INDONESIA NOW with Duncan Graham

JOHN DARLING OBITUARY

2012-01-31T14:50:00.004+07:00

The Healer of Bali

In the late 1960s before bombs, rabies and over-development, Bali was a rich territory for Western artists and academics, seduced by the islanders’ creativity and spirituality.

Among them was Australian John Darling, later to be described by American anthropologist Clifford Geertz as Bali’s ‘most innovative cinematographer’ ranking him alongside other international scholars for his ‘definitive studies’.

And that was long before John produced The Healing of Bali, his measured response
to the 2002 Kuta nightclub bombing by Islamic fundamentalists that took 202 lives.

When the bomb exploded John was in Canberra and unwell. He was working as an academic and suffering from hereditary haemochromatosis, a debilitating condition that creates an overload of iron in the blood. He’d also had a heart attack.

“I’m grieving in two cultures,” he told his wife Sara as they headed back to Indonesia. At
first using their own money the couple recorded Balinese reactions to the tragedy, restoring tolerance and balance amongst the grieving and anger – doing so by calling down their ancient cultural values of cosmic harmony.

It was John’s last film and it was screened on national television on the first anniversary of the outrage. Although he continued academic researching, his illness affected his other organs and he was later diagnosed with leukaemia.

John Darling died late last year in Perth aged 65.

His ashes will be returned to Bali by Sara in July to be scattered during the Bali in Global Asia Conference.

“The funeral in Perth in December included elements of traditional Aboriginal culture, Christianity, Hinduism and Balinese rituals,” said Mrs Darling.

“In the last weeks of his life John applied the same processes he used to produce his films – he planned, created and visualised his entire funeral. He also organised all the materials covering 40 years of his professional life.”

One of his earliest works, which has become a classic, is Lempad of Bali, winning
the documentary award at the 1980 Asian Film Festival. The film is a tribute to one of the island’s greatest artists who died in 1978 when he was believed to be 116. He was also curiously responsible for the Australian settling in Bali.

John Darling was born in Melbourne in 1946, the only son of an establishment family. His English father, later to become Sir James Darling and chairman of the Australian Broadcasting Commission, was headmaster at Geelong Grammar, one of Australia’s most prestigious schools. His mother Margaret had Scottish ancestry.

Young John’s road seemed set as an academic specializing in British history, but fate had paved another path. After graduating with honors he went to Oxford to continue his studies
but soon lost his way.

His academic colleagues then suggested he focus on Indonesia, a land most Australians knew only through the windows of Boeings heading to Europe.

John stopped in Jakarta and travelled across land to Bali. One dawn, while wandering across the paddy, he met I Gusti Nyoman Lempad and his compass was reset. The two men sat contemplating the rising sun. They couldn’t communicate, but they connected.

Days later Lempad’s son brought a message. His father wanted John to move onto the old man’s land and build a cottage. For the next 17 years this became the former Empire scholar’s base for his new studies. He used it to learn language and culture, to grow rice, tend cattle, make films and write poetry:

Black rope and bamboo
make my house,
I have a mouse in my
straw roof
Frogs make comforting
music through the night.
My lamp casts shadows
on the plants
Dim in my distance a
cat stalks quietly by:

I can see a few stars
But they are of another world.

Tjokorda Gde Mahatma Putra Kerthyasa from the Ubud Royal Family said the only outsiders who could live in Ubud (the artistic heart of Bali) were those who loved the island for what it was – not for what they could get out of it.

“John was a man who lived his truth and spoke it,” he said when officiating at the funeral. “He
didn’t choose an easy life in Bali, he chose a Balinese life.

“He is remembered by he people of Ubud as one of the few foreign ‘custodians’ of Balinese culture ho didn’t take – but shared.”

Despite his weakening
state from the undiagnosed illness, over the next two decades John produced ine films and directed, wrote or researched many others. He became the Go-To for Western anthropologists
and artists trying to understand the mysteries of the Archipelago.

Apart from Indonesian ohn learned Balinese and Kawi, the ancient high-level poetic language based on old Javanese. He became known as ketut (fourth child) and ‘Johndarling’.

His films were shown on mainstream television in Australasia and Europe included Bali
Hash, Slow Boat from Surabaya, Master of the Shadow and Bali Triptych.

Veteran Australian writer and broadcaster Phillip Adams described Triptych as ‘one of the most elegant, scholarly and beautifully made documentary series … when you see Darling's loving, luscious, literate films, you'll understand why."

Equally memorable was Below the Wind, shown around the world on small and large screens,
though apparently not on Indonesian television.

It tells of the Sama Bajo, the sea nomads of South Sulawesi who spend weeks alone in tiny craft fishing for shark fin. Their visits to Australia pre-date Captain Cook, and their cultural practices are earlier than Islam but their way of life has been capsized by the harsh interpretation of Australian fishing regulations.

“All John’s films were a labor of love,” said Mrs Darling. “You don’t make money with documentaries.

John’s work recorded and celebrated Balinese beliefs. He did this because he was totally immersed in the culture. He sought to share his knowledge and love.

“John was a peaceful man who promoted harmony. He related to everyone, from priests to farmers. His films have helped make Indonesia accessible to the world, particularly Australians who so frequently distrust and misunderstand their northern neighbor.”

(First published in The Jakarta Post 30 January 2012)

##

ELENA MAINTAINS PUFF

2012-01-12T11:09:00.003+07:00

Balloon queen captures DIY spirit

In Cuba Mall, Wellington’s bohemian quarter, there’s no lack of street entertainment.

Competing for the attention of passers-by are jugglers, uni-cyclists, a cacophony of mixed talent musicians, Polynesian hair-braiders and Maori face painters, the odd drunk, Andean flautists, gawkers and hawkers, passionate preachers and sad poets, even one or two beggars.

Then there’s Elena Amendek Sondari, 21, the undisputed Sundanese balloon queen of the New Zealand capital.

The enterprise and initiative of this young Indonesian, raising cash to help her husband study, has earned the respect of the locals because she’s embraced the Kiwi DIY (do it yourself) culture.

The ‘can do, will do’ ethos has made the tiny and isolated South Pacific nation a world leader in disciplines as diverse as film production, dairy farming, geothermal engineering and environmental protection.

It’s an attitude that has also built an egalitarian society where people are judged not by skin color, ethnicity, nationality or religion – but by their work ethic.

All this Elena relishes, but her activities don’t always get applause from Indonesians living in the NZ capital.

“Some think I shouldn’t be doing this, standing in the street twisting balloons,” she said. “They say it’s undignified, not suitable for an Indonesian abroad. For them status is everything.”

There are only around 400 Indonesians in Wellington. Many are post-graduate students, associates of the Embassy, businesspeople or the spouses of professional Kiwis.

Elena’s husband, Amsal Sahban also falls into the category of the elite. His father owns a private business college in Makassar. When Amsal finishes his studies at the prestigious Victoria University he’ll return to South Sulawesi to help run the institution.

Elena could easily spend her time gossiping with girl friends over cappuccinos, helping cook for the Embassy’s VIP guests and chatting through arisan (social gatherings that collect and distribute cash).

Instead, rain or shine, she stands in shop doorways in the world’s windiest city and sells balloons that she rapidly twists into an amazing range of objects to suit customers while they wait.

Most are toddlers accompanied by harassed parents seeking distractions, and indulgent grandparents happy to spend a dollar (Rp 7,000) to keep the kiddies amused.

The boys want swords so they can annoy their siblings, the girls like dogs, preferably poodles to pat or dolls to cradle.

Older children seek floral wristbands and balloon bicycles. Alcohol-fuelled revellers, swinging their way from bar to bar, are occasional customers keen to buy balloon crowns, attire as ridiculous as their behavior.

Although a Muslim, Elena is happy to make crucifix balloons for Christians.

Souvenir-hungry tourists from the colossal cruise liners that call into Wellington also buy, for many have not seen balloon art on their travels, particularly when done by a nimble-fingered attractive young woman.

“I’m not shy about performing like this by myself,” she said, “why should I be? I’m not doing anything wrong or shameful.

“My parents were farmers who taught me to work hard, and my husband is a humble man who says we should never be arrogant.”

Elena learned balloon art when she was working at a Pizza Hut in Bendungan Hilir, Central Jakarta. The restaurant was managed by Amsal. The couple fell in love. “I was attracted by her attitude, determination and spirit,” he said.

Employees had to blow up balloons and made these into simple floral designs for customers’ children, but not all staff were happy doing this task.

“Some of my colleagues were frightened by balloons exploding in their faces, but I didn’t care,” she said. “When we came to Wellington I looked around for ways to get money.

“I saw that no one was doing this so I decided to give it a go. I tried several locations, including the beach before finding success in Cuba Mall.

“On average I can get about NZ$ 90 (Rp 630,000) for five hours work, but on good days I’ve earned more close to Rp 1 million. The money helps pay the rent on our flat and buy my husband’s books.”

Since arriving in NZ in 2010 Elena has used her creativity and imagination, helped by Internet research, to make a wide range of complex toys and fashion accessories. A major manufacturer of cosmetics hired her to perform at a product launch and she’s had invitations to entertain at children’s parties.

Elena’s capital outlay and business overheads are miniscule. A small trolley to carry her basket of balloons bought from a discount shop, a little hand pump and a simple sign advertising her wares.

The only other requirements are a cheerful smile, ability to relate to people, well-trimmed nails – and plenty of puff.

“Most customers are friendly and complimentary,” she said. “Though I don’t speak English well that’s not a problem. Kiwis help me. Once a drunk snatched my takings (she keeps her coins in an open bag on the sidewalk), but other people saw what happened and forced her to give back my money.

“I have a licence from the local council to trade so I don’t get hassled by officials or shopkeepers. If people ask I tell them that I’m Indonesian, but there are so many nationalities in NZ that where you come from isn’t an issue.

“My advice to young Indonesians? Don’t be gengsi (put on airs) or sombong (snobbish) but open your mind to the opportunities that present, wherever you are. Have confidence in yourself. You can make your own luck.

“I like the 2009 song Jangan Menyerah (Never Give Up) by the Jakarta band d’Masiv because it represents how I feel.”

(First published in The Jakarta Post 12 January 2012)

FREE TRADE AGREEMENT AT LAST. WORTH WAITING FOR?

2012-01-10T10:50:00.006+07:00

CHEAP SHEEP: Primary produce is NZ's principal export industry - but lamb and beef is still out of reach for most Indonesians

Tariffs tumble – will prices follow?

On Tuesday 10 January the long awaited Free Trade Agreement between Indonesia, Australia and New Zealand comes into effect, slashing tariffs, the contentious taxes added to imports.

Tariffs delight local industries, particularly the sloppy and inefficient wanting protection against smarter overseas manufacturers. But they anger consumers seeking lower prices.

This FTA is hardly racing ahead of the pack. The original documents were signed in February 2009, part of an overall agreement embracing the ten-member Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN). The changes were expected to come into force on 1 January 2010.

However a further 18 months passed before Indonesia ratified the agreement – the last cab off the rank. Even then the engine may have been running but the gears weren’t engaged.

Last July the director general for international trade cooperation Gusmardi Bustami said he hoped the FTA paperwork could be completed and the deal finalised that year.

His optimism was misplaced, but in the labyrinthine world of trade diplomacy getting real results would test the most skilled and patient. If trade negotiators were developing cellphones we’d still be using housebricks.

Fortunately for NZ its trade minister had an insider’s understanding of Indonesia’s arcane bureaucracy. Before entering Parliament Tim Groser was a diplomat heavily involved in the World Trade Organization. In the mid 1990s he was the NZ ambassador in Jakarta and speaks Indonesian.

Domestic politics, largely driven by the meat industry fearing competition from Australian and NZ beef exporters, are believed to have been behind the delays.

The RI milk industry was also reported to be opposing the FTA. However the rising demand in the archipelago for dairy products seems to have placated local producers who are hard pressed to quench the thirst.

Will Indonesians now be licking ice cream made with milk from cows, not coconuts, and grilling prime Angus T-bones fresh from the lush pastures of the South Pacific? Some, maybe, but even with tariffs down costly steaks will still be off the menu for the majority. They’ll continue to get their protein from locally produced chicken, fish and tempe (soy bean cake).

And will Kiwis be enjoying barbecues lounging on outdoor furniture made in Indonesia? That’s already happening, though business has been constricted by buyers insisting only plantation timber is used.

There’ll be no snappy changes with the FTA. About 11 per cent of NZ goods currently have duty free access to the Republic. That figure will slowly rise to more than 90 per cent by 2015.

Nor will improvements be dramatic. Most tariffs on NZ imports are around five per cent, though ‘prepared foods’ are burdened with a whopping 25 per cent. Which is why your favorite processed cheddar might be handy on the supermarket shelf but still out of reach.

Will prices fall? Only if traders pass on the cuts. The more unscrupulous will argue higher costs absorb the savings.

Although politicians are trumpeting the agreement as a major advance (Mr Groser described it as “a high-quality, regional trade agreement that provides benefits to all of its parties”) Australasia will be the prime beneficiary getting easier access to ASEAN markets – around 625 million people.

Business between the nations currently favors sellers to the Republic. Indonesia is NZ’s ninth largest export market and not surprisingly the biggest in Southeast Asia. Kiwi meat and milk products – worth NZ$ 865 million (US$ 670 million) go to Indonesia. The ships return with goods like petroleum and paper products worth NZ$ 628 million (US$ 490 million.)

Australia’s trade in the region, boosted by mineral sales, is already worth about US$ 100 billion.

Kiwis shopping for archipelagic products need ample time and comfortable shoes, preferably made in Indonesia. A major retailer is importing, but shoes and sandals are seldom promoted by the country of origin. (The exception is Italy.)

Instead they are mixed with footwear from Malaysia, Vietnam and China, the major supplier of consumer products.

Unlike Chinese imports on sale in Indonesia the goods found in stores from Darwin to Invercargill are generally well made and guaranteed for a year or more. Tough consumer protection laws, backed by government departments and the courts, mean customers can return duds and get a rapid refund or smiling exchange.

In Indonesia buyers usually insist boxes are unpacked and devices tested before their eyes prior to purchase. Guarantees, if offered, last only weeks. Retailers in Australia and NZ demand their overseas suppliers maintain strict quality control.

That issue needs to be addressed by Indonesian companies seeking to sell in markets where consumers are kings and queens – and knaves rapidly routed. Slapping thick black varnish on cracked green-timber furniture will give Indonesia the shoddy goods image once held by China.

The Indonesian Embassy in NZ is planning a trade and culture fair later this year to boost business. In the past it has backed displays of batik, a material almost universally associated with Indonesia and widely admired.

However follow-up merchandising hasn’t been effective, raising the question: Are Indonesian exporters serious about building markets in the south?

The problem is that many manufacturers seem happy supplying the domestic market, expanding in number and wallet size, particularly the cashed-up middle classes. NZ has only 4.4 million people, about the number living in Surabaya. Australia’s 22 million is much less than Jabotabek’s 28 million.

By contrast Australasians have to export or perish. That’s made us aggressive sellers and innovative marketers. Tariffs haven’t been the only problem. Although Indonesia is NZ’s nearest Asian neighbor it’s a long haul getting goods to the Republic. In the way is the big southern continent, its major competitor.

Glaciers have melted and species become extinct since free trade talks began, but the agreement removes barriers that for too long have been used as excuses by tardy traders. This should be good news for the public.

Governments have unlocked the gates. Now it’s up to business to push them open.

(First published in The Jakarta Post 10 January 2012)

FAREWELL LAN FANG - and THANK YOU

2012-01-04T10:51:00.005+07:00

Lan Fang: ChickLit to TrueLit

After Soeharto fell in 1998 there was a great opening of bottom drawers.

Writers who had previously kept their manuscripts for trusted friends’ eyes only, suddenly found the courage to seek a wider market.

Publishers, no longer throttled by harsh censorship, responded with enthusiasm – particularly welcoming women daring to break the taboos of discussing sex.

Sastra wangi, literally perfumed literature though better known as ChickLit, was born. It flourished briefly and rapidly withered. Many writers were one-book wonders, exhausted once they’d put down the naughty words, challenged authority and experienced catharsis.

Separating the women from the girls was Surabaya writer Lan Fang who died from cancer on Christmas Day in Singapore leaving a legacy of nine books and scores of short stories written over 26 years. Her mother and grandmother died of the same disease. She was only 41 and still had much to say, according to her friends.

“Her talents for narration, creativity in character and character delineation were also great,” said Budi Darma, the elder statesman of modern Indonesian literature and emeritus professor at the University of Surabaya.

“She was not only prolific and a fast writer; at the same time she succeeded in maintaining the quality.”

Malang artist and author Bambang Adrian Wenzer met Lan Fang five years ago and helped illustrate some of her work. Bambang, who also has Chinese ancestry, found the strength to paint freely once the New Order government had passed.

“Lan was one of the few Chinese women in Indonesia who immersed herself into the world of art, particularly literature,” he said. “She was proudly Chinese and at the same time a committed Indonesian patriot.

“She was able to move across the class, race and religious divide, mixing with intellectuals, leaders and businessmen, then moving among ordinary people, and always keen to learn.

“She taught creative writing in pesantren (Islamic boarding schools) and energetically supported (former president Abdurrahman Wahid) Gus Dur. But above all she fought for quality literature and women to be treated as equals.”

Interviewed for The Jakarta Post in 2007 (see October 2007 post on this blog) the electric Lan Fang expressed her concern about Indonesian writers trying to make a living solely from their craft.

She was particularly annoyed that men preferred to spend money on tobacco rather than books. At the same time she had sympathy for the poor. "People are also so busy, with both parents working," she said. "Many genuinely don't have time to read."

She was born Go Lan Fang in Banjarmasin, South Borneo, refusing to take an Indonesian name at a time when the government was cracking down on the Chinese. She had her first short story published in the teen magazine Anita Cemerlang (Clever Anita) when she was 16, but this success had a downside.

Professor Darma said it took Lan Fang years to shake off the stigma of being a pop writer

“The public should judge individual writers based on the quality of their works,” he said. “Many of her short stories and novels are great indeed.”

Lan Fang went to a Catholic school, and then graduated in law from the University of Surabaya. Instead of practising she chose to try and make a living from her laptop.

This didn’t mean crouching over a keyboard. She was always busy in public, taking her activism seriously and seeking direct contact with life, from high-level functions to mixing with the masses, using public transport to get around.

In 2010 she wrote a piece for Kompas about the Suramadu Bridge between Surabaya with Madura. She started by seeing it as a spiritual and physical link bringing the island people closer, a metaphor for unity, but reality got in the way.

During a long cramped trip on a bus without a toilet she chatted with a poor young student and discovered the beautiful, gleaming bridge, pride of the province, had made little impact on ordinary folk. Madura, despite the politicians’ promises, remained underdeveloped and journeys had been only marginally shortened.

When a Sidoarjo hospital banned staff from wearing headscarves, Lan Fang came to the defence of women’s rights, cutting to the heart of the issue: Attitude, not attire.

She was reported as saying: “Although I’m a non-Muslim, I was happy when I was cared for by a medical attendant who was wearing a headscarf because she was kind and professional.”

In 2007 she was nominated for the Khatulistiwa Award for Lelakon (shadow play story). In the following two years her short stories were selected for the Sastra Pena Kencana Award.

Her output included Reinkarnasi (Reincarnation), 2003, Pai Yin, 2004, Laki-Laki Yang Salah (The Wrong Man), 2006 and Ciuman di Bawah Hujan (A Kiss in the Rain) 2010.

At the launch of this last book she said she wrote in a trance for five months; “I cried a lot watching the practise of politics in this country,” she told Antara news agency. “When writing I was divided by three emotions, anger, pain and sadness … now I find little political news worth reading.”

Little is publicly known about her private life. She had triplet daughters but kept silent on personal matters, being more interested in issues of State and art. An individualist she dressed casually, arousing comment in a culture where women are supposed to be clotheshorses. Writing was more important than wardrobe.

Although exploring the unfairness of laws and cultural practices, she rejected the feminist label, seeing it as too restrictive. Her other themes were pluralism and the need to cross social, cultural and religious barriers.

“In the beginning of her comeback, the majority of her short stories were written based on her personal experiences,” said Professor Darma. “The characters were her own friends and acquaintances.

“Bit by bit, however, she moved from true reality into more imaginative worlds, so that by reading her short stories, it’s as if the reader feels he or she is no longer in Lan Fang’s personal life. She kept the distance between the narrator and the author herself as the creator of the narrator.

“Her contribution is significant, and yet, because she passed away too young, she was unable to make use of all her energies to contribute more to Indonesian literature.”

(First published in The Jakarta Post 4 Jan 2012)