Mount Merapi farmer lives organically with nature

MT. MERAPI, Central Java: A meandering, narrow road leads up to the hamlet of Muntilan, which is within a stone's throw of Mount Merapi's slopes, and is a peaceful rural setting where life for most of the locals goes on as though they were far removed from any dangers that the volcano may pose for human life.

Rice-growing is an important part of the economy here and one of Muntilan's smallholders is more concerned about the man-made environmental affects on crops and the soil rather than the vapour and lava that periodically spurts from Indonesia's most active volcano.

Pak Kahar was raised on the land and has worked as a farmer for most of his life.

His conventional farming days started in the seventies with the advent of the so-called ‘green revolution’ - a term which may be considered a misnomer - typified by hybrid rice crops and dependence on artificial fertilizers.

Until five years ago, Pak Kahar asked few questions about farming methods, and like many of his neighbours, he planted just two cash crops - rice and chilli. The rice was a hybrid variety that relies on artificial fertilizers to ensure its growth and productivity, and pesticides to keep it free from predators.

At this time, he heard about a seminar on organic farming that had been planned in Yogyakarta and he decided to attend. The seminar sparked his interest in returning to the ways of his nenek moyang (forefathers) whereby people live closer to nature and consider the cyclical pattern of events of growth, interaction and decomposition.

Enthused and enlightened, he left his village and went to Bogor to study organic farming - sponsored by a church official called Romo (Father) Agatu. Upon returning to his own rural retreat, he got down to work on his land, immediately putting to practice what he had learned, such as companion planting.

Uprooting some of his former crops, he started to grow crops that assist other crops, such as beans, which, through their roots, add valuable nitrogen to the soil. His new focus is on what is called multi-cropping, meaning that his land will become covered with dozens of different crops, thereby, amongst other things, reducing the stronghold of pests and allowing their natural predators to play their role without the interference of chemicals in the process. To this end, he has planted crops such as lettuce, beans and peanuts, which he says, all support each other.

With one eye on Mount Merapi's cone and the other on Pak Kahar's garden, a group of visitors is shown around his small, but impressive smallholding. Escorting visitors to the edge of his garden, with a glint in his eye and a mischievous smile, he took the lid off a barrel full of his liquid fertilizer supplement.

"In here, I put leaves and plants from the garden as well as dung from pigs and cows; I also add pigs' urine." As well as this he includes bacteria, procured from the stomachs of cows that help to break down organic matter and thereby speed up the decomposition process.

On the soil around the plants on his land, he has applied mulch, which consists of leaves, bark and compost that help to protect plants from encroaching weeds, retains moisture and adds nutrients to the soil.

Although Pak Kahar, after gaining enlightenment, immediately switched over to organic growing methods, many farmers reach this ecological nirvana by a slower, more gradual process, often out of necessity, as the soil becomes devoid of nutrients and initial yields when switching back to organic methods may be very low.

There are some nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) that assist farmers to do this and in Yogyakarta, a consortium of NGOs and individuals make up Konsorsium Masyarakat Fair Trade (Citizens’ Fair Trade Consortium). With financial and educational assistance from Oxfam, an international aid and fair trade nongovernmental organization, the consortium provides training and support to farmers who have switched to organic farming or who are in the process of transition. Farmers in this area may join a group and get training and support in a variety of ways.

In the village of Ganti Warno, in the regency of Klaten, which incidentally, was the starting point for the green revolution in Indonesia, groups of farmers meet to discuss practical issues, such as the price they will sell their rice, together with other more general concerns such as the environment, human rights and gender issues.

At the home of Pak Wening, who is a field officer for an NGO called Mitra Tani (Farmers' Partners), the farmers meet regularly to engage in dialogue and monitor their progress toward their ultimate aim of becoming completely organic. None of the groups uses chemical pesticides: Pak Wening explained that there are alternatives: ""Our pest management systems involve having different harvest times achieved by different planting times. We avoid mono-crop farming and plant other, different crops such as beans, cucumbers or tomatoes."

Of the ten farmers' groups, four now farm using only organic methods while the other six use between 10 to 50 percent of the chemicals they used previously and are close to achieving complete organic farming.

Fair prices

Farmers like Pak Kahar supply Suharni, a shop in Yogyakarta that sells organic rice and has experimented with selling other products. What makes fair trade possible is customers’ willingness to pay about 15 percent extra for rice that contains no potentially harmful chemical residues and is bought from farmers who are members of organizations that attempt to ensure that workers receive fair pay for their produce.

Many organic farmers rode through the economic crisis relatively well and Pak Kahar delights in the fact that he switched to organic farming two years prior to the event, which shook the nation with the volatility of his nearby ‘fire mountain’.

West Java handicrafts makers unite for fair price

JAKARTA: In West Java, as well as in more remote parts of Indonesia, small handicrafts associations make mostly traditional items for international markets. Fair trade organisations around the world buy from developing countries where the producers get a fair return for their labour.

Fair trade organisations usually sell the products at their own retail outlets, which may be just backstreet lock-ups in grim neighbourhoods, while other organisations like Trade Aid in New Zealand have chain store boutiques all over the country.

The producer groups in West Java mainly use locally grown raw materials which are then turned into a wide range of household products and ornaments that will eventually adorn homes in Europe, North America, Australia and New Zealand.

Working in associations allows small family businesses to flourish, operating in an environment of guidance and cooperation and economic viability. The associations in turn supply a Jakarta based company, Pekerti Nusantara that doubles as an export company and development foundation.

In the small village of Cibatu, near Sukabumi, Daddan Komaruddin is the coordinator of ten workers' cooperatives comprised of between three and 10 people in each group. Daddan has built up the business by allowing full participation of the members in planning and decision-making: members of the cooperatives attend regular meetings with the other producer groups and Daddan. Important issues like pricing, savings and loans and other managerial concerns pertaining to the business are discussed.

Daddan has developed and diversified the business since he inherited the workshops from his father some 10 years ago. Originally, they produced wooden kitchen utensils that were sold locally. Now they produce a wide range of items from ornately decorated walking sticks to picture frames, incense stands, coasters, magic cards and the traditional Javanese game called congklak. The items are finished and quality control-inspected in Daddan's workshop before being shipped to Jakarta.

Mutual benefit

Daddan has been successful in using his influence at a local level to establish this network of producers, to the mutual benefit of many families who would otherwise struggle to make a living.

Eti, a 35-year-old woman, lost her husband a year ago while the family was living in Batang, Central Java. With the loss of the family's breadwinner, she made the decision to return to the city with her 14-year-old daughter and father. She found part-time work as a maid but the income from her job was not enough to make ends meet. When told about the association, she quickly joined and started making magic cards: a brainteaser game made of small wooden pieces linked together with ribbon.

Eti continues to work as a maid, but also works at home for a few hours each day, along with her father and daughter. Together they earn more than enough to pay for their necessities and are, because of this, able to save money, too.

Eti has plans for the money that she is saving: "My dream is to buy a little house for us to live in. We rent this place at the moment, but even so, I can save money and hope that it won't be long until we buy a place. My father is 72 and he enjoys the work; it's light work, so it's not a strain on him."

The magic cards will be exported to a fair trade organization in the Netherlands.

Charitable acts and neighbourly deeds are common among the members of the association; they have recently built a house for a family that was previously homeless and whose youngest child suffered from malnutrition.

Domestic market

In the town of Sumedang, Enjang Sudrajad has opened two workshops and employs 16 men. The export products include didgeridoos and drums. Enjang has also developed a domestic market and makes fancy wooden pens that are sold in Bali, and furniture which he sells in Bandung and Jakarta.

His business has not always been successful: Enjang tells about his early experiences in the trade when he sold goods produced by other craftsmen: ""In the 1970s I sold to foreigners at Tanjung Priok Port, but the police wouldn't allow me to sell there and officials always demanded money from me.

"I spent my time running away from the police and paying off officials. It wasn't very profitable. I then started selling door-to-door in Jakarta. Later, I sold furniture in Bandung, Solo, Jakarta and Bali."

"Then, I decided that it would be better and more lucrative to start a workshop and make the items myself. We developed a domestic market and then moved on to exports through Pekerti in Jakarta. We had to improve the quality of our products for the export market."

Enjang is able to pay his employees more than local factories but admits that he does this to keep them. He also offers small extras such as meals, and a holiday allowance following the holy month of Ramadan.

Street beggars

On the streets of Indonesia's cities and towns, disabled people can be seen begging for small change from motorists and passers-by. Often these people have no family support networks and are unable to find employment.

Yamin, from Tasikmalaya, West Java, lost his sight when he was three years old. He is thankful that he has been spared the degradation of begging. His love of music -- coupled with his ear for tuning instruments - landed him a job tuning angklung for Papertas, a local handicrafts association with members producing a large range of products for domestic and export markets.

Yamin says that his job provides him with a reasonable living for himself, his wife and two young daughters. Although not entirely content with his daily tasks, Yamin feels fortunate that he has employment:

"This job is a bit like a hobby; at school I got interested in music and learned to play the guitar and drums. I've been tuning angklung for 11 years and, well, to be honest I get a bit bored with it at times, but I have no real chance of finding another job."

"I'm a trained teacher but couldn't get a job at the school for the disabled, so I started music groups that performed at parties and other festivities. Now I've got this job and we live reasonably well on my pay which is Rp.15, 000 per day."

Bonus

Working in the same association, Ibu Ocoy now aged 66, has made mats since she was 10 years old. She remembers having a brief respite during the Japanese occupation when they, the Japanese, commandeered the mendong - the raw material used by the producers to make the mats.

Ibu Ocoy joined a Papertas subgroup just one year ago and as a bonus of being part of the group she shares in the distribution of free rice to participating families, receiving a quota of 200 kilos every three months.

Now that she is working on mats for export, the quality of the mats has risen: "There are two kinds of mats," she explains, "those for export and those for domestic sales. Mats made for export must be of a very high standard, while we pay less attention to detail and quality for mats sold in Indonesia. There are three harvests of mendong per year. The mendong for export mats must be cut in the dry season and stored in dry conditions and kept free from moisture. These mats when woven get extra stitching, to ensure their ruggedness."

Venturing out of the centre of Tasikmalaya to the outskirts of town in the association leader's vintage boneshaker minibus, mendong can be seen growing in the fields on both sides of the road. Dudung Suparli is upbeat about the association: "After 15 years I see the results of my work. I feel happy working with the community and increasing people's knowledge and skills."

Pekerti Nusantara in Jakarta uncompromisingly invests in development work, assisting in the formation of new producer groups. Some years ago they sent a field worker to Tasikmalaya. He has subsequently stayed on for nine years and successfully built up the Papertas association as well as other initiatives in the area. With the help that the locals got in the formative years, they now have a strong footing in the domestic and export marketplaces.

While Indonesian handicrafts makers busy themselves turning locally-grown raw materials into fancy items, retail outlets such as Trade Aid in New Zealand gladly sell the exotic goods to curious customers. In one of Trade Aid's street shops, Maria, a 25-year-old visitor to Auckland, admires an angklung. Asked why she shops at Trade Aid outlets, she replied enthusiastically that they had a wide variety of interesting goods and that she was also greatly impressed by the concept behind the industry: "There is so much talk about acting locally and thinking globally, but the people making these things, and Trade Aid, are really doing it."

Making ends meet in an East Jakarta slum

JAKARTA: Cipinang Besar slum acts as a base in the capital for poor West Javanese families, with many subsidizing their low incomes from rice-growing by scavenging in the city, where there is a plentiful supply of scrap materials.

The slum is home to 300 families who survive in conditions of squalor and face dangers both known and unknown from the environment in which they eke out their existence.

Discarded building materials lie dumped by the wayside at the entrance to the slum. Hens and cats pick their way through the rubbish strewn on top. Slum dwellers cautiously make their way along the narrow muddy, uneven paths, where pools of murky water have formed in the potholes. A large pond of dark green stagnant water has organic and inorganic waste materials floating on its surface. Adjacent to the pond, a river carries a torrent of floodwater mercilessly through the slum. It has been dammed to help prevent flooding of the dwellings.

Roofs made of rusted corrugated iron, and others of tiles have been patched up, and plastic bags lie over the holes, often only secured by the weight of old bicycle tires.

On this rainy afternoon most people have taken cover, except small children, who jump and play around excitedly in the heavy downpour. Fishing rods lie temporarily discarded by the pond.

Teenage boys strum guitars, smoke and chat, while younger children gather around electronic handheld games on loan to them. Tattooed men lie around dozing, sheltered from the rain under the overhanging roofs.

For many of the families living here, Cipinang Besar is a second home, where they live for a period of about three months at a time, migrating to the city from the towns of Cirebon and Indramayu on West Java's coast. Some migrate to the city in order to subsidize their incomes from rice farming, which can no longer be depended on as their sole income.

They experienced difficulties making ends meet and sought alternative means to prop up their uncertain economies. The soil in their home areas is not very fertile, and yields and quality of rice are therefore low.

Through living in the slum and scavenging, they are able to get together much needed extra income, returning home to spend the money they have earned on their extended families.

The slum dwellers are creative in their bid to remain economically viable and find ways to make money. One woman runs a laundry service, collecting and delivering the laundry to her customers’ homes. By far the most important industry is scavenging: right in the centre of the slum there are piles of scrap, which will be reused in some way. Old bicycle wheels will be straightened and re-spoked; car parts will be repaired or beaten into shape and sold.

Many families rely on collecting old discarded nails to support themselves. Equipped with buckets and large magnets on handles, people cycle off all over the neighbourhood in search of old nails. Each day a dealer arrives and pays Rp.400 per kilogram for the nails.

One man relates that he and his family need to collect at least 50 kilograms a day to make ends meet. Collecting over this amount provides extra income, which will be used to buy little extras, or will be taken to West Java when they return.

All around the pond there are barrels of oil, which are purchased in bulk and then resold. The absentee owner of the business lives in Sulawesi and five men from the slum receive commissions on sales of the oil.

Unsanitary conditions

Some families have toilets, but the majority does not and they attend to their bodily needs anywhere out of sight of prying eyes. The river is so polluted that the slum dwellers were told a long time ago that they should not even wash their clothes in it. Up until then, some families were forced to drink the water because there was no alternative supply.

Now, the river's only ‘function’ is the removal of rubbish from the site as families at the slum, as well as others living upstream, simply throw their waste into the water. From where the river leaves the slum, up to ten items per minute float down the river: aerosol cans, plastic bottles, glass bottles and plastic bags full of household refuse.

Some rubbish is burned and the air becomes filled with the acrid smell of burning plastic and other synthetic materials.

As a woman draws well water from the ground, she explains that some days the water is clear and palatable, other days it is dirty brown and has a foul odour.

A community organization, Jentera Muda Jakarta, with its base at the slum, says that health authorities have not visited the site for many years; nobody knows if the well water is safe to drink, or if there are other health hazards present.

The whole slum area is prone to flooding. Two dams were built to reduce the risk of flooding, but they are not substantial enough to deal with the floodwaters in heavy and consistent downpours. Families living close to the river sometimes have to evacuate, taking shelter at neighbouring houses. Some dwellings are built on stilts, but even these are prone to flood water entering the living area. After a recent flood, a neighbour recalls that her house was so crowded that she could not find enough room to lie down and sleep on the floor.

On this November afternoon, after a couple of hours of rain, the occupants of a riverside dwelling stood outside their home, anxiously looking on, as the flood waters gradually rose up the side of the building. Some four years ago, the river claimed the life of a six-year-old boy. There is still no protection from slipping down the river's muddy banks.

A rickety wooden bridge, which links the whole slum dwelling area, was built over the river after the drowning of the little boy. It was felt that if there had been a bridge, rescue attempts may have been successful. The slum dwellers also realized that, at times, they need each other's assistance, and a bridge would facilitate communication between them.

For the slum dwellers, the bridge is a reminder of their vulnerability and also symbolizes the need for cooperation with each other.

Jakarta's street children take a closer look at themselves

JAKARTA: Recent initiatives for working with street children, such as the David Glass Ensemble, where children took part in drama and music workshops and performed the play The Lost Child, have taken an imaginative direction.

Street children, who usually spend their time begging, busking or selling, also took time off to try something new: becoming photographers in a new project to document their lives and the communities in which they live, able to take photographs of people without creating inhibitions as an outside photographer might.

The project was the initiative of 33-year-old English photographer Jonathan Perugia and is a part of A Child's Eye Action Group, a non-profit organization created earlier this year by Guruh Soekarnoputra and Choki Rezia. The organization supports children's initiatives in Indonesia and around the world. Jonathan, who is the art and technical adviser, has been involved at every stage, from finding sponsors to arranging exhibitions.

No expense was spared in equipping the 30 children. They went out into their neighbourhoods armed with good quality pocket cameras; only two of the 30 cameras issued found new owners.

The project was run in conjunction with Atma Jaya University's Studio 51 photographic club. Street children were selected for the project by five local non-governmental organisations that chose children from a range of social situations and locations around the city.

The children participated at every stage, attending workshops by professional photographers at Atma Jaya University. They then took photographs and assisted with editing, layout and selection of the photographs, which will grace the walls of the National Gallery in Jakarta from Nov. 17 through Nov. 23.

The workshops were designed to bring out the children's own creativity as well as to help them develop basic composition skills. They ran around playing musical statues and photographed each other with Polaroid cameras, seeing instantly the results of their work. In other workshops they learned the need to get close to their subjects through a "treasure hunt" - finding items of certain colours, shapes and textures and photographing them. The children even were assigned homework, on one occasion photographing places and people they dislike.

Fourteen-year-old Kokom, like many of the children on the project, enjoyed the experience.

"I was very happy taking part in the project. I had never held a camera before, so I wanted to try it out. Some of the time we could photograph whatever we wanted using our own ideas and imagination. I photographed street singers at a market. Before this I couldn't take a picture, now I can."

Throughout the project, the children could be creative and get positive feedback and guidance, which was beneficial for their self-esteem. The children could use this medium to tell their own stories, and for some this was the first time in their lives that they had contact with adults who were willing to listen to them.

Agung, 16, a street child since he was nine years old, was eager to learn from the experience: "I was curious to find out what it would be like taking photographs. It felt awkward in the beginning, but I was interested to learn. I learned more about life outside. I got to know lots of new people."

He photographed a disabled man who was on his hands and knees crawling between motorcycles begging. The children were asked to write comments on the back of the photographs.

Agung wrote: "This is a crippled man with his imperfect body begging for money to buy one spoonful of rice. He has been abandoned by his family."

Agung talked about his conversation with the man and his aspirations.

"The man said to me that this was his only job, and that he was forced to beg for money. What he wanted was for some organization to accept him and give him somewhere to live.""

A group of half a dozen boys was asked what they thought of the project and responded with a chorus of "Bagus" (Great). Asked if they would take part in a similar project, they responded with a resolute yes.

During the time spent on the project, the children took hundreds of photographs which clearly define the environment of urban decay in which they exist. The subjects of the photographs - often the street children themselves - portray the sorrow and struggle of their lives, the drug and solvent abuse and the squalid living conditions.

But they also depict moments of happiness where poor people share a collective spirit of survival, retaining their sense of humour and dignity; qualities which not even abject poverty can completely erode. Young people were photographed larking around while others simply sat smiling, whiling away the hours in the midday heat.

Jonathan sees the photographs as covering a broad spectrum of life in the capital. "The photographs the children have taken show all sides of life in Jakarta - the good, the bad, the joy and the poverty."

Jonathan is satisfied with the way the project has developed and sees its impact as lasting. "It has been a dance of synchronicity and chance, with people everywhere offering to help. This will not be just an arty-farty thing, quickly forgotten, but will leave real grassroots social and creative legacies."

A Child's Eye hopes that the photographic exhibition will provide an arena for discussion, attracting individuals, government officials and non-governmental and community based organisations. In particular, A Child's Eye Action Group wants to bring attention to issues concerning children's social welfare, and to stimulate interest in funding for welfare initiatives. It also wants to organize further arts projects for children.

Tour organizer finds Bali's secret paradise

SANUR, Bali: Sometimes, things that happen by accident lead to exciting new discoveries and change the paths of our lives and work. Kurt Morscheck, a tour organizer, was forced to take an alternative route in his car one day - a journey that led to new openings in his life.

Travelling back from the hills in the centre of Bali heading south to his office in Sanur, a roadblock meant that he had to find another way to get back. He thought a left turn would be worth a try.

Driving up a narrow country lane, he soon felt his sense of adventure welling up inside him. A gate at the entrance to a farmhouse at the side of the road was so ornate that he stopped to admire it.

Continuing on, he found himself in scenery that looked tendered and neatly cared for by man - a place of human cohabitation with nature. He marvelled at the diversity of the tree and plant life, and the shapes of the rice fields neatly engraved into the rugged terrain.

Kurt left his home in Germany some seven years ago and soon set up his travel agency in the coastal resort of Sanur. He arranges all manner of tours, and still enjoys taking part in the tours from time to time, even though he has employed professional guides, like his tried and trusted guide Gayest. He arranges four-wheel drive tours, boat and snorkel trips, to name just a few. But his favourite - somewhat ironically, is to take people to areas where tourists ‘never go’.

After leaving the noise and traffic of Denpasar behind, Kurt's minibus, with between four and six tourists aboard, meanders uphill in a northerly direction toward Sangeh. At the village of Gerana, nutmeg trees stand tall dominating the skyline with their straight trunks pushing high into the sky.

At the next village called Carangsari, a sign on the right announces river-rafting tours and this is the last point for large, organized tourism on this route. At Petang, the scenery changes to a clearer vista with the absence of warung (food stalls) and houses, and a transformation to a green lushness all around. Ahead, the clouds lay low caressing the hills protruding on the horizon.

The first terraced rice fields appear. Black rice is grown here, interspersed with maize, peanuts and other crops.

The diversity of crops, trees and plants is cause for Kurt to pull over and excitedly point out to his tourists the wonders of it all. Crops such as tomatoes, potatoes, coffee, beans, cauliflowers, cabbage and cocoa are grown in this region.

Kurt has a penchant for feeling and smelling the plants, flowers and spices that grow by the roadside, crushing and rubbing leaves into his hand, taking in the aroma of Balinese flora that are so exotic, so distant and far removed from his native country.

Kurt and Gusty take the group up to admire the rice fields and then along a jungle path leading them through native trees and plants, past the gushing of a waterfall and irrigation channels. On the way they see lemon grass and peanuts growing where their feet tread, while vanilla plants embrace the barks of trees.

Soon, Kurt and his group arrive at a traditional Balinese farmhouse, where they are treated as guests of honour. They are welcomed by Mr. Dharma I Ketut, Mrs. Ni Putu Resik and their two adult sons, who are dressed in traditional Balinese attire. The guests are treated to strong Balinese coffee and cakes such as lavis, avam and eli. Afterward, Mrs. Resik prepares to show the group how to make the cakes. The family's gardens are a wilderness of trees bearing a manifold of fruit.

The two brothers and Pak Dharma offer to take members of the group fishing in their stocked ponds. The catch is grilled on the spot. The family enjoys the arrival of new visitors and have made plans to encourage more outsiders. Kurt explains: "Many people coming here liked it, and wanted to return and stay for a while, so the family built two rooms, which naturally, are in typical Balinese style. So now they have accommodation for them."

The younger of the two brothers, Nyoman, is an artist and with his talent has painted concrete girders in the home to make them look like wood. He has done this so convincingly that you have to tap the girders to realize that they are not in fact wood. Nyoman has plans to start a meditation centre here and sees this as a perfect location for the realization of his dream: "Many people want meditation and really need a peaceful place."

After watching Pak Dharma display his prowess at playing the gamelan, the group make their way out and, just as on the way in, admire once again the ornateness of the gate.

It has now been one-and-a-half years since Kurt took his diversion up this road, a detour that led not only to a successful business partnership and a sharing of cultures, but also to one of Bali's most secret paradises. True serendipity.

'Ikat' reveals the richness of Nusa Tenggara textiles

FLORES: East Nusa Tenggara, as well as other parts of Indonesia, has retained a rich cultural tradition of ikat-making on a large scale, which in many parts of the world has declined due to high production costs and the influences of mass media and industrialization.
People living in remote villages on Flores, Sumba and Lombok very occasionally encounter individuals and small groups of western backpackers on trails of adventure exploring the lifestyles and cultures of the islanders.
Even so, it must have come as a great surprise when a group, mostly western women in their late 50s and early 60s, arrived to discover the wonders of ikat, single or double woven cloth, and meet the people producing these colourful textiles with their intricate patterns and motifs.
The group leader, Lena Nessle, was also the tour organizer and plans trips to Indonesia from her home in the city of Gothenburg in Sweden. She is a trained textile designer who is fascinated by the way people live and work. This interest led her to co-author a book written in Swedish titled Ikat - Granslosa Monster (Ikat - Limitless Designs). She first came to Indonesia a number of years ago to research ikat-making for her book and to find for herself the places where ikat is made. She was excited by the diversity of designs and colours, along with the interesting people and places that she discovered.
So much so that she wanted to share her discoveries with others. This was the start of her idea to organize tours to East Nusa Tenggara for the purpose of showing others the wonderful places where the textiles are produced. At 62, her love of the adventure of visiting remote communities and meeting the locals has not dwindled, continuing to burn passionately.
On this occasion, 11 women and one man have escaped the minus temperatures of Scandinavia - instead of seeing moose and deer tramping through the snow in their own northern wilderness, the group see buffalo being worked in the tropical heat.
The members of the group talked enthusiastically about the adventurous trip they have just been on. Ann-Marie, almost the youngest in the group at 52, remembers fondly the sight that met her eyes when they first arrived in Flores: "We arrived by airplane and the first thing I saw was about half a kilometre of women weaving ikat designs that would later become sarongs."
Ann-Marie makes textiles in Norway and was particularly impressed with the small, neat, complicated motifs on the textiles produced in Flores, which require a lot of time and skill to make. This weaving tradition has not changed much in Flores for the last 2,000 years.
The members of the group were only too aware of the cultural and social differences between them and the locals they met. One of the members of the group, Mia, recalled that the people were often poor but loved to live and sing. She was amused by some of the differences: "At home, from when we are small children, we are taught not to stare at people. In Sumba, the locals often stopped, stared and laughed at us big, white people. You felt like a monkey!"
Variety
Ikat designs vary a great deal from island to island, and even from village to village. The designs sometimes show the significance of symbols in the lives of the local people. In Flores, the group found ikat with life trees and fertility symbols, while in East Sumba the ikat is likely to tell a story through its motifs.
Ikat from Sumba is well known around the world, largely because of the expressive and dramatic weavings, combined with the use of vivid colours and imaginative story content, which might include chiefs, soldiers and animals such as crocodiles and horses.
In West Sumba, ikat has a functional role as people tend to wear ikat, more so than in other parts of East Nusa Tenggara.
One of the women in the group proudly unfolded an ikat that she bought in East Sumba. The ikat had been made for a chief of Sumba in preparation for his death. Katherine explained in detail the history and design content of the ikat: ""Like most ikat, this one's unique. It's a story about the chief's life and death, and also about the significance of buffalo in these people's lives. This is a bit of history and a living story. The weft is said to have been made back in 1960.
"At the top you can see the chief's warriors along with white swords. The chief can be seen sitting in his house surrounded by musical instruments. Buffalo feature in many parts of the ikat - they are probably also a sign of fertility. The blue things are not so easy to identify, but they are chickens ... chickens have a special place. The locals told me that they use chickens to get on speaking terms with their ancestors, but I don't quite know how."
"The deceased chief is being carried by the biggest and strongest buffalo - to be buried in the village. Under the buffalo, upon which the king is placed, lie gold earrings, which are a sign of wealth. Around him his warriors are dancing and there are dancing horses. At the edge of the material you can see skulls: they have always fought with their neighbours and the winners take skulls. There are swords and the swords will be used to sacrifice the buffalo so the buffalo follows the chief into his death. Sometimes it can take one, two or even three years for the villagers to gather enough animals to have a big funeral for a chief. They need a lot of animals - perhaps a hundred."
"This ikat was to be the first to dress the chief upon his death. If the body starts to smell, they will wrap more cloth around his body (until they have enough animals to sacrifice at his funeral). I tried to ask our guide why the chief first sold the ikat to our guide in 1996, but he didn't know. Anyway, I bought it from the guide."
The future for ikat production in Indonesia is uncertain and difficult to predict. Lena sees the tradition as moving, rather than rapidly changing: "In Sumba, when they make ikat for selling to collectors abroad, they don't make it any cheaper, but they do make the weave more complicated and more interesting and the patterns are more and more intricate. As long as there are people who really care about the design and care about their work, there will always be buyers."
There are copies of ikat which are made on large looms rather than by small handlooms. In Sumba, where the back strap loom is used, the warp cannot be made very wide because the weaver has to be able to put the shuttle in through each side of the warp and remove it from the other side.
So, to get a wider ikat warp, two narrow pieces are produced and sewn together. As wide pieces of warp ikat cannot be made using the back strap loom, it is easy to tell that these are not genuine. Dyes such as indigo and kombu (morinda citrifolia) have traditionally been obtained naturally. But synthetic dyes have become more and more commonplace, sometimes mixed with natural dyes to make the colours look authentic.
Lena explains that when using natural dyes, the material is dyed many times, such as with indigo where the material may be dyed up to 10 times. "When you dye so many times, the colour will be shimmering. It's like the colour is living. With kombu, you also dye many times to get the real red colour. With synthetic dyes the colour is not living. It's difficult to explain ... I think Indonesians see it, but tourists don't."
Despite the unrest and instability in Indonesia, Lena is not unduly worried about organizing her textile tours. Indeed, she is planning another trip in June this year: "Many people ask me how I dare to travel to Indonesia when there is so much trouble here. I reply that the most dangerous place I often travel to is Stockholm's central railway station (in Sweden)."
On the last day of their organized tour, the group proudly displayed their ikat in the lobby of their hotel - they had bought so much ikat that they will each need to wear several pieces as sarongs in order to avoid paying excess baggage charges on their flight home.

Karma prevails over popular Bali seaside resort Candidasa

CANDIDASA, Klungkung, East Bali: Away from the crowds that amass in the south of Bali, the sereneness of Candidasa provides a welcome break to those weary of the hustle and bustle of city life and the over-commercialized seaside resorts.
This quiet spot boasts ample accommodation to meet most budgets, restaurants selling delicious seafood cuisine and activities suited to those unsuited to lying on the beach.
Within easy reach of the resort, attractions such as the village of Tenganan, a traditional Bali Aga village, continues to produce ikat in the same way that it has for generations.
The town stretches a couple of kilometres along the road to Amlapura and hotels, bars and restaurants are dotted along the main road, with much of the guest accommodation within a short distance of the shoreline.
A glut of accommodation means that it is easy to find a pleasant place to stay where the only sound to be heard during the night is the sedate sound of waves gently breaking on the shore and the hiss of the surf that follows.
Beach accommodation such as Taruna Beach Bungalows, located on the southern edge of the town, provide a great deal for a small outlay. Bungalows can be rented here for just Rp.30, 000 and Rp.60, 000 rupiah, including breakfast. The two rows of thatched bungalows are located in a neatly tendered garden of plants and trees with a bar at the end of the garden overlooking the coast, cooled by the predominant south-westerly wind.
The managers of Taruna Beach Bungalows are Viv and Juliana-Britons, who see this as an opportunity for a holiday as well as meeting new people and providing a service.
Viv and Juliana are by nature hospitable people and their warm welcome and the convivial surroundings are a pleasant antidote for those weary from daily work routines and urban anonymity.
Further up the accommodation range, Kuba Bali Bungalows pampers all of your needs. If air conditioning, hot running water, swimming pools, a badminton court and 24-hour room service are what you want, Kuba Bali is for you. The bungalows are positioned in terraced gardens neatly landscaped with waterfalls, fishponds and an array of native flora.
Up until the seventies, Candidasa was a quiet fishing village, located next to the lagoon. Some of the village can still be seen today, though much has changed with the development of this resort. Locals are now more likely to support themselves from overseas visitors rather than from the sea.
A walk around the town is a pleasure rather than an experience to be endured, because, in this town, there is a conspicuous absence of hawkers selling their wares. There are a few, but the town's bylaws prohibit this kind of activity. In any case, the occasional offer of a massage or rental of snorkelling equipment proves only to be a minor, tolerable intrusion.
Snorkelling
Locals keen to generate income started an organization called Sari Baruna, which rents out snorkelling gear from a kiosk in the town. One of the members, I Wayan Rame, along with his friends will also take people out in their outrigger jukung boats with snorkelling equipment and life jackets included.
Snorkelling here is a great attraction, though in the eighties the reef at Candidasa was mined to provide lime for cement to build hotels and other buildings. As a result of the destruction, the beach lost the natural protection afforded by the reef and thus, during the course of time, was washed away.
Absurd as it might seem, even the breakwaters, of which there are numerous, are made of cement. Despite this tragedy, snorkelling is still interesting and swimming behind the breakwaters is said to be safe.
A charter boat operated by Putri Duyung will take visitors snorkelling and runs boat trips out to observe coral on the northern sides of the nearby islands of Nusa Lembongan, Nusa Penida and the Blue Lagoon.
The company has a glass-bottomed boat for viewing the colourful underwater world and takes seven tourists at a time. In addition to this, they have a larger wooden boat fitted with an outrigger. The tourists may try their hand at fishing, either by trawling with a net or by rod and line. Fish caught by trawling might net fish such as Spanish mackerel, travel, wahoo, tengeri, mahi-mahi and tuna. On a line, the catch might include snapper or coral trout, which feed on the sea bed.
The sun deck is a pleasant place to relax after fishing and before going ashore on one of the islands and tucking into freshly caught barbecued fish.
The skipper always takes along other food for grilling, just in case the fish cannot be lured. On the reefs, sorcerers and those viewing the underwater phenomena in the boat, might see uncommon aquatic life such as sun fish, turtles and even white tip sharks, which can be around one-and-a-half meters long.
Quori, the company manager, says that sorcerers are usually in a bit of a hurry to get out of the water on sight of a white tip shark, even though he attempts to reassure the tourists that the sharks pose little threat to humans.
Some eleven kilometres south of Candidasa, the seaside village of Pedang Bai is the starting point for many tourists who have booked diving, snorkelling or sight-seeing trips by boat. The reason for this being such a popular starting point is quite plain: this area is home to some great dive spots, with coral reefs around the islands of Gili Tepekong, Mimpang and the larger Nusa Penida.
At one location there is a cave in the rocky cliff face where one excited dive charter boat operator claims that sharks can always be seen darting in and out of the grotto. Leaving Padang Bai by boat, one may be fortunate enough to see Bali's famous volcano, Gunung Agung, if its cone is not covered by clouds. With careful surveillance, dolphin may be seen leaping out of the calm, indigo-coloured waters.
Trekking tours are informally arranged by locals and a wander into the hinterland with the young, energetic Mas Labour provides spectacular views as well as a more balanced view of the area. Mas Labor's favourite trek begins slightly further up the coast at a town called Bug-Bug.
Leaving the winding asphalted road, one is soon cast into another world where wet paddy fields meet tropical rain forests alive with the sounds and smells of nature. A gentle walk between these formal and informal landscapes leads slowly up into hilly areas were the lava from Gunung Agung's earlier outpourings has settled.
Villagers, who wander home from the market with food to be sold at warung (food stalls), use this track and can be found resting along the way in the shadows of acacias. Some return with live animals and birds to be used as offerings in upcoming ceremonies.
The aroma of seasonal fruits can often be detected well before the fruits can themselves be seen: white mango trees, mangosteen, pineapple and banana plants can all be found en-route. This three-hour trek ends at Tenganan, the Bali Aga settlement famous for its production of Gerinsing, commonly known as double ikat and the only place in Indonesia where this cloth is still made.
Basketry is also sold here and this quiet, friendly oasis provides for a relaxing hour or two strolling along the village terraces, viewing a way of life that has not changed significantly for centuries.
Evenings in Candidasa can be spent at restaurants and bars, where live music and dance are occasionally laid on. Traditional music such as legong can be heard in the evenings at Astawa restaurant, which serves some of the town's most tasty seafood meals at reasonable prices.
The manager of the tourist office in Candidasa, as might be expected, is full of praise for this small Balinese town - particularly the locals.
In particular, Darmawan is impressed with the way the town has retained values such as honesty and integrity, and said that the locals are guided by forces other than the mere rule of human law.
"People here are more honest than in other places because of their strong belief in karma, results of our past deeds. If we do something wrong the karma will return to the next generation."
""Karma is our control. The locals believe that they have to be careful in life. It is because of the honesty in this town that tourists like it here and return.

Review of The Rough Guide to Southeast Asia

The Rough Guide to Southeast Asia by Jeremy Atiyah et al; Rough Guides, 2002; 1136 pp

The travel guide business is very competitive these days. Lonely Planet, which began life with Tony Wheeler's South-east Asia on a Shoestring, has done so well out of it that it has its own programs on television.

Rough Guides of the UK, on the other hand, produces music CDs as well as its own huge range of guide books which include guides to various musical forms such as reggae, salsa and opera and also the Internet.

Rough Guides began life as a typed handout banged out by founder Mark Ellingham who found himself dissatisfied with what he thought were the two ends of the spectrum, the staid, rather stuffy guides that concentrated on museums and the like and the cheapo-cheapo budget travel guides that were heavily into living off a plate of rice a day and a sniff of the sea breezes.

The Rough Guide South-east Asia handbook recently published its second edition. Covering eleven countries, this handsome book takes travellers to the region through places as varied as Indonesia and Macau, Hong Kong and Laos.

Visually, it is an improvement on its predecessor with a user-friendly print face set out in double columns and with attractive sub-magenta bold print headings. The city and district maps are clear and well-designed. A colour photo lead-in of ‘36 Things Not To Miss’ is a bright and cheerful opener.

Meatier than Lonely Planet's own South-east Asia guide, this handbook has commentary on politics and history in each chapter as well as a very useful bibliography of books for the thoughtful traveller to read either before arrival or during their stay in a particular country.

Some of the political commentary may raise eyebrows. There is also a weighty little section on the music and culture of the country involved and in the case of Indonesia the writers have clearly got a grip on its many and varied musical and dance forms.

There is a useful little language guide where relevant; in the case of Singapore where English is all-pervasive such a guide is not necessary. Commentary on food is also generally very good although Indonesian readers may quibble at the suggestion that ‘after a while everything (in Indonesia) begins to taste the same’.

The Indonesia chapter, like all the other national chapters, is an abbreviated form of the relevant single country handbook (due out this month). Among the writers are regular Jakarta Post contributor David Jardine who updated Jakarta, West Java and West Kalimantan and Surabaya-based Australian photographer Graeme Steel who covered East and Central Java for updating.

David Jardine's Jakarta includes, of course, the backpacker centre, Jl. Jaksa, which is where most budget travellers head and broad coverage of losmen (inns), hotels, cafes and bars there as well as on neighbouring Jl. Wahid Hashim and Jl. Sabang.

I can't take issue with his view of Ya-Udah Bistro on Jaksa for having best value fare in the area but when I went to look for Duta Makassar, another of his recommendations, at the corner of Wahid Hashim and Sabang it was nowhere to be found - it's at the other end of Sabang.

Try Waroeng Menteng on Wahid Hashim for its recommended ikan mas pepes (fish with spices wrapped in banana leaf and roasted), yes, but be prepared for a longish wait.

Nightlife is reasonably covered and the famous (infamous?) Tanamur disco merits a mention for its "lively clientele; mostly expats, pimps, prostitutes, ladyboys, junkies and the occasional traveller". This is unchanged from the first edition.

There's some savvy advice on riding the buses in Jakarta.

Alighting? Apparently, to call the attention of the driver or conductor you should "rap the overhead rail with a coin". More perhaps might have been made of the roughness of Jakarta bus terminals but the public transport coverage does include all the relevant bus numbers.

The listings section is exhaustive and newcomers and old hands alike might be interested to know that the Central Post Office is good for the Internet. New one on me!

The West Java section fails to mention Cirebon but we can assume that Kota Udang (Shrimp City) will be in the Indonesia handbook. Otherwise, the coverage is comprehensive enough with a recommendation to visit the previously unsung mountain area south-west of Bandung and the area around Ciwidey, Gunung Patuha and Gunung Malabar in particular.

The Sumatra coverage includes one or two little-visited places such as Karimun island in the Riau archipelago as well as the better-known destinations such as Bukittinggi and Lake Toba.

Bali, of course, is fully covered. There is no reference to Oct. 12 as the book went to the printers beforehand.

Inter-island Pelni ferries receive due attention as they must. Many travellers to Indonesia get to use them at one time or another.

As with all guide books, prices quoted have tended to be overtaken by events. There have been, as everybody knows, several utility and fuel price hikes in the past year since the research was done and Rough Guide cannot be blamed for getting the transport costs a little askew.

A recommended guide book with none of the early Lonely Planet philosophy of a rip-off awaiting you at every corner.

'Forgotten' war of early republic unearthed

JAKARTA: David Jardine is a well-known Jakarta expatriate who has, over the years, written frequent letters to The Jakarta Post, more often than not about politics. In addition, he has contributed articles to the paper and a number of other Jakarta-based publications, including Jakarta 24 magazine.

Jardine recently produced his first book, Foreign Fields Forever, a short, compact history of one of Britain's forgotten ‘little’ wars, namely the conflict with the new Republic of Indonesia from 1945-1946.

The catchy, alliterative title draws on a line from the famous British poet Rupert Brooke, and refers in particular to the 1,100 or more British, Indian, Australian and other Commonwealth servicemen and women buried at Menteng Pulo in Central Jakarta.

The conflict in question is a source of pride for Indonesians, as their poorly-armed forces took on the battle-hardened veterans of the world's largest empire. The U.K. forces included Army, Navy and Royal Air Force; Indonesia had none of these.

If it is a source of nationalist pride in Indonesia, this struggle is little known among the British, and Jardine set out to fill this gap - in particular, he had in mind the large expatriate community here, many of them thirsty for knowledge of Indonesian history.

The period covered in Foreign Fields is September 1945 through December 1946, during which an anti-colonial uprising took place. The period was marked by much spontaneous organization in the form of local militias, but was distinguished throughout Java and much of Sumatra by ferocious determination on the part of the masses.

Interestingly, the writer makes no mention of the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI) - was the party absent in the hour of the nation's greatest need?

He does, however, deal with a range of issues including the fate of the many, many thousands of POWs and other internees held in appalling conditions in Japanese prison camps in Indonesia. It was part of the function of the British forces to find these unfortunates and secure them.

What he has to say here is rather disturbing, as he alleges widespread attacks on the camps by Indonesians who also attacked convoys of released prisoners on the roads and railways.

Jardine has devoted a chapter to the POW question and what he calls "the delicate question of war crimes", alleging that these were committed by all sides. Jardine's treatment of the issue fleshes out what the famous British foreign correspondent Edward Behr said in his Anyone Here Been Raped and Speaks English?, part of which is devoted to Behr's memoirs of Army service in Sumatra at the time. Of particular interest to Indonesian readers will be the Bekasi massacre.

Also of interest to Indonesian readers will be the question: Who killed Brigadier Mallaby? Jardine has a special box dealing with this, in which he quotes Indian officer

Legendary British motorcycle arrives in Indonesia

JAKARTA: Indonesia is the world's third largest market for motorcycles so it is little wonder that manufacturers in China and Korea are trying to get in on sales which have long been dominated by Japanese names like Honda, Yamaha, Kawasaki and Suzuki.

New machines from China and Korea have found their way into the cities and kampungs of Indonesia and offer affordable transportation with price tags often considerably lower than their Japanese counterparts.

While the Japanese, Chinese and Koreans battle it out for the small commuter bike market, mid-size machines with a long established pedigree are now being imported to capture the interest of commuters and enthusiasts alike.

The name Royal Enfield has its roots firmly in British motorcycle history with the first bike produced in 1901.

Twenty years before production ceased in Britain, the company formed a subsidiary in India in 1956 where to this day the best selling model, the Bullet, is still made with only a few modifications after almost half a decade of supplying Indians with reliable though somewhat agricultural-looking transportation.

Paul Carberry, an engineer from Queensland, Australia, was brought up with British bikes and was dismayed at their demise in Britain with the advent of more appealing Japanese motorcycles in the 60's and 70's.

Paul has nurtured his passion for motorcycles from his early years when as a teenager, he experimented with building his own motorcycle by bolting a lawn mower into a bicycle frame using car parts to secure it in place.

After this he bought production motorcycles - names such as Triumph, BSA, AJS and Ariel. So fond of British motorcycles was he that, now living in Indonesia and finding himself with time on his hands, he decided to have a go at importing Royal Enfield motorcycles from India to Indonesia.

His experience of importing a Harley Davidson motorcycle into Indonesia together with his engineering background meant that he was a good contender for the business and eventually opened his showroom on Jl. Warung Buncit in South Jakarta which now sports two old and one new model of the legendary machines.

The three models graciously displayed in the showroom are the Bullet, which is a 500cc version of the original 1955 350cc Bullet, the Lightning and a more recent addition -- the Machismo - a 535cc stylish bike with a ‘peanut’ tank, and more chrome that is aimed at the American market and definitely a toy for the boys which is undoubtedly what the company had in mind when they gave it such a name.

The Machismo is a wonder of modern engineering. Though only put into production a few years' ago, the engine was recently redesigned by a company in Austria whose brief was to increase fuel efficiency due to the high cost of petrol in India.

The result was a machine capable of returning up to 50 kilometres per litter - a reliable and energy efficient machine that fits nicely into a well-designed cycle frame with classic lines.

But what about reliability, performance and the infamous oil leaks that almost all British bikes suffered?

Paul sees oil leaks as only a minor problem on Royal Enfield's range: "British bike engine casings are aluminium-based whereas Japanese engines are constructed with magnesium. Aluminium moves. British bikes got a bad press for this. Remember that these bikes are around decades after Japanese bikes go to scrap. Be kind to an old man!"

While seeing the short-term benefits of owning a Japanese bike, Paul is less than flattering in his general critique of them: "Reliability? Let's define reliability: Compare it with your Honda. You can go out to your Honda after it has been left out in the rain and just jump on it. It'll last some years but it won't be worth rebuilding. It'll deteriorate and that decreases the value of the bike."

"Now, with a Royal Enfield you might get water in the wrong place while you're washing it and it won't start. You'll need to tighten bolts up here and there and adjust the contact points etc., but it'll just keep on going. You have to tinker with them a bit. Enthusiasts like that. You can rebuild them over and over again and they're easy to work on. Many Indians I met had done the big trip around the country and reported very few problems."

"There's nothing in the world like an Enfield. You can't ride an Enfield like a Honda. You can wring the neck on your Honda but with the Royal Enfield you can't. Apart from that they'll just keep going and going. Japanese bikes seem like good value but after a few years everything's stuffed inside them. You can't get the parts and if you can they're expensive."

Royal Enfield, as mid-size single cylinder motorcycles fill a niche in the market between the Asian bikes of up to 250cc and the big Harley's which are often too expensive for many bike enthusiasts.

Many of the big British bike manufacturers produced mid-sized single cylinder bikes in the 50's in Britain, and the buyer would have been spoilt for choice.

Now with only Royal Enfield surviving, Paul sees a bright and prosperous future for the import of his pride and joy - which he admits is a toy.

"People interested in buying one of my bikes are usually those with money to spend on a toy - an interesting and nice toy to play with on a Sunday afternoon. Both expatriates and Indonesian classic bike owners are interested in my bikes. Many classic bike owners have bikes that they can't use because they can't get spare parts for them."

"Also, not many of the big bikes on the road are legal. The bike can be used for commuting as it is in India but I don't think people will buy it just for that. People who'll buy this bike for commuting are those who love this kind of bike and will want to go out with their mates at a classic bike club on the weekend as well as using it to commute."

As far as environmental factors are concerned the manufacturer has paid particular attention to reducing fuel consumption and polluting emissions.

Two of the models - the Lightning and the Bullet - have catalytic converters fitted and although they don't quite match the Machismo's extremely low fuel consumption, both models return between 34-38 miles per kilometre of unleaded fuel.

These motorcycles are among the least environmentally destructive motor vehicles on the road today.

In Britain, Royal Enfield motorcycles gained a reputation for being sturdy, well-built motorcycles. The company, which also makes rifles, used the slogan ‘made like a gun’.