Indonesian Diary Entry

February 15, 2002

It is scary to remark, but this will be one of the last entries. But no matter, here I go.

I believe I’ve mentioned before that one of the joys of doing this diary has been the doing of it. It is great when I get a message from someone that they have been reading it and finding it worth the time spent doing so, but it is also fun just to sit and write about the things seen and done.

Since I last wrote an entry (the Trip to Bali) I’ve done more travel. I spent a night in Bandungan and three nights in Banjarmasin. I have also been to a movie, read a few books, been reunited with my assistant, Emi, who was herself away in Bangladesh, and given a few lectures. So this diary will be mostly about the two trips, but a few random observations first, for those who are bored with my travels.

I noticed a woman recently fully draped in black. This is not remarkable, as there are a few such women in Solo. The interesting thing about looking at this woman was that I couldn’t tell in which direction she was moving – towards me or away. I could see her feet moving, but I was far enough away that I couldn’t tell the toes from the heels. This is disconcerting.

People who work in the fields and on construction projects fascinate me. They work so very hard and receive such little pay that it strains the mind – especially that of an economist. One thing that always catches my attention is the rarity of power tools (on construction sites), and the paucity of safety measures. I’ve gotten accustomed to this. But the other day I noticed someone working with a huge and heavy pick to open a street. This was a project involving replacement of pipe. As it was pouring rain at the time everything was pretty slippery. The man was not wearing shoes! This sets a new standard for occupational hazard. I won’t recount other similar perils I’ve noticed.

There is a music group called Westlife. For some reason I keep seeing videos of them, and a tour they made. Their music doesn’t sound extraordinary, or even very good, but this video of them on tour must be quite the popular thing. At this point I can recognize a fair amount of their music, so I guess they are stars. My confusion is whether they are stars because of the video of them being on tour and acting like stars, or whether they really are popular. That is confusion I can live with. Perhaps when I leave Indonesia I’ll never hear of Westlife again.

A sore throat has been a problem for about a month. It is a little scary to admit but I am afraid of doctors: that is, doctors here. I’ve heard a few too many stories about the quality of medical care, so I’ve elected to let things “work their way out.” Fortunately, things seem to be doing just that, but it is a serious problem for those who find themselves away from western doctors.

Bandungan. This is a small city that is at an elevation of about 900 meters. That means cool, or in the rainy season (now), raw. I went to Bandungan with about eight colleagues from Fakultas Ekonomi. The reason we went was to see a temple nearby, and we went for an overnight. The town is about two and a half hours from Solo. (As always, forget distance. Time is the relevant metric.)

Since this is the rainy season, it was a little rough. The visit to the temple site was not entirely successful, and five of the group stayed in their car and smoked while the other three of us did a short trek. There were a few interesting things, however, that made the trip very worthwhile. One was a visit to a tahu factory. A second and third had to do with the trip itself, and the ambience.

The tahu factory was small. I counted about twenty people at work, including the boss. In a place about 2,000 square feet they ground the soy beans, worked them into a paste, squeezed the water from the paste, and packed the tahu into smallish bricks. I didn’t notice where the fermentation took place, but that must have been outside the area we visited. After we visited the factory we went across the street (always an interesting journey in this country), survived that, and sat down for a light lunch at a warung. Of course we had a few different kinds of tahu, and a special drink of soy extract. I was told that this is a power drink, and sure enough it made me feel pretty powerful. All of the workers I saw were women, and they were chatting away to beat the band. They would look up at us (maybe at me with my camera), and smile that wonderful earthy smile. Gee I am a push over for that smile.

A second thing about the trip was the guitar. We stayed in a motel like facility, and it had bedrooms around a living room. There was one guitar, brought by one of the docents. When I walked in I was asked if I played the guitar. “Nope. Strictly a recorder man.” So I listened. Everyone played the guitar. And played. And played. From the time I arrived until the next morning when we left, the guitar was being played. (I believe it was idle for a few hours while people slept, but not many.) And with the playing went singing. The songs were occasionally familiar, and I am sure their popularity in the States preceded the birth of these singers. E.g., “Wake Up Little Suzie,” which I recall being sung by the Everly Brothers. You get the idea. And the songs were sung by almost everyone. Since most of the songs were not Everly Brothers tunes I stayed a safe distance from the singing, but there was no attempt at showmanship, or pretense of serious ability. It was just a bunch of guys singing. And that was the third thing about the trip: these fellows went on this overnight because they enjoy each other. There was a kind of camaraderie that was striking. I could try and analyze it, or expound on it, but I think that would diminish its effect. So let’s just say that I appreciated being allowed to join them.

Kalimantan was the venue for my other trip. Since my first recent awareness of Indonesia came from reading a book with that word as its title, my trip to Kalimantan was quite special.

Kalimantan is part of Borneo – the southern part and about two-thirds of the island. The island is shared with Malaysia, and a small piece is the Sultanate of Brunei. I believe it is one of the three biggest islands of the archipelago, along with Sumatra and Papua. Kalimantan is also one of those places in Indonesia that has been beset with fighting in the last decade, and in the last few years in particular. The principal ethnic group is the Dayak, and they still are known to take heads. Their latest discomfort has been brought on by what are called transmigrants. These are people from other parts of Indonesia who have been encouraged to move to less populated areas to start a new life. The Dayak do not look upon them favorable. I went to the capital city of the province of South Kalimantan, Banjarmasin.

To get from Solo to Banjarmasin is a time consuming journey. One has to go to Jakarta, and from there back to Surabaya, and then across the sea to Banjarmasin. It is a little like going from Boston to New York in order to get to Montreal. It wound up taking most of one day just to get there, with about five hours spent in the Jakarta airport. By now if you have read any of my entries you will know that there is no wasted time in Indonesia. Here are a couple of notes from the Jakarta airport stint.

One of the reasons I have trouble understanding what people are saying is that I don’t often expect the questions they ask. E.g., a little boy was sitting next to me, and quickly started chatting. His first question was, was I alone. Now that isn’t the first thing I would ask someone, so it takes me a few seconds to pick it up. After we established that I was by myself, and some other things that were of particular interest to him, I asked him a few questions. The first was where he was off to. (I knew he wasn’t traveling alone.) He was off to “Saudi.” Ah, I realized. He was making the Haj. This clearly was not his idea, but he was warm to the idea and looking at the adventurous parts of the trip: new bathrooms to check out, people to chat with, and so on. He was with a rather large group, as this is how it is done, and most of the group was very well dressed even if not as well washed. Actually, people typically travel with their good clothes on, but his group had what I would guess to be their very best clothes on. The women in particular were really decked out, and as they favor shiny things they positively sparkled as they walked around.

The idea of making the Haj is seductive. It would seem to fulfill a dream of a kind that I can’t very well imagine: a dream that is with you for a very long time, and then is slowly brought to fruition. I shouldn’t say that I can’t imagine it, but rather that things don’t get elevated to that level for me.

While we were chatting a man came up and tried to sell me a Mont Blanc (look alike) pen. He was disabled, but no matter. Unfortunately it was a ballpoint and I have no interest in such a pen. I also have made a point of bringing nothing with me that draws attention to me so a Mt. Blanc is far from what I want. So, no bargaining, no haggling, no transaction. Good. I don’t have to think about the propriety of buying either stolen goods, or cheap imitations of quality merchandise. I will save the exercise of principle for another day.

Airports are much in the Indonesian news these days in connection with immigration. I had thought the issue of immigration/undocumented workers/asylum seekers and refugees were western problems. Not exactly. These are subjects of intense interest here, both on the sending and receiving sides. With rapid communications, cheap travel, and clear disparities in wages, movements across national and regional borders are becoming huge issues in countries like Indonesia. It is already an important subject in economics and related disciplines, but it is going to garner even more attention in the future.

Well, eventually I made it to Banjarmasin. I was met at the airport by three young men, all docents. They quickly showed themselves to be charming and delightful people. One had recently been to the U.S. where he did an MA, and the other two would sure like to get there. So, I was taken to my hotel, and then quickly off to dinner. After they recovered from my vegetarian affliction they found a Chinese restaurant and everything worked out well. As it was already late, I was thankful for that.

The original plan was for one lecture the next day (Tuesday), and one the day after that. But it turned out that Tuesday was Chinese New Years, and a regional holiday. That is itself strange as this area is well over 90% Muslim, and there are very few Chinese. But since it was a holiday, we changed the plan and Tuesday became a sightseeing day and Wednesday a two-lecture day.

The sightseeing began at 5:30 AM, which is actually 4:30 AM Solo time. We went by boat to see the Floating Market. The Market begins well before dawn and continues all the way until 9 AM. That’s why one begins early. A late start means you’ve missed it. We went in a hired boat and had a great time. We motored around a bunch of places, saw the market in action, and had breakfast from a floating warung. You take your selections by stabbing them with a stick that has a nail driven through its end. It really is fun, and the perfect thing for a tourist. There are actually rather few tourists in Kalimantan so I felt especially honored. We also went to an island that was positively over-run with monkeys, had a second breakfast, and then arrived back at the hotel at about 11. Then followed a nap, and off for more sightseeing. The afternoon trip was to a smallish city that has an active market in jewels, and then to a working diamond collecting “mine.” The word mine doesn’t work for me, as it basically involves digging a not so deep excavation and swishing the collected mud in search for the jewels. The work seems terribly hard and unremunerative. I read that the workers are paid lunch money (25 cents at the current rate of exchange) and a small share of any jewels or minerals (gold) found. After looking at their residences I concluded that the lunch money must be a good portion of their income. Perhaps they are sending their money elsewhere. I hope so. By this time I was over the sightseeing edge, and but for a flat tire would have back in my room in a half hour. But the flat tire slowed us down, so it was a little longer than that before I got back to the room. I chose room service over a fourth meal with my colleagues.

The lectures on Wednesday were a gas. The first, to the docents, turned out to be a real lecture with about 50 or so in attendance. I sat before one of those large signs with your name in letters much bigger than yourself, and pronounced judgment on the Indonesian Financial Crisis of 1997-98. Halfway through the lecture someone began translating every sentence into Bahasa Indonesia, which was either an annoyance or a disaster depending on whom one talked with. But it wasn’t so bad from my point of view, since all the fun is always in the questions (and my answers). The questions were familiar ones, and I think I satisfied people’s curiosity, both with respect to how does an American perform and the substantive issues. After the lecture I was presented with an official plaque of some sort, which I really will enjoy having in my office. Then yet another fine meal (this one had a sea food tilt to it, which is extremely popular in this watery city). The thing that really caught my attention was turtle eggs. They were served as a starter, and after I got over my shock I almost tried one. But political correctness edged out curiosity. By 3:30 I was back at the university and meeting yet another new person before the next lecture – this one to MBA students (MM here). On any objective standard this lecture went much better. The group was smaller (30), the room was smaller, the group was sprightly and eager to engage me, and all in all I had a great time. I have lectured to MM students here at UNS, as well, and they tend to be a good group to talk to. They generally have excellent English and are well informed and curious. The subject on which I spoke was the same as in the morning, but the talk was entirely different. That was partly by design, and partly just where it took itself.

After the talk I received another gift. This time a much too large but oh so nice piece of ironwood. It is something between a bowl and a tray, and it is clearly hand worked. I love it. How I will get it home is a separate question. Getting it back to Solo basically involved clutching it against me for most of the 8-hour journey.

Another meal followed, a bit later in the evening. (Each meal included a familiar face or two and a new one or two.)

I left for Solo on Thursday morning. Pak Suryani, who was my host for the visit, met me at the hotel and he brought another gift! By this time I was embarrassed. The lectures were fun, but I didn’t think they were that memorable. Oh well. Dignity says take the gift with appropriate decorum. And this item was another that truly was nice – a beautiful piece of local batik. So dignity and personal satisfaction converge in Banjarmasin.

This whole trip has been a trip. I’ve had ups and a few downs, but it has been a real trip. When I left home, and Trudy, and all that is associated with home in August, I knew this was going to be exciting. What I didn’t know was what it would be like to meet so many people whom I would like. I couldn’t know that I would have the chance to do so many things that bring such pleasure. I am ready to return home. I’m just not ready to leave.