came after the two countries formalised a free trade agreement.
Construction work begins on a high rise in JakartaIndonesia's expanding middle classes have cash and needs, says Duncan Graham


In regards to our relationship with Indonesia, we have many advantages. Foremost is that we are not Australia.  Australians have a testy relationship with their northern neighbour.
Earlier this year the Australian Government commissioned an attitude survey.  It found that nearly half the respondents saw Indonesia as a threat to national security, while most didn’t realise the world’s fourth-largest nation was a democracy.
It would be good to think Kiwis have a higher knowledge level, but similar research in New Zealand would probably reveal that few know where Indonesia lies.
Another plus is our position as one of the world’s least corrupt countries. That makes us a beacon of trust to a nation that ranks 118 on Transparency International’s index of perceived corruption.
Yet despite these attractions, we’re making little headway with attracting young Indonesians to New Zealand for study.
The government has set a target of 4,000 fee-paying Indonesian students in New Zealand by 2017. So far our Jakarta office has issued only 332 student visas in the past two semesters.  That’s up just 107 from the previous academic year.
Even distant, cold and costly Canada is reported to be attracting more students, because it’s spending serious money on marketing. We’ve allocated only $7 million. That’s not serious.
About 70,000 foreign students are in New Zealand. Currently, the largest number come from China, reflecting our past policies focusing on that country.
Now we’ve started notice Indonesia, recognising that its GDP should exceed six per cent this year, and its expanding middle classes have cash and needs. Penetrating this market of almost 250 million is likely to be tough, so thorough preparation is required.
That means understanding the culture and language – which is where we’re floundering against our competitors.
Indonesian isn’t taught in our schools. Asian studies are offered at a few campuses but there are no full-time, stand-alone Indonesian courses. No schools have put up their hands for Indonesian teacher aides, who are eligible for work visas under the agreements signed surrounding the FTA.
Kiwis doing business in Indonesia know little more than greetings in the language. Much of the promotional material distributed by delegates on the trade mission was in English. Trade Minister Tim Groser (who wasn’t on this trip) speaks Bahasa Indonesian.  So does Jakarta Trade Commissioner Tim Anderson and other top Embassy staff.  They are exceptions.
The story gets worse. A nationwide appeal for New Zealand cities to explore partnerships with Indonesian towns has garnered zero response. 
Next year, Indonesians go to the polls to elect a replacement for President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, who will have reached the end of the allowed two terms.
Many of the candidates have military ties pre-dating democracy, and of those considered to be in the running, none are as pro-Western as the incumbent.
That’s all the more reason for us to study and understand the needs of a major customer that wants our produce. Any cultural missteps could seriously jeopardise trade and undo all our good

(First published on the website of the Asia NZ Foundation www.asianz.org.nz)

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

BIG JOHN FALLS FORWARD


JOHN DEARAZA - MUSCLE MAN




The lack of high-profile successful local role models is behind Indonesia’s poor showing in international sport – but it’s not the only factor.

“Some nations are very competitive – Indonesia isn’t,” said athlete John Dearaza standing in the well-equipped gym where he works. 

“The government isn’t doing enough to help. Look at the lack of facilities in Indonesia.  They’re so bad professionals have to go overseas to train.”

Which is exactly what the champion bodybuilder has done, though the decision to move to New Zealand from Jakarta was made by his Mom when her marriage ended.  His Batak mother is Christian, a faith John follows.

Young John was still an elementary school pupil when he arrived in Wellington, the NZ capital.  He could speak some English as his mother taught the subject, but he’d never encountered rugby.

This is the rugged sport played so well by the national team, the All Blacks.  They’re now world champions, heroes in the tiny South Pacific country and admired everywhere the oval ball is kicked, carried, hacked and thrown, often in mud.  Much the same treatment is given to the players.

“I’d played soccer but never a contact sport,” John said. “Imagine if we did in Indonesia – we’d be tearing ourselves apart. But I learned and soon got involved.  I never expected to make the All Blacks, but I was good as a loose forward.”

Then came the injuries that go with rugby.  First a dislocated shoulder when he was about 13.  He recovered and got back into the game only to have the second shoulder put out of joint four years later.

His physiotherapist didn’t pull punches.  If the teenager didn’t want to be handicapped for life then he had to keep his body in shape. 

The painful accidents, which brought his sporting ambitions crashing to the ground, turned out to be “blessings” - a term he uses frequently in discussing his life.  After working for a photo printing company for four years he realized that a sedentary job would do his damaged body no favors.

Nor would any attempt to get back on the sporting field.  So he enrolled at Massey University for a degree in sports studies with a major in exercise prescriptions and training.

He now works in a large commercial gym in Lower Hutt, just outside Wellington where his partner, Amy Wilson, also works.  It has 4,100 members – and expects to attract a further ten per cent in the next year. Personal fitness is a growth industry.

The rows of black and silver machines in the two-level building where men and women grimace and grunt would make the gym look like a high-tech torture chamber if it wasn’t for the multi-colored lycra, upbeat music and a wall-size screen.  Here videos show beautiful people driving sports cars along swish beachfronts.

‘Get a body like this and all these goodies can be yours,’ they invite.

In other rooms scores of lithe young men and women push and lift, roll and twist. 
Outside the carpark was full, but inside the drivers pedalled stationary bikes or strode briskly along treadmills, heading nowhere.

Why punish flab-free figures, which generally look perfect, trim and slim? Although the gym is a showroom of eye-candy, a mall of muscle and mammaries, most concentrate on self than scene. If these folk think they’re unfit then the term needs to be reshaped.

“They’re here to reduce weight, to repair injuries, to learn more about their bodies,” said John. “Exercise also helps reduce stress, which is why so many arrive after work.’

Alongside a beefy man in the Grit Room was thumping a punchbag; his boss or a troublesome colleague?

“I started here as an instructor about seven years ago.  Within two years I was a manager, then a personal trainer.  I have about 35 clients and my job is to help them achieve their goals.

“This industry is all about image.  You’ve got to walk the talk. You can’t be out of shape.”

So five years ago he started bodybuilding and within a year had won his first title in the NZ International Federation of Bodybuilding.  It wasn’t a one-show wonder.  This year he was the open men’s champion in the 80 to 90 kilogram class.

On John’s Facebook page you can see pictures of him in eggcup bathing shorts alongside muscular ladies in sequin-size bikinis flexing their formidable biceps and awesome abs.

But what happens when time takes its inevitable toll and age erodes muscles?  John, now 35, claims clients respect experience and that he has colleagues in their 50s working as trainers.

“Most think I’m from Tonga or Samoa because of my physique,” he said.  “They call me ‘Big John’, and are surprised to learn I’m Indonesian; we’re expected to be small.

“The people who come here are highly motivated to change – even if they take up exercise because they are suffering from an inferiority complex. It’s easy to let others talk you down and develop a defeatist mentality.

“You also have to be disciplined.  (He was exactly on time for this interview and left for other appointments precisely as arranged.)

“Champions are made when no-one is watching.  When I was building my body through exercise and diet I was doing this at home alone.

 “Success is related to attitude – it’s mental as well as physical.  What makes a person legendary is about what they do, and how passionate they are.

“When I was a child my mother used to tell me that I would make mistakes and have failures.  But whenever I fell down I must fall forward, meaning I must pick myself up, look ahead and keep going.

“Many athletes are selfish with their talents – but I believe they should be shared. My job is to inspire, to help people develop their positive side. I help them achieve their dreams. That makes this a great place to work – I love what I do.”

(First published in The Jakarta Post 9 December 2013)

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John Dearaza
Falling forwards                                                          Duncan Graham / Wellington

The lack of high-profile successful local role models is behind Indonesia’s poor showing in international sport – but it’s not the only factor.

“Some nations are very competitive – Indonesia isn’t,” said athlete John Dearaza standing in the well-equipped gym where he works. 

“The government isn’t doing enough to help. Look at the lack of facilities in Indonesia.  They’re so bad professionals have to go overseas to train.”

Which is exactly what the champion bodybuilder has done, though the decision to move to New Zealand from Jakarta was made by his Mom when her marriage ended.  His Batak mother is Christian, a faith John follows.

Young John was still an elementary school pupil when he arrived in Wellington, the NZ capital.  He could speak some English as his mother taught the subject, but he’d never encountered rugby.

This is the rugged sport played so well by the national team, the All Blacks.  They’re now world champions, heroes in the tiny South Pacific country and admired everywhere the oval ball is kicked, carried, hacked and thrown, often in mud.  Much the same treatment is given to the players.

“I’d played soccer but never a contact sport,” John said. “Imagine if we did in Indonesia – we’d be tearing ourselves apart. But I learned and soon got involved.  I never expected to make the All Blacks, but I was good as a loose forward.”

Then came the injuries that go with rugby.  First a dislocated shoulder when he was about 13.  He recovered and got back into the game only to have the second shoulder put out of joint four years later.

His physiotherapist didn’t pull punches.  If the teenager didn’t want to be handicapped for life then he had to keep his body in shape. 

The painful accidents, which brought his sporting ambitions crashing to the ground, turned out to be “blessings” - a term he uses frequently in discussing his life.  After working for a photo printing company for four years he realized that a sedentary job would do his damaged body no favors.

Nor would any attempt to get back on the sporting field.  So he enrolled at Massey University for a degree in sports studies with a major in exercise prescriptions and training.

He now works in a large commercial gym in Lower Hutt, just outside Wellington where his partner, Amy Wilson, also works.  It has 4,100 members – and expects to attract a further ten per cent in the next year. Personal fitness is a growth industry.

The rows of black and silver machines in the two-level building where men and women grimace and grunt would make the gym look like a high-tech torture chamber if it wasn’t for the multi-colored lycra, upbeat music and a wall-size screen.  Here videos show beautiful people driving sports cars along swish beachfronts.

‘Get a body like this and all these goodies can be yours,’ they invite.

In other rooms scores of lithe young men and women push and lift, roll and twist. 
Outside the carpark was full, but inside the drivers pedalled stationary bikes or strode briskly along treadmills, heading nowhere.

Why punish flab-free figures, which generally look perfect, trim and slim? Although the gym is a showroom of eye-candy, a mall of muscle and mammaries, most concentrate on self than scene. If these folk think they’re unfit then the term needs to be reshaped.

“They’re here to reduce weight, to repair injuries, to learn more about their bodies,” said John. “Exercise also helps reduce stress, which is why so many arrive after work.’

Alongside a beefy man in the Grit Room was thumping a punchbag; his boss or a troublesome colleague?

“I started here as an instructor about seven years ago.  Within two years I was a manager, then a personal trainer.  I have about 35 clients and my job is to help them achieve their goals.

“This industry is all about image.  You’ve got to walk the talk. You can’t be out of shape.”

So five years ago he started bodybuilding and within a year had won his first title in the NZ International Federation of Bodybuilding.  It wasn’t a one-show wonder.  This year he was the open men’s champion in the 80 to 90 kilogram class.

On John’s Facebook page you can see pictures of him in eggcup bathing shorts alongside muscular ladies in sequin-size bikinis flexing their formidable biceps and awesome abs.

But what happens when time takes its inevitable toll and age erodes muscles?  John, now 35, claims clients respect experience and that he has colleagues in their 50s working as trainers.

“Most think I’m from Tonga or Samoa because of my physique,” he said.  “They call me ‘Big John’, and are surprised to learn I’m Indonesian; we’re expected to be small.

“The people who come here are highly motivated to change – even if they take up exercise because they are suffering from an inferiority complex. It’s easy to let others talk you down and develop a defeatist mentality.

“You also have to be disciplined.  (He was exactly on time for this interview and left for other appointments precisely as arranged.)

“Champions are made when no-one is watching.  When I was building my body through exercise and diet I was doing this at home alone.

 “Success is related to attitude – it’s mental as well as physical.  What makes a person legendary is about what they do, and how passionate they are.

“When I was a child my mother used to tell me that I would make mistakes and have failures.  But whenever I fell down I must fall forward, meaning I must pick myself up, look ahead and keep going.

“Many athletes are selfish with their talents – but I believe they should be shared. My job is to inspire, to help people develop their positive side. I help them achieve their dreams. That makes this a great place to work – I love what I do.”

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John Dearaza
Falling forwards                                                          Duncan Graham / Wellington

The lack of high-profile successful local role models is behind Indonesia’s poor showing in international sport – but it’s not the only factor.

“Some nations are very competitive – Indonesia isn’t,” said athlete John Dearaza standing in the well-equipped gym where he works. 

“The government isn’t doing enough to help. Look at the lack of facilities in Indonesia.  They’re so bad professionals have to go overseas to train.”

Which is exactly what the champion bodybuilder has done, though the decision to move to New Zealand from Jakarta was made by his Mom when her marriage ended.  His Batak mother is Christian, a faith John follows.

Young John was still an elementary school pupil when he arrived in Wellington, the NZ capital.  He could speak some English as his mother taught the subject, but he’d never encountered rugby.

This is the rugged sport played so well by the national team, the All Blacks.  They’re now world champions, heroes in the tiny South Pacific country and admired everywhere the oval ball is kicked, carried, hacked and thrown, often in mud.  Much the same treatment is given to the players.

“I’d played soccer but never a contact sport,” John said. “Imagine if we did in Indonesia – we’d be tearing ourselves apart. But I learned and soon got involved.  I never expected to make the All Blacks, but I was good as a loose forward.”

Then came the injuries that go with rugby.  First a dislocated shoulder when he was about 13.  He recovered and got back into the game only to have the second shoulder put out of joint four years later.

His physiotherapist didn’t pull punches.  If the teenager didn’t want to be handicapped for life then he had to keep his body in shape. 

The painful accidents, which brought his sporting ambitions crashing to the ground, turned out to be “blessings” - a term he uses frequently in discussing his life.  After working for a photo printing company for four years he realized that a sedentary job would do his damaged body no favors.

Nor would any attempt to get back on the sporting field.  So he enrolled at Massey University for a degree in sports studies with a major in exercise prescriptions and training.

He now works in a large commercial gym in Lower Hutt, just outside Wellington where his partner, Amy Wilson, also works.  It has 4,100 members – and expects to attract a further ten per cent in the next year. Personal fitness is a growth industry.

The rows of black and silver machines in the two-level building where men and women grimace and grunt would make the gym look like a high-tech torture chamber if it wasn’t for the multi-colored lycra, upbeat music and a wall-size screen.  Here videos show beautiful people driving sports cars along swish beachfronts.

‘Get a body like this and all these goodies can be yours,’ they invite.

In other rooms scores of lithe young men and women push and lift, roll and twist. 
Outside the carpark was full, but inside the drivers pedalled stationary bikes or strode briskly along treadmills, heading nowhere.

Why punish flab-free figures, which generally look perfect, trim and slim? Although the gym is a showroom of eye-candy, a mall of muscle and mammaries, most concentrate on self than scene. If these folk think they’re unfit then the term needs to be reshaped.

“They’re here to reduce weight, to repair injuries, to learn more about their bodies,” said John. “Exercise also helps reduce stress, which is why so many arrive after work.’

Alongside a beefy man in the Grit Room was thumping a punchbag; his boss or a troublesome colleague?

“I started here as an instructor about seven years ago.  Within two years I was a manager, then a personal trainer.  I have about 35 clients and my job is to help them achieve their goals.

“This industry is all about image.  You’ve got to walk the talk. You can’t be out of shape.”

So five years ago he started bodybuilding and within a year had won his first title in the NZ International Federation of Bodybuilding.  It wasn’t a one-show wonder.  This year he was the open men’s champion in the 80 to 90 kilogram class.

On John’s Facebook page you can see pictures of him in eggcup bathing shorts alongside muscular ladies in sequin-size bikinis flexing their formidable biceps and awesome abs.

But what happens when time takes its inevitable toll and age erodes muscles?  John, now 35, claims clients respect experience and that he has colleagues in their 50s working as trainers.

“Most think I’m from Tonga or Samoa because of my physique,” he said.  “They call me ‘Big John’, and are surprised to learn I’m Indonesian; we’re expected to be small.

“The people who come here are highly motivated to change – even if they take up exercise because they are suffering from an inferiority complex. It’s easy to let others talk you down and develop a defeatist mentality.

“You also have to be disciplined.  (He was exactly on time for this interview and left for other appointments precisely as arranged.)

“Champions are made when no-one is watching.  When I was building my body through exercise and diet I was doing this at home alone.

 “Success is related to attitude – it’s mental as well as physical.  What makes a person legendary is about what they do, and how passionate they are.

“When I was a child my mother used to tell me that I would make mistakes and have failures.  But whenever I fell down I must fall forward, meaning I must pick myself up, look ahead and keep going.

“Many athletes are selfish with their talents – but I believe they should be shared. My job is to inspire, to help people develop their positive side. I help them achieve their dreams. That makes this a great place to work – I love what I do.”

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