BRINGING THE NATION TO BOOK © 2007 Duncan Graham
In many other countries novelist Budi Darma would be a National Treasure, probably the recipient of a hefty grant to help the septuagenarian keep keyboarding.
But this is Indonesia, and as this eminence grise of modern Indonesian literature knows well, culture and the arts aren't on the government's must-fix list. Nor are books the top buy in the average family's shopping trolley, despite more people finding the courage to enter bookshops.
Now if Budi had been a fading TV star instead of an academic luminary we'd be elbowing each other aside to get his autograph and words of wisdom.
"There have been two print-runs of my Orang-Orang Bloomington (People of Bloomington) each of 5,000 copies," he said. "For Indonesia that's not too bad."
For an acclaimed collection of short stories first published 27 years ago and still on the shelves, that wouldn't be considered too bad in somewhere like New Zealand where reading is the national pastime and there are more books than sheep. But the population of the archipelago is 60 times larger than the Shaky Isles.
"The problem is our culture," said psychologist Audifax, who is also an author, analyzing characters and plots in popular fiction, including Harry Potter. "We're an oral society. We watched events like wayang kulit (shadow puppets) in the past, and now we're hooked on television."
But there's another, more sinister factor operating. Writers have long been considered dangerous people in Indonesian society, terrorists with word grenades. The Dutch built the jails that were filled by Soekarno and then Soeharto.
During the New Order government it was unsafe to be seen in the company of books authored by people like the late Pramoedya Ananta Toer, the greatest of Indonesian writers last century. Overseas he was being nominated for the Nobel Prize for literature; in his homeland he was black-banned.
In the darkest days of Soeharto bookshops were like chemists; the plastic-covered products were in a glass case behind the counter. You had to make your selection (that carried the censor's approval stamp), and then run away to read your purchase in somewhere less austere.
There's no tradition of free public government-funded libraries as in much of the British Commonwealth, and the idea of reading a book at bedtime is considered weird.
Bookshops are better now, though most still deter browsing by shrink-wrapping, denying customers chairs while a stockpile of staff watch your every move.
They have reason: When workers' backs are turned some students whip out their mobile phone cameras and snap the pix or text they need for the next assignment.
There are some great exceptions, like novelist Richard Oh's welcoming QB World bookshops that look and feel more like Borders in Singapore, the necessary stop for all book-loving expats on visa runs to the island state. Then there's the new kid in Indonesia, Johan Budhie Sava with his TM Bookstores, also trading as Togamas.
His shops are spacious with some spots to sample the text and not all books are sealed. The store in Surabaya has 20,000 volumes and the place is far more welcoming than the Gramedia and Toko Agung stores.
"It's little by little," Johan said. "People are slowly starting to become more interested in books. Times are changing, but price is still a factor. It's difficult to move anything with a tag of more than Rp 50,000 (US $ 6)."
Budi Darma is also cautiously upbeat. He reckons the change started in 1999. When fourth president Abdurrahman Wahid closed the Department of Information there were 292 magazines and newspapers. That number rapidly jumped to more than 2,000 before a shakeout. Around 830 have survived.
"It's been the same with book publishers, particularly in Yogyakarta," he said. "Three or four people in a kos (boarding house) with some computer skills could become instant publishers. Of course the problem has always been distribution and competition for shelf space."
Much of this output has been a waste of trees; there may be hundreds of new titles but the print size is large, the print run small, pages are few and the quality of language and grammar worries purists.
The much awarded Budi Darma, who is now an emeritus professor, has spent much of life training teachers at the State University of Surabaya.
"The reality is that writing is a lonely job and most Indonesians prefer to be in groups," he said. "It's not a high status profession as it is in the West. (He studied in the US).
"Nor does it enhance your status to have a library at home. People are more concerned with cars and houses and furniture. They think buying books is a waste of money."
Although she accepts the truth of this statement, the electric Lan Fang is outraged that men prefer to spend on tobacco instead of type. "People are also so busy, with both parents working," she said. "Many genuinely don't have time to read."
Lan has been writing for about 20 years and although she started as a teenager she's no superficial author of chick lit, a genre that bookseller Johan Budhie Sava believes is now boring readers. She writes about relationships with more maturity and understanding.
Like her mentor Budi, she has also tried her hand with success at short stories, a form that does well in Indonesia but not in the West. Many writers, like Lan Fang, got their break in newspapers.
This is another big plus for Indonesia; in Australia and other Western countries, short stories have had to yield to the pap of infotainment. For some the road into the bookshop must start with the discovery of fiction while checking the sports results over breakfast.
But when the nascent bibliophile does make it past the surly security guards who know everyone is a thief, they're likely to be disappointed. A good guide to public taste (or the publishers' definition) is shelf space.
The sastra (literature) shelves look like an afterword; tomes on theology, how to make a mint in business (from the US) and comics (from Japan) push everything else off the edge. Most depressing is that large numbers have been written and published overseas where they've proved their salability; then local publishers buy up the rights.
"You can make a better living as a translator into Indonesian rather than an author in Indonesia," said Budi wryly. "I agree that there's a great gap in our national literature caused in part by bad education and the censorship of the New Order era when generations of creative talent were crushed and we were not encouraged to inquire.
"After we gained Independence most intellectuals looked to the West and did not try to understand the philosophy of their own country – even up to now. In many ways we have become too westernized.
"Most writers live in the big cities. They don't really know society in the country as Pram did so can't reflect it in their writing. We do not understand our own earth. Authors have been cut off from their traditions. And of course Indonesia is dominated by Java.
"Many still think that literature is not enjoyable, that it's difficult to digest. They just want to read a synopsis rather than the book.
"Now we have the freedom to write and read. But it seems that we haven't yet learnt how to handle that freedom."
(First published in The Weekender (JP) October 2007)
##
FAITH IN INDONESIA
The shape of the world a generation from now will be influenced far more by how we communicate the values of our society to others than by military or diplomatic superiority. William Fulbright, 1964
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
AUSTRALIAN CITIZENSHIP TEST
TESTING TIMES DOWN UNDER Duncan Graham
Readers considering migrating to Australia take note: If you can somersault through all the hoops regarding character, health, background, qualifications and intent you’ll face another hurdle: A citizenship test.
Better start now by reading up on Aussie history, politics, culture and football. If you don’t understand that this secular country was founded on Judaeo-Christian values, and that cricket is an arcane sport and not an insect, you could miss out.
There’ll be 20 questions randomly drawn from a list of 200. There won’t be a separate English language test, according to Immigration Minister Kevin Andrews. No need – candidates will need a high level of English just to wrap their minds around the questions. Example:
Australia’s political system is a …
1) Parliamentary democracy
2) Monarchy
3) Dictatorship
4) Socialist state
With Queen Elizabeth’s image on the currency and the Union Jack prominent in the Australian flag, images that flummox most new arrivals, answer 2 seems reasonable. And as all state governments are run by the Labor party, 4 also has merit. Sport dictates almost everything so 3 could give a pass though the correct answer is 1.
Failure to know the name of the nation’s first prime minister (a question which floors the average native born) could mean you’ll bypass a country where the economy is in overdrive, jobs are for the picking and choosing, wages are among the top in the OECD countries and health and welfare benefits ranked with the most generous in the world.
People seeking citizenship in the US, Canada and Britain apparently have to pass such tests but this is the first time the idea has migrated Down Under. Though not as far as New Zealand; the contrary Kiwis have given the notion the flick.
The author is the Australian government which will be facing an election later this year. This has led cynics to claim it’s another ploy to retain the conservative Liberal-National coalition that’s held power since 1996.
The fear factor is a powerful driver in Australian politics. In the 19th century anti-Chinese riots on the goldfields led to the notorious White Australian migration policy that didn’t officially die till the 1970s.
In the 2001 election the coalition led by veteran John Howard swept back to power riding on a people smuggling scare, with allegations that some Middle Eastern asylum seekers sailing from Indonesia were willing to throw their babies overboard to win sympathy for their plight.
The allegation was later found to be untrue, but by then the easily spooked electorate had plumped for a party determined, as Howard famously said, “(to) decide who comes here and the circumstances in which they come.”
The boat people now seldom set sail from Indonesia, but xenophobia is still buoyant, or to be precise, Islamophobia.
Arab applicants for permanent residency (PR) visas will be asked more questions than other ethnic groups; this appears to be a clear breech of the long standing non-discriminatory policy of migrant selection.
The Australian Federation of Islamic Councils, Australia’s peak Muslim authority, is one of many groups that has called for a review.
If these government responses are part of a ‘we’re-tougher-than-you’ campaign to win re-election they may have boomeranged. Although Andrews says the citizenship test is reasonable and supported (according to government surveys) by 60 per cent of the electorate, they’ve been widely ridiculed.
Example: What’s the Australian national dish?
1) A meat pie?
2) A meat pie with a can of beer?
3) A meat pie with tomato sauce and a can of beer?
4) A Chinese takeaway?
Australians tend to take a relaxed response to nationalism; Australia Day (26 January) is a good time to lie on the beach, not stand to attention. Flag wavers and jingoism are seen as suspect, so attempts to formalize national pride tend to get ‘rubbished’ as Australians say.
Former national newspaper editor Frank Devine commented: “I have deep misgivings about moves towards codifying Australian values in order to test intending immigrants … They are a masquerade, one thing pretending to be another, security precautions against the spread of Islamic radicalism that are hoopla-ed as a means of elevating Australia’s civic consciousness.”
So where does this leave the potential migrant? Australia is a magnet for workers from Asia. To cope with the booming economy, fuelled by the resource industry feeding famished Chinese steel mills, hundreds of overseas workers are entering the country every week.
Many are tradespeople, even laborers in meat works doing the jobs Aussies reject. There are at least 500 categories of work that can’t be filled by locals, with health professionals in strong demand
If they stay for four years, keep out of trouble and still have work they can apply for PR and citizenship, and will then have to face the test.
But as Devine commented: “We go through this process to get a driving licence. However knowing the road rules doesn’t guarantee we’ll be good drivers.”
(First published in The Sunday Post 23 September 2007)
##
Readers considering migrating to Australia take note: If you can somersault through all the hoops regarding character, health, background, qualifications and intent you’ll face another hurdle: A citizenship test.
Better start now by reading up on Aussie history, politics, culture and football. If you don’t understand that this secular country was founded on Judaeo-Christian values, and that cricket is an arcane sport and not an insect, you could miss out.
There’ll be 20 questions randomly drawn from a list of 200. There won’t be a separate English language test, according to Immigration Minister Kevin Andrews. No need – candidates will need a high level of English just to wrap their minds around the questions. Example:
Australia’s political system is a …
1) Parliamentary democracy
2) Monarchy
3) Dictatorship
4) Socialist state
With Queen Elizabeth’s image on the currency and the Union Jack prominent in the Australian flag, images that flummox most new arrivals, answer 2 seems reasonable. And as all state governments are run by the Labor party, 4 also has merit. Sport dictates almost everything so 3 could give a pass though the correct answer is 1.
Failure to know the name of the nation’s first prime minister (a question which floors the average native born) could mean you’ll bypass a country where the economy is in overdrive, jobs are for the picking and choosing, wages are among the top in the OECD countries and health and welfare benefits ranked with the most generous in the world.
People seeking citizenship in the US, Canada and Britain apparently have to pass such tests but this is the first time the idea has migrated Down Under. Though not as far as New Zealand; the contrary Kiwis have given the notion the flick.
The author is the Australian government which will be facing an election later this year. This has led cynics to claim it’s another ploy to retain the conservative Liberal-National coalition that’s held power since 1996.
The fear factor is a powerful driver in Australian politics. In the 19th century anti-Chinese riots on the goldfields led to the notorious White Australian migration policy that didn’t officially die till the 1970s.
In the 2001 election the coalition led by veteran John Howard swept back to power riding on a people smuggling scare, with allegations that some Middle Eastern asylum seekers sailing from Indonesia were willing to throw their babies overboard to win sympathy for their plight.
The allegation was later found to be untrue, but by then the easily spooked electorate had plumped for a party determined, as Howard famously said, “(to) decide who comes here and the circumstances in which they come.”
The boat people now seldom set sail from Indonesia, but xenophobia is still buoyant, or to be precise, Islamophobia.
Arab applicants for permanent residency (PR) visas will be asked more questions than other ethnic groups; this appears to be a clear breech of the long standing non-discriminatory policy of migrant selection.
The Australian Federation of Islamic Councils, Australia’s peak Muslim authority, is one of many groups that has called for a review.
If these government responses are part of a ‘we’re-tougher-than-you’ campaign to win re-election they may have boomeranged. Although Andrews says the citizenship test is reasonable and supported (according to government surveys) by 60 per cent of the electorate, they’ve been widely ridiculed.
Example: What’s the Australian national dish?
1) A meat pie?
2) A meat pie with a can of beer?
3) A meat pie with tomato sauce and a can of beer?
4) A Chinese takeaway?
Australians tend to take a relaxed response to nationalism; Australia Day (26 January) is a good time to lie on the beach, not stand to attention. Flag wavers and jingoism are seen as suspect, so attempts to formalize national pride tend to get ‘rubbished’ as Australians say.
Former national newspaper editor Frank Devine commented: “I have deep misgivings about moves towards codifying Australian values in order to test intending immigrants … They are a masquerade, one thing pretending to be another, security precautions against the spread of Islamic radicalism that are hoopla-ed as a means of elevating Australia’s civic consciousness.”
So where does this leave the potential migrant? Australia is a magnet for workers from Asia. To cope with the booming economy, fuelled by the resource industry feeding famished Chinese steel mills, hundreds of overseas workers are entering the country every week.
Many are tradespeople, even laborers in meat works doing the jobs Aussies reject. There are at least 500 categories of work that can’t be filled by locals, with health professionals in strong demand
If they stay for four years, keep out of trouble and still have work they can apply for PR and citizenship, and will then have to face the test.
But as Devine commented: “We go through this process to get a driving licence. However knowing the road rules doesn’t guarantee we’ll be good drivers.”
(First published in The Sunday Post 23 September 2007)
##
Friday, September 21, 2007
MOHAMMED FANANI
PUBLISH AND BE PROFITABLE © Duncan Graham 2007
When Mohammed Fanani first arrived in Hong Kong more than three years ago he was prone to weeping.
As a reporter in Jakarta he’d covered enough sad and sickening stories to grow the carapace that police, social workers, medics and other front-liners develop to handle the tragedies that befall the unlucky and unwary.
But the tales he encountered in the former British colony seemed unstoppable. “Indonesian maids who had been bashed and bleeding, their faces and bodies bruised and telling me their tales in despair were too much,” he said. “I cried when I met them and heard what had happened. These are courageous women – I respect them.”
Fanani is tougher now, though not because the stories have diminished. As editor of Suara (Voice), the principal Indonesian language newspaper in Hong Kong, he exposes domestic violence, contract rip-offs and pay rorts that make life for some TKI (Tenaga Kerja Indonesia – Indonesian labor force) real anguish.
A page one story reported a welfare group claim that Indonesian maids were being shortchanged by US $55 million (Rp 500 billion) a year. The story alleged some recruitment agents were urging employers to pay less than the legal wage.
Being bashed by the boss for real or imagined misdemeanors is the dark side of the dream of working overseas to get cash for struggling families back home. But there are other perils of their own making.
Ninety Indonesians were in Hong Kong jails when this story was written, serving sentences for breaching visa conditions or committing crimes, like theft and drug use.
It’s a rich source of material for any wordsmith, but Fanani, 37, seems to be wearying of the litany of these predictable and numbing woes. There are welfare organizations, shelters and the Indonesian Consulate available for maids (the new euphemisms are ‘domestic workers’ or ‘home helpers’) who hit hardships, and they need to get tough, join unions, flex some political muscle and access help.
So Fanani is planning to move his paper into new directions while continuing to expose cheating agents and brutal bosses, and push for laws to be upheld.
He’s also got the guts to allow criticism of the Indonesian Consulate in his paper – risky because the bureaucrats could make life unpleasant, shut off contacts and bad-mouth his reputation among advertisers.
Suara has four other competitors in Hong Kong, but it’s the only paper that employs professional journalists from Indonesia. It’s no bland rag, like so many similar papers that rely on hand-outs and staying sweet with officials.
“Consulate staff regularly get angry with me, but in reality they support us,” Fanani said. In one edition Suara got stuck into the Consulate for alleged poor service to its nationals and being closed on Sundays, the only time maids can get away from their jobs to seek advice. Another story reported a public demo outside the building.
“We tell the truth and I think the advertisers believe that we’re a newspaper that’s trusted by the readers,” he said. “I uphold the traditions of fair and balanced journalism. We’re serious about our job.”
After graduating in Indonesian literature from Diponegoro University in Semarang, Fanani worked for a local newspaper, a journalists’ union and later with the Jakarta broadsheet Warta Kota.
Elsewhere in the world newspapers are struggling to maintain circulation as the new generation gets its information hotter and faster from television and the Internet. But Fanani is one lucky editor, bucking the trend big time.
When he first took over Suara eight months after it was started by a Hong Kong publisher that also produces a paper for Filipino maids, Fanani had 18 months to make the tabloid pay.
At the time it was a 16-page monthly with a giveaway circulation of 25,000. Now it comes out twice a month and has a print-run of 35,000, soon to be bumped to 50,000. Some editions run to 40 pages.
The growth is also due to a rising readership more aware of its rights and prepared to spend locally. In 2004 there were 75,000 Indonesian maids in Hong Kong. Now they’re pushing 110,000.
The journalism may be fine, but as the cynics say that’s just the stuff that fills the space between the ads. In this essential part of the equation Suara
is doing OK with a fiscally fit advertising-to-editorial ratio of 60 – 40, and sometimes more.
So Fanani and his bosses are winners and grinners in their splendid spacious office overlooking the harbor, views so seductive that it takes a major effort to concentrate on the job.
“Hong Kong is a great place to work, though not to live,” he said. Home is a 5 X 3.5 meter apartment which he shares with wife and son and costs about Rp 5 million a month.
Suara’s ads promote hand phones, banking and remittance services, and labor agencies. Lawyers are also starting to advertise, indicating there’s money in representing distressed homehelps who aren’t getting the aid they need from the nation’s officials.
Readers pick up their copies of Suara on Sundays when they gather in their thousands at Hong Kong’s Victoria Park for a mega gossip and to eat Indonesian food at nearby restaurants.
“Our research shows that they like funny stories about culture shock and they read these first,” Fanani said. “Then they take Suara home for the more serious news, so it gets into the houses of the wealthy. The paper uses copy from Tempo Interaktif, Sinar Harapan, Kompas, the South China Morning Post and other sources.
“We’re told there’s about 100,000 Indonesian Chinese living in Hong Kong, many of them doing business and who fled Indonesia after the 1998 anti-Chinese riots. We want to reach them with messages of investment and tourism.”
And also to turn around the myths about Indonesia in a Chinese city that knows little of the archipelago, apart from being a source of domestic labor and natural disasters.
“I want the people of Hong Kong to know that Indonesia has a relationship with China and the Chinese going back more than 1,000 years,” Fanani said. “We are a new multi-racial democracy with 20 million Chinese compared with six million in Hong Kong.
“We are not the nation that’s negatively portrayed in the Western media. Although my mother Rochmiyatun who still lives in my East Java hometown of Ngawi is not educated, she is very intelligent and accepting. She can live at peace with everyone whatever their background or belief.
“She has been a major influence in my philosophy of wanting the people of Hong Kong to realize that Indonesia is a great nation of peaceful people.”
(First published in The Jakarta Post 20 September 2007)
##
When Mohammed Fanani first arrived in Hong Kong more than three years ago he was prone to weeping.
As a reporter in Jakarta he’d covered enough sad and sickening stories to grow the carapace that police, social workers, medics and other front-liners develop to handle the tragedies that befall the unlucky and unwary.
But the tales he encountered in the former British colony seemed unstoppable. “Indonesian maids who had been bashed and bleeding, their faces and bodies bruised and telling me their tales in despair were too much,” he said. “I cried when I met them and heard what had happened. These are courageous women – I respect them.”
Fanani is tougher now, though not because the stories have diminished. As editor of Suara (Voice), the principal Indonesian language newspaper in Hong Kong, he exposes domestic violence, contract rip-offs and pay rorts that make life for some TKI (Tenaga Kerja Indonesia – Indonesian labor force) real anguish.
A page one story reported a welfare group claim that Indonesian maids were being shortchanged by US $55 million (Rp 500 billion) a year. The story alleged some recruitment agents were urging employers to pay less than the legal wage.
Being bashed by the boss for real or imagined misdemeanors is the dark side of the dream of working overseas to get cash for struggling families back home. But there are other perils of their own making.
Ninety Indonesians were in Hong Kong jails when this story was written, serving sentences for breaching visa conditions or committing crimes, like theft and drug use.
It’s a rich source of material for any wordsmith, but Fanani, 37, seems to be wearying of the litany of these predictable and numbing woes. There are welfare organizations, shelters and the Indonesian Consulate available for maids (the new euphemisms are ‘domestic workers’ or ‘home helpers’) who hit hardships, and they need to get tough, join unions, flex some political muscle and access help.
So Fanani is planning to move his paper into new directions while continuing to expose cheating agents and brutal bosses, and push for laws to be upheld.
He’s also got the guts to allow criticism of the Indonesian Consulate in his paper – risky because the bureaucrats could make life unpleasant, shut off contacts and bad-mouth his reputation among advertisers.
Suara has four other competitors in Hong Kong, but it’s the only paper that employs professional journalists from Indonesia. It’s no bland rag, like so many similar papers that rely on hand-outs and staying sweet with officials.
“Consulate staff regularly get angry with me, but in reality they support us,” Fanani said. In one edition Suara got stuck into the Consulate for alleged poor service to its nationals and being closed on Sundays, the only time maids can get away from their jobs to seek advice. Another story reported a public demo outside the building.
“We tell the truth and I think the advertisers believe that we’re a newspaper that’s trusted by the readers,” he said. “I uphold the traditions of fair and balanced journalism. We’re serious about our job.”
After graduating in Indonesian literature from Diponegoro University in Semarang, Fanani worked for a local newspaper, a journalists’ union and later with the Jakarta broadsheet Warta Kota.
Elsewhere in the world newspapers are struggling to maintain circulation as the new generation gets its information hotter and faster from television and the Internet. But Fanani is one lucky editor, bucking the trend big time.
When he first took over Suara eight months after it was started by a Hong Kong publisher that also produces a paper for Filipino maids, Fanani had 18 months to make the tabloid pay.
At the time it was a 16-page monthly with a giveaway circulation of 25,000. Now it comes out twice a month and has a print-run of 35,000, soon to be bumped to 50,000. Some editions run to 40 pages.
The growth is also due to a rising readership more aware of its rights and prepared to spend locally. In 2004 there were 75,000 Indonesian maids in Hong Kong. Now they’re pushing 110,000.
The journalism may be fine, but as the cynics say that’s just the stuff that fills the space between the ads. In this essential part of the equation Suara
is doing OK with a fiscally fit advertising-to-editorial ratio of 60 – 40, and sometimes more.
So Fanani and his bosses are winners and grinners in their splendid spacious office overlooking the harbor, views so seductive that it takes a major effort to concentrate on the job.
“Hong Kong is a great place to work, though not to live,” he said. Home is a 5 X 3.5 meter apartment which he shares with wife and son and costs about Rp 5 million a month.
Suara’s ads promote hand phones, banking and remittance services, and labor agencies. Lawyers are also starting to advertise, indicating there’s money in representing distressed homehelps who aren’t getting the aid they need from the nation’s officials.
Readers pick up their copies of Suara on Sundays when they gather in their thousands at Hong Kong’s Victoria Park for a mega gossip and to eat Indonesian food at nearby restaurants.
“Our research shows that they like funny stories about culture shock and they read these first,” Fanani said. “Then they take Suara home for the more serious news, so it gets into the houses of the wealthy. The paper uses copy from Tempo Interaktif, Sinar Harapan, Kompas, the South China Morning Post and other sources.
“We’re told there’s about 100,000 Indonesian Chinese living in Hong Kong, many of them doing business and who fled Indonesia after the 1998 anti-Chinese riots. We want to reach them with messages of investment and tourism.”
And also to turn around the myths about Indonesia in a Chinese city that knows little of the archipelago, apart from being a source of domestic labor and natural disasters.
“I want the people of Hong Kong to know that Indonesia has a relationship with China and the Chinese going back more than 1,000 years,” Fanani said. “We are a new multi-racial democracy with 20 million Chinese compared with six million in Hong Kong.
“We are not the nation that’s negatively portrayed in the Western media. Although my mother Rochmiyatun who still lives in my East Java hometown of Ngawi is not educated, she is very intelligent and accepting. She can live at peace with everyone whatever their background or belief.
“She has been a major influence in my philosophy of wanting the people of Hong Kong to realize that Indonesia is a great nation of peaceful people.”
(First published in The Jakarta Post 20 September 2007)
##
Saturday, September 15, 2007
INDONESIAN MAIDS IN TAIWAN
Kaimah
The dignity of the long distance worker © 2007 Duncan Graham
Most stories about Indonesian domestic workers who labor overseas are grim. Abuse, rip offs, brutality, with some Tenaga Kerja Indonesia (TKI – Indonesian overseas labor force), coming home in wheelchairs or coffins.
But this yarn is cheeringly different – undoubtedly because the woman involved is in a class of her own.
Kaimah, 31, left Cilacap in Central Java, her husband Elia Tri Madi and their three year old son Reza two years ago with one goal: To raise enough money to buy medicine for her younger sister Suwanti who was suffering from bone cancer.
The disease is now in remission and Kaimah has stayed on in Taipei, the capital of Taiwan, to earn more money for Reza’s education.
Taiwanese employers reckon Indonesian maids have a reputation for being flexible and placid – unlike their colleagues from the Philippines. Kaimah’s boss Chen Kong runs a printing business; he said Filipino workers were better educated, but tended to be arrogant and consider themselves superior.
But in putting the tiny Kaimah on his payroll he’s got anything but the standard complaisant TKI. Instead he’s fostering a political activist in the making.
“We are hired for our ability to do menial work that the Taiwanese don’t want to do,” she said. “Many people look down on domestic workers from abroad, but we are ambassadors for our country.
“We should keep our head high, be proud of being Indonesians and tell the Taiwanese about our great nation. We should be able to sing and dance so we can show other countries that we are cultured people.
“But we’re not just muscles. We have brains and we must use them.”
This isn’t just empty rhetoric. Kaimah doesn’t shuffle behind her employers trying to be invisible in a pale uniform, but pedals a bike around Taipei wearing bright colors, jostling for space with the locals as an equal. She doesn’t need company when going out.
She has taught herself Mandarin and English and is at ease in both, speaking up with fluency and vigor.
On one occasion witnessed by this reporter the feisty Kaimah was in a Taipei restaurant when it was visited by a delegation of senior Indonesian bureaucrats and national politicians on an official visit to Taiwan.
Others sat silent, conscious that in the presence of such VIPs there was no role for humble manual workers. But Kaimah, who was caring for her boss’s son, was unfazed by the event, the surroundings or her place in the proceedings.
“Maybe it’s because my family originally came from West Sumatra,” she said. “I may be a Javanese but I don’t like this going round and round. I want to be direct.”
So she took the opportunity to dispense with the standard Javanese formalities and give the visitors a good blast about the plight of the TKI.
In her sights were employers who maltreat workers, labor agencies who cheat TKI out of their wages with illegal fees, banks who charge 19 per cent for loans, and workers who sign contracts they don’t understand.
Kaimah stressed that the Indonesian government should take a more vigorous role in protecting its citizens abroad and enforce the law. The visitors, nonplussed by the outburst, just nodded and departed.
Late last year the Indonesian Economic and Trade Office to Taipei (there is no embassy because Indonesia officially follows the One China Policy, recognizing only the People’s Republic of China) installed a computer system that records short message service (SMS) calls 24 hours a day from disgruntled TKI. So far it has taken more than 7,000 hits.
It also runs three shelters for abused workers and those seeking new placements.
But Kaimah isn’t just critical of bureaucrats, bad employers and sly labor agencies. She also knows that some TKI get themselves into trouble for not being assertive and trusting too much. Some get into relationships with Taiwanese men, though they have families back home.
Lending money to ‘friends’ who then abscond with the cash, trusting others to repatriate money instead of using banks and running away from employers add to the woes of the vulnerable and ill prepared.
Walking off the job isn’t an unusual response by maids working in Indonesia who get scolded by their bosses, or find family pressures to return to their village irresistible. But breaking a contract overseas can be serious. At any given time more than 200 TKI are in detention in Taiwan following breaches of their work visas.
There are 105,000 TKI in Taiwan and most are women. They’re attracted by the high wages but not all manage to repatriate their earnings. Budget management is critical; some let their earnings go to their head.
“The temptation to buy things like handphones and clothes is very great, but we have to remember why we are here,” said Kaimah. “Some women earn a lot of money but they lose it to grasping relatives or spend it. Within three months of returning home they have nothing.
“If they’d been careful they could have used the capital to start a business.”
In the absence of an independent trade union for the TKI Kaimah has become the workers’ unofficial representative. Her ability to confront issues and language fluency also led her to be recognized as an outstanding representative of her country at a big public event. This was staged by Radio Taiwan International and local companies to thank the TKI for their contribution to the economy.
Kaimah took the opportunity at the event to read an emotional and highly personal poem she’d written about the trials of long distance separation and which was published in the national press.
In it she praised the faithfulness, love, support and tolerance of her husband who she hadn’t seen for two years. He works for a catering company in Jakarta.
“It’s important that the Taiwanese recognize that we are family people who have made great sacrifices to go overseas far from our loved ones,” she said. “People who become TKI have to be strong. It is difficult.
“I’m proud to be an Indonesian but want to know why we have to export our labor and can’t provide jobs in our homeland, when the economy of other countries is so good they can employ overseas maids. Why?”
(First published in The Jakarta Post 13 September 2007)
##
The dignity of the long distance worker © 2007 Duncan Graham
Most stories about Indonesian domestic workers who labor overseas are grim. Abuse, rip offs, brutality, with some Tenaga Kerja Indonesia (TKI – Indonesian overseas labor force), coming home in wheelchairs or coffins.
But this yarn is cheeringly different – undoubtedly because the woman involved is in a class of her own.
Kaimah, 31, left Cilacap in Central Java, her husband Elia Tri Madi and their three year old son Reza two years ago with one goal: To raise enough money to buy medicine for her younger sister Suwanti who was suffering from bone cancer.
The disease is now in remission and Kaimah has stayed on in Taipei, the capital of Taiwan, to earn more money for Reza’s education.
Taiwanese employers reckon Indonesian maids have a reputation for being flexible and placid – unlike their colleagues from the Philippines. Kaimah’s boss Chen Kong runs a printing business; he said Filipino workers were better educated, but tended to be arrogant and consider themselves superior.
But in putting the tiny Kaimah on his payroll he’s got anything but the standard complaisant TKI. Instead he’s fostering a political activist in the making.
“We are hired for our ability to do menial work that the Taiwanese don’t want to do,” she said. “Many people look down on domestic workers from abroad, but we are ambassadors for our country.
“We should keep our head high, be proud of being Indonesians and tell the Taiwanese about our great nation. We should be able to sing and dance so we can show other countries that we are cultured people.
“But we’re not just muscles. We have brains and we must use them.”
This isn’t just empty rhetoric. Kaimah doesn’t shuffle behind her employers trying to be invisible in a pale uniform, but pedals a bike around Taipei wearing bright colors, jostling for space with the locals as an equal. She doesn’t need company when going out.
She has taught herself Mandarin and English and is at ease in both, speaking up with fluency and vigor.
On one occasion witnessed by this reporter the feisty Kaimah was in a Taipei restaurant when it was visited by a delegation of senior Indonesian bureaucrats and national politicians on an official visit to Taiwan.
Others sat silent, conscious that in the presence of such VIPs there was no role for humble manual workers. But Kaimah, who was caring for her boss’s son, was unfazed by the event, the surroundings or her place in the proceedings.
“Maybe it’s because my family originally came from West Sumatra,” she said. “I may be a Javanese but I don’t like this going round and round. I want to be direct.”
So she took the opportunity to dispense with the standard Javanese formalities and give the visitors a good blast about the plight of the TKI.
In her sights were employers who maltreat workers, labor agencies who cheat TKI out of their wages with illegal fees, banks who charge 19 per cent for loans, and workers who sign contracts they don’t understand.
Kaimah stressed that the Indonesian government should take a more vigorous role in protecting its citizens abroad and enforce the law. The visitors, nonplussed by the outburst, just nodded and departed.
Late last year the Indonesian Economic and Trade Office to Taipei (there is no embassy because Indonesia officially follows the One China Policy, recognizing only the People’s Republic of China) installed a computer system that records short message service (SMS) calls 24 hours a day from disgruntled TKI. So far it has taken more than 7,000 hits.
It also runs three shelters for abused workers and those seeking new placements.
But Kaimah isn’t just critical of bureaucrats, bad employers and sly labor agencies. She also knows that some TKI get themselves into trouble for not being assertive and trusting too much. Some get into relationships with Taiwanese men, though they have families back home.
Lending money to ‘friends’ who then abscond with the cash, trusting others to repatriate money instead of using banks and running away from employers add to the woes of the vulnerable and ill prepared.
Walking off the job isn’t an unusual response by maids working in Indonesia who get scolded by their bosses, or find family pressures to return to their village irresistible. But breaking a contract overseas can be serious. At any given time more than 200 TKI are in detention in Taiwan following breaches of their work visas.
There are 105,000 TKI in Taiwan and most are women. They’re attracted by the high wages but not all manage to repatriate their earnings. Budget management is critical; some let their earnings go to their head.
“The temptation to buy things like handphones and clothes is very great, but we have to remember why we are here,” said Kaimah. “Some women earn a lot of money but they lose it to grasping relatives or spend it. Within three months of returning home they have nothing.
“If they’d been careful they could have used the capital to start a business.”
In the absence of an independent trade union for the TKI Kaimah has become the workers’ unofficial representative. Her ability to confront issues and language fluency also led her to be recognized as an outstanding representative of her country at a big public event. This was staged by Radio Taiwan International and local companies to thank the TKI for their contribution to the economy.
Kaimah took the opportunity at the event to read an emotional and highly personal poem she’d written about the trials of long distance separation and which was published in the national press.
In it she praised the faithfulness, love, support and tolerance of her husband who she hadn’t seen for two years. He works for a catering company in Jakarta.
“It’s important that the Taiwanese recognize that we are family people who have made great sacrifices to go overseas far from our loved ones,” she said. “People who become TKI have to be strong. It is difficult.
“I’m proud to be an Indonesian but want to know why we have to export our labor and can’t provide jobs in our homeland, when the economy of other countries is so good they can employ overseas maids. Why?”
(First published in The Jakarta Post 13 September 2007)
##
Friday, September 07, 2007
PUHSARANG
Lourdes in East Java © Duncan Graham 2007
Last July a mob of Muslim radicals reportedly forced the cancellation of an international religious gathering at the Karmel Valley Catholic retreat in West Java.
There’s a similar retreat in East Java based in a Muslim area. But in this case inter-faith relationships are said to be good. Duncan Graham reports:
…………….
There are about 6,000 households in the village of Puhsarang on the slopes of Mount Klotak. Around 20 per cent are Catholic and another five per cent Protestant. That's a significant number because nationally Muslims are supposed to form almost 90 per cent of the population.
Worshipers who go to the monthly midnight services held on the eve of hari jumat legi (Friday in the Javanese calendar), certainly aren’t short of prayer room, though hundreds of outsiders normally pour into the area. At Easter 17,000 people turned up – many staying overnight in the hotels and guesthouses that cater for the influx. There's also a camping ground.
For Puhsarang is a Catholic sacred place with 14 hectares of statuary, chapels, a grotto of Our Lady, graveyards, a cave, water gushing from a rock, a columbarium and a mausoleum - the only one in East Java.
Here the bones of bishops and many priests lie close to the ashes of people who have chosen to be cremated and remembered in this lovely place.
Sounds a bit like Lourdes, the town in the French Pyrenees where five million pilgrims come every year seeking cures? You're not wrong. Much has been done to replicate that famous attraction, including several sets of paintings donated by the French.
Puhsarang has yet to produce a Bernadette Soubirous. She was the teenager who claimed to have been visited by the Virgin Mary several times in the mid 19th century and turned Lourdes from a place of no importance to a center of faith and healing. (The sesquicentenary is next year.)
Puhsarang may not have a visionary, but it does have what the locals call ‘holy water’. Like Moses you can smite a rock wall alongside the grotto, and out it gushes.
The cautious and concerned who know that to keep your stomach intact you don't drink from taps or springs in Indonesia may be wary of sipping. Fear not – it's already been sterilized by ultra-violet light. Faith is fine, but in matters of hygiene even the devout trust in technology.
Local religious teacher Maria Magdalena Kasri Evayanti said the pilgrims came from many parts of the archipelago and were mainly ascetics seeking a spiritual experience.
"We follow the Javanese calendar because this fits in with the Catholic tradition," she said. "Though no miracles have been officially authenticated, many people say they've been cured of sickness after using the water."
Inevitably Puhsarang has become a tourist spot, and the deputy head of security Jacobus Sugeng knows immediately the religion of visitors without even asking – not that he makes such personal inquiries.
"Muslims come to picnic and enjoy the surroundings," he said. "They pay no attention to anything else. The Protestants look at some of the holy objects though not too seriously.
"Only Catholics show reverence, take bottles of water, pray in public and know which way to follow the Stations of the Cross."
These are 15 sets of gold-colored statues on a long walk through the landscaped gardens showing the traditional story of Jesus' progress from condemnation through crucifixion to ascension. Curiously it's the final empty cave with no statues that has most emotional impact, not the figures in frozen poses at the other 14 locations.
Each figure cost Rp 5 million (US $560) and the artists were all Muslim, according to Jacobus. Five of his 16 staff are Muslims and Muslims run many of the food and souvenir stalls that line the walkway into the complex.
So don't assume because someone is offering you a plaster saint or an illuminated missal he or she is an adherent to the Church of Rome.
There's been plenty of strife between Christians and Muslims in South Sulawesi, Ambon - and more recently in West Java. But Puhsarang has escaped sectarian violence – probably because it's open to all faiths and supports so many non-Catholic households.
Puhsarang is promoted by East Java tourist authorities who are particularly proud of what they call the antik church. Although this translates as antique it can also mean eccentric. This is more accurate because the building is only 70 years old and was extensively rebuilt in 1999 in a most curious and imaginative style.
If you're not a Catholic and find much religious art to be kitsch you may be put off from a visit to Puhsarang. That would be a mistake because the architecture and engineering of the church and adjacent buildings are well worth the trip.
For the huge roofs are unsupported by multiple uprights, beams, bearers or cross members. Instead at each corner are big steel pillars leaning back to take the weight of tonnes of terracotta tiles.
They do this through thin steel rods that replace wooden slats, the standard way to carry the weight of tiles – two to a kilogram. The design is known as wireframe, and it's impressive.
The rods sag between supports giving the roof a dished appearance, as though the whole structure is about to cave in. This is supposed to resemble the style of the Majapahit era, the Javanese kingdom that ruled this area 700 years earlier.
Some of the terracotta tiles have been replaced with glass in the shape of a cross, creating a powerful image using natural light. Elsewhere the walls and pathways have been made of river-rolled stones. A bit uncomfortable underfoot – so wear stout shoes.
(Puhsarang is about two and a half road-hours southwest of Surabaya. The route is far from the Lapindo mud volcano. To book accommodation e-mail
lkd-ris@indo.net.id)
(First published in The Jakarta Post 7 September 07)
##
Last July a mob of Muslim radicals reportedly forced the cancellation of an international religious gathering at the Karmel Valley Catholic retreat in West Java.
There’s a similar retreat in East Java based in a Muslim area. But in this case inter-faith relationships are said to be good. Duncan Graham reports:
…………….
There are about 6,000 households in the village of Puhsarang on the slopes of Mount Klotak. Around 20 per cent are Catholic and another five per cent Protestant. That's a significant number because nationally Muslims are supposed to form almost 90 per cent of the population.
Worshipers who go to the monthly midnight services held on the eve of hari jumat legi (Friday in the Javanese calendar), certainly aren’t short of prayer room, though hundreds of outsiders normally pour into the area. At Easter 17,000 people turned up – many staying overnight in the hotels and guesthouses that cater for the influx. There's also a camping ground.
For Puhsarang is a Catholic sacred place with 14 hectares of statuary, chapels, a grotto of Our Lady, graveyards, a cave, water gushing from a rock, a columbarium and a mausoleum - the only one in East Java.
Here the bones of bishops and many priests lie close to the ashes of people who have chosen to be cremated and remembered in this lovely place.
Sounds a bit like Lourdes, the town in the French Pyrenees where five million pilgrims come every year seeking cures? You're not wrong. Much has been done to replicate that famous attraction, including several sets of paintings donated by the French.
Puhsarang has yet to produce a Bernadette Soubirous. She was the teenager who claimed to have been visited by the Virgin Mary several times in the mid 19th century and turned Lourdes from a place of no importance to a center of faith and healing. (The sesquicentenary is next year.)
Puhsarang may not have a visionary, but it does have what the locals call ‘holy water’. Like Moses you can smite a rock wall alongside the grotto, and out it gushes.
The cautious and concerned who know that to keep your stomach intact you don't drink from taps or springs in Indonesia may be wary of sipping. Fear not – it's already been sterilized by ultra-violet light. Faith is fine, but in matters of hygiene even the devout trust in technology.
Local religious teacher Maria Magdalena Kasri Evayanti said the pilgrims came from many parts of the archipelago and were mainly ascetics seeking a spiritual experience.
"We follow the Javanese calendar because this fits in with the Catholic tradition," she said. "Though no miracles have been officially authenticated, many people say they've been cured of sickness after using the water."
Inevitably Puhsarang has become a tourist spot, and the deputy head of security Jacobus Sugeng knows immediately the religion of visitors without even asking – not that he makes such personal inquiries.
"Muslims come to picnic and enjoy the surroundings," he said. "They pay no attention to anything else. The Protestants look at some of the holy objects though not too seriously.
"Only Catholics show reverence, take bottles of water, pray in public and know which way to follow the Stations of the Cross."
These are 15 sets of gold-colored statues on a long walk through the landscaped gardens showing the traditional story of Jesus' progress from condemnation through crucifixion to ascension. Curiously it's the final empty cave with no statues that has most emotional impact, not the figures in frozen poses at the other 14 locations.
Each figure cost Rp 5 million (US $560) and the artists were all Muslim, according to Jacobus. Five of his 16 staff are Muslims and Muslims run many of the food and souvenir stalls that line the walkway into the complex.
So don't assume because someone is offering you a plaster saint or an illuminated missal he or she is an adherent to the Church of Rome.
There's been plenty of strife between Christians and Muslims in South Sulawesi, Ambon - and more recently in West Java. But Puhsarang has escaped sectarian violence – probably because it's open to all faiths and supports so many non-Catholic households.
Puhsarang is promoted by East Java tourist authorities who are particularly proud of what they call the antik church. Although this translates as antique it can also mean eccentric. This is more accurate because the building is only 70 years old and was extensively rebuilt in 1999 in a most curious and imaginative style.
If you're not a Catholic and find much religious art to be kitsch you may be put off from a visit to Puhsarang. That would be a mistake because the architecture and engineering of the church and adjacent buildings are well worth the trip.
For the huge roofs are unsupported by multiple uprights, beams, bearers or cross members. Instead at each corner are big steel pillars leaning back to take the weight of tonnes of terracotta tiles.
They do this through thin steel rods that replace wooden slats, the standard way to carry the weight of tiles – two to a kilogram. The design is known as wireframe, and it's impressive.
The rods sag between supports giving the roof a dished appearance, as though the whole structure is about to cave in. This is supposed to resemble the style of the Majapahit era, the Javanese kingdom that ruled this area 700 years earlier.
Some of the terracotta tiles have been replaced with glass in the shape of a cross, creating a powerful image using natural light. Elsewhere the walls and pathways have been made of river-rolled stones. A bit uncomfortable underfoot – so wear stout shoes.
(Puhsarang is about two and a half road-hours southwest of Surabaya. The route is far from the Lapindo mud volcano. To book accommodation e-mail
lkd-ris@indo.net.id)
(First published in The Jakarta Post 7 September 07)
##
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
INDONESIANS IN PERTH
GENERATION CARE – LONGING TO LEAVE? © 2007 Duncan Graham
If concern for the nation, a passion to right the wrongs and intelligence are all that’s needed to reform Indonesia, then the Republic can look ahead to a glorious future.
Though only if the young idealists erupting with enthusiasm to create what they call a ‘New Indonesia’ get the chance to apply their vision and realize their hopes. To do that they have to go home.
Returning is something a group of young Indonesians who are working and studying in Perth, Western Australia (WA) talk about a lot. There are the superficial longings – for a warmer climate and rice that tastes the way Mum cooked it – and the more emotional concerns of family reunion.
But overriding nostalgia is worthwhile, well-rewarded work in their chosen field that will provide long-term security. And that’s hard to find in Indonesia.
Badai Fatturrochman, 21, an accounting and finance student would love to return to professional soccer, but reckons he couldn’t score more than Rp 5 million (US $550) a month; he thinks four times that amount would be a fair wage, but knows he’s kicking uphill and against the wind.
James Martin, 26, who despite his name and appearance is an Indonesian Muslim with Arab and Jewish forebears, and his wife Nuraini Kusuma Wardani, 28, understandingly want their firstborn (currently domiciled in Nuraini’s womb), to have a decent chance in life.
So they’re hanging on in Australia hoping to get permanent resident (PR) status so their child will be able to have access to career, lifestyle and other opportunities beyond the archipelago. Nuraini, who has studied hospitality, works as a chef.
Not that James has lacked chances. He got a scholarship to study in Australia, has been in the country six years and will stay till maybe the end of the decade. Although he’s studied economics he works as a waiter for AUD $13 (Rp 100,000) an hour, the sort of money he can’t imagine getting in Jakarta, even as a hot number-cruncher wearing a tie.
“I’d love to go home, but my parents want me to stay,” he said. His military father was determined his son would get a good education – and the insurance of PR should chaos erupt again and the firebrands take to the streets. Perth, a calm and wealthy city is little more than three hours flying time from Denpasar and a popular bolthole.
“I want to help my country,” James said. “I want to know why we have been left behind by countries like Malaysia and Singapore. Why can’t we get ahead? We have the natural resources and the people.
“We need to create better infrastructure, to clean up the country, the get rid of corruption. And we need Australian investment.”
And to this end he and other young Indonesians in Perth are working to help make their country’s presence at the Perth Royal Show in September a stand-out success.
This year the annual week-long showcase of farming and industry, a major event in the WA capital, has invited Indonesia to be the guest nation. Rommy Begenk, who produces a high-quality Indonesian-language giveaway tabloid for the 8,000 Indonesians in Perth and their Aussie friends called Voice of Indonesia, has designed the poster.
Other promotions are being planned to show that the tropical archipelago is really a welcoming wonderland of diversity and charm, not terror central.
In June they ran a concert called Care for Indonesia in the Perth Concert Hall starring, among other pop idols, Glenn Fredly and Dewi Sandra. This was to “create awareness of Indonesia” and raise funds for a mobile library for the poor.
Rommy also says he wants to rush back to the Big Durian and build his design business, but first needs to amass some hard cash. Like others he denied having been seduced by the Australian lifestyle – but having an Australian girlfriend is another reason not to jump the next Boeing heading north.
Jessisca, 19, from Papua is unusual and not because she comes from an outlying province. She’s studying maths and science at the University of WA; business, accountancy and economics are the favored faculties for Indonesians abroad.
She went to school in Singapore and has ambitions of working in New York. But she’s also much taken with Australia because she likes the way that people are treated with respect, “even taxi drivers, bus drivers and teachers.” The downside for this young Christian is the amount of swearing she hears.
“The critical question for all of us is this: How do we survive,” she said. “It’s the financial situation. In Indonesia the chance of getting a good job is remote unless you have the right contacts. But here there are so many opportunities.”
Indeed. WA is leading the Australian mining boom and the only thing in short supply is labor. In Indonesia you scrabble for work; in WA bosses scrabble for workers.
Accountancy graduate Anwar Helmy, 28, can’t get a job in sensitive areas of the Australian economy where citizenship is required, so is working as a book-keeper. Unlike his friends he’s not so upbeat about the future of his country.
His wife Fency Sjafei, 25, who has an Australian master’s degree in information technology, works with the national telco Telstra on data processing. She also spends time as a volunteer on a local Indonesian language radio program.
“If the right conditions existed we’d really go back,” said Fency. “We feel so emotionally attached to our homeland.” But when will those conditions become apparent?
“That’s the really tough question,” said Anwar. “Our friends in Jakarta say the job situation doesn’t look good, even for people like us. We’re not alone with overseas qualifications; there are thousands more coming in all the time from Britain and the US.”
So here’s another dilemma for these golden lads and lasses; they want Indonesia to introduce transparency and fairness in government and business, but know the best way to get a job is through nepotism.
Fency is also expecting and discussing what language they should use at the home they’re buying when their bi-cultural bub is born. At the moment it’s Indonesian inside the house, English outside – though ready to seep in under the eaves like dust and smother the mother tongue.
Complaints? Nothing worth writing home about. They mix with Aussies, but tend to stick together “because that’s out culture of togetherness.” They hear of racism but say they’ve had no personal encounters, though are distressed at perceived growing public hostility to Islam. They say they haven’t encountered the evil and debauched West of popular mythology.
Any other messages for the folks back home, particularly the old fellows who run the show? “Give the young generation a chance to build our country,” said the effervescent James who doesn’t blush when his wife says that he’d really like to be a future president. “Give us the space, give us the respect. We can do it.”
So while they wait for the economy to bloom back home – and without their help - the roots sink deeper, anchoring them to the ochre-rocks Down Under: Jobs, money and possessions, proper salaries and decent working conditions, cars, Aussie-born babes, friends, romance - even mortgages.
How long before gum trees smell sweeter than mangoes and the dreams of helping the homeland frizzle in the Antipodean sun?
##
(First published in The Weekender (JP) September 2007)
If concern for the nation, a passion to right the wrongs and intelligence are all that’s needed to reform Indonesia, then the Republic can look ahead to a glorious future.
Though only if the young idealists erupting with enthusiasm to create what they call a ‘New Indonesia’ get the chance to apply their vision and realize their hopes. To do that they have to go home.
Returning is something a group of young Indonesians who are working and studying in Perth, Western Australia (WA) talk about a lot. There are the superficial longings – for a warmer climate and rice that tastes the way Mum cooked it – and the more emotional concerns of family reunion.
But overriding nostalgia is worthwhile, well-rewarded work in their chosen field that will provide long-term security. And that’s hard to find in Indonesia.
Badai Fatturrochman, 21, an accounting and finance student would love to return to professional soccer, but reckons he couldn’t score more than Rp 5 million (US $550) a month; he thinks four times that amount would be a fair wage, but knows he’s kicking uphill and against the wind.
James Martin, 26, who despite his name and appearance is an Indonesian Muslim with Arab and Jewish forebears, and his wife Nuraini Kusuma Wardani, 28, understandingly want their firstborn (currently domiciled in Nuraini’s womb), to have a decent chance in life.
So they’re hanging on in Australia hoping to get permanent resident (PR) status so their child will be able to have access to career, lifestyle and other opportunities beyond the archipelago. Nuraini, who has studied hospitality, works as a chef.
Not that James has lacked chances. He got a scholarship to study in Australia, has been in the country six years and will stay till maybe the end of the decade. Although he’s studied economics he works as a waiter for AUD $13 (Rp 100,000) an hour, the sort of money he can’t imagine getting in Jakarta, even as a hot number-cruncher wearing a tie.
“I’d love to go home, but my parents want me to stay,” he said. His military father was determined his son would get a good education – and the insurance of PR should chaos erupt again and the firebrands take to the streets. Perth, a calm and wealthy city is little more than three hours flying time from Denpasar and a popular bolthole.
“I want to help my country,” James said. “I want to know why we have been left behind by countries like Malaysia and Singapore. Why can’t we get ahead? We have the natural resources and the people.
“We need to create better infrastructure, to clean up the country, the get rid of corruption. And we need Australian investment.”
And to this end he and other young Indonesians in Perth are working to help make their country’s presence at the Perth Royal Show in September a stand-out success.
This year the annual week-long showcase of farming and industry, a major event in the WA capital, has invited Indonesia to be the guest nation. Rommy Begenk, who produces a high-quality Indonesian-language giveaway tabloid for the 8,000 Indonesians in Perth and their Aussie friends called Voice of Indonesia, has designed the poster.
Other promotions are being planned to show that the tropical archipelago is really a welcoming wonderland of diversity and charm, not terror central.
In June they ran a concert called Care for Indonesia in the Perth Concert Hall starring, among other pop idols, Glenn Fredly and Dewi Sandra. This was to “create awareness of Indonesia” and raise funds for a mobile library for the poor.
Rommy also says he wants to rush back to the Big Durian and build his design business, but first needs to amass some hard cash. Like others he denied having been seduced by the Australian lifestyle – but having an Australian girlfriend is another reason not to jump the next Boeing heading north.
Jessisca, 19, from Papua is unusual and not because she comes from an outlying province. She’s studying maths and science at the University of WA; business, accountancy and economics are the favored faculties for Indonesians abroad.
She went to school in Singapore and has ambitions of working in New York. But she’s also much taken with Australia because she likes the way that people are treated with respect, “even taxi drivers, bus drivers and teachers.” The downside for this young Christian is the amount of swearing she hears.
“The critical question for all of us is this: How do we survive,” she said. “It’s the financial situation. In Indonesia the chance of getting a good job is remote unless you have the right contacts. But here there are so many opportunities.”
Indeed. WA is leading the Australian mining boom and the only thing in short supply is labor. In Indonesia you scrabble for work; in WA bosses scrabble for workers.
Accountancy graduate Anwar Helmy, 28, can’t get a job in sensitive areas of the Australian economy where citizenship is required, so is working as a book-keeper. Unlike his friends he’s not so upbeat about the future of his country.
His wife Fency Sjafei, 25, who has an Australian master’s degree in information technology, works with the national telco Telstra on data processing. She also spends time as a volunteer on a local Indonesian language radio program.
“If the right conditions existed we’d really go back,” said Fency. “We feel so emotionally attached to our homeland.” But when will those conditions become apparent?
“That’s the really tough question,” said Anwar. “Our friends in Jakarta say the job situation doesn’t look good, even for people like us. We’re not alone with overseas qualifications; there are thousands more coming in all the time from Britain and the US.”
So here’s another dilemma for these golden lads and lasses; they want Indonesia to introduce transparency and fairness in government and business, but know the best way to get a job is through nepotism.
Fency is also expecting and discussing what language they should use at the home they’re buying when their bi-cultural bub is born. At the moment it’s Indonesian inside the house, English outside – though ready to seep in under the eaves like dust and smother the mother tongue.
Complaints? Nothing worth writing home about. They mix with Aussies, but tend to stick together “because that’s out culture of togetherness.” They hear of racism but say they’ve had no personal encounters, though are distressed at perceived growing public hostility to Islam. They say they haven’t encountered the evil and debauched West of popular mythology.
Any other messages for the folks back home, particularly the old fellows who run the show? “Give the young generation a chance to build our country,” said the effervescent James who doesn’t blush when his wife says that he’d really like to be a future president. “Give us the space, give us the respect. We can do it.”
So while they wait for the economy to bloom back home – and without their help - the roots sink deeper, anchoring them to the ochre-rocks Down Under: Jobs, money and possessions, proper salaries and decent working conditions, cars, Aussie-born babes, friends, romance - even mortgages.
How long before gum trees smell sweeter than mangoes and the dreams of helping the homeland frizzle in the Antipodean sun?
##
(First published in The Weekender (JP) September 2007)
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