GRETA IN THE TROPICS

 MUD LADY MAKES CONSERVATION COOL              

 

She’s Indonesia’s Greta Thunberg minus the environmental activist’s Swedish scowl,  replaced instead by a Javanese smile. Interpreting this as an absence of determination would be a grievous error. 

 

Lia Putrinda, 29, and the mother of two daughters has already amassed more awards and recognition than many didactic academics who’ve struggled for decades to make us change the way we treat our world. 

 

Factors in her success include youth, gender, cheeriness and an ability to inspire. She’s also a gifted musician and singer, which helps lighten the delivery of her heavy message: Care for the world. 

 

‘I was always serious at school and wanted to do my best for my country,’ she told Indonesia Expat in her Sendangbiru resource centre on East Java’s south coast.  

 

‘I’d seen how nature had been damaged by clear-felling and pollution which was affecting the lives of everyone in our community.  

 

‘About 20 years ago we had a drought and the fishermen started reporting smaller catches. It was obvious something was wrong and it wasn’t getting better. 

. 

‘I was told not to worry because the wounds would heal themselves, but I wasn’t convinced. I asked myself: ‘What can I do?’ I knew I had a duty.’ 

 

The answer was action - first family and then friends - cleaning forests of trash and planting mangroves in bare tidal inlets where the tree’s prop-roots help stabilise estuary mud. The trees had been felled for firewood and charcoal, causing erosion. 

 

Studies show that the salt-tolerant evergreens provide safe breeding habitats for fish and shellfish, so a vital food source. 

 

Coral in the ecosystem had also been damaged by explosives used to stun fish and mine the reefs for building blocks, even though illegal. 

 

Nearby attractions, including the famous Tiga Warna (Three Colours) beach, had long-drawn swimmers and divers from Malang, a three-hour drive north. 

 

Locals built guest houses to supply tourists’ needs.  But Putrinda realised this boost to the economy - traditionally dependent on fishing - could be lost if the attractions were damaged. 

 

Putrinda is featured in a book on the nation’s inspiring women by the Indonesian Government’s Ministry of Tourism and Creative Economy. She’s also been recognised by the Women’s Earth Alliance, a powerful international organisation. 

 

Like Thunberg, Putrinda started young, speaking out before entering her teens.  She knows what she’s talking about despite having no tertiary qualifications. Her elevated English is largely self-taught, enhanced by a strong vocabulary from reading widely. 

 

She had to forego a scholarship to study marine biology at an Australian university because her family didn’t have the money to sustain her for several years abroad. 

 

Staff and students from Brawijaya University in Malang have surveyed the regional environment and produced scholarly reports which have provided academic credibility. 

 

With her father Saptoyo, who used to run a general store, she started the NGO Clungup Mangrove Conservation to formalise the project and raise funds, largely through entrance fees. 

 

Before the pandemic, CMC was attracting around 5,000 visitors a month. The number is now close to 3,000.  Most are Indonesians - few foreigners know of the eco site because there’s little information in English - a fault yet to be fixed.  

 

Explorers must be accompanied by a guide who explains the features of the 81-hectare park and ten hectares of coral and answers questions. The Rp 190,000 fees help pay the 120 staff and build facilities.  

 

So far 1.8 km of paving has been laid so visitors can get access to isolated points. There are plans to surface two more kilometres of road.  

 

Visitors’ bags are checked for bottles and food packaging - and again on exiting to ensure all waste is carried out. The policy seems petty, but it drives the point that good habits should persist in everyday life. 

 

‘Every person should be responsible for their trash,’ said Lia. ‘What we do now can affect others far away. For example, we are finding plastics on our beaches that have come from India on ocean currents and have been swirling around for years.’ 

 

This is also an economic issue. Pollution of Bali beaches is giving the island a bad reputation overseas that’s likely to push vacationers to seek cleaner places to stay and spend. 

 

The focus of CMC is that education should not be imprisoned in a classroom, all desks facing a blackboard. Students should be able to see, smell and touch the topic. 

 

 Learning becomes fun by adding activities like paddling kayaks, pedalling bicycles, swimming and scuba diving to make a total experience. The mangroves and coral can’t be seen in isolation. 

 

Like a jigsaw, nature is interlocked. The birds, animals and insects need food and shelter among the trees which benefit from the wildlife pollinating and fertilising.   

 

Putrinda’s message is that missing one piece creates a malformed picture. Her organisation has been given some government money but so far has been unable to get backing from big business without compromising principles of no corporate advertising. 

 

Posters and notice boards along the trails only show what the park does and why. There are no urgings to smoke cigarettes or swig colas. 

 

Putrinda is frank about the problems she’s encountered, starting with locals who feared bans against plundering the forest would lead to income loss. She convinced them to turn from cutting trees to working as conservationists. 

 

Another problem has been bureaucrats who’ve resented a community organisation getting credit for caring for land they’re supposed to protect.  

 

Putrinda’s initiative has been praised by conservationists, but the applause hasn’t gone to her head. She credits her parents for raising her and her sister Labda Manggala to appreciate nature and believes that individuals can make a difference, however lowly their status. 

 

‘I want young people to see what’s possible and help their communities, wherever they are,’ she said. ‘Don’t leave the job of change to others.’ 

 

(Pix by Erlinawati Graham) 

First published in Indonesia Expat, 6 October 2023: https://online.fliphtml5.com/qinqh/ertc/#p=18

 

 

 

 

 

EVERY DAY CAR FREE

Many goats, few cats, ample fish   

            

The Indonesian government’s Ten New Balis program aims to beckon investors to create fresh tourist lures.  One obvious candidate is an islet off East Java’s north coast.  But transition won’t be easy.

Gili Ketapang ticks most boxes as a desirable destination: It’s less than an hour from a major port so day trips are easy. Although ferries are grossly overcrowded the passage is usually calm and busy with traffic. 

The timid will discover an outlet for their limited adventuresome spirits while those keen on culture, history and ecology will find puzzles to stimulate the mind.  But how to promote all without spoiling?

“This is our development dilemma,” said village head Suparyono, 49, (right) the senior government official on the 68 hectare island eight kilometers from Probolinggo.

“We definitely want more tourists to help our economy and tell the world about ourselves.  But we don’t want visitors to start buying land for their businesses or damage our traditions.”

Whether disembarking at the public jetty or beaching a charter boat on the sandy western tip of the tear-shaped isle the newcomer is met with a welcome and a warning.

The prohibition could have included bans on littering – which is a serious concern – but highlights instructions on how women should dress, particularly while snorkelling. Unsurprisingly Bali’s bikinis are taboo; so is even modest beachwear.

While men can make a splash in shorts women struggle to keep covered as tugging waves threaten to reveal a sliver of skin. However there are few chances of locals suffering a moral upset because visitors, mainly from social clubs, hang around the beach where they camp and frolic among themselves.

Unchaperoned outsiders wandering the kampong concerns Suparyono.  “Some locals want to pinch guests’ skin, particularly if it’s white, because it’s so unusual” he said. “They also stare a lot and ask for cigarettes as they assume everyone smokes.

“We need to provide tour guides who can explain the cultural differences. We don’t want outside agents doing this. Our religious leaders are not ready yet to understand tourism. But people are friendly and this is a safe place.”

(In the interests of factual reporting your correspondent found much curiosity and only benign harassment.)

The islanders may be sedate but the elements are less easily controlled. With only two metres between high tide and the peak a tsunami could sweep all away.

 “Impossible,” said Suparyono. “We’d be shielded by Madura.”  The bigger island is 60 kilometers north and tethered at its west end to Java by the Suramadu Bridge; Madura is more than 6,000 times larger than the islet and its population 375 times greater.

It would be a brave soul who confessed to following a faith other than Islam on Gili Ketapang.  The majority are Madurese and speak a different language. 

Few locals over 30 seem to understand the national tongue; those who do were schooled on the mainland or married into the community from elsewhere.  The effect makes visitors feel they should have brought passports and phrase books.

Suparyono taught elementary school before taking his present job and is proud that most people want to remain.

“There are 9,671 residents and only six have gone overseas (as maids or laborers),” he said with bureaucratic precision, presumably up-to-speed on overnight births or deaths.  “Unlike Madura our population is growing.  (Half the seven million ethnic Madurese live away from their homeland.)

“There’s plenty of fish because we are conservationists.  We don’t use cantrang (trawl nets banned by Fisheries Minister Susi Pudjiastuti but this year unbanned by President Joko Widodo) because we want to sustain stocks.

“Anyone who isn’t lazy can get work on the boats (there are around 800) or processing the fish.  What we don’t eat we sell in Probolinggo.” The kids look fit and there are many oldies, suggesting a piscine diet helps folk thrive.

Some families have clearly done well judging by their modern homes. Seen from the sea the terracotta roofs and whitewashed walls give a Mediterranean feel. However authorities are behind on planning; grand mansions front old shacks and narrow tracks of crushed coral.

Houseprouds’ kitchen devices don’t get overused as power is rationed.  Suparyono said new diesel generators will be relocated away from the school where the rhythmic bang-bang disrupts classes.

The island is dry so water is pumped from Java through an undersea pipe.  Yards have rain tanks and there are a few wells.  Some have become mystical – see breakout.

In Gili Ketapang everyday is car-free – the ferries are too small to carry large goods;  an armada of motorbikes has made it across the straits, though more for status as they are poorly suited to squishy sand and tyre-ripping coral.

Only the toughest trees survive the goats which probably outnumber humans.  Some have adapted to gnawing cardboard and tissues but so far haven’t evolved into plastic digesters – which is a pity as there’s little shortage.

Around half the women wear bright headscarves but not the all-covering jilbab found on the mainland.  Sarongs are unisex fashion.  Babies are made up like dolls.

Another aspect of local lifestyle is practical.  Properties are fenced – not because of theft (there are no police on the island) but to repel the voracious nannies and billies patrolling the perimeters like an occupying army, ever alert to a breach of security.

There’s no formal tourist accommodation on Gili Ketapang            so visitors need to make prior arrangements with householders.  Otherwise there are beds aplenty in Probolinggo’s hotels and guest houses mainly catering for trekkers heading to Mount Bromo.

(Breakout)

Catastrophes

Semeru, Java’s highest (3,676 meters) mountain, features in pre-Islam cosmology as a transplant from India where it was called Mahameru.

Geologically it’s a perpetual puffer with 55 major eruptions in the past two centuries.  In local mythology Gili Ketapang used to be part of Java but was blasted away during some massive explosion of Semeru long ago.

The hard science is less romantic:  Basically the island is a coral reef and barren sandspit in a shallow sea.

A more recent oral history has Shaykh Maulana Ibrahim, one of the 14^th century Walisongo (nine saints) who brought Islam to Java, visiting from Samarkand (now in Uzbekistan). Along with spreading the word he also cleansed a cave occupied by hundreds of felines.

Goa Kuching (cat cave) is now a quaint shrine with some old wells cut into the coral and donation boxes prominent.  The slightly deaf custodian Mang, 87, (right) shouts a lot which might be why only one shy black cat was spotted near the building which is also used as a snooze spot for pilgrims.

For those with faith and an empty bottle Mang will go down into the hole and bring back some blessed water.

It’s said that on certain auspicious nights much caterwauling can be heard which should make Gili Ketapang an ideal location for a spooky sinetron (soap opera). 

The story seems more fable than fact:  Even if the cats were crying the calls to prayer and the pounding power plant would smother any pussy pleading for release.

First published in The Jakarta post 7 June 2017

DOING GOOD DEEDS - AND HAVING FUN

Nailing environmental care                                    

If dawn joggers hadn’t been forewarned they’d have been frightened.  An advancing column of almost 50 determined marchers armed with steel bars, hammers and other ugly weapons.  Some lug ladders, obviously to scale barriers.  Many are in white, the color of the dreaded Islamic Defenders Front.

Fortunately for the fearful – though not for those still abed on this splendid Sunday morning – there’s a pick-up in the crowd overloaded with an eight-speaker sound system.

“We are the Malang Community Carers,” shrieks Abdul Gafoer, tweaking amplifiers to ensure his voice will top the Bromo-Tengger-Semeru Massif ringing the East Java city.

He used to be in the army so knows how to shout at people. Malang lacks noise abatement laws so complaints are unlikely: “We’re here to protect the environment because we’re citizens who care.”

And also gouge, for today the activists are tree dentists on a mission to extract; they’re carrying pliers, claw hammers, crowbars and other tools to prise out the rotting nails wounding roadside vegetation.

Jalan Dr Cipto is a leafy avenue of 30 meter-high kenari trees [Canarium decumanum], planted long before the winds of unstoppable change howled across the archipelago blowing away the old, though not these splay-footed giants that germinated when blond men in pith helmets pedalled past.

Kenaris are the symbol of the West Java city of Bogor and already under threat with reports of residents stabbing the trunks and pouring in poison, hoping dead trees will be felled to make space for food stalls. That hasn’t happened in Malang, but the trees have long been used as handy posts for advertising.

“In Surabaya signs must be tied to trunks using raffia,” said Dodi Ashari, organizer of the event and a marketing man during weekdays. “It’s illegal to use nails – so far not here.  We do this once every two months in a different location.

Ready for anything:  Lilik Sunarlik

”We’ve got around 3,000 supporters, though only 100 are really active.  On an earlier exercise we collected 20 kilos of metal.  Our goal is five nails for every volunteer.”

An ambition easy to nail, with many members achieving their quota at the first stop. One of the most nimble, darting up ladders to worry out the metal spikes while others were seeking a snack or drink from the refreshment runners, was Zainal Rezeh who manages a boarding house.

“I was born here – Malang is my city,” he said with pride while trying to divert a river of sweat cascading into his eyes.  “Of course this job could be done by local government workers, but they’ve got enough to do.  I have time on my hands. I want a better environment.  That’s why I come.”

Jalan Dr Cipto is no place for tree huggers who’d rapidly discover what it’s like to cuddle a porcupine. Close up it’s easy to see the hurts where ulcers have formed in the trunks as nature tries to expel the foreign bodies slowly rusting in its skin. 

Some nails are long and thick and have been hammered so vengefully deep that attempts to remove start ripping the bark. Others are tacks that snap when levered. Ironically one of the most damaged trees stands outside the local office of the Forests Department, complete with bolt. 

“I had a friend from Holland who was horrified to see how we treat our trees,” said Gunawan Wibisono.  “I studied environmental management in the Netherlands - when I came back we started this campaign.”

It’s not the only one.  After returning to base the volunteers bored holes alongside the sidewalk and plugged them with capped PVC pipe. The idea is to drain surface water hampering pedestrians and churning mud.  The idea is to eventually sink one million pipes.

They also showed bystanders how to make backyard compost pits by digging deeper holes for organic trash. 

Pamphlets were handed to anyone who showed interest, while those indifferent to the environmental message got it anyway through the million megawatt mobile sound system.

When the boring jobs were over MCC members distributed kendi (seductively-shaped earthenware jugs that sweat so the contents stay cool) to local communities.

The MCC is trying to revive an ancient custom of providing kendi (pictured, left) at neighborhood watch houses, or in wall niches near public transport stops, for the weary to quench their thirst. They hope this will reduce throwaway containers and a plastic pollution problem.

The carers were mainly professionals or retired. Among them were teachers, a lawyer, an engineer, big and small businesspeople, students and academics, ages from seven to 65.  Although all were keen to pull nails, camaraderie was another attractant. People of such diverse backgrounds they’d never otherwise meet, getting together in a common cause.

Perched on a rickety bamboo ladder yanking nails on a Sunday doesn’t sound like a riveting pastime.  But with everyone on the same page, dancing to the music when Abdul Gafoer lets his lungs rest, or exchanging confidences while fighting a stud that’s resisting arrest, then doing good deeds becomes fun.

Philosophical reasoning about owning an environmental problem and the need to walk the talk were offered by the volunteers to explain their involvement. 

However the motives were best articulated by Margarette Narlita Isoya, a former English teacher now working in public relations, and her travel agent mother, Lilik Sunarlik.

They simply said: “This is our town. We want to make it better.”

(First published in The Jakarta Post 6 January 2015)

   

EXPLORING THE HEART OF DARKNESS

Kalimantan – why care?   

                                       

Looking for Borneo is wrongly titled.  It should have been called Looking After Borneo – because it’s really – as veteran travel writer Bill Dalton says in the foreword –   “a call to action, a plea to save this special place from the ravages of development.”

Fair enough – the lush photos and quirky paintings, the splendid layout and care for detail    make this a fine addition to Green literature. The plight of orang-utans facing fast death by firearm or slow extinction through loss of habitat is reason enough for attention.

But if these things are so important, why are the Australasian contributors to this lovely book living in Bali and Lombok? Their commitments to Kalimantan are genuine, but like US forces in Syria, their boots aren’t on the ground where their talents might be even more effective.

Readers who can’t get to Borneo, the world’s third largest island can maintain their concerns by buying this book, as the author cheekily suggests, though not for personal gain.

None of the contributors got paid.  Should there be any profits these will go to three charities – two of them in Kalimantan.

 Looking for Borneo is also a handy resource with a list of internet links under the heading What Else Can You Do? Good idea, but how effective are these likely to be against the big dollar developers clearing the bush for palm plantations, deaf to the conservationists’ concerns.

Here’s an answer, though hopefully more a reinforcement for urgent action than passive acceptance:  This review was written under a blanket of haze blown across the Java Sea from the illegal burning of forest trash in Kalimantan, a practise that was supposed to have been halted long  ago, yet continues every year to smother this country and its neighbors.

Another reality: Borneo, Asia’s largest island, is shared by three nations – Malaysia, Brunei and Indonesia, the latter controlling almost three quarters of the land mass.  In 2007 the tripartite Heart of Borneo Conservation Agreement was declared at the urgings of the World Wildlife Fund (WWF).

Splendid decision - but this year the WWF reported that 10 per cent of the supposedly protected forest cover of what it calls ‘Asia’s last great rainforest’ has been put to the chainsaw since pen scratched paper.

Last year education consultant Dr Mark Heyward published Crazy Little Heaven, an account of a 17 day cross-Kalimantan journey with a few mates taken almost two decades earlier. Looking for Borneo is an extension and enlargement, embellishing Heyward’s earlier prose with photos by David Metcalf, landscapes so juicy the sap runs, portraits so clear the sweat has odor.

Then there’s Khan Wilson’s surrealist artwork featuring manga-eyed maidens, their tilted heads resting on well-upholstered bosoms,

These are also supposed to have been inspired by Heyward’s words, though the link is tenuous and the colors more interior than exterior.  The style is Bali-spa hedonistic and repetitious, but the pictures are joyous enough even though out of place.

Another addition is a 14-track CD featuring the skilled guitar work and composition of polymath Heyward, mainly in what Dalton labels ‘kampong folk rock’. Party stuff rather than gentle listening, though the ballads, when allowed to rise above the backing, encourage contemplation.

So altogether a substantial package assembled for good reasons. The problem is structure.  The early parts of the book don’t coalesce despite Borneo being the central theme.  The words are about a man’s brief mid-life venture into the heart of the unknown (real and personal) with a few mates last century – a tale already told in his earlier book

It’s a pity that Heyward didn’t revisit his walkabout and record his impressions anew now his vision has matured and understanding broadened.  Then readers would have before and after examples to aggravate their wrath at the despoliation.

Towards the end we get the hard update:  “East Kalimantan is the province with the highest gross regional product in Indonesia, yet a quarter of a million of its people are classified as poor.”

Heyward canvasses eco-tourism, a ban on new plantations and boycotting palm oil products as possible solutions, but rightly recognizes there’ll be no change without “strong political will … and better law enforcement.”

Looking at how national parks are managed in the rest of the world might help, but not all overseas strategies survive transplantation to countries where the politics are brutally corrupt and where personal gain regularly trumps national interest.

 Indonesian solutions have to be found for Indonesian problems – and if the powers in Jakarta don’t care about their environment and citizens, then why should others?

Maybe it’s too late.  Heyward says the Dayaks are already divided between urban dwellers and bush people; missionaries have planted alien faiths; technology and a cash economy are impacting on forest folk along with cultures everywhere.

No doubt some will prefer clicking files in air-conditioned offices to blowpiping proboscis   monkeys in the dripping canopy, but if their environment is preserved the Dayaks will have the chance to choose how and where they live, a basic human right.

It’s not just the traditional occupiers and users of Borneo’s riches who will then benefit.  The whole world will literally breathe easier if this great green lung survives. That makes it a matter too important to leave to the cabals in Menteng, so they also need to read this book.

Looking for Borneo                                                                                                                   

by Mark Heyward, David Metcalf and Khan Wilson                                                    

Published by Creatavision Publishing 2014   168 pages

(First published in The Jakarta Post 3 November 2014)

SURYO WARDHOYO PRAWIROATMODJO

Farewell Indonesia’s Green Renaissance Man    

                     

Here’s proof that attitudes and values can change faster than we think, and that citizens have the ability to wake interest when governments yawn.

Not too long ago conservationists were considered siblings to communists, dangerous even when just respectfully suggesting that caring for the environment might be smart.

That was the situation when Suryo Wardhoyo Prawiroatmodjo first proposed building a rural centre to promote sustainable organic agriculture and teach the benefits of nurturing nature.

Radical?  Hardly, but this was during Orde Baru (New Order) days when ideas that didn’t flow from Soeharto’s presidential palace were considered subversive.

However the credentials of the young and physically small veterinary surgeon from the Surabaya zoo were above reproach.  The son of a high-standing Javanese family educated at the prestigious Airlangga University, Suryo might have some whacky notions about trees, but there was no hammer and sickle in his kitbag.

His interest in animals and plants came from an aunt who owned a plantation, loved the outdoors and developed her nephew’s understanding of the interconnectedness of nature.

True, he was a member of the Green Indonesia Foundation. He’d been overseas studying wildlife management at the University of Western Virginia and conservation education in Britain, but unlikely to stir the masses.

So in 1988, with no red taint detected in his green credentials Suryo was allowed to set up Indonesia’s first environmental education centre at Trawas, in the hills above the steaming floodplains of north East Java using foreign funds.

Even by the mid 1990s few  tourism officials had heard of Seloliman.  But it was well known among hundreds of international  backpackers who followed instructions in the Lonely Planet travel guide to make their pilgrimage using bemo (minibuses) and ojek  (motorbike taxis) up winding tracks.

Communication was chancy and visitors had to hope accommodation might be available.  This could be a simple cottage with an open-roof bathroom set in rows of vegetables alongside bamboo classrooms.

Europeans loved the experience and ambience, but it took a few years before Indonesians felt comfortable and schools ready to bring students to stay and learn by getting their hands dirty and lose their fears in the forest.

By then Suryo was well known internationally.  In 1990 he had won awards in Geneva, Washington DC and Rio de Janeiro.  It took a further five years before his achievements were recognized in Jakarta with a medal for ‘participation in development’. 

About this time Suryo fell out with the committee running Seloliman over principles of management. He also became seriously ill with the incurable Crohn’s Disease, a rare and debilitating bowel condition, ironically often linked to environmental factors, but in his case more likely genetic. 

Buddhist architect and philanthropist Bagoes Brotodiwirjo paid for Suryo to get surgery in Singapore that included removal of much of his gut.  Back in East Java his movements were restricted by excessive tiredness, dietary needs and toilet proximity.

Despite these handicaps he turned to running seminars and travelling across the archipelago setting up environment education centres in South Sulawesi, Bali, Kalimantan and West Papua backed by the World Wildlife Fund.

Like many pioneers he was better celebrated overseas than in his homeland, lecturing in Thailand, drawing teachers and senior students from across the world to his workshops in the East Java wilderness.

At these he urged young people to hearken to the elders and appreciate ancient wisdom. He created puppets and games based on traditional tales, believing the past had much to teach the present. 

“I want to give confidence to the villagers, tell them that what they’ve been doing is a treasure from our ancestors,” he said.  “We need to love Mother Earth for sustainable humanity.”

He was quietly persuasive, not strident, and this seemed to calm sceptics.  It certainly opened the wallets of foreign aid agencies.

Academically sound he never used his education to stand aloof.  The functions he organised always included farmers and professors, faith leaders and bureaucrats.

Suryo had little time for modern mainstream religious practices and was a student of the 14^th century Majapahit empire that once ruled much of Southeast Asia from its East Java heart. Not because of its military and trade triumphs, but because it worked with – and not against - nature.

Mt Penanggungan from Suryo's house

He loved the 13^th century Panji stories of wandering royals, which originated in East Java, spread up to Burma and are entrenched in wayang (shadow puppets).

Suryo built a modest multi-level cottage with his partner Anton Ayungga in the village of Tamiajeng that matched his outlook, gazing across green paddy to dark Mount Penanggungan.

This is the dormant volcano magically transported from India to Indonesia to become the mother mountain of Java’s Hindu and Buddhist religions. Its slopes are an archaeologists’ heaven with about 100 known sites, including temple remains.

Sadly Suryo was not in his beloved home entertaining friends with food cooked to ancient recipes served in Majapahit-style pottery when he died this week (wed 8 May) in a Jakarta hospital following a relapse. 

He was aged 57 and was Indonesia’s Renaissance Man, drawing knowledge from every culture, every land, and full of wonder at everything.  As a teacher he had the ability to infect others with his enthusiasm and awe.

Suryo’s story is proof that the individual can make a difference, even when confronted by a suspicious state. Publicly he was always optimistic, but privately he regretted that Indonesia was slow to realise that destruction of the environment and waterway pollution was a serious problem impacting on all citizens and their future.

His ashes will be scattered at Candi (temple) Kendalisodo on Mount Penanggungan.

“Suryo was an environmental agitator, a pioneer and a hero,” said Jakarta environment lecturer Stien Matakupan who along with hundreds of teachers here and abroad is helping spread his philosophy of care for the land to future generations.

“His spirit, his inspiration will stay with us.” 

(First published in The Jakarta Post 16 May 2013)

##

JAKARTA KIDS GET DOWN & DIRTY

Finding history’s buried treasures Duncan Graham

It would soil this story to say that the junior high school students approached the task with enthusiasm.

Turning over the earth may be one of humanity’s most basic, tiring but satisfying tasks – but for wealthy Jakarta kids it’s a job that should be done by others,

Some handled the trowels, forks and other garden tools as though they were live rats. Others shrunk to the back of the crowd to see if they could catch a cellphone signal, for the ancient Majapahit era capital of Trowulan is full of dead spots.

Few succeeded because patrolling teacher Sharon Maminta has a keen eye for backsliders. She knows all the teenage tricks, hustling her charges to the front, frustrating their plans for Blackberry chatathons.

However some, like Kanina Anindita, 13, had no qualms about getting dirt under her fingernails. She was soon rewarded with success, the shattered shards of an earthenware pot uncovered only centimeters below the surface.

No matter that workers organised by veteran conservationist and educator Dr Suryo Prawiroatmodjo had planted the artefact. Making the students play Indiana Jones minus the heroics was part of a weeklong history, culture and the environment workshop he coordinated in East Java at the end of April.

Ms Anindita and friends plotted the pot’s location, then measured and photographed the precise spot where it was found. She drew a careful plan like a professional archaeologist and got suitably outraged when a clumsy classmate (a boy, of course) trampled the diggings.

“It’s a waste of time if we just come here, stand around and do nothing,” she said. “Learning about the kingdom of Majapahit, its strong government and the culture that blossomed here has been a great pleasure.

“I’ve also been impressed to see how some monuments have been reconstructed. I’m proud to have this as part of my past.”

At this point sceptics need to be assured that these are the Mentari International School girl’s own words spoken in flawless English with no ‘you knows’, ‘stuff like that’ and other corruptions of language so frequently found among Western teens.

“These are bright students, but till now many have not been exposed to life outside Jakarta,” said Ms Maminta while 58 young people sat on the floor of the Trowulan Museum making terracotta figures, modelled on the 15th century examples in the surrounding glass cases.

Others tried to decode inscriptions in ancient Javanese lettering etched on tombstones and moulded in clay.

Ms Maminta spent ten years teaching in the Philippines honing her disciplinary and organisational skills before moving to Indonesia three years ago to teach world history.

“They also come from privileged backgrounds,” she said “Every year we run a community study week to take the students out of their comfort zone. It gives them insights they can’t get in the classroom.

“This is an inter-disciplinary course involving science, history, geography, language, economic and mathematics. They are discovering how the Majapahit people lived and worked – even what they ate.

“The other factor is that by living together they also learn how to interact with others. It makes them better people.”

The campsite and center for most activities was distant from Trowulan. This was the sprawling ‘Integrated Outdoor Campus’ of the University of Surabaya (Ubaya) at Trawas, about two hours by car south of the East Java capital.

The two-year-old campus is on the cool lower slopes of Mount Penanggungan, summit of the sacred mountain Mahameru, transferred from India according to Majapahit legend.

Operations manager Theophilus Hermawan said he remained confused at the role of the complex he controls. “I don’t know whether we are a university campus, an outdoor training center or a tourist resort,” he said.

While he and his superiors work out the next stage the desk-bound executives come at weekends to bond and discover new muscles. Although called a campus there are no full-time students.

On weekdays schools like Mentari enjoy imaginatively designed buildings set in 38 hectares of lush bush – some of it planted, the rest left as virgin forest, ideal for adventure trails,

Thankfully absent are the standard kitsch statues common in similar attractions that owe more to Disney than the diverse culture of East Java. Ubaya has its own low-key style. At times it’s a mite over-manicured, but overall the tone works.

There’s a composting station, a flock of sheep, a flying fox, botanical gardens and ample space to explore. Accommodation includes North Sulawesi-style high-stump timber houses with solar powered hot water and composting toilets – but limited communication. Internet addicts will suffer withdrawal symptoms. For those seeking spiritual relief there are sacred spaces and much mysticism.

Some of this was provided by villagers recruited by Dr Suryo to demonstrate their ancient skills in puppet creation and music making. Elder Tri Wibowo Jayakusuma got instant Justin Bieber fame when his alleged fortune telling powers were revealed.

It was a neat reversal: The mall rats in skimpy shorts now had to listen to sarong-clad grannies, the people who are seen but seldom heard in the kitchens of city apartments. They showed how to make madu mongso (black sticky rice), a delicacy. The process is laborious. Quicker to order a pizza – even in this remote area.

More interesting to the girls was the preparation of lulur, a skin whitening cream made from leaves garnered in the forest supermarket. Vanity then, as now.

“History has long been taught by listing the names and dates of kings and battles,” said Dr Suryo. “We are reminding the students that the past also included the lives of ordinary people who went about their business as we do.

“The Majapahit, once the supreme trading force in lower Southeast Asia developed sophisticated technology to pipe water. They built with extraordinary precision that makes us wonder at their knowledge and skills.”

After almost a millennium the Hindu-Buddhist kingdom suddenly collapsed around five centuries ago for reasons not clearly understood, with many fleeing to Bali.

Dr Suryo’s education philosophy resonated with student Tegishtha Andhika Iman Soewarno (Tata), 14, whose research revealed an ancestor may have been an assistant in the Yogya court of Prince Diponegoro.

He was the Javanese guerrilla hero who took on the Dutch, only to be defeated in 1830 by being tricked into peace talks – then arrested and banished.

“Unfortunately it seems possible this ancestor may have been involved in the Prince’s betrayal,” said Tata ruefully.

“Through this experience I see the past as it was. It’s given me a new perspective. My family comes from East Java, but till now it’s been a distant place, not so important. No longer.”

(Disclosure: The author was provided with free accommodation and meals).

(First published in The Jakarta Post Tuesday 7 July 2011

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PANJI FESTIVAL IN EAST JAVA

RECALLING ANCIENT WISDOM FOR MODERN LAND CARE
© Duncan Graham 2007

It has to be one of East Java's most extraordinary sights; after hairpinning up and down serpentine laneways on the flanks of Mount Arjuno, through tiny villages and thick forest, to come across a 5,000 square-meter palatial Italian-style mansion.

Finding Villa Leduk is a bit tricky. This multi-columned celebration of the Renaissance, looking like the ultimate in standout opulence, is the rural estate of Jakarta architect and designer Bagoes Brotodiwirjo. But it's tucked away behind a conservation and education center that's also part of his grand design.

The Kaliandra Sejati Foundation that Bagoes chairs is a collection of Javanese bungalows set into the contours of the mountain slopes. Many have been built in the pre-European way – no mortar between the flat red bricks, shuttered windows, carved teak furniture and fittings, and terracotta tiles. Verdigris verandah posts; ochre walls and green swing doors; shade and cool breezes – it's a place for contemplation.

Although constructed only a decade ago the cottages look centuries old. The only giveaways are flush toilets and electric lights.

It would be difficult to find a starker contrast with the big Tuscany-in-the-Tropics palace next door.

Within the foundation's complex are restaurants, high-roofed meeting halls, richly manicured (but seldom geometric) gardens, riverlets and ponds. Gamelan music (there are three sets of instruments) slips through the drooping branches, the rain splashing in tune off the glossy leaves.

Kaliandra will be a principal location for the five-day Panji Festival scheduled for the first week in September, just before the start of the fasting month of Ramadan.

The Panji stories date back 700 years to the Majapahit era and have influenced many aspects of Javanese culture, including the way crops are grown and harvested, forests maintained, sickness cured and relationships organized. (See sidebar)

The Panji festival is an international initiative. It started in August 2004 with a meeting at the French Cultural Center in Surabaya. Present was East Java activist and educator Suryo Prawiroatmodjo and Javanese arts scholar Lydia Kieven. Originally from Germany she's currently in Australia studying for a doctorate.

Artist Suprapto Suryadarma was another key participant. He's a spiritual dancer and wayang choreographer from the Padepokan (art center) Lemah Putih in Solo, famous for having developed a Wayang Buddha performance.

Others at the original meeting included traditional and contemporary artists, farmers, doctors and educators. All agreed that Panji culture could help recover local identity and counter globalization.

The committee has now been joined by Agus Tinus, a lecturer in tourism at Surabaya's Petra University, and puppet master and choreographer M Soleh Adi Pramono. He's based at Tumpang, a village outside Malang.

With such a diverse and dispersed group it's no surprise that the ambition to stage a festival has taken longer to achieve than first expected. Sponsors have been found and the show will at last hit the road. Or in this case, the mountain.

Apart from theatre, the idea is to recall the Panji cultural practices in land husbandry, batik design, architecture, music, medicine (through the use of herbs) and food. Organizers hope the past can teach the present much about conservation and living in harmony with nature.

Another expectation is that the festival will boost pride in the history of Java before the 1945 proclamation of the Republic, the point where much official teaching starts.

Activities have expanded to include an international seminar on Local Wisdom from the Panji Era at Merdeka University in Malang (on 5 and 6 September), theatre at Soleh's Mangun Dharmo arts center and land care studies at Kaliandra.

The name refers to a clever American acacia-like tree (Caliandra calothyrsus); it's smart because it can fix nitrogen in the soil and – unlike many foreigners - is happy in humidity.

At 850 metres above sea level Kaliandra is a top location and not just because of the elevation. It can accommodate 120 people and is billed as a center for studying the environment, culture and community development. Last year 20,000 visited, mainly school and university students.

Because the area is so well watered the statuary and buildings have been draped in a patina that disguises age. Are the Majapahit images squatting in the foliage priceless relics from a millennium ago, or concrete copies from an antiques-while-you-wait workshop?

If the design is the same does it matter whether it has been chiseled by an iron adze or an electric-powered angle grinder?

"This is an ideal clean and relatively unspoilt location for festival participants to learn about our culture and study East Java flora and fauna," said Suryo. Seventeen years ago the former veterinary surgeon established Indonesia's first outdoor environmental education center at the nearby village of Seloliman.

"Panji isn't just about mask dancing. It represents a way of life that includes recognizing local wisdoms and respecting nature.

"In the past rural people understood the importance of working within the cycle of nature. Now clear felling of forests, locating noxious industries in farm areas, land and river pollution by chemicals and waste are upsetting the balance and killing the environment.

"Through this festival, and the young people who will participate, we'll be able to reinforce the need to care for our resources, reforest for the future and reconnect with nature. This is everyone's responsibility."



ONCE UPON A TIME …

The Indian epics the Mahabharata and Ramayana are reasonably familiar to literati in the West where they've been infrequently performed. The Panji legends, once well known throughout South-East Asia, are now foreign outside Java - and to much of the present generation of Indonesians who prefer TV to live theatre.

As in all good yarns that don't fade with fashion the tales are about love and adventure. It's the evergreen theme: Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy finds girl again. He gets her and the throne and she gets him and the status.

The heroes in this home-grown saga are Prince Panji (who could also be the Hindu god Visnu), and Princess Candrakirana. The tales are set in the 11th century and became popular during the following 200 years of the Majapahit era, though some claim the Panji period spanned the 8th to the 15th centuries AD.

The Majapahit era was the golden age of Java when the Hindu-Buddhist kingdom is believed to have controlled much of lower South East Asia through trade and conquest. So revisiting the Panji stories is to celebrate pre-Islamic Javanese triumphs and values.

(For more information see postings on: http://blogs.usyd.edu.au/vicindonblog/ For details of the academic program contact Dr Gunawan Wibisono guna_269@yahoo.com )

(First published in The Sunday Post 2 September 07.)
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