JOY IN A JOGLO

                                  

Bankers don’t enjoy a good press.

Along with politicians and used car salesmen, moneymen are often seen as a necessary evil, profit gougers rather than service providers.

Now meet Ridho Hakim (left), former manager of Bank Indonesia’s Malang branch who has used his cash to preserve Indonesian culture, reasoning that when governments are idle individuals must act.

“Democracy comes with responsibilities,” he said.  “We are ignoring our past, our culture.  When people use the adjective bagus (good) they mean something from the West.”

The only thing foreign about Ridho’s project celebrating the traditional Javanese joglo house is that the 120 square meter building came from Kudus in Central Java and is now in Kalisongo in East Java.

He came across the 1881 joglo through friends who knew of his interest in Javanese history that he’d nurtured since childhood, fuelled by a nationalistic soldier father and teachers who said:  ‘You can be anything you want, but you must appreciate our culture.’ 

In the 1990s he studied in Melbourne for a Master’s degree in business and discovered a society where history and heritage were given top priority.

Five generations of one family had lived in the Kudus house, but the last wanted something more modern. Joglo houses with their steep roofs look quaint, but that’s not a characteristic appealing to those seduced by minimalist trends featuring sheet glass and stainless steel.

“If the owners go, then who will care for the building?” Ridho asked, but already knew the answer.

“When I first saw it I fell in love. It was the fasting month.  To understand a house you must have feelings beyond just looking through the eyes.

“A relationship with a house should be like a marriage.  Lovers come and go, but the home remains.  Life cannot be measured just in terms of economic indicators, yet that’s what happened in Indonesia.

“The government was all about development and forgetting our history before 1945.  We understood the price of everything but not the value. We became good at copying.”

A home vendor wouldn’t have a banker buyer as first choice.  They’d likely wrap the sale in a steel net of clauses and conditions, shave margins, add exit penalties and other trade tricks.

Not this time.  The seller wanted Rp 300 million (US $31,000).  Ridho didn’t quibble.  He gave a 50 percent down payment and paid the rest by instalments, all handled by handshakes.  No contract.

“Appreciation is more important than money,” he said.  “It’s true bankers find it difficult to trust anyone, but believe it or not there are supernatural elements here.  This joglo calls people.”

It took about a month to take the house apart, load it onto four trucks and start reassembling in the village of Kalisongo, about 15 kilometers west of Malang. The foundations were laid in 2007 on Ridho’s 50^th birthday during the fasting month of Ramadhan.

Several popular television series in Britain and Australia feature families renovating old buildings.  These real life dramas show more emotion than a sinetron (soap opera) when problems erupt, budgets blow and couples tear themselves apart as dreams turn to rubble.

Apparently that didn’t happen with Joglo Kalisongo.  Ridho wasn’t there screaming orders and throwing fits.  His receding hairline came from the board room, not the joglo. 

“I just let the workers get on with it,” he said.  “We have a tradition of no anger in the house.  There’s no stress here.”

But physical stress is part of any building and has to be handled with care.  Beams carry loads. Angles must be precise or walls will bulge under the weight of tiles, timbers will split and the structure will collapse.

There are no nails or screws in Joglo Kalisongo.  The teak timbers are interlocked, some joints secured with wooden pegs, others through mortise and tenon, relying on the skills of carpenters working with basic hand tools. A little weather damage, but otherwise all good.

Some joglo are simple – this one is complex and splendid and probably built for a bupati (regent) an important official and a key link to the Dutch administrators of the 19^th century.  There’s been no scrimping on quality.

The size and design reflects the position.  A front veranda for lesser guests, the higher interior for those of standing.

Most beams have been carved with intricate detail.  There are two peaks in the ceiling, like the interiors of Majapahit-era temples.  Ridho claims it includes Hindu and Muslim traditions. The carvings don’t show any living thing but instead give license to the artisans to work imaginatively.

“The more you look, the more you appreciate,” he said. “This is my dream, my second wife.  It is open to everyone, whatever their religion. I believe in pluralism and tolerance.”

Only the roof and floor tiles are new, the latter made in Yogya from ancient designs.  The interior is dark – joglo have no windows.  Light comes in through open doorways.  Water runs in a small moat around the house, then through gardens fringed by cobblestone walkways.

Original joglo are rare – many have been shipped to Holland by the nostalgic Dutch.  The designs are being copied using modern materials.

On one side are paddy and crops of corn and vegetables for Kalisongo is almost 700 meters above sea level, close to Mounts Kawi and Arjuna.  On another flank a private Islamic school is being built using the standard concrete columns with brick infill, functional but unlovely.

Ridho doesn’t live in Joglo Kalisongo, which is used for corporate functions, weddings and other events. His family prefers a modern house in Malang, where he now lectures at a local university having taken early retirement.

“We have only one life and I didn’t want to spend it being a bureaucrat,” he said. “The ideal goal, the ultimate target of life is to achieve balance.  Money is important, but it cannot buy peace and harmony.  I find that here.”

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(First published in The Jakarta Post 21 January 2013)

TRI HARSO KARYONO

Dr Green’s cool prescription

When Tri Harso Karyono was a little lad in Yogyakarta back in the Soekarno era his Koranic teachings included this epigram: ‘Stop eating before you feel full’.

The words made a great impression and have become the foundation for his philosophy as a green architect.

“I learned that from an Islamic teacher,” he said. “It’s in line with green ideals. I’ve extended it: ‘Don’t buy if you’re not going to use’.”

Now a professor at Jakarta’s Tarumanagara University where he teaches in the School of Architecture, Dr Karyono knows he’s climbing a greasy pole in trying to get his message understood and accepted, even among his peers.

It’s not as though his views are radical, though he admits some think he’s a mite eccentric. Why would an academic in a prestigious position with high overseas qualifications still live in a kampong and use public transport?

“I want to be with ordinary people,” he said. “I don’t travel executive class when I use the trains – I go third class to hear what the passengers talk about so I can learn from them.”

His house in Tangerang has been built on green principles with cool 3.5 metre high rooms, but it’s not adorned with solar systems and wind turbines. “I don’t like to stand out from my neighbors,” he said. “I want to blend in.”

It wasn’t till he studied in Britain at the Universities of York, where he got a masters degree, and Sheffield where he earned a doctorate, that he found his opinions were not off the planet. In an environment where the past was often treasured and nature treated with respect Dr Karyono thrived.

He chose to study in the UK rather than the US because he’d been unimpressed with the arrogance of American architects and engineers.

“Britons’ respect for Shakespeare and the regular performance of his plays reminded me of my childhood in Yogya when the gamelan and wayang were once commonly heard and seen,” he said.

“I liked the public discourse on big issues, but I wasn’t so keen on the British reserve. You can be in a crowd there and still be lonely – impossible in Indonesia.”

Back in his homeland he works in a profession known for its flamboyant characters. But the designer is unassuming and treads so lightly he hardly makes an impression.

Which is exactly what he wants because his speciality is examining the way we live, asking whether the housing decisions we make are efficient or wasteful. Equally important is the question: Do we find our choices lead to comfort and happiness?

Being a scientist this means a fancy term has to be concocted – EF, or ecological footprint. It’s a measure of how well (or badly) we use the earth’s resources.

As part of his research leading to a book on sustainable architecture planned for publication late next year, Dr Karyono has been working in New Zealand with his former supervisor, Professor Robert Vale who moved from Britain to Wellington.

In Indonesia Dr Karyono has been looking at traditional homes, those built during the Dutch colonial period, and contemporary housing.

Although modern homes generate comfort through air conditioning and electric lighting, and make life easier with running water, washing machines and gas cookers the impact on the environment and the wallet can be harsh.

By contrast people living in simple homes built from materials that can be replenished like timber and bamboo that grow nearby, are being gentle with our damaged world.

But are traditional homeowners content? Surprisingly yes, according to Dr Karyono’s research into ‘thermal comfort’. He’s been interviewing people in their homes and measuring their satisfaction.

Not so happy have been those survivors of natural disasters in Aceh and Yogya occupying homes provided by overseas aid agencies. He said many houses have been built to resist earthquakes rather than create a comfortable environment, resulting in temperatures inside and out being much the same.

Although wanting to become an engineer Dr Karyono’s drawing skills led him into architecture, displacing earlier ambitions to be an artist. After graduating from Bandung Institute of Technology he worked with BPPT – the Indonesian Agency for the Assessment and Application of Technology. Here, among other jobs, he designed hospitals.

Clearly smart he was selected by his employer for higher education overseas. On his return home he moved into teaching and currently lectures at Binus, Parahyangan and Trisakti Universities along with his home campus.

Now 54 he plans early retirement next year to concentrate on promoting green architecture and sustainable living. Although his book will be about sustainable architecture in Indonesia it’s being written in English and will probably be published overseas.

“There are problems with copyright in Indonesia,” he said. “You sell one book and find a million copies have been made.

“It’s a pity that we follow so many bad things from the West instead of good things, like taking a scientific approach to planning. We can learn so much from the ordinary people and the way they live.

“However that view isn’t popular among my colleagues. They think differently from me, and their students follow them because they just want to pass.

“They know green issues must be taken into consideration, but their clients tend to be developers who are only interested in making money. Singapore and Kuala Lumpur do it better by preserving their history, which is what overseas visitors want to see – not new hotels that will never attract foreigners.

“Indonesian architecture is even worst than in the past. We just build houses to keep out the rain

“We have to be better educated. Indonesian education isn’t good. Soekarno was interested in culture and set up four arts institutes, but the Soeharto era was just about money.

“We need a president who is an architect and appreciates history. In this country the influences for change have to be top down.

“To be green we have to reduce consumption and live in a modest way – and we need a leader who does this.”

(First published in The Jakarta Post 13 December 2011)

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