BY THE NUMBERS - EAT

The Highway Code for an extreme feed                    

Where to stop for a feed?

Parked trucks are a good guide – the drivers know the best places for cheap and wholesome fare.  Busses in a restaurant forecourt indicate a broad menu; if the passengers aren’t satisfied they’ll travel with a different company next time.

Roadside kiosks selling specific meals, like bakso [meat balls] and nasi padang, an array of pre-cooked foods on separate plates, are usually well signed so motoring customers know what to expect.

But how about a warung [food stall] that only advertises numbers, and where de-coding the menu relies on cultural memory – or knowledge of fortune telling?

By her own admission Sri Sujayati, 40, is a vendor of “extreme foods” in the village of Talang Agung between Malang and Blitar in East Java.  She calls her business Ono Wae, Javanese for ‘always available’.

 “When you come here you must know what you want,” she said. “I don’t cheat.  The ingredients I use are the real thing. Every dish costs the same – Rp 10,000 [US 75 cents].”

Feel like a plate of turtle served with rice?  Ask for 27.

Prefer something snaky, like python potage?  Select number 29.  If not pre-ordered there’ll be a long wait.  Cooking a snake takes at least two hours.

Quicker is frog stew, guaranteed to get you jumping.  We recommend number 24.

A big guy needs something masculine and ferocious.  Wild boar at 93 should put bristles on any man’s chest.

Behind Bu Sri’s shop is a sack with body parts of a big monitor lizard, including a claw. Along with geckos this meal is recommended for those with body itch. She doesn’t sell dog meat [number 11], popular among the Minahasa from North Sulawesi, because there’s no demand locally – but many other creatures find their place in her pots.

While this writer was unsuccessfully seeking the courage to order a rat or bat pie, two famished construction workers arrived, both keen for an 02.

“I used to have a sore throat but that’s gone since I started eating snails,” testified Tofa, 23 (right, white T shirt). His mate Muntiono, 31 agreed. “It keeps me healthy.  My breathing’s a lot better.” Suggesting the men might give up smoking to achieve the same result was deemed inappropriate under the circumstances.

“Customers come from all around to eat certain animals believing there are physical benefits,” said the cook. 

“Everyone has their own beliefs about what works. Men like snake because it gives them stamina.”  This is a genteelism for sexual prowess.

There’s no suggestion that gambling or anything improper is underway at Ibu Sri’s wide-open warung on the main road– she uses the code as shorthand because “everyone in this area knows what the numbers mean.”  There’s no written menu.

This seems to imply that there’s a lot going on in Indonesian society that doesn’t always meet the outsider’s eye, let alone the strictures of the authorities, secular and religious.

By the numbers

The code can be cracked using the Tafsir Mimpi 100 Trilyun [100 trillion Dream Interpretations].

This cheaply printed and badly bound book is unlikely to be found on the shelves of your local library rubbing covers with biographies of the great and good. 

Like the promises 100 trillion is a gross exaggeration, though mixing and multiplying can expand permutations.

Buyers have to ask around.  The one featured on this page was under a newsagent’s counter.  It cost Rp 15,000 [US$1.20].  The seller insisted it be kept in a brown bag and not opened in public because, he said,  numerology is haram [forbidden] along with astrology and fortune telling.

There are no details of the publisher or printer in Tafsir Mimpi, but every page has crude pictographs linked to numbers – and not just for animals.  Number 60 relates to the police, 21 is a prostitute, while 43 is a young widow – and also a fish.

Number 11 can be a headscarf, fan, mushroom – and a greedy government minister.

The complex angka togel lucky number forecasting was widely used when the State lottery was operating.  Angka means number and togel is a combination of toto [lottery] and gelap [dark], implying a system that’s slightly shady.

The national lottery, also called NALO with a top prize of Rp 1 billion [about US$400,000 in the currency of the time] was known as Sumbangan Dana Sosial Berhadiah [SDSB Philanthropic Donation with Prizes].  However the religious weren’t softened by the euphemism and insisted it meant gambling, which is haram.

Until reluctantly banned by the Soeharto administration in late 1993 following prolonged pressure from Islamic authorities, the lottery was a splendid income stream for the government and, allegedly, other individuals linked to the President’s family.

In those pre-democracy days an independent probing of the accounts by a free press was impossible, so the public couldn’t trace the rupiah river.

The togel or toggle system persists in Hong Kong and Singapore where predictions on cards can be bought using allegedly lucky numbers associated with dreams, fortuitous events – and animals. 

Some Indonesian men’s tabloids, under a NALO heading include the numbers along with crime stories featuring sexual deviances and advertisements for paranormal services.

The togel cards are often illustrated with pictures of young ladies in various states of undress, suggesting  that a big win will lead to success in bed.

Indonesia’s Secret World

Referring to numbers instead of words probably dates back to the 6^th century, according to cultural historian Ismail Lutfi.(right)

“Long ago an ancient form of Javanese was used,  mainly known to royalty,” he said. “It was based on Sanskrit and is no longer heard.

“Words had many meanings, including numbers. These were used to represent the object. Javanese people like to use symbols, and these became the language.

“Although it seemed to disappear in the 16^th century with the arrival of Islam and the Dutch the knowledge  remains in some parts of East Java.  Gambling is illegal, but still continues. A person might, for example, dream of two dogs in his house. He can construct a number on the objects and use that to lay a bet.

“This is the secret world of Indonesia.  It’s a kind of numerology known as candra sangkala – a chronogram [arrangement of letters to indicate numbers and reveal a date]  based on the waxing and waning of the moon.”

Ismail, a senior lecturer in history at the Malang State University, said the system wasn’t taught. Although it was difficult to get information the code was understood in villages and kampong.

“It’s part of our cultural memory known as getok tular  meaning it’s handed down by word of mouth,” he said. “For many this is a more effective way of acquiring knowledge than reading books or listening to government announcements.”

(First published in The Jakarta Post 10 April 2015)

WHERE HAVE ALL THE FROGGIES GONE?

Frogs farewell spawns curse   

                      

Back in the early 1980s a fresh young undergraduate loved wandering through the paddy that was an integral part of the Malang Teachers’ College campus.

On her walks Dwi Listyorini (right)monitored the crops thriving in the fertile East Java valley dusted with rich volcanic ash, for this is three-harvests-a-year farmland with some of the world’s finest soils; she marvelled at the color transformations of the ripening rice and admired the graceful white herons soaring in to feed in the shallows.

Above all she enjoyed hearing the frogs call after rain:  “I loved their song,” she recalled, “it was beautiful, a natural thing. They sounded so happy and made me feel happy too.”

But Dwi wasn’t just a romanticist.  There’s a sharp edge to this smart lady. As a biology student she needed specimens to dissect, so it was easy to pop a jolly gargling frog into her bag then slice it on a laboratory bench.  One less among the millions wouldn’t make a difference.

Then the world slipped into overdrive.  Indonesians lusted for higher education and the government eventually responded.  The college became the Malang State University [UM].  Student Dwi became Dr Al-Jabari after winning a doctoral scholarship to study genes at the Tokyo Metropolitan University and marrying a Palestinian computer expert.

On her return she found new classrooms had sprouted where grains once grew. Ponds had been drained.  Parking lots, a tennis court, even a swimming pool had been installed.

Trees she remembered for their grace and shade had disappeared.  So had the wandering streams, now disciplined to follow straight lines, by-passing buildings and channelled under roads.  The rice bowl had been caked with concrete.

Also gone were the frogs – or almost all. The 45-hectare campus chorus is now jack hammers and shovels scraping aggregate as UM races to meet the demand for more teaching space.  More than 30,000 students are enrolled in eight faculties.

“In 1995 we had seven species of frog on campus,” Dr Al-Jabari said.  “In the last survey published in The Journal of Tropical Life Science my students discovered only three varieties.  The others have disappeared through pollution and loss of habitat.

“It seems as though we’ve been cursed for what we’re doing to the environment.  Now we have to buy our frogs.”

The biotechnical laboratory that Dr Al-Jabari heads needs about 100 frogs a semester for student dissection.  They cost between Rp 10,000 [US 80 cents] to Rp 15,000 [US$1.20] each and they come from the village of Sambigede, about an hour’s drive west of Malang.  

The shelves of her top floor laboratory glisten with jars of partly dissected amphibians, their pop eyes peering blindly through a soup of preservatives at the sterile world of science, webbed fingers clawing the glass.

 “Indonesia is rich in frogs,” said Dr Al-Jabari who also lectures on vertebrate biodiversity and conservation.  “Although there are only 42 species in Java there are more than 400 others across the archipelago.”

That sounds significant, but world-wide there are twelve times as many – some authorities claim the ratio is 15 times more. This year the discovery in Sulawesi by an international research team of a previously unknown fanged frog was announced.

The find has excited natural science because this species gives birth to live young, by-passing the egg-laying favored by its relatives.

“Frogs are good indicator species for the health of the environment. Their skins are moist and permeable so they are sensitive to pollutants,” said Dr Al-Jabari.

“There are stories of developmental abnormalities among tadpoles exposed to chemicals.  Around the globe there have been reports of declining numbers.

Biology student Siti Lutvaniyah seeks signs of frogs on UM campus

“Few children respect frogs and boys like kicking them.   They think they’re slimy and disgusting. There’s a belief that frog urine is poisonous. Indonesian culture doesn’t have the relationship with frogs that’s found in the West, as in nursery rhymes and Kermit.”

Kermit the Frog was the most famous of the late American television puppeteer Jim Henson’s Muppet creations, first appearing in 1955 and still internationally popular.

His song, It’s not easy being Green has become an anthem for conservationists.

Dr Al-Jabari’s suggestions for campus development include fewer single-level buildings to allow more green areas, and underground car parks.

“As scientists we have a responsibility to tell the truth about frogs,” she said. “We need to get back to nature.  Where frogs thrive the environment is clean – that’s the proof. In my garden at home there’s always a frog.”

Frog Factory

Supplier of amphibians to UM is Ibu Risman, and it’s just a tiny slice of her business in Sambigede,. The serious money comes from her frog abattoir, slaughtering and processing 200 kilos of the little creatures every three days for human consumption overseas.

The amphibians are delivered in sacks and cut up soon after arrival.  It takes about twelve frogs to make a kilo.

In a covered yard alongside her house three women squat on the floor.  One beheads, another skins, pulling the leather off like a glove, while the third yanks out the stomach and trims what’s left with a pair of scissors. 

As they die the twitching frogs spread-eagle their bodies, exposing a white tummy. Nothing is wasted – the heads and guts are used to feed fish and the skin is said to make a tasty cracker.

The frog legs are packed in ice and trucked to the city of Kediri where they are reprocessed for export.

While awaiting their fate the croakers stay silent, as though they know resistance is useless.  Occasionally one leaps away, hiding behind plastic buckets and Styrofoam boxes. But the killer trio are deadly efficient and soon have the escapee in hand and ready for the knife.

Local men collect the frogs at night while wandering the paddy with spotlights strapped to their foreheads.  A good session might yield one hunter five kilos of frogs.  Ibu Risman also buys snakes paying Rp 44,000 [US$ 3.50] a kilo.

Most are Enhydris plumbea, the rice paddy snake endemic to South Asia and not listed as endangered. They are killed for their skin and blood, which is used in traditional medicines along with the intestines.  Occasionally the hunters bring in big pythons which get sold as pets.

Indonesia is reported to be the world’s largest exporter of frogs for human consumption selling 5,000 tonnes a year, mainly to France, Belgium and the US. Although the food is haram [forbidden] to Muslims, frog leg soup known as swikee can be found in many restaurants in Indonesia serving Chinese food.

The good anecdotal evidence – at least from this one village – is that frog numbers aren’t declining.  The species is Hylarana erythraea, the Green paddy frog.

“I’ve been in this business since 1973 and there’s no shortage,” said Ibu Risman. “We can keep up with demand.”

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(First published in The Jakarta Post 9 March 2015)
Since this story was published Dr Al-Jabari has pointed out that  she teaches animal development using frogs and heads a Genetic Regulation laboratory - not a Biotechnical Laboratory.
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