Taxi Cab Confessions in Indonesia

One of the best places to learn about the issues in Indonesia is by traveling around in a taxi. In everyday conversations it is sometimes difficult to decipher answers and the outward presentation of an Indonesian. There is such a unique way of presenting yourself and being polite in Java. The political realm in Indonesia is yet another very complex system of inner-workings relationships specially politicking in ways to arrive at desired outcomes. In a taxi however, things seem to be a little different for some reason. I don’t know why but conversations seem to be genuine and personal in a cab. It’s as if the character of the driver is perhaps let down by the fact that there is no exchange of names, titles, and the relationship will last only until the destination, upon which you disembark and never have any subsequent ties with each other—aside from the off-chance you step into the same cab again. But that is unlikely since there are about 13,000 bluebird cabs alone; not to mention the total number of taxis in Jakarta, which must double that figure and probably surpasses 30,000 cars. An hour south of the capital, in Bogor, the road is constantly clogged by a poorly planned transportation system—a mellow green mass of ‘Angkots’ crawl through the roads like cockroaches beeping at everyone and stopping just about anywhere to solicit rides—it has cause some of the most frustrating traffic imagine-able. I always take my chance for the front seat. The opportunities to conduct research about this fascinating country are limitless. In Jakarta, most cab-drivers are migrants from even the furthest reaches of Indonesia and in Bogor I get the local perspective.


The most popular topics always come up in conversation. The traffic is awful. After being stuck in gridlock so long, with one Angkot driver we actually came up with a fairly lengthy entrepreneurial plan to sell cigarettes in the cab to feed this overly nicotine-addicted and dependent society. The traffic is bad… and with such an overpopulated region without sufficient and effective public transportation, the problems seep into everyone’s everyday lives. I’m actually a rather big fan of the new transjakarta busway system and enjoy riding the busses but it’s just not enough to deal with the transportation needs of this mega city.

More serious and emotional matters always re-enter the conversation. People are disappointed in the state of Indonesia and always ask my opinion how it could be better. I insist that since reformasi (the fall of Suharto and reformation period in in the late 1990s), this is still a relatively young country and the legacy of Suharto’s KKN (corruption, collusion, and nepotism) style government is still very strong. After thirty years of normalizing a style of leadership and policy, it is impossible to think that the idealism of successful regional autonomy can be immediately achieved. However, headlines of “corruption” and “regional autonomy” are among the most common issues in the opinion pages of the Kompas newspaper, and it shows a strong commitment from a flourishing freedom of the press that people actually care about such issues. I reply to the driver, although the rupiah is still weak the foundation and ideology for democracy in Indonesia is strong and with constant monitoring and involvement there are possibilities for a very prosperous future. I try to provide some optimism.

Domestically, some major hurdles remain. Aside from genuine efforts at a free press, there needs to be better accountability in the legal system and more emphasis on secure investment. Indonesians are afraid of investing in their own country and are focusing more on secure investments in other countries (e.g. Singapore). Internationally, the Moslem community (about 88%) could play a crucial role in world politics. A recent visit by Iran’s president Mahmoud Ahmedinedjad has translated into deep respect and admiration from Indonesians. The greater rifts in the Islamic world and especially with the West that is developing surrounding the frenzy created by Ahmedinedjad may lead to possible serious conflicts through the divisions that are occurring on the world stage. Indonesia will hold an increasingly larger role to play in such issues of world politics.

On a national level, I feel the ostracizing of the Muslim community towards other ethnic and religious groups may also lead to severe unrest in the future. Overriding the Bhinneka Tunggal Eka ideology (One through Diversity) through more emphasis on Moslem groups towards Islamicization will lead to unity issues in Indonesia. Within Indonesia, Moslem groups are also creating greater rifts among themselves. “Before there seemed only two options from the major divisions of Islam and now it has become more complex and divided” one driver tells me. Perhaps the idea for Indonesians to think of themselves as ‘Indonesians first’ was something that Suharto was very successful.

The money has weekend and sometimes people are almost serious when they say that the Suharto era was better than things are today. “Money was easier to come by then.” It is true, when reflecting on the Suharto era things did seem a little better. But just like a deck of cards can systematically be built to reach fairly great heights, it is not built on sufficient infrastructure to sustain any problems or mistakes. 32 years of power built an impressive house of cards but also led to a plunging economy, a dysfunctional system of law, and cruel politics, which the people of Indonesia are now paying for. Less than a decade later, Indonesia appears a young country but with a promising hope at changing their ideologies for a better future—as long as there is a halt to corruption to build together a proud, united Indonesia.

It is rather exciting to be close to such a process. The Indonesian people are yearning for better leadership. They see the difficulties in their economy and are hoping for a better and more comfortable, secure future. Today, I leave for Aceh. A province with complex historical issues. People have told me the pride of Acehnese surpasses into a realm of stubbornness. The Islam and newly implemented Syariah law in Aceh has been described as fanatic. The people have gone through a unique and long history. At the tip of Sumatra with beautiful sceneries and a gateway into the spice islands, the region has been a very crucial stronghold. The infamous Zheng He, with one of the strongest navies in history expanded Chinese power and landed in Aceh in the 14th century; using the region as a trading stronghold. In the 1600s, Sultan Iskandar Muda based his kingdom in Aceh and he was able to control much of the Western coast of Sumatra and even expanded East into the Malay regions.

Flying into Aceh, the airport is called Iskandar Muda airport and on the drive from the airport into the capital, Banda Aceh, I passed several schools, plaques, a police complex, and other institutions dedicated to Iskandar Muda. The pride people have for their history, through this sultan, who people say was so dignified that he went so far as to order the execution of his own adulterous son (others argue the execution was because he did not want to give up his power to the heir to the throne). Iskandar Muda is a source of great pride and it seems people resort to his legacy because in more recent years they feel they had to submit to outsiders—like the Dutch, who fought a long and grueling war for control that the Acehnese say they never accepted. And then, there is the contemporary history. After the Dutch finally left, the Indonesians picked up right where they left off.

Aceh has very rich natural resources and especially of economic value are the natural gas deposits found in the Lhok Seumawe area. Acehnese complain that while their resources produce a lot of monetary benefit to Indonesia, the people remain poor and the fighting between the separatist GAM (Free Aceh Movement) and the military reached heights of conflict in the early 1990s, resulting in several thousand casualties.

And then there was the tsunami—perhaps the greatest natural disaster of our time. The Acehnese driver says he lost about half his family and subsequent conversations reveal similar personal accounts and statistics. More than five thousand teachers were lost, and 30,000 children orphaned. Casualties here are described as ‘disappeared’ rather than ‘passed away’ or ‘dead.’ Literally any trace of tens of thousands of people who once existed have basically disappeared. Another man tells me how he lost ten years worth of research, and while such issues may not compare to missing family members, they tell important clues into the recovery process that people must have been going through these past couple of years.

Having just a few conversations in Aceh I think back to the metaphor the cab driver gave me on the way to the airport. “Aceh’s houses have very small doors. You’ll have to bow to get in. Once you are in however, the interior is very spacious and comfortable. You’ll see, the people are like that too.” I now see his point. I am looking forward to my time in Aceh.

Exiting the cab and glad to have new insights (including a financial analysis of the meager earnings of the typical driver) I utter my usual goodbye to the driver—“Here’s a little extra tip for the ngobrol (conversations),” and hand him a little extra. Hopefully by a slim chance I’ll step into this car again sometime...

Siberut

Upriver from the port town of Muaru on the island of Siberut, West Sumatra, a man lights his cigarette with a stick of burning rattan that he keeps with him at all times. Surprisingly, the glowing coal smokes gently and seems to stay lit for hours while he’s in the forest. As he heads home from working in the forest, he stops to talk to people in the small village of Ugai. A sago palm leaf cigarette holder is wedged in his teeth at all times - burning down and waiting to be refilled. Several others like him are also on their way home, all equipped with their burning rattan coals in their right hand, machete in left, and an empty bucket swinging further up the elbow. Dried and dyed bark cloth is their only covering, but their arms and legs are decorated with unique tattooed designs. These are the Kerei: the traditional medicine men of the Siberut people.

Within the thatched roof houses in the village, women are preparing dinner from their staple food source, sago palm. The starch is derived through an intensive extraction process. In recent years, however, rice has been introduced and has become dominant in the area. Pigs and chickens emerge from the forest cover and cross the village paths, smelling the the prospect of dinner from the houses. Although the livestock are uncaged and free to roam, the community can identify who has rights to each of the animals through methods such as ear-markings. Animals are used for celebrations, eaten, sold, and are a sign of wealth used to pay amends or fines for a variety of offenses.

In the history of the Mentawaians (Siberut’s ethnic group), the village of Ugai has not been in existence very long. In the last several decades, government programs have sought to create more localized village settlements in which a more concentrated population lives closely together. Traditional livelihoods remain fairly similar to their old norms, however—people harvest sago on their lands, and collect other necessities from the forest. Sometimes villagers will stay in temporary huts built deep in the forest, returning on Sundays to be with their families.

Almost 60% of the 4,030 sq km. of Siberut island is covered with tropical rainforest composed of several forest types such as primary dipterocarp forest, mixed primary forest, swamp forest, Barringtonia forest and mangroves. And yet, every piece of land is divided between “Uma,” or patrilineal extended families. The system and ownership rights often change, and conflicts are not unusual due to complex familial relationships and claims over properties. Aside from conflicts among Uma, in recent years additional forces from the outside have posed greater confusion and a more complex threats.

In recent decades, the advent influence of outside forces has significantly impacted management of the region, all too often without the consideration for local culture, history, or aspirations. In the 1970s, all but 5600 hectares of Siberut Island were conceded to four outside logging companies; in the 1980s the World Wide Fund for Nature arrived to protect the unique biodiversity of the island—in particular the 28 endemic species, four of which are primates. In 1993, President Suharto, to the surprise of many, signed an order declaring 190,000 hectares of Siberut (almost half the island) as national park lands. In addition, the opening of the island brought outside immigrants, including laborers and transmigrants, mostly of the Minangkabau ethnic group (along with some Javanese and Bataks) who settled in the island’s port towns. In 1990, a newpaper article reported that Mentawai was awaiting 20,000 transmigrants of Javanese and Sumatran origin, mostly recruited from the Padang-Pariaman area—this is in relation to Siberut’s entire population of 24,000 (18,000 ethnic Mentawaians).

Government programs consolidated communities into village spatial planning units and rice was introduced into their diet. Communities were also encouraged to adopt one of the five recognized national religions of Indonesia (Mentawaians mostly identify themselves as Christians). These activities were part of an ongoing national program focused on reforming and “modernizing” masyarakat terasing (literally “isolated communities”). The Mentawaian response to the declaration of Siberut National Park (which constituted an area amounting to almost half the island) is also significant. A lack of communication and misunderstandings over statutes hindering local communities from managing their traditional lands created major frustration and mistrust. One noteworthy example occurred when certain communities presumed that they were to be barred from harvesting their lands within the boundaries of the National Park.

Mentawaians also resent the extraction of their native resources by logging companies and other outside interests. Logging concessionaires and palm oil plantations often employ outsider laborers, resulting in scarce benefits for local communities. Local livelihoods are thus limited to traditional activities associated with the forest, and the forest itself has often been cleared without their consent or compensation, leaving areas prone to erosion and other negative environmental impacts. One of the more extreme examples of these local concerns involved the recent burning of a logging base camp and associated violence, resulting in ten arrests.

The recent growth of the surfing and tourism industry is yet another outside force affecting the island. Once again, local people express are frustration that they do not often get the benefits from these new interests and activities. A lack of community cohesiveness is the main factor hindering broad-based community response and solidarity. Creating a united voice among Mentawaians has been especially difficult since there has never been a system of organization outside the localized Uma; nor has there ever been a culture of unifying Umas for collective action.




Joseph Napitupulu is gearing up the ‘speed’ (the term used for small motorized boats for traveling upriver) for another trip to Ugai. It is a difficult trip, accessible by a long trek through the forest or more comfortably by boat, if river conditions allow. He’s done this so many times that the preparation is second nature. His only concern is for the relatively dry river from lack of recent rains. Joseph has walked a full day’s hike to the inland villages and knows the path along the river fairly well, but traveling by ‘speed’ seems the better option. This time he is bringing his notepad, a major change from his attitude of long ago. His name rings of the Bataks of North Sumatra, but he has lived in Siberut all his life and views himself as a local on the island. He is one of a team of seven, called Collaborative Management, that is all that remains of the headquarters of a failed twenty million dollar Integrated Conservation and Development Project (ICDP). The complex is also the Siberut National Park’s center of operations. The ICDP proved unsuccessful because of its conventional top-down approach that failed both to understand the capacity of local communities and to gain their trust and support.
Joseph, reflecting on the early Collaborative Management (Co-Management) projects, explains that going into the villages in those days was not easy. The locals initially reacted negatively towards the Co-Management effort. Mentawaians have traditionally had a difficult time developing trust with outsiders, but in the past five years Co-Management has made a lot of headway. Communities seem to understand that Co-Management is designed to work with local people and address their interests. The Co-Management approach is focused on creating community run-programs within individual villages, but also seeks to develop a larger network (with government, NGOs, and private companies) as a means for a stronger voice to locals. Some of the successful Co-Management projects include: introduction of clean water, the development of agroforestry systems, measures for building coalitions through support for local cadres and by using this broad-based organization as a buffer/voice with outside forces (such as communications with the National Park, Government agencies, NGOs and other parties).

And yet the people who are promoting the Co-Management concept are dissatisfied. In trying to strengthen communities and advocate for local wishes/needs, they tried to tackle too many issues, and have found it difficult to evaluate true measures of success. Nevertheless, the Co-Management program has established the most essential and basic foundation for all future programming—mainly the trust of the people. They have successfully created an atmosphere whereby communities are succeeding in their wishes and feel like they are creating the change within themselves.

By developing programs addressing local communities’ interests, the Co-Management team is institutionalizing their project approach, and they have shown initial successes in working with local communities on programs concerning sustainability and conservation. At the same time, the program has grown by incorporating local philosophies and traditions. One Kerei participant, for example, became extremely animated over a discussion concerning conservation, his sentiments resonating with Mentawai stories and folklore about the enchantment of the forests and the need for protecting them. “We have always been taught from our ancestors that these forests are alive. Our culture revolves around a system that says that when you cut something down, or take something from the forest, you must return it by planting again or regenerating the wealth taken away.”

Despite the outside pressures, the wishes of the Mentawaians remain similar to those of most other peoples. They believe in the future of their children, and have a deep yearning for their children to receive a good education. They believe that if their children can succeed in education, then all Mentawaians will have a greater voice in their future. Health issues are also a priority, as infant mortality remains high and access to modern treatments/medicine is limited. Mentawaians understand that although the traditional Kerei treatments are more effective with minor illnesses, there is no substitute for technologies that combat the major diseases (e.g. malaria). Mentawaians also have a strong commitment to growing their economy. Discussion of opening new markets and possibilities to increase their income always leads to very engaged conversations. And socially, they worry about their changing culture, especially in response to globalization and outside influences—in particularly their traditions and customs related to marriage.


Joseph and the Kerei laugh over a smoke and a joke. Heavy questions about the future are balanced with some good humor and fun. After heavy discussion of heavily looming challenges in the near future, they ironically end their discussion, laughing: “Oh, it’s safe. Don’t worry about it. We’ve got it under control.”





**This article was published in TROPIS magazine in it’s Bahasa Indonesia version**



Works Cited:

Convention on Biological Diversity. Siberut Island. Accessed 23 Feb. 2007. http://www.biodiv.org

Durst, Pat B., Chris Brown, Henrylito D. Tacio and Miyuke Ishikawa. In Search of Excellence: Exemplary Forest Management in Asia and the Pacific. Asia-Pacific Forestry Commission. 2005. (Introduction)

Investigation Report June 1990 to July 1991. “Siberut: Will the Tuddukat Play Again.” SKEPHI. 1991.

Luseno, Lianto (Director). Luka Hutan Siberut-Indonesia INFORM (2002)—Producer: M. Abduh Azis Editor: Rahmat (30 minutes)

Persoon, G.A., “Conflicts Over Trees and Waves on Siberut Island.” Geografiska Annaler
(2003),85B(4):253-264

Persoon, Gerard A., “The Management of Wild and Domesticated Forest Resources on Siberut, West Sumatra.” Antropologi Indonesia: Indonesian Journal of Social and Cultural Anthropology. Th. XXV, No. 64. January-April 2001.

Persoon, Gerard A., Tessa Minter, Clara See, and Clara van der Hammen. The Position of Indigenous Peoples in the Management of Tropical Forests.Tropenbos Series 23. Tropenbos International. Wageningen, the Netherlands. 2004

Siberut National Park. Informational Website. Accessed 20 Feb. 2007.
http://www.geocities.com/RainForest/4466/index.html