TIS THE SEASON FOR NOISE

            Wake in fright but fear not; Ramadan’s here

Credit: Anadolu Agency

 

It’s 1444 on the Islamic calendar and the holy month of Ramadan is well advanced with four weeks of fasting, prayer, introspection and goodwill. All commendable - though in the land next door the noise spoils the values.

 

Unlike WA which has jarrah street poles or SA with Stobies, Indonesia uses hollow metal pipes to carry power and phone lines. These double as alarms.

 

Bash jarrah and it responds with a low timbre, not out of place in nature. But a steel stanchion whacked with an iron bar at 3 am is industrial din - the security guard’s reminder to rise, bathe and feast before the sun crests the mountains.

 

No problem when all agree to be woken to their responsibilities. But in our soundscape live folk of other faiths and ‘KTP (ID card) Muslims’. The Aussie equivalent of ‘wedding and wake Christians’ and too cowardly to protest - like your correspondent.

 

In 2015 Jusuf Kalla announced a team to check sound levels from the 800,000 mosques across the world’s most populous Islamic nation. As vice president, he could get away with suggesting a loud-speaker war was being waged and faith-powered boom no boon to developing a modern nation.

 

But then Sumatra householder  Meiliana, 44, muttered to a neighbour about  the local mosque’s five-times-daily calls to prayer. Her whispered whinge was amplified and distorted through social media. Riots erupted and 14 Buddhist temples were ransacked in Tanjung Balai.

 

The ethnic Chinese was charged with blasphemy for allegedly saying: ‘Lower the volume of the mosque. It’s too loud and hurts my ears.’ That landed her in jail for a year with six months on parole.

 

The story echoed around the Western world damaging Indonesia’s image of tolerance. VP Kalla’s initiative was never heard again.

 

Indonesia is constitutionally secular but allows followers of six religions to practice openly - Islam, Catholicism, Protestantism (aka ‘Christians’) Hinduism, Buddhism and Confucianism. 

 

In central East Java, where this column is being keyboarded, the Catholic church bell in the heart of Malang city tolls for thee at 6 am - but no worries. By then all are awake and the kids heading to school for a 7 am start.

 

Although less than three per cent of the population follows the Church of Rome, it runs hospitals, universities and schools that accept students of all faiths. So they hold a credit balance in the community should strife flare, an insurance not always enjoyed by the other God-botherers who tend to insularity.

 

A few fast food outlets stay open during the day for non-Muslims and those deemed exempt. These include the unwell of both sexes, women breastfeeding, menstruating or pregnant; their numbers are surprising. The windows are curtained so the righteous aren’t tempted, and passers-by can’t see who’s cheating.

 

Once the sun has tumbled out of sight - which it does rapidly in the tropics - sirens sound like an air-raid warning all-clear. 

 

Then the bukber (collective break fasts) get going. This is a chance for families to flaunt their wealth, angering  President Joko ‘Jokowi' Widodo.

 

He’s issued a prohibition against civil servants serving lavish meals and provoking envy; the gap between the richest and the rest has grown faster this century - much under his watch -  than elsewhere in Southeast Asia  according to an Oxfam report:

 

Indonesia is now ‘the sixth country of greatest wealth inequality in the world … the four richest men in Indonesia have more wealth than the combined total of the poorest 100 million ...’  Some calm their consciences by distributing meals, publicising their munificence with company logos.

 

Top hotels fear losing trade and religious authorities say the president’s order breaks tradition.  His office explained the ban also prevents the spread of Covid.  Curious, for there are no curbs on the dense crowds in the takjil fast-end markets.

 

At lower levels, the bukber gatherings of  friends and neighbours with differing expectations of the hereafter assuage hunger, erode distrust and dispel annoyance: ‘Does the 3 am wake-up bother Sir? No probs mate, right as rain.’

 

After the saur predawn meal, the increasingly grumpy adults hit the mattress again, but the wide-awake kids are let loose from the disciplines that govern their other 11 months.

 

Packs of 20 plus  pre-teen and adolescent boys, and now more frequently girls, dash around  the streets spreading their sarongs like bat wings, yahooing loudly and throwing firecrackers.

 

In Australia 000 calls would jam police switchboards, and Sky News would rabbit on about Asian gangs. The Indonesians make a racket, but they don’t hot-wire cars, break into homes, bash or booze.  They’re so self-absorbed the only things they throw at passers-by are glances.

 

My dawn bike rides sometimes draw shouts of bule (whitey), for foreigners here are rarer than Bibles in mosques and Korans in churches, but the banter is benign.  Last week one smart lad yelled ’wiseman’ in English. Then an afterthought: Was he being cynical?

 

The climax is Idul Fitri on 21 April, a fortnight following Easter. In the week before millions take to the streets for mudik. This is the gift-giving mass return to families asking for blessings in the year ahead and seeking forgiveness for bad words and deeds in the twelvemonth past - lahir dan batin. Like a fault-prone laptop, 1445 will get a factory reset.

 

A predicted 123 million individuals on overloaded motorbikes and cars will quit the metropoles in a roar of power bouncing off the concrete canyons and a fog of CO2. It’s a practice-run for Armageddon.

 

There were more than 700 deaths and 1,000 serious injuries in Jakarta during the last exodus. As many prangs go unreported the number will be higher.  

 

For health and safety reasons the religious authorities could classify mudik as haram (forbidden), and the government pass noise-abatement laws.

 

These sensible suggestions your reporter declines to offer. To maintain Australian-Indonesian harmony it’s best we stomach the holy month’s quirks and cacophony - plus the meals and hospitality.

 

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IS A NEW WAVE COMING?

 

               Will India’s wave hit next door?  Stand by and stand back

 

Ignore the size - just feel the quality. 

 

The next fortnight should show whether the nation with the world’s fourth-largest population will tumble into the plague pit where the second place holder currently writhes.

As India struggles with the pandemic, reportedly caused by a failure to stop crowds clustering around the Ganges to perform religious rites, Indonesians fear the same fate lurks as millions return to their jobs in the big cities.

The end of the Ramadan fasting month in mid May triggered Mudik (exodus) the traditional visit to relatives in distant parts.  President Joko Widodo banned the Islamic pilgrimage but his orders were widely ignored and poorly policed. 

Officially Covid-19 has a hard grip on the archipelago though that’s not obvious. In the centre of East Java, supposedly the most severely stricken of the nation’s 34 provinces, hospitals and cemeteries are not reporting overloads.  There are no standout signs of distress, seemingly just the usual number of black-cross flags hung on street corners to announce a death.  So far no queues at graveyards or ramping of ambulances outside emergency units.

If Indonesia becomes the next India, how will it cope? Patchy at best.  Adjacent and better-disciplined Malaysia is already getting anxious. Lockdowns have been tried and failed.  The borders are porous. 

For the well-off unwell there’s a private health system.  Their ads show eager Western-trained staff with clipboards using the latest diagnostic gear. 

There’s a government-run universal social health insurance scheme suffering from admin ills as providers lift fees to plunder the purse.  As it’s not a tax-embedded levy, families are vulnerable if fees are forgotten.  (I pay AUD 15 / month.  This isn’t available to tourists who should buy overseas travel cover.)

The cash-deprived have access to puskesmas, community health centres rarely staffed with full-time docs. Hospitals are unfairly tagged as places where the sick are destined to die, so the fearful don’t seek help until the bucket’s about to be kicked.  In this highly superstitious and religious country, prayer to invisible deities trumps meeting medics.

As in Australia, the pandemic has exposed flaws in public health systems. Indonesia is way behind its neighbours in total health spending at US $375 per capita, according to the WHO.  The figures for Australia are $5,005, Singapore $4,439 and Malaysia $1,194.  A WHO review found low government spending and few specialists, particularly in distant islands, meant citizens are getting a raw deal compared to city dwellers.

Accessing adequate treatment can be problem in all disciplines, but mental health  has been measured.

According to Sydney Uni medical historian Professor Hans Pols, there are just under 1,000 psychiatrists, 2,000 registered clinical psychologists, and close to 7,000 community mental health nurses across the Republic.

In the journal Inside Indonesia he wrote: ‘If Indonesia had the same number of psychiatrists per capita as Australia, there would be almost 38,000. Indonesia’s Ministry of Health estimates that about 90 per cent of individuals with mental disorders or psychosocial disabilities do not receive adequate mental health care.’

After second President Soeharto’s 32-years of government-controlled media followed by a growth of blatantly partisan commercial TV stations, consumers prefer info from friends and neighbours, original source unknown.  If they haven’t encountered a Covid case or stumbled across corpses in the kampongs, maybe it’s all a beat-up.

Using Indonesian government data, the US Johns Hopkins University has recorded close to 1.8 million cases and 50,000 deaths since the pandemic gripped lungs. The fatalities include more than 650 health workers with around half reported to be doctors.

Indonesian stats can be a dog’s breakfast.  As fifth president (2001-04) Megawati Soekarnoputri raged against getting dodgy info from her departments.  This year, as chair of Partai Demokrasi Indonesia Perjuangan (Indonesian Democratic Party of Struggle), she beat the same drum reportedly telling supporters:

‘After 75 years of independence, government data is still not accurate.  Mr President, we have to talk about this matter.’ No doubt they will.  Whether any change results is doubtful.

It’s not just the political leaders showing scepticism.  Indonesian epidemiologist Dr Dicky Budiman from the Centre for Environmental and Population Health at Queensland’s Griffith University has been a leading disbeliever, claiming coronavirus casualties could be three times higher.

He’s been advocating ‘the fundamental pandemic strategy: test, trace and treat and enforcing social distancing.’

Here’s the rub: Figures are flawed because testing isn’t free.  Tracing is almost non-existent.  Some cinemas are trialling QR code registration for audiences, but there’s no follow-up if an infection is detected.

Social distancing is rare in overcrowded Java with more than 1,000 people per square km. Masking is arbitrarily enforced in shopping malls though not in the street markets which draw thousands daily rubbing shoulders and hips while jostling to buy and sell.

So far about three per cent of the Republic’s 273 million citizens have been jabbed, mainly with the Chinese Sinovac, now being made in Indonesia and free.  Big companies are importing stock for employees to bypass the sluggish bureaucracy.  President Widodo wants the whole country immunised before Christmas, but at the present rate that ambition looks as distant as the best of PM Scott Morrison’s moveable targets.

This last bit is anecdotal but apposite:  Oz tabloids trade in tales of tourists copping crook service and crippling costs, usually after crashing rented motorbikes or getting Bali belly.  I’ve recently spent several months dealing with two non-Covid infections. Treatments (two GPs, three specialists, two hospitals) were in public facilities alongside locals.

The red tape was a bit painful and one colonial-era hospital fit for purpose when opened in 1918.  Appearances deceive; care was professional, cover included medicines, consultations unrushed, waits minimal and outcomes successful. 

It might have been different in a poor province or hilltop hamlet, and could go pear-shaped if a plague-wave hits.  But right now no whingeing, only gratitude. 

First published in Pearls & Irritations, 23 May 2021: https://johnmenadue.com/will-indias-wave-hit-indonesia/

 

 

 

 

 

FROM FASTING TO FEASTING

 

             Handling the Ramadan Challenge

 

 

 

It’s Ramadan, the annual fasting month practised strictly, laxly or somewhere in-between by the world’s 1.8 billion Muslims. Living as a non-Muslim foreigner in Indonesia where 88 per cent of the 273 million citizens say they follow Islam can be physically challenging. It’s also intellectually confusing and socially engrossing.

 

Three hours beyond midnight and the street’s satpam (security guard) is on his regular patrol. He carries a metal bar, not to frighten potential housebreakers, but to bash the steel power poles three times. Then he shouts sahur – the meal to start the day. For after 4.27 am, the faithful will abstain from food, drink and sex, though rarely cigarettes, till 5.32 pm. That’s when sirens, like those used in air raids, tell it’s time to get stuffed.  

 

The times, which change marginally every day, are published on newspaper front pages.

 

The fact that three families in our street in Malang (East Java) closest to the ringing steel are not Muslim and would prefer to snooze is immaterial. Complaints to the local community leader would probably be heard politely, but he’d do nothing. If there are noise abatement laws in Indonesia they’re forgotten.

 

Also ignored are bans on the sale and use of fireworks. While the oldies pray, gangs of pre-teen boys roam the streets throwing bangers and yahooing, though rarely violent or vandalising. To newcomers they look and sound frightening though not enough to warrant calling the cops. In any case, there are none in sight. The lads don’t have access to grog. This is not Australia.

 

Swedish researcher Dr Andre Moller reports parents saying it’s safer to let the kids go feral because of this ancient belief: ‘When the month of Ramadan starts, the gates of heaven are opened, the gates of hell are closed, and the devils are chained.’ 

 

So what could go awry with mobs of mini-hoons tossing crackers which they think a hoot? Only the nerves of those who first think gunfire. This is not the US.

 

In the first week, Malang looked more like Melbourne during a lockdown, but after seven days of no income, economic need displaced religious fervour. Restaurant front doors stay closed during daylight, though not those at the side.

 

 International chains like McDonald's continue to do business (ostensibly for non-Muslims) but pull down blinds so passers-by can’t see miscreants. 

 

 

In the past packs of sanctimonious thugs conducted ‘sweepings’ by trashing businesses that didn’t close – or pay. The government is clamping down on extremists since they started targeting the police.

 

Later as sunset looms the smell of boiling fat and smoking sate is as ubiquitous as the chanting of Koranic verses in Arabic. It may well be a beautiful language as its 422 million users worldwide attest, though not when yelled by the tone-deaf through scratchy sound systems atop mosques.

 

Mid-afternoon the ravenous start gathering at Takjil, a cluster of temporary stalls set up by the local government for street food. Most in the thick crowds wear masks, but social distancing is impossible.

 

 

Also unthinkable is having any intelligent conversation. The hungry are obsessed with food and talk of little else. In the final week, grumpiness becomes the norm. Menstruating women are allowed to eat and it’s astonishing how many have prolonged periods, even grannies.

 

Although Indonesia is challenging its southern neighbour for first prize in the vaccine stuff-up stakes with less than three per cent of the 273 million citizens fully covered to date, religion isn’t at fault. The Indonesian Ulema (scholars) Council has pronounced shots are halal. Their reasoning: The needle is thrust into muscle and not the bloodstream so nothing nutritious is absorbed. 

 

In a bid to check crowd-spread of Covid-19 President Joko Widodo has ordered police to stop Mudik.  This is the movement of millions of big-city dwellers heading to their hometowns to take a break with relatives and hand out presents.  

 

 

For the young, this is usually money. Lucre is indeed filthy in a cash economy, so kerbside entrepreneurs sell plastic packs of new notes. (Pic right) Snacks were traditionally gifted in hand-woven wicker baskets. Now they’re plastic and sold in shops.

 

There’ll be roadblocks till mid-May, though many will be avoided as travellers use Jalan tikus – literally rat roads, but meaning shortcuts through villages. Even Health Minister Budi Gunadi Sadikin has publicly conceded the reality – the smart will get through whatever edicts are pronounced in Jakarta.

 

Maids, drivers, gardeners, nannies and others who keep the megarich comfortable, take off along with an extra month’s salary, for this is also a time to buy new clothes. Their employers who fear getting their hands dirty usually camp out in Singapore hotels.

 

Ramadan will climax on 13 May with the Idul Fitri celebrations, a week of feasting to end the fast. In Western countries where Muslims are a minority (2.6 per cent in Australia), mags run soft features by well-nourished writers on the health and spiritual benefits of doing without, along with picture spreads of exotic foods.

 

A less charitable version published in The Jakarta Post had the editorial board sermonising that the original ‘moral lesson’ of abstinence is that ‘we are expected to stand in the shoes of those who are destitute or poor.’ However, the iftar fast-breaking meal has become a ‘splurge’, a show-off indulgence in top restaurants.

 

The Prophet Muhammad’s meals at sundown are supposed to have been dates and water.

For kafir, the unbelievers who find Ramadan a time of tension and nothing like the version in the glossies, the solution is to move further east to an island where Christians rule – or cope.

 

 

With Covid crimping travel, adjusting is the only alternative in a society where minorities have rights but exercising them is pointless. So crank up the AC to lessen the din and accept this is life in Java.

 

On the streets of Australia whingers about Christmas slow-down risk being told: If you don’t like it, go back where you came from. In Indonesia the fasters look with pity at the forlorn foreigners not participating in the togetherness.  They offer to share and give the Ramadan response: Mohon ma’af, lahir dan batin – Please forgive me, body and soul 

 

First published in Pearls & Irritations, 29 April 2021:  https://johnmenadue.com/ramadan-in-indonesia/