The past few days have brought us over ¾ of the way across the island of Java. From Jogjakarta, we went to Solo, then on into Batu in East Java, and now are at the edge of the Tengger crater. From our experiences, we have learned about the incredible diversity of Java, as well as what a primarily agrarian society looks like.
Yesterday evening we had a chance to really challenge ourselves by climbing Mt. Merapi. It is a very active volcano just north of Jogjakarta which has erupted numerous times in the past decade. As with any volcano in Indonesia, reaching the peak for sunrise affords the best views of the surrounding countryside. So at 10pm my mom, Kiky, Ben and I set out for the 2 hour ride up to the village of Selo, closest to the summit.
Click to continue reading “Ascending a Highly Active Volcano”
Our long anticipated trip across Java has finally started. Our group is not in the best condition, with half the members sick with the flu, but plans have been set in motion, so we must go along with our plan for the moment. I would love to have seen my mom, Kiky, and Charlene in better health along this trip, and hopefully our night at Garut with lovely hot spring baths will help expedite this….
There is a feeling that is hard to describe to those who have not experienced it: the feeling of moving from a sleepy country town where traffic consists of 10 goats crossing the road to a big city. I have just had that feeling, and I can assure you, it is a drag.
Life in a small town like those around Tanjung Bira (Bira, Ara, Batang, Hilo Hilo) is perfect for me. Lots of fresh food to eat, peace, people who are amicable to talk with, and of course green all around. Even though the brownouts over there were considerably longer, they never grated on you like the ones in the city. For one, there was a consistent breeze flowing from the seashores. Also, conversations do not require electricity, and since this is on of the things that are done mostly in the absence of TV, malls, and endless diversions a city may offer, we had no problem filling the dark times.
The pictures above are a snapshot of villages and scenes from this area. Unfortunately, some of the most spectactular scenes are those found underwater, and my lack of an underwater camera or camera housing makes it impossible to impress their beauty in pictures. If there were ever daylight hours to kill, I happily would grab my snorkel, mask, and fins and hit the water. One day I drifted along the entire Bira reef, which extends for a few kilometers. All I had to show for it was a sunburn, but the memories of sea turtles, countless fish, and coral gardens will stay in my mind for a long time to come.
Yesterday was the second most important Muslim Holiday, called Idul Adha. It is kind of a Idul Fitri light, still containing the mass gatherings of family and copious consumption of food, but minus the presents.
Being in Bira for this holiday meant that Kiky and I would miss out on celebrating with her immediate family, but we would get a chance to join her extended family for the celebration. Upon waking up we were brought jars filled with freshly baked cookies, all quite delicious. We gorged ourselves on a few of them, but reminded ourselves that to live through this day it was all about pacing yourself. If you eat too much at any given stop, you stand to insult the next person you visit by not being able to eat any of their food.
Cruising on the road from Bira along the coast to Batang, we would pass through numerous villages, including the one which we will eventually be a part of: Ara. The sun was unusually warm, and we were greatly relieved that our heads were free from helmets for a day. Many people wear topi Haji, a religious hat, on the holidays, so the police do not pull over anybody for lack of proper headgear on these days. We kept a leisurely pace of around 30 km/h, allowing us to greet passersby and take in many of the sites along the way.
Upon arriving at Ka Ancho’s house, one of Kiky’s cousins, we had to go through the process of greeting the 20 guests already crowding the place. Soon after we arrived though, all the men went off to pray. Apparently the women will only pray at the regular times, whereas the men have some extra pray times during the day. I find the people in the countryside quite a bit more devout than those in the city, however they are also more accepting to those who do not practice. The city’s religious attitudes feel kind of showy, with more word than action. City life probably makes following such a demanding religion difficult. So instead the people become more dogmatic and willing to impose their ideas on others. The country folk, in contrast, seem to be content with their own levels of devotion and are not bothered with getting involved in other’s business.
We ate while the men were praying, giving us time to clean our plates before they returned. Once everybody was back in the house, the usual questions started to pour in: what do people eat in Canada? How much money do people make? Do you have kids? Why not? Much of what they know about the west is based on stereotypes, so it gave me great pleasure to break down these ideas. It surprised many of them that we did in fact eat rice, although the idea of not eating it at least 2 times a day made them wonder how westerners ever felt satiated. As always, I got the pleasure of doubly shocking them by telling them the cost of living in Canada and the average salary. They were also really surprised that not many people owned their homes, as here it is commonplace for everybody to own their house.
Our day continued along this line, with many people opening their homes to us. Each time, we had to eat at least a cake and drink the sweet coffee or tea that was placed in front of us. Each place we went, I also got to learn a little more about my wife, her family, and the relatives she grew up around. By the end, we had to wrench ourselves away from the festivities to get home before darkness rolled in. We made it back to Bira just as a dramatic sunset was lighting up the western sky. If sailor’s lore has anything to say about it, then the redness of the sky guaranteed good weather today, which so far seems to be the case!
What should have taken minutes took days. But then again, we are in Indonesia, and things are never as straightforward as one would expect. Fortunately, the experience of buying a piece of property here may prove valuable in the future.
On the 24th of November, Kiky and I set out from Makassar with the intention to get the property that we had ben looking at. It is on a beach where no other people have established permanent structures, where electricity has not yet made it’s way down to the shoreline, and where our neighbours will be the seasonal algae farmers, fishermen, and boat builders. We had a meeting the next day with the property owner, a man named just Wahab. He was an elderly man, with few teeth left but a smile that took full advantage of the remaining ones. He had come across the sea from Balikpapan, where he resides as a boat builder there. Upon meeting him, I was happy that our money would be going to somebody who would value it.
Not all of our money would go directly to Wahab though. First of all there were the “real estate” agents. This team consisted of two people, Gappar and Sudirman. Gappar is a relative of Kiky and had worked hard to this point to ensure that everything worked out. Sudirman was related to Wahab, and was the one who let us know of the land. This team was surely making a profit on the land, but how much we had no idea.
Complications in the process arose first while trying to get the money from the bank. The nearest bank is in Bulukumba, an hour’s drive away. While the drive alone was time consuming, the bank made me question my patience. To withdraw from the same branch and transfer between accounts (both of which belonged to us and were in the same bank) took us almost two hours, which naturally made us late for our meeting to finalize the land agreement.
After getting in late, we were again delayed by the fact that there were no lights, making the printing of our agreement impossible. In the end, Kiky had to write it out by hand, which added a certain authenticity to the whole shebang. We did some last minute haggling, arguing over whether we would be paying for land in the green zone (a government owned fringe on every beach) or not. In the end, Kiky was able to make an agreement which ensured that we would pay for only what was on the certificate.
The whole process was interesting. I have never bought land anywhere, but I am fairly certain that buying land in Indonesia is a fair bit different from doing so in Canada. We are still waiting for the certificate to be completed, which is now in a stage where others can contest the land claim. Already some have stepped forward claiming ownership, a natural occurence in Indonesia, where many wills are still only by word of mouth. However, the prospect looks good considering we have already seen certificates from the government in Wahab’s name.
As convoluted as the process is, it has also been a good experience to know what goes into this type of dealing. In the future, we will be more prepared should we need to buy more land for Pajoka.
Every country in the world has aspects of it which are good and bad. Despite being a developing country, I have noticed many things us “Developed Country” citizens could learn from the relatively poor Indonesia:
1. Reusing Building Materials
Very few things in Indonesia that are not plastic or food get thrown out. While building our house here, I saw some extremes in terms of reusing materials, such as removing and straightening old nails to use again. While a small piece of plywood would likely be considered scrap in Canada, here my brother in law finds a use for it. The parts of our house that were too eaten by termites to reuse were given to poorer people to use as fuel for their fires.
2. PTPT (Angkot, or City Transit)
I have noticed a dramatic rise in the number of personal vehicles on the roads here in Indonesia, but on the major arteries the PTPT is still king. It is a 14 passenger minibus, that plys a certain route. It replaces the public bus system that most western countries have. While sometimes dangerous, it does have a major advantage. You never wait more than a couple minutes to catch a ride to anywhere in the city. Such modularized public transit might well be the best hope for urban mass transit in the future.
3. Urban Bounty
Walking through any neighbourhood in Makassar, you are likely to see numerous fruits and veggies growing. Looking out my front window, I can see mangoes, papaya, belimbing, chilis, and coconuts. Most plants that people take care of here provide sustenance, and are not only for looks. I have noticed an increase in this in Vancouver as well, and hopefully the world sees an upward trend in the urban gardening movement.
4. Neighbourhood Spirit
After only a couple months of living here, I already know half of my neighbour’s names, their jobs, and where they live. They will come over to my house to relax with me if I am outside, and generally have time to chat. In Canada this simply does not happen, and after three years I had only really come to know one of my neighbours well. Furthermore, kids here can play in the streets and are free to roam, largely because every adult in the neighbourhood is looking out for their wellbeing. Compare this to North American cities, where kids have GPS locator beacons implanted into their skulls so their parents know where they are at all times.
5. Home Economics
So many people have their own businesses here in Indonesia. It is more an essential skill of survival than entrepeneurship, but it does make a lot of sense. My cousin Mega is a good cook, and to make a little extra money she sells yellow rice (Nasi Kuning) each morning. She sells it as a price that makes it slightly profitable for her, while also making it cheaper for her neighbours to buy the premade food than make it themselves. So many small operations like this definitely add to the whole community thing… we know our local vendors and support their businesses largely because of convenience. The North American model, however, makes it really difficult for small operations to fly, and so people endure low quality mass produced food and products because their really is no other option.
Although Indonesia certainly has its difficulties (corruption, fundamentalism, pyramid schemes, etc.) there are also aspects that make me wonder if our global culture is being a little too closed minded when looking for solutions for the 21st century. As far as I can see, most of our adaptations are modeled based on what the West has done successfully. Looking farther afield and integrating good practices from civilizations around the world may make the most sense!
Well, after a month of running around to various locations across Sulawesi, we finally have found a place that we think would be perfect to build Pajoka. As a start we are planning on purchasing a small piece of land along the main beach in Ara. However, the ideal site is located nearby, somewhat excluded from the long beach of nearly perfect white sand.
It is an enclosed cresent of just the same sand. Around it are dramatic rocks which create unique forms. Some look like mushrooms, while other like tripods. Grabbing onto these rocks on all sides is a curtain of greenery, mostly drought tolerant plants. In some areas tree roots ooze off the cliff face extending down to the ground where they take root again.
The site rises rather steeply up to the top of the cliff, however building some bungalows along this area can be imagined. The top of the cliff overlooks the whole private beach, and is covered with some substantial trees. While this beach is only accessible at low tide along the sand, there is another way. There is a crack between the rocks that leads from one section to another, wide enough for a nice boardwalk.
The village of Ara also seems like an ideal candidate for eco-tourism. As of now, the community has not been affected by any types of mass tourism. There are still many artisanal workers, who are skilled in wood working and boat building. The population is about 2000, which is a reasonable size to be able to positively effect most individuals int he community. They also have a wide variety of crops growing in the town, meaning that goods only have to be transported locally rather than from region to region. Finally, it is also close enough to population centres that people who are coming out there do not feel completed isolated (unless they want to!). With a 4 hour drive from an international airport, it is actually surprising that it has not yet been exploited.
There are a couple regional activities to do, such as scuba diving and visiting cultural sites in the area. On site, there are also so things which can be done. I got a chance to get my fins wet and check out the reef. At the north end it was in reasonable condition, although it looked like bomb fishermen had got to it at some point in its past. When the tide is low, there is a great 30 m beach without stones of harmful objects, great for playing on. When the tide is high, this area turns into a perfect swimming area. Sandy bottomed, with nice cool water to ease the heat of the day. Catamarans would be awesome to take along this coast as well, because to both the north and south there are other beaches, along with a few secret coves in between.
Coming back from Bontotiro, and the whole Tanjung Bira area is a total change in gears. Spending my first full day since I have got back to Makassar waiting to meet with people was not how I envisaged my hyperproductive week in the city to start. Having been up in Batang for the past few days, I think my whole being slowed down to the relaxed country lifestyle I so enjoy. Sitting around on porches, taking advantage of the brownout to go and catch up with neighbours, and being able to pick a half decent meal out of the trees surrounding Kiky’s cousin’s house definitely keep me in touch with what I love about being here in Indonesia. Coming back to the city makes me miss Canada all the more. However, it also sheds a lot of light on why this country has been stuck in its current predicament.
Upon return I was told that there may be a chance for me to do a little web development work for the government. Kiky’s eldest brother works in the government offices, and so has the right connections to get these things started up. My first night in Makassar was spent thinking how I would price my services, what I should do to make it more appealing, and if there was an inkling of a chance to get a job here after all.
The next morning we set out the customary hour behind schedule. While we could have left earlier since the guys who make the national ID cards were not able to proces Kiky’s application, we bade our time and left when we felt we needed to. It was a fairly long trip down to Goa from our house, taking us through most of the city in the process.
When we finally got there, I was not surprised to see that many of the government workers were as busy as other times I have been to their offices, namely, not at all. Our trio made our way confidently to the house of the guy we would present to. I had been told that regardless of what they job may consist of, keep the price high. The government, budgets generously, and then if the money is not spent it goes as a bonus to the employees in that department. I was skeptical if this was all above the table, but went along with it anyways. As far as I could tell, I would not be getting involved in any corrupt activities, but would rather just offer my services and be rewarded for the work completed.
Seeing where government employees live in this country makes me understand why they are relatively irresponsive to the public. They generally live in the top percentile of the population, and own many of the services that the government is trying to regulate. Far from being a banana republic style setup, it brought me immediately back to Dick Cheney, who led a double life as both a master of the corporatocracy and one who was voted in to regulate people like himself.
The butterflies in my stomach soon settled down, and started to slowly rescend into their cocoons, as the minutes of waiting for the representative turned into hours. Soon those butterflies were replaced by canine growling sounds as lunch approached. We had been told by all that our man was inside, but where inside his own home was the big question. I would not have been surprised in the least to find out that he took a wrong turn and ended up in a wing of his house that he had yet to discover. Leaving and coming back from lunch did little good except to add to the cue of people waiting on the head honcho’s front porch. In our newly fed and restless moods, we started to prod around the house until an envoy came out, explaining that he had been sleeping. He was apparently feeling ill, and would not be able to make any meetings today. While I am a strong proponent of taking sick leave, I was skeptical of what kind of infection made it impossible to get this information to us 4 hours earlier, so that we could carry on with our days.
Walking back down to the minibus taxi, Kiky’s brother pointed to all the acquisitions this man had in a tone of awe. A block away from our failed meeting, we passed by the Sultan of Goa’s residence. The huge traditonal building dwarfed the surrounding homes, a memory of a great past for this bygone kingdom. However, I wonder if the kingdom ever dissolved, but rather evolved into a shabby imitator of democracy, where votes are bought through t-shirts and free meals.
Being in Indonesia can be challenging because you’re sometimes are not sure what language is being spoken. Here in Makassar, people for the most part speak Makassarese. North of Makassar, many of the towns use Buginese as their primary language. Where we were in Mamuju a week ago, the people spoke Mandarese. Our trip over the last few days took us down to Bulukumba and Bira, on the southern most tip of South Sulawesi. Here, the locals speak mostly Konjo, a mix between several of the local languages with its own twist.
The road down to Bira is one I have traveled many times. Taking anywhere between 3 and 6 hours based on the connections you get and the speed of the van driver. Our trip was on the really long side, taking us over 7 hours. It was an exercise in patience, as the first couple hours were spent asking each person walking alongside the road if they wanted to head in our direction with us. However, after a long drive everything felt worth it after setting foot in Bira once again.
Bira is in between an unknown backwater and something on the tourist path. Many passing through Sulawesi take a detour to head down to Bira, although I think that the town is worthyof being a destination in itself. Coming into town, the ecology shifts from the usual tropical agrarian scene typical of Indonesia to a more arid landscape. Cacti and succulents grip to raised coral bed, with only a few cattle and goats vying for the low lying leaves and grasses. Upon entering Bira, a long drive leads directly to the crowning jewel: a beach of pure white sand sinking slowly into azure seas. Beyond this, there are coral gardens where you can sometimes meet up with whale sharks, mantas, and even the bypassing whale if you are lucky.
After a couple days of adjusting to the beach lifestyle and eating scruptious seafood (expertly cooked by Santi of Salassa Guesthouse) we decided to rent a bike to get out to the area. Our main reason for coming down here was to find land for pajoka, and we have been anticipating this trip for a while. Other excursions here or there were benchmarked by what we knew to exist down in Bira. The new road along the eastern shore led us past village after village, all overflowing with bounty. Mangoes hung down in bunches precariously close to our heads as we whizzed by on the bike. Every inch of land alongside the road seemed to contain either a traditional home or a grove of bananas. We were heading north to Batang, the birthplace of Kiky’s mother. When there, we were warmly greeted by her relatives, whom I have met only a few times before, and sat down for a wonderful country feast. I impressed them by eating the local veggies, Daun Kelor, which tasted great. However, their soporific effect soon took hold and I found myself dozing on Kiky’s cousin’s shaded front deck. The cool breeze added to the relaxing sensation, and before I knew it I was having my first siesta since arriving in Indonesia! Leave it to the country to do this to a person.
The next couple days brought us to a various beaches in the area, each with its merits and drawbacks. Although all of the beaches are incredibly beautiful, we found ourselves spoiled for choice… and becoming picky. One beach may have too much seaweed, or not light enough sand, while another beach may be too arid. Our last day in Bira did bring us down to what may be a perfect beach. It is close to everything, but seperated by a treacherous road. No electricity runs down to it, and for that reason it remains undeveloped. I have ventured down here a couple times before, and when setting eyes on it again, I was taken aback to find such a gem. The only others sharing the beach with us were a few boatbuilders, using traditional methods to build boats of teak and ironwood. Leaving the next morning for Makassar, these images of boats, beaches, and coral gardens carried me peacefully back to the city.
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