A tool once used by sulfur miners on Mount Ijen is now a human-powered trolley taxi, carrying tourists up the steep volcano for a closer look at its acidic crater and blue fire.
Read MoreBali: A Recurring Chapter in My Travel Diary
Bali, with its intoxicating mix of vibrant culture, lush landscapes and tranquil seas, has always held a special place in my heart as a travel photographer and adventure seeker.
Read MoreThe Fight Against a Sinking City: Jakarta’s Sea Wall
Julia Kelley
While Indonesia’s government seeks to build a large sea wall to protect Jakarta from detrimental floods, criticism in the name of environmental and economic loss urges them to look for other solutions.
Flooding Ciliwung River in Jakarta Region. World Meteorological Organization. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
On the northwest coast of Indonesia stands Jakarta, the country’s capital and largest city. Sitting upon a low, flat alluvial plain with swampy areas, Jakarta is notably susceptible to major floods every few years from its multiple rivers and the adjoining Java Sea. This is made worse by excessive groundwater extraction and rising global sea levels, which have seen a worldwide mean increase of about eight to nine inches since 1880 due to global warming. Rapid urbanization, population growth and a change in land use have crowded more and more people into high-risk floodplain areas, leaving thousands displaced and large parts of the city submerged underwater during these natural disaster events. Although the Indonesian government built a coastal wall in 2002 to combat this, its collapse in a storm only five years later renewed the call for protective measures against destructive flooding. A new mega-project began in 2014, outlining both the construction of a new 29-mile-long sea wall and the so-called “Giant Sea Wall.” This “Giant Sea Wall,” a 20-mile-long artificial island shaped like a Garuda bird, Indonesia’s national symbol, will not only block storm surges but is also planned to contain homes, offices and recreational facilities.
This massive undertaking officially kicked off in February 2025 and is said by supporters to be key in dealing with the country’s land subsidence and flooding. Both President Prabowo Subianto and Minister of Infrastructure and Regional Development Agus Harimurti Yudhoyono claim that the project could save the government billions of dollars in disaster mitigation over the following 30 years. Despite this optimism, critics have come out against the large project, citing an array of detrimental economic and environmental issues that could result from construction. For example, many have noted how the proposed solution does not address the over-extraction of groundwater, which comes from excessive use by industrial and economic activities. In addition, the sea wall could disrupt marine biodiversity and, subsequently, the fishing industry, one of Indonesia’s strongest monetary sources. According to Maleh Dadi Segoro, a coalition of environmental and social groups, the sea wall would potentially narrow and close fishing catch areas, disrupting marine ecosystems and threatening the livelihoods of those who depend on them for food and income. Jakarta already faces low water quality in its rivers and canals, causing sewage and a lack of proper sanitation. Closing off Jakarta Bay for this sea wall, critics say, would turn the water into a “septic tank” or “black lagoon,” which necessitates a stronger water sanitation system immediately.
Controversy stirred up by the sea wall proposal has thus solicited alternative solutions. There has been an interest in using the water to its advantage, rather than working against it. This would entail diverting surplus waters, including that from floods, to surrounding farm areas where it could be stored. Restoration has also been widely proposed, as described by professor of oceanography Alan Koropitan for The Guardian: “If, instead, we can restore the bay and its polluted waters, that would mean something good for civilization in Indonesia.” Among all these suggested plans, environmental, social and economic protection are set at the center, urging the Indonesian government to rethink its monumental and costly plan.
GET INVOLVED:
Those looking to help support those affected by floods and flood prevention in Indonesia can do so by checking out relief organizations, such as The International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies’ Disaster Response Emergency Fund, Peace Winds and Mercy Corps, all of which provide immediate and long-term support. Furthermore, individuals interested in combating sea level rise can look into taking actions that counter global warming, including using renewable energy, reducing greenhouse gas usage, considering electric vehicles, recycling, decreasing food waste, keeping the environment clean, or getting involved with local communities and government to organize plans and legislation.
Julia Kelley
Julia is a recent graduate from UC San Diego majoring in Sociocultural Anthropology with a minor in Art History. She is passionate about cultural studies and social justice, and one day hopes to obtain a postgraduate degree expanding on these subjects. In her free time, she enjoys reading, traveling, and spending time with her friends and family.
Meet an Organization Tackling Plastic Pollution in Bali
Initiatives like Sungai Watch are fighting back by implementing innovative trash barriers in rivers, preventing plastic from reaching the ocean and empowering local communities in Bali for a cleaner future.
Read MoreUnderwater Paradise: Raja Ampat, Indonesia
With over 70% of the Earth covered by water, it’s only logical for the planet’s greatest beauty to lie beneath the waves. Raja Ampat holds a special place in the hearts of divers and naturalists alike.
Wayang Island within Raja Ampat. Elias Levy. CC BY 2.0.
Situated northwest off of Papua, Indonesia’s most eastern island, the Raja Ampat archipelago is heralded as a top-tier site for scuba diving and marine biodiversity. Raja Ampat comprises over 28,000 square miles of ocean and hundreds of cays and shoals still to be discovered. Plate tectonics exposed ancient limestone seabeds to tidal erosion which yielded a series of islands seeming to levitate above the waves. As the archipelago straddles the Earth’s equator, it naturally experiences a tropical climate.
But Raja Ampat’s most signature feature is its sheer scope of species diversity. Home to at least 75% of the world’s hard corals and at least 1,500 different species of fish, Raja Ampat is considered the global epicenter of marine animal diversity. Due to a confluence of warm, shallow water and nutrient-rich currents from the Pacific and Indian oceans, Raja Ampat has thrived for decades as a haven for endangered aquatics. A slew of rare sea species from dugongs and blue whales to dolphins and leatherbacks live in relative geographic isolation and pristine marine ecosystems.
Northern Raja Ampat
Marine biodiversity is unmatched within Raja Ampat. Nazir Amin. CC BY 2.0.
The northern islands of Gam, Kri, Waigeo and Batanta are bounded by the Dampier Strait. It serves as a popular entryway to Raja Ampat thanks to the city of Sorong on the west coast of Papua which hosts its own airport. With mainland access via ferries, most visitors flock to the north to dive at famous sites such as Cape Kri, Blue Magic and Manta Sandy.
Cape Kri is a renowned hotspot for marine biodiversity. Once recorded as the site with the highest quantity of distinct fish species observed in a single dive, visitors can expect to see reef sharks, moray eels, turtles, Humphead wrasse, cuttlefish, porcupinefish, crevalle jack, snapper and barracuda.
Blue Magic offers a variety of soft and hard coral reefs to check out. Though divers will face strong currents in the water, the struggle is worth the chance to meet dogfish tuna, giant trevally, spanish mackerel, bumphead parrotfish and even octopi.
Manta Sandy is a shallow site teeming with plankton, and of course, ocean manta rays. Divers must try their luck to encounter the rare black manta.
South Raja Ampat
A Wobbegong shark. Nazir Amin. CC BY 2.0.
South Raja Ampat is noticeably inaccessible to the lay visitor as overnight ferries must be taken from Sorong to reach this remote area. However, the reefs in South Raja Ampat are picturesque, with premier visibility for pygmy seahorses, colorful nudibranchs and other wowing wildlife.
The island of Misool is the pinnacle of biodiversity conservation, as much of the area is protected as part of the Misool Marine Reserve. There’s only one option for overnight lodgings: the Misool Eco Resort, an eco-friendly hotel dedicated to conservation and sustainability. The resort’s founders dedicate a portion of both their profits towards biodiversity recovery; there’s been a 250% increase in local biomass and a doubling of reef fishes within six years. Visitors are welcome to trek or boat to neighboring islands for beautiful beaches, native seabirds and rock petroglyphs dating back 4,000 years.
Hundreds of reef fish are visible from above the water’s edge. Nazir Amin. CC BY 2.0.
Raja Ampat’s natural beauty belies political and economic trouble.
Though visitors will certainly enjoy Raja Ampat’s scenic environments and exotic wildlife, they may feel the effects of local turmoil.
In 1961 the people of West Papua, an area which includes Raja Ampat, voted to become a part of Indonesia in a much disputed referendum. However, a pro-independence movement has emerged throughout Papua, eliciting police and military crackdowns alongside communal tensions. Furthermore, around 9,000 of Raja Ampat residents live in poverty, lacking sanitation facilities and healthcare. Clean drinking water is imported into the islands approximately once a month; there is no electrical or telecommunications infrastructure available for most villagers. Most inhabitants either fish or mine to earn their living, and often incur debts to small businesses for consumer goods and fuel prices. Raja Ampat’s ecotourism industry is partnering with local residents to promote their security and welfare.
Rohan Ratogi
Rohan is an engineering graduate from Brown University. He is passionate about both writing and travel, and strives to blend critical thinking with creative communication to better understand the places, problems, and people living throughout the world. Ultimately, he hopes to apply his love for learning and story-sharing skills to resolve challenges affecting justice, equity, and humanity.
Indonesia's Most Dangerous Job: Mining in an Active Volcano
The mesmerizing sulfur-induced blue flames of Indonesia’s Mount Ijen attract hundreds of tourists every night, but mask one of the most dangerous jobs in the world: sulfur mining.
Sulfur miners of Mount Ijen. Candra Firmansyah. CC BY-SA 4.0.
Sulphur-induced blue flames are nothing more than a mining by-product, but they have turned Indonesia’s Mount Ijen into a popular tourist attraction. Lured in by the magical phenomenon, I joined a tour group and hiked up the volcano in the hopes of getting a glimpse of the beautiful fire. But the shocking truth of what I discovered was far from magical. Sulfur miners were working in the crater. Slaving away among the fire and smoke, they wore no special clothing nor eye protection. Some did not even have gas masks. Watching the men was heart-rending, and made the blue flames seem completely insignificant. The reality of Mount Ijen is that sulfur miners work everyday in the most unforgiving environment in the world.
Blue flames at Mount Ijen. Thomas Fuhrmann. CC BY-SA 4.0.
Mount Ijen, in Indonesia, is an active volcano situated on East Java, the closest island to the holiday-maker hotspot of Bali. Possessing unique characteristics, the views at Mount Ijen are otherworldly. The volcanic crater holds the largest highly acidic lake in the world, which beams with a vibrant, almost inviting turquoise blue. Above the lake are vivid yellow rocks that have been stained as a result of sulfur gasses condensing.
Mount Ijen. Taylor Girhiny. Used with the author’s permission.
While spectacular to see, many dangers lurk in the volcano. Aside from the unpredictable volcanic eruptions, earthquakes are common and have been known to cause landslides in the crater. There was even an earthquake in 2020 that triggered a seiche-type tsunami in the acid lake. The seismic activity caused the mountain to belch poison gas and generated a three-meter wave that swept across the crater,, killing a sulfur miner.
Despite these dangers, the sulfur has drawn miners to the volcano since 1968 and has become a trade passed down through families ever since. Known locally as the ‘devil’s gold’, it is considered a commodity worth high risk. Not only do miners risk a quick death while mining, but they also experience long-term health issues and have an average life expectancy of just 50 years old.
In the dead of night, when the air is at its coolest, sulfur extraction commences. Miners start by hiking the 2000 feet incline, the equivalent of two eiffel towers, before descending into the crater. At this point, the sulfuric smell of rotten egg takes over, making it hard to breathe. Pipes that travel below the surface provide access to the sulfur. The miners use fire to heat the ground, causing the sulfur to liquidize and trickle through the pipework onto the ground outside. Left to cool and dry, the ‘devil’s gold’ takes shape in the form of rich, yellow crystalized rocks.
Melted sulfur crystallizing. Taylor Girhiny. Used with the author’s permission.
During the heating process, large clouds of harmful gas burst out from beneath the arid, rocky terrain. Each thick, opaque cloud swallows everything in its path, causing a complete whiteout. Unable to see even one meter in front of them, miners are left sightless until the miasma disperse. The atmosphere was so harsh that my throat tightened up and I was coughing after just 10 minutes in the crater. Daily exposure to these toxic fumes leaves miners with life-long respiratory issues. One miner, Udi, explained to me that his own father became blind due to repeated exposure to the fumes and, despite seeing the suffering in his family, has no choice but to follow the same line of work.
Handmade carrier full of mined sulfur. Eva Adorisio.
Once the sulfur has been processed, it must be carried out of the volcanic crater. A steep path consisting of unsteady rocks is the only way out and, with no technology to aid in their efforts, miners must physically transport every piece of the precious material. They precariously balance up to 170 pounds of sulfur, more than their bodyweight, on their handmade shoulder carriers. Without proper back support, miners suffer back problems and often swelling in the shoulders.
Sulfur produced at Mount Ijen is sold on and used in a variety of products including detergents and cosmetics, and is even used to whiten sugar. According to Udi, one kilogram of sulfur is sold for 1000 Indonesian Rupiah ($0.065). If a miner sells a full load of sulfur that may have taken all night to produce, he will make 75,000 Rupiah (approximately $5). Surprisingly, this makes sulfur mining one of the better paid jobs in this remote area of Java. With high poverty rates, it is clear why locals risk their lives to sustain a livelihood.
Miner selling miniature baskets of sulfur as souvenirs for tourists. Eva Adorisio.
The shocking reality is that local men are putting their lives on the line for what most in the West would consider pocket money. Witnessing them work tirelessly in the most inhumane conditions is an inconceivable sight, yet has become a spectacle for tourists to gawk at. The promise of stunning blue flames may sound alluring, but in truth Mount Ijen is a merciless place that no one should have to call work.
In 2017, Ijen Assistance raised $15,000 for relief work in the region from a music video following Bas, a sulfur miner, and his family.
Novo Amor & Lowswimmer - Terraform (official video)
TO GET INVOLVED
Providing aid after natural disasters, Islamic Relief has been working in Indonesia since 2000. After the earthquakes of 2006 and 2009, the organization responded immediately, distributing emergency supplies and later rebuilding a hospital and school. They also work to reduce the effects of poverty and have a variety of development projects across Indonesia.
Currently, there are no organizations working directly to improve the conditions for sulfur miners at Mount Ijen. Despite previous campaigns raising awareness and money, such as the ‘Terraform’ music video, miners continue to work in the same harsh conditions.
Eva Adorisio
Eva is an avid traveler and writer from Bristol, England. In her writing, she aims to show the true nature of what a place is really like. Her Italian roots have led to a love of food, culture and language. She also spends her time staying active out in nature and is always searching for the next adventure.
5 Islands to Visit in Indonesia Not Named Bali
While the famed island has its charms, visitors have largely overlooked the rest of this sprawling archipelago’s natural and cultural riches.
Read MoreNearly Extinct Rhino Species Found Only in Indonesia
The Javan Rhinoceros is one of the world’s most endangered species, with only sixty remaining in Indonesia’s Ujung Kulon National Park.
Javan rhino. Courtesy of Indonesian Ministry of Environment/Forestry.
Javan Rhinoceroses used to be common throughout the continent of Asia, until poaching and habitat loss dwindled the population down to what is now a mere 60-68 rhinos, all found in Ujung Kulon National Park in Indonesia. The poaching of Javan rhinos largely began in colonial times, with the animal being a trophy for hunters. Now, the rhinos are poached primarily for their horns, which are extremely expensive and are sometimes used as status symbols among the extremely wealthy. Javan rhinos were declared extinct in Vietnam in 2010, when the last rhino in the country was poached, and now the only surviving Javan rhinos exist in Indonesia.
While poaching Javan rhinos is illegal, and they are considered a protected endangered species, reviving the population presents a major challenge for two main reasons. The first is that the extremely small number of surviving Javan rhinos doesn’t allow for much genetic diversity. The second issue is habitat loss as a result of both human intervention and natural disaster. Human activity near Ujung Kulon National Park has interfered with the rhinos’ natural habitats, and the push for more property development in the area threatens the security of the park. In terms of natural disasters threatening the rhinos’ last remaining habitat, the national park is located in an area that is susceptible to tsunamis and rising water levels as a result of climate change, and also happens to be near an active volcano, Anak Krakatau. Many conservationists are extremely nervous that if one of these natural disasters occured, all hope would be lost for the species even if there were a few survivors, because of the already miniscule genetic diversity within the population.
A member of the Rhino Protection Unit measures a Javan rhino’s footprint in Ujung Kulon National Park. U.S. Department of State. CC BY 2.0.
Even without the threat of natural disaster and human interference, Javan rhinos face an existing setback within their protected habitat. An invasive species called Arenga Palm grows in Ujung Kulon National Park. This plant blocks the sun, which prevents the plants that the rhinos eat from growing. The park has made clearing Arenga Palm a priority, but since it is an invasive species, eliminating it from the park entirely is not an easy task.
Ujung Kulon National Park does offer tours, providing an opportunity to ethically see the nearly extinct rhinos. However, since these tours are meant to be non-invasive, there is no guarantee that a Javan rhino will come into view during your time in the park. With that being said, tourists often see traces of the rhinos, such as footprints, like in the photo featured above.
Get Involved
The best way to get involved with this issue is to raise awareness and money for organizations working to sustain and increase the population of Javan Rhinoceros. Some of these organizations include World Wildlife, which is working on eliminating Arenga Palm and also hopes to one day transfer some Javan rhinos to an area which is not in the danger zone of the volcano Anak Krakatau. Another good organization to support is the International Rhino Foundation, which works directly with the staff of Ujung Kulon National Park. On a more general level, raising awareness about climate change and supporting organizations which respond to extreme weather is a way to get involved with this issue as well as many others, as climate change has only compounded the plight of the Javan Rhinoceros.
Calliana Leff
Calliana is currently an undergraduate student at Boston University majoring in English and minoring in psychology. She is passionate about sustainability and traveling in an ethical and respectful way. She hopes to continue her writing career and see more of the world after she graduates.
3 Asian Theatrical Traditions
The cinema may be the world’s most prominent entertainment, but recorded film screenings cannot match the liveliness of performing theater. Learn about three theatrical traditions beloved by their Asian audiences for their craftsmanship and cultural significance.
Stage Theatre. AndyRobertsPhotos. CC BY 2.0.
Theater is a unique art in its ability to elicit both laughter and tears within the same showing. Throughout these three Asian nations the stage is a place where performers can bring imaginary worlds to life, or inspire their audiences to better their own.
1. Japan’s Rakugo
Rakugo. Isabelle + Stephanie Galley. CC BY 2.0.
Rakugo (fallen words) showcases a storyteller’s skill to enthrall their audience without the use of any costumes, scenery or special effects. Rakugo was developed during Japan’s Edo Period (1603-1868) by Buddhist priests who recounted dramatic tales to illustrate the impermanence of life and the sufferings elicited by materialistic attachment. Soon non-religious performers regaled crowds with parodied interpretations of those parables. A specialized sect of storytellers has emerged since, termed the rakugoka, who rely upon improvisation, exaggeration and, most critically, wordplay for their performances. A rakugoka presents upon the spartan kōza stage while dressed in traditional Japanese garb, and has only a sensu (paper fan) and a tenugui (hand towel) as props to aid them. With pantomime, voice and facial expressions the rakugoka will narrate one of 300 stories inspired by the realities of ordinary people.
The stories of rakugo are structured as back-and-forth dialogues between a set of archetypal characters and generally culminate in a funny climax. Popular character archetypes include cunning tricksters, miserly merchants, arrogant authorities and kaidan (ghosts or other apparitions). Each narration ends with an raku (fall), a humorous linguistic twist which serves as a punch line for the whole performance. Rakugo is analogous to a one-man show of sit-down comedy.
2. India’s Nukkad Natak
Nukkad Natak. DLF PUBLIC SCHOOL, INDIA. CC BY 2.0.
From universities to slums throughout India, nukkad natak (street drama) serves as a medium of entertainment as well as social commentary. India has a rich heritage of theater which traces back centuries, but nukkad natak was shaped very recently among the country’s schools and streets. In the 1980s, left-wing grassroots activists started to put on plays for the lay public to highlight major social and political issues. Nukkad natak grew especially popular among college students who identified an outlet through which they could express their unacknowledged emotions and views. Nukkad natak has since become a channel for communication and information among the uneducated masses.
Without any audiovisual equipment or cosmetic crew professionals nukkad natak troupes are forced to capitalize their bodies to the fullest. The troupers’ voices vary in pitch and volume as they undertake in constant physical motion. Troupes will not shy away from controversial scenes like sexual assault but will act them out publicly to provoke emotions. Some troupes dedicate their performances towards the portrayal of exemplary civic behavior. Even India’s private sector recognizes nukkad natak’s enormous influence on public society; some multinational corporations sponsor their own performances to advertise their products.
3. Indonesia’s Wayang Kulit
Yogyakarta, Wayang Kulit. Arian Zwegers. CC BY 2.0.
Although its origins are disputed to date, there is no debate as to the renown wayang kulit (shadow leather) holds today in Indonesia and neighboring countries. Intricately detailed leather puppets are deftly maneuvered by a dhalang (puppeteer) between a light source and a blank screen to portray a story via shadow. Performances feature plots derived from a bevy of sources, ranging from Hindu epics such as the Ramayana or Mahabharat to the East Javanaese Prince Panji cycle.
A show of wayang kulit may carry on through the night for eight hours and is usually accompanied by a gamelan bronze orchestra. A single performance may entail the use of hundreds of puppets, all of whom are designed with utmost faithfulness to visual symbolism. Puppets portraying noble heroes, for example, are crafted in accordance with the Javanese ideal of male beauty: slender build, long and pointed nose and eyes shaped like soya beans. A puppet’s colors represent characteristics; gold indicates dignity whereas white is the color of youth.
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Rohan A. Rastogi
Rohan is an engineering graduate from Brown University. He is passionate about both writing and travel, and strives to blend critical thinking with creative communication to better understand the places, problems, and people living throughout the world. Ultimately, he hopes to apply his love for learning and story-sharing skills to resolve challenges affecting justice, equity, and humanity.
Indonesian Muslims Protest French President
Thousands of people gathered at Indonesia’s French Embassy to protest French President Emmanuel Macron. Macron has a history of anti-Muslim rhetoric and recently defended the publication of caricatures depicting the Prophet Muhammad.
On Nov. 2, thousands of people gathered outside the French Embassy in Jakarta, Indonesia, to protest French President Emmanuel Macron.
Macron defended the publication of cartoons that depict the Prophet Muhammad, which many have deemed inflammatory. The cartoons were originally published in the Charlie Hebdo magazine in 2015. They were republished in September to mark the opening of the trial for the 2015 attacks against the magazine’s staff, which were partially motivated by the publication of the cartoons.
Last month, the cartoons were a topic of discussion in a Paris classroom during a lecture on freedom of expression. After the lecture, on Oct. 16, the teacher who led the class was beheaded by a student enraged by the cartoon being shown in class. In a separate incident on Oct. 29, three people were stabbed to death in the seaside town of Nice by a Tunisian man yelling “Allahu Akbar,” a commonly used phrase meaning “God is greatest.” Though it has an innocuous meaning and is used in a number of day-to-day situations, the phrase has been tarnished by an association with terrorist acts, such as the 2015 Charlie Hebdo attack.
These recent incidents have reinvigorated anti-Muslim sentiment in France, and Macron has been criticized for his comments. Macron told the news site Al-Jazeera that he understands people’s concern over the cartoons, but said that he “will always defend in my country the freedom to speak, to write, to think, to draw.” He maintained his stance that the cartoons were protected under freedom of expression after the beheading of the teacher in October, and has been accused by some of spreading anti-Muslim sentiment in his statements.
Macron has received criticism for his anti-Muslim rhetoric in the past. On Oct. 2, he called Islam a religion “in crisis” around the world and introduced a plan to push what he termed “Islamist radicalism” out of French education and the public sector. In the same speech, he announced the government’s intention to present a bill strengthening a 1905 law officially separating the church and state in France.
In Indonesia, the French Embassy was heavily guarded and protected by barbed wire, but over 2,000 people stood outside chanting and holding signs. Protesters displayed banners that read “Macron is the real terrorist,” “Go to hell Macron,” and “Macron is devil” and called for a boycott of French goods. Some protesters stomped on Louis Vuitton bags to demonstrate their rejection of French products. Speakers at the protest demanded that Macron apologize and take back his anti-Muslim comments. They also called for the immediate removal of the French ambassador.
On Oct. 31, Indonesian President Joko Widodo condemned the terrorist attacks in Paris and Nice while also speaking out against Macron’s defense of the cartoons. Widodo argued that freedom of expression that tarnishes the honor of religious symbols could not be justified and said that “linking religion with terrorist acts is a big mistake.” Muslims in France have repeatedly denounced the terrorist acts.
Rachel Lynch
is a student at Sarah Lawrence College in Bronxville, NY currently taking a semester off. She plans to study Writing and Child Development. Rachel loves to travel and is inspired by the places she’s been and everywhere she wants to go. She hopes to educate people on social justice issues and the history and culture of travel destinations through her writing.
VIDEO: Indonesia's Mentawai Tribe
To give Joshua Cowan’s film even deeper meaning, it’s important to understand context. Mentawai is an archipelago found off the west coast of Sumatra (Indonesia) consisting of approximately 70 islands and islets. The history of the people is often debated, but as early as 1954, under Indonesia’s goal of national unity and cultural adaptation, the National Government began introducing civilization programs designed to integrate the tribal groups into the social and cultural mainstream of the country. This, for native Mentawai, meant the eradication of Arat Sabulungan — the animist belief system that links the supernatural powers of ancestral spirits to the ecology of the rainforest — ; the forced surrender, burning and destruction of possessions used to facilitate cultural or ritual behavior; and their Sikerei (shamans) being disrobed, beaten, and forced into slave labor and imprisonment.
Under Pancasila — the official, foundational philosophical theory of Indonesia — the Indonesian state should be based on the Five Principles: Indonesian nationalism; Internationalism, or Humanism; Consent, or Democracy; Social prosperity; and Belief in One God. Based on the Indonesian notion ‘belief in one God’, there are officially only five religions recognized: Islam, Protestantism, Catholicism, Hinduism, and Buddhism. Which, for the Mentawai Islands, resulted in an immediate influx of missionaries and an increase in violence and pressure on the people to adopt change. In the end many chose Christianity due to its flexible views on the possession and consumption of pigs, which play an integral role in Mentawai history and culture.
By the late 1980’s loggers had devastated the forests of Sipora, North and South Pagai. In 1980, WWF (World Wildlife Fund) published a report entitled ‘Saving Siberut’ which, along with the support of other organizations – primarily UNESCO and Survival International – and other additional international interest, helped persuade the Indonesian government to cancel logging concessions and declare the forests of Siberut a biosphere reserve. With this, the people in the Mentawai found that they were once again free to practice their native cultural activities – at least in areas away from the villages.
However, by this point, and as it remains today, the number of Indigenous people still actively practicing the cultural customs, rituals and ceremonies of Arat Sabulungan had already been limited to a very small population of clans primarily located around the Sarereiket and Sakuddei regions in the south of Siberut Island.
Raeann Mason
Raeann is an avid traveler, digital storyteller and guide writer. She holds a Bachelor’s degree in Mass Comm & Media Studies from the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism & Mass Communication. Passionate about a/effective journalism and cultural exchange, she is an advocate of international solidarity and people's liberation. As the founder of ROAM + WRITE and EIC of Monarch Magazine, Raeann hopes to reshape the culture of travel and hospitality to be ethically sound and sustainable.
Traditional Balinese wedding ceremony. Artem Beliaikin. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0
Women’s Rights Activists Celebrate the Abolishment of Bride Kidnapping in Indonesia
Kawin tangkap is a long-established, controversial practice that still occurs on the small island of Sumba in Indonesia. Kawin tangkap, or bride kidnapping, is carried out when members of the man’s family kidnap women who they have selected as their wives. The practice has long been argued against by women’s rights activists. After all, if the women leave the forced marriage they are ridiculed by their villages and told that they will never have a husband or children. On the other hand, if the women stay, they have no decision in the matter and remain in the marriage for the remainder of their lives. The issue came to light recently when a video of a kidnapping circulated online, sparking outrage and petitions for the abolishment of the practice.
Part of the Sumbese Culture?
Regional leaders of Sumba have come forward, signing a declaration and stating that the well-known practice is not a part of their culture and traditions. Frans Wora Hebi, a Sumbese historian and elder, speculates that the shift from marriages to forcibly taking women has been “used by people wanting to force women to marry them without consequences.” The Indonesian government has responded by passing a law banning the practice, but the details and consequences have not yet been released.
Women Who Have Shared their Stories
Some women have spoken about their experiences, saying that it “felt like I was dying” as they were led away “kicking and screaming.” Two women who came forward shared their stories, with one thinking she was walking into a work meeting and another nursing her 11-month-old son outside of her home. Both were able to walk away from the situation physically unscathed but have to carry the scars from the experience for the rest of their lives. Both have “forgiven” the perpetrators in order to preserve family relationships for the future.
How Has It Continued?
In the last four years, seven cases have been documented, but it’s been speculated that many more have happened. While a “memorandum of understanding between the provincial East Nusa Tenggara government and the regional government of Sumba showing their commitment to ending the practice” has been signed, a local parliamentarian commented that they were “not convinced it can be entirely abolished.” The statement was made following the observations that the practice is seen mainly in isolated villages, the attacks are unexpected and many women do not come forward to file criminal cases. Instead, they stay with their new groom and family, which leaves police powerless to do anything about the issue. Part of the problem comes from the fact that there were formerly only social reprimands against the practice, with no long-term consequences. However, with the recent bill passed, the practice is now outlawed - a win for women who have been fighting against bride kidnapping for years.
Elizabeth Misnick
is a Professional Writing and Rhetoric major at Baylor University. She grew up in a military family and lived in Europe for almost half her life, traveling and living in different countries. She hopes to continue writing professionally throughout her career and publish her writing in the future.
Overpopulated Indonesia Fears Baby Boom Due to Coronavirus
After months of telling its citizens to stay at home, Indonesia is now facing fears of a potential baby boom.
Traffic in Bandung, Indonesia. Ikhsan Assidiqie. Licensed by Unsplash.
With the country under quarantine from COVID-19, many people have stopped going to clinics to get contraceptives out of fear of catching the virus. This projected increase in pregnancies comes after extensive efforts by the country to encourage smaller families, an action taken in order to fight against the concern of child malnutrition. This problem is so severe that government vehicles drove around the cities and pleaded with the public through loudspeakers: “You can have sex. You can get married. But don’t get pregnant. Dads, please control yourself. You can get married. You can have sex as long as you use contraception.”
The National Population and Family Planning Board (BKKBN) is Indonesia’s government-backed family planning program tasked with helping married couples manage the creation of their families. BKKBN is widely successful and employs 24,000 counselors to help execute their mission, much of which includes distributing free contraceptives to the public.
The agency recently determined that there had been a significant decrease in the use of contraception between March and April of 2020 and that about 10 million couples in the country no longer had access to a form of birth control. An increase in pregnancy rates is deeply concerning for the Indonesian government because the country is struggling to manage the current population size given its available space and resources. In order to try and alleviate some of these effects, the government has openly discouraged people from having large families for years and freely provided various forms of birth control. About half of those who use contraceptives receive monthly or trimonthly hormone injections, 20% use birth control pills and many use IUDs. Condoms remain unpopular, though, across the country. It is worth noting that abortion in Indonesia is only permitted if it is “to save the woman’s life.” There are many possible contributors to the drop in contraceptive use during this quarantine period, such as a fear of leaving the house to acquire contraceptives (especially from hospitals), closed contraception clinics and other closed health care providers.
One significant consequence of Indonesia’s population struggles is child malnutrition, a problem that Indonesian President Joko Widodo promised to alleviate within 4 to 5 years. More severe cases of child malnutrition (especially when paired with poor hygiene) can result in child stunting, a condition where the child is more than two standard deviations below the median of child growth standards as determined by the World Health Organization. If children are experiencing stunting then they are more susceptible to pneumonia, diarrhea and a weakened immune system. Given that COVID-19 is known to be more fatal for those with compromised immune systems, this is an especially pertinent concern. Long-term effects include an increased chance of experiencing chronic diseases such as hypertension and a lowered IQ. According to the organization 1,000 Days Fund, a group dedicated to the elimination of stunting, children with stunting can miss about a year of school because of the sickness. While Widodo has found some success in lowering the number of child stunting cases in the past few years, this period of quarantining may prove to be a major setback.
BKKBN announced that Indonesia should expect about 420,000 more babies than the average 4.8 million in the upcoming year. One demography expert at the Indonesian Institute of Sciences, Dr. Augustina Situmorang, believes pregnancy spikes are most likely to occur in low-income families who relied on the previously-accessible birth control provided by BKKBN in addition to young women who lost their jobs, had to return to their hometowns, and then had to get married due to social pressures.
Indonesia’s health care system is already working overtime and has suffered considerably from COVID-19, registering more than 33,000 cases and over 1,900 deaths. Nevertheless, the government is attempting some preventive measures to combat more potential pregnancies. This includes allowing access to multiple months of birth control pills at a time, making door-to-door deliveries of contraceptives along with emergency supplies, and hoping to distribute contraceptives to 1 million people on June 29, dubbed “National Family Day.” Going forward, the Indonesian government will have to move efficiently if it wants to limit the burden felt by the Indonesian health care system with future generations.
Phoebe Jacoby
is a Media Studies major and Studio Art minor at Vassar College who believes in the importance of sharing stories with others. Phoebe likes to spend her free time reading, drawing, and writing letters. She hopes to continue developing her skills as a writer and create work that will have a positive outward effect.
Gender Matters in Coastal Livelihood Programs in Indonesia
Significant investments have been made in improving the well-being of Indonesian coastal communities in recent decades. However, most of these programs have not tackled gender inequalities.
Projects based on comprehensive understanding of gender norms in coastal communities will contribute to improved community wellbeing. www.shutterstock.com
Our team studied 20 coastal livelihood programs implemented across the Indonesian archipelago from 1998 to 2017. Our aim was to see how gender issues were considered in project design and implementation.
The Indonesian government, international governments, international development and lending agencies and non-government conservation organisations funded these projects.
Most projects included women in activities to enhance or introduce new livelihoods. However, 40% of the projects were gender-blind with respect to the design and impact of their activities. This means that activities may have further entrenched processes that disadvantage women by limiting their ability to pursue their own livelihood goals.
Only two projects (10%) used an approach that sought to challenge entrenched gender norms and truly empower women.
We recommend future projects be developed with a comprehensive understanding of gender norms within coastal communities. Participatory approaches that address and challenge these norms should be implemented. This will more effectively contribute to improvements in community well-being.
What we found
Our study, which assessed livelihood programs from various regions throughout Indonesia – including Bali, Sulawesi and West Papua – found 95% of programs had directly or indirectly included women. They did so through activities such as providing training and equipment to support alternative sources of income – e.g. making fish or mangrove-based food products.
Only three of the 20 projects provided gender awareness training for staff members and community facilitators. Only one provided similar training at the community level. In addition, two projects included a gender quota for community facilitators (30-50% female).
However, we found most projects applied either a “gender reinforcing” approach – reinforcing the existing gender norms and relations that underlie social and economic inequalities between men and women – or a “gender accommodating” approach – recognising these norms and relations but making no attempt to challenge them.
For example, many projects included separate “women’s activities”, such as handicrafts manufacture, or sought to increase household income by engaging women in income-generating enterprise groups. However, there was little consideration of how women would balance these activities with traditional caring and household roles, or of other ways women contributed to the household economy.
What we can do
Based on our findings, we recommend a “gender transformative” approach. Firstly, this approach involves mainstreaming gender issues across entire project cycles. Secondly, it involves working with coastal communities to identify and, where appropriate, challenge existing gender norms and social relations.
A core component of these projects is gender analysis. This is a process that identifies:
men’s and women’s activities within the home and community
differences in men’s and women’s access to, control over and use of livelihood resources
differences in participation in processes that govern management of natural resources
the gender norms and relations governing these differences
their impact on men’s and women’s livelihood opportunities.
For example, the Coastal Field School program included participatory activities that documented men’s and women’s daily activities. This activity highlighted the time women spent on caring and household duties and unpaid supportive contributions to “men’s activities”.
When undertaken in a participatory manner, this analysis helps communities to identify local, and broader structural, barriers to gender equality. They can then identify options and potential actions for overcoming these barriers. This creates a more equitable social and economic environment.
Summary of the characteristics of approaches to gender in development programs (based on Lawless et al. 2017), with examples of typical project activities drawn from our. study. Stacey et al (2019).
This process must be sensitively facilitated because it may confront traditional power hierarchies within communities. It also takes time, which must be factored into project cycles.
The use of gender-transformative approaches can improve the well-being of coastal communities by identifying and reducing barriers to equitable participation in social and economic life. This increases the ability of men and women to pursue enhanced or alternative livelihood opportunities.
Finally, recognising women’s contributions, building women’s confidence and giving women voice to participate in local community planning processes creates greater opportunities for issues of concern to women to be included in the development agenda.
Natasha Stacey is a Associate Professor, Research Institute for the Environment and Livelihoods, College of Engineering, IT and Environment, Charles Darwin University
Emily Gibson is a PhD Candidate, Research Institute for the Environment and Livelihoods, Charles Darwin University
THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON THE CONVERSATION
Examining chicken intestines, reading the tea leaves, watching the markets – people turn to experts for insight into the mysteries that surround them. Manvir Singh, CC BY-ND
Modern Shamans: Financial Managers, Political Pundits and Others Who Help Tame Life’s Uncertainty
Aka Manai explains that there are two kinds of people in the world: simata and sikerei.
I am a simata. He is a sikerei. Sikerei have undergone transformative experiences and emerged with new abilities: They alone can see spirits.
I’ve experienced a lot since that night in Indonesia when Aka Manai told me this. I was there when an initiate first saw spirits, when he and the other sikerei wept as they saw their dead fathers swirling around them. I’ve attended seven healing ceremonies, witnessing the slaughter of dozens of pigs to accompany nights of dancing. But that chat with kind-faced Aka Manai, more than any other experience, grounded my understanding of sikerei in particular and shamanism more generally.
A sikerei treats an initiate’s eyes so he, too, can see spirits. Manvir Singh, CC BY-ND
I’m a cognitive anthropologist who studies why societies everywhere develop complex yet strikingly similar traditions, ranging from dance songs to justice to shamanism. And though trancing witch doctors may sound exotic to a Western reader, I argue that the same social and psychological pressures that give rise to healers like Aka Manai produce shaman-analogues in the contemporary, industrialized West.
What is a shaman?
Shamans, including the sikerei I’ve known in Indonesia, are service providers. They specialize in healing and divination, and their services can range from ending a drought to growing a business. Like all magical specialists, they rely on spells and occult gizmos, but what makes shamans special is that they use trance.
Trance is any foreign psychological state in which a practitioner is said to engage with the supernatural. Some trances involve complete immobilization; others appear as tongue-lolling convulsions. In some South American groups, shamans enter trance by snorting a hallucinogenic powder, transforming themselves into crawling, unintelligible spirit-beings.
Being a shaman often carries benefits, both because they get paid and because their special position grants them prestige and influence.
But these advantages are offset by the ordeals involved. In many societies, a wannabe initiate lacks credibility until he (and it’s usually a he) undergoes a near-death experience or a long bout of asceticism.
One aboriginal Australian shaman told ethnographers that, as a novice, he was killed by an older shaman who then replaced his organs with a new, magical set. When he woke up from the surgery and asked the old shaman if he was lost, the old man replied, “No, you are not lost; I killed you a long time ago.”
A long time ago, a short time ago, here, there – wherever you look, there are shamans. Manifesting as mediums, channelers, witch doctors and the prophets of religious movements, shamans have appeared in most human societies, including nearly all documented hunter-gatherers. They characterized the religious lives of ancestral humans and are often said to be the “first profession.”
Why are there shamans?
Why is it that when we lanky primates get together for long enough, our societies reliably give rise to trance-dancing healers?
According to anthropologist Michael Winkelman, the answer is wisdom. Drugs and drumming, he’s argued, link up brain regions that don’t normally communicate. This connection yields new insights, allowing shamans to do things like heal sickness and locate animals. By specializing in trance, shamans uncover solutions inaccessible to normal brains.
Based on my fieldwork, I’ve argued against Winkelman’s account. Rather than all integrating people’s psychologies, trance states are wildly diverse. Chanting, sipping psychoactive brews such as ayahuasca, dancing to the point of exhaustion, even smoking extreme quantities of tobacco – these methods produce profoundly different states. Some are arousing, others calming; some expand awareness, others induce repetitive thinking. In fact, the only element shared among these states is their exoticness – that once altered, the shaman’s experience stands apart from those of his onlookers.
As part of his anthropological fieldwork, author Manvir Singh speaks with an Indonesian shaman. Luke Glowacki, CC BY-ND
Not only are shamans’ experiences exotic, their very beings are, too. As Aka Manai emphasized to me, people understand shamans to be different kinds of entities, made “other” by their ordeals. The Mentawai word for a non-shaman, simata, also describes uncooked food or unripe fruit; it implies immaturity. The word for shaman, in contrast, means a person who has undergone a process: one who has been kerei’d and come out the other side a sikerei.
This otherness is crucial. Convinced that shamans diverge from normal people, communities accept that they have superhuman abilities. Like Superman’s alien origins and the X-Men’s genetic mutations, shamans’ transformations assure people that they deviate from normal humanness, making their claims of supernatural engagement more believable.
And once people trust that a specialist engages with gods and spirits, they go to them when they need to influence uncertainty. A sick child’s parent or a farmer desperate for rain prefers to nudge the forces responsible for their hardship – and a shaman provides a compelling conduit for doing so.
This, I suggest, is why shamans recur around the world and across time. As specialists compete in markets for magic, they fuel the evolution of practices that hack people’s intuitions about magic and special abilities, convincing the rest of us that they can control uncertainty. Shamans are the culmination of this evolution. They use trance and initiations to transcend humanness, assuring their clients that they can commune with the invisible beings who oversee uncertain events.
Who are the shamans of the industrialized West?
Most people assume that shamanism has disappeared in the industrialized West – that it’s an ancient tradition of long-lost tribes, at most resurrected and corrupted by New Age xenophiles and overeager mystics.
To some extent, these people are right. Far fewer Westerners visit trance-practitioners to heal illness or call rain than people have elsewhere in the world or throughout history. But they’re also wrong. Like people everywhere, contemporary Westerners look to experts to achieve the impossible – to heal incurable illnesses, to forecast unknowable futures – and the experts, in turn, compete among themselves, performing to convince people of their special abilities.
So who are these modern shamans?
A specialist you can turn to for help divining the mysterious forces at work in financial markets. Matej Kastelic/Shutterstock.com
According to the cognitive scientist Samuel Johnson, financial money managers are likely candidates. Money managers fail to outperform the market – in fact, they even fail to systematically outperform each other – yet customers continue to pay them to divine future stock prices.
This faith might come from a belief of their fundamental otherness. Johnson points out that money managers emphasize their differences from clients, exhibiting extreme charisma and enduring superhuman work schedules. Managers also adorn themselves with advanced mathematical degrees and use complicated statistical models to predict the market. Although money managers don’t enter trance, their degrees and models assure clients that the specialists can peer into otherwise opaque forces.
Of course, money managers aren’t the only experts to specialize in the impossible. Psychics, sports analysts, political pundits, economic forecasters, esoteric healers and even an octopus similarly sate people’s desires to tame the uncertain. Like shamans and money managers, they decorate themselves with badges of credibility – an association with the White House, for example, or a familiarity with ancient Tibetan medicine – that persuade customers of their special abilities.
As long as hidden forces shape our fates, people will try to control them. And as long as it’s profitable, pseudo-experts will compete for desperate clients, dressing in the most credible and compelling costumes. Shamanism is not some arcane tradition restricted to an ancient past or New Age circles. It’s a near-inevitable consequence of our human intuitions about special abilities and our desire to control the uncertain, and elements of it appear everywhere.
MANVIR SINGH is a PhD Candidate in Human Evolutionary Biology at Harvard University.
THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON THE CONVERSATION
Heavy Metal Hijabis
The town of Garut in Western Java, Indonesia is a quiet place—that is, until Voice of Baceprot takes the stage. While most people in the town live tranquil, pastoral lives, teenagers Firdda, Widia and Euis thrash out and rock hard. The band has shot to fame for playing heavy metal in the religiously conservative country. After gaining popularity, VoB began to face criticism for performing while wearing hijabs. Still, they continue to shred—an inspiration for everyone with a little bit of music and a little bit of hardcore rebellion in their souls.
Bissu, or transgender priests, are one of five genders recognized by the Bugis. Reuters
What We Can Learn From an Indonesian Ethnicity that Recognizes Five Genders
On June 13, when a judge in Oregon allowed a person to legally choose neither sex and be classified as “nonbinary,” transgender activists rejoiced. It’s thought to be the first ruling of its kind in a country that, until now, has required that people mark “male” or “female” on official identity documents.
The small victory comes in the wake of a controversial new law in North Carolina that prevents transgender people from using public restrooms that do not match the sex on their birth certificates.
The conflict rooted in these recent policies is nothing new; for years, people have been asking questions about whether the “sex” we are born with should dictate things like which public facilities we can use, what to tick on our passport application and who’s eligible to play on particular sports teams.
But what if gender were viewed the same way sex researcher Alfred Kinsey famously depicted sexuality – as something along a sliding scale?
In fact, there’s an ethnic group in South Sulawesi, Indonesia – the Bugis – that views gender this way. For my Ph.D. research, I lived in South Sulawesi in the late 1990s to learn more about the Bugis’ various ways of understanding sex and gender. I eventually detailed these conceptualizations in my book “Gender Diversity in Indonesia.”
Does society dictate our gender?
For many thinkers, such as gender theorist Judith Butler, requiring everyone to choose between the “female” and “male” toilet is absurd because there is no such thing as sex to begin with.
According to this strain of thinking, sex doesn’t mean anything until we become engendered and start performing “sex” through our dress, our walk, our talk. In other words, having a penis means nothing before society starts telling you that if you have one you shouldn’t wear a skirt (well, unless it’s a kilt).
Nonetheless, most talk about sex as if everyone on the planet was born either female or male. Gender theorists like Butler would argue that humans are far too complex and diverse to enable all seven billion of us to be evenly split into one of two camps.
This comes across most clearly in how doctors treat children born with “indeterminate” sex (such as those born with androgen insensitivity syndrome, hypospadias or Klinefelter syndrome). In cases where a child’s sex is indeterminate, doctors used to simply measure the appendage to see if the clitoris was too long – and therefore, must be labeled a penis – or vice versa. Such moves arbitrarily forced a child under the umbrella of one sex or the other, rather than letting the child grow naturally with their body.
Gender on a spectrum
Perhaps a more useful way to think about sex is to see sex as a spectrum.
While all societies are highly and diversely gendered, with specific roles for women and men, there are also certain societies – or, at least, individuals within societies – who have nuanced understandings of the relationship between sex (our physical bodies), gender (what culture makes of those bodies) and sexuality (which kinds of bodies we desire).
Indonesia may be in the press for terror attacks and executions, but it’s actually a very tolerant country. In fact, Indonesia is the world’s fourth-largest democracy, and furthermore, unlike North Carolina, it currently has no anti-LGBT policy. Moreover, Indonesians can select “transgender” (waria) on their identity card (although given the recent, unprecedented wave of violence against LGBT people, this may change).
The Bugis are the largest ethnic group in South Sulawesi, numbering around three million people. Most Bugis are Muslim, but there are many pre-Islamic rituals that continue to be honored in Bugis culture, which include distinct views of gender and sexuality.
Their language offers five terms referencing various combinations of sex, gender and sexuality: makkunrai (“female women”), oroani (“male men”), calalai (“female men”), calabai (“male women”) and bissu (“transgender priests”). These definitions are not exact, but suffice.
During the early part of my Ph.D. research, I was talking with a man who, despite having no formal education, was a critical social thinker.
As I was puzzling about how Bugis might conceptualize sex, gender and sexuality, he pointed out to me that I was mistaken in thinking that there were just two discrete sexes, female and male. Rather, he told me that we are all on a spectrum:
Imagine someone is here at this end of a line and that they are, what would you call it, XX, and then you travel along this line until you get to the other end, and that’s XY. But along this line are all sorts of people with all sorts of different makeups and characters.
This spectrum of sex is a good way of thinking about the complexity and diversity of humans. When sex is viewed through this lens, North Carolina’s law prohibiting people from choosing which toilet they can use sounds arbitrary, forcing people to fit into spaces that might conflict with their identities.
SHARYN GRAHAM DAVIES is an Associate Professor of Social Sciences at Auckland University of Technology.
THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON THE CONVERSATION
Bringing Indonesian Cuisine to New York, One Table at a Time
Every Tuesday, Indo Java in Queens, New York, turns into the hottest spot in town for traditional Indonesian cuisine. And the best part? You’re always guaranteed the best seat in the house. With only one table, Warung Selasa is one of the smallest restaurants in the city, located inside a tiny, two-aisle grocery store. Owned and operated by Dewi Tjahjadi, Warung Selasa has been spreading the flavors of Indonesia in Queens for the past 10 years.
Postcard from Indonesia
An independent short film by Alen Smolic. A relaxing perspective of Indonesia, featuring various shots of the coast, the city, the countryside, and people going about their day.
Read More
INDONESIA: The Kingdom of Bantar Gebang
“The world has enough for everyone’s need, but not enough for everyone’s greed.” — Mahatma Gandhi
On the Indonesian island of Java, twenty kilometres from the fast-growing capital city Jakarta, is a malodorous, contaminated world with towering hills of half-decomposed waste, that stretches as far as the eye can see. This monstrosity is Bantar Gebang, the largest uncovered landfill site in Southeast Asia. It is also home to over 3,000 families, many with young children, who make a living amongst the garbage, scavenging what they can.
Jakarta, home to over 10 million people, produces more than 7,000 square metres of garbage per day — a figure that is still growing — and every year hundreds of thousands of tons of trash are indiscriminately dumped here, in the nearby district of Bekasi, at the massive Bantar Gebang landfill.
For the few outsiders who come to experience this place first-hand, it is a shocking wake-up call for the consequences of our over-consumption of the planet’s resources and the desperate need for better waste management. In a society enamoured with all things disposable, we are constantly having to find somewhere to put our rubbish. As general rule, far out of our sight.
On the road towards Bantar Gebang, what hits you first is the smell. Even before you arrive at the site, an overpowering stench of decomposing organic matter steadily invades the atmosphere. Next, the buzzing clouds of flies appear, and finally, the first mountains of waste come distantly into view. Many workers who move here say that when they first arrive they cannot eat, and that the smell makes them vomit constantly for the first few weeks.
Working day in, day out at the landfill, handling the rotting, decomposing rubbish with little to no protection takes a serious toll on the basic health of all the inhabitants here.
Yet, Bantar Gebang has become the poorest people’s El Dorado, a lucrative and chaotic place of individual enterprise where hundreds of families come to salvage what can be resold or eaten. Alongside the stray cats, goats, and cockroaches, they wade knee-deep through decomposing vegetables, soiled clothes, broken furniture, and festering waste of every kind, loading their baskets with glass bottles, tins, and plastics. Business here is booming, and the scavengers, some of them children as young as five, make around 30,000 rupiah (£2.20) a day. For many, this is as good a wage as they will find.
Every day new trucks arrive with more than 8,000 tones of rubbish from Jakarta, depositing their load anywhere they can find space, while bulldozers giant mechanical arms shift and mould the ever-growing mountains of waste.
Many families are accompanied by their young children, who live in the most insanitary conditions imaginable, in this breeding ground for germs and disease. You often see them padding about, barefoot in the rubbish, looking for something which could be used as a toy. Some children slip and injure themselves, and when wounds become infected, there is no medical service available on-site to help them. Many also suffer from suffer skin infections, bronchial problems, and intestinal worms from working on the landfill.
Amir, whose home is amongst these mounds of rubbish, waits for his mum who is working behind him. His favourite toy? A digger.
Some of these children were born here, brought into the world amongst the towering mounds of rotting waste that dominate the horizon. Every day, while parents are retrieving what they can resell or eat, these young children wait patiently for the next meal they will share as a family. This meal is often consumed directly off the ground, amidst the flies, foul odours, and trash.
The Bantar Gebang landfill was built on rice paddy fields in the district of Bekasi in 1989, and for some here, this is all they have ever known. Many are unskilled workers who have been scavenging in streets and rubbish bins their whole lives. Others, who once made their living digging the earth, are the former rice farmers whose land has been swallowed up by the relentless tide of garbage. Today, they all make a living by digging the ever-expanding “mountains” of Bantar Gebang, searching for their own personal treasure.
In this filthy and chaotic universe, I begin to understand how one man’s trash becomes another man’s means of survival.
Here, everything old finds a new purpose. Abandoned sofas and tables are often huddled together in impromptu ‘cafes’ where workers will pause to share a cigarette or have a cold drink, while ... You will also hear the call of Bantar Gebang’s resident imams wafting out over the landscapes of trash, but despite a strong sense of community at the landfill, many workers say that they are stigmatised and avoided if they ever cross its boundaries.
Today, the landfill is home to an estimated 3,000 families, and as Jakarta’s waste keeps growing, so does its population. Almost all residents live in makeshift shelters built from tarpaulins and scraps of metal as protection against the sun and rain. Those who have been there longer have fashioned huts from pieces of scrap wood, cardboard, old rugs, plastic advertisements, and nails rummaged from the landfill. During the rainy season, flood water rises and seeps into these dwellings. The water that is used to fulfill their daily needs is drawn from groundwater infected by leakages and sewage.
During the days I spend documenting life at Bantar Gebang, I do my best to show humanity, to take an interest in those living here, to simply be myself, and to convey that I consider those living and working here my equals.
Yet the foul smell is inescapable, the heat suffocating, and whenever I move I sweat, though I make no effort. When you find yourself in conditions like these, in an environment rife with the evidence of inequality, the only thing you feel is an overwhelming sense of gratefulness to have been able to satisfy your basic needs and a burning desire to do something to help. With my foreigner’s gaze, I cannot help but compare my everyday life to that of the men, women and children whose photographs I take. Some of them simply have no point of comparison, and live in acceptance of their condition.
Nila, one of the children who is growing up at the Bantar Gebang landfill, bathes her little brother in their family’s shelter.
Following the day-to-day existence of the people who call Bantar Gebang their home was also a lesson in the incredible strength and resilience of the human spirit. In the midst of these challenging conditions, people of all ages proved to me that love and joy will always exist even in the worst of places.
Andi, only a few years old, plays amongst the mounds of rubbish as his mother sifts through to salvage what she can.Andi, only a few years old, plays amongst the mounds of rubbish as his mother sifts through to salvage what she can.
On this occasion, I had travelled to Bantar Gebang to learn how I could assist the remarkable Resa Boenard. Brought to the area by her parents when she was just ten months old, Resa grew up one of Bantar Gebang’s children, surrounded by these vast, decaying mountains. At first her parent’s home was among rice fields, today, fifty metres of trash tower outside her windows.
Unlike so many others who live and work here, Resa had the chance to attend secondary school and to complete her studies, experiencing life outside this place, despite frequent bullying by her classmates for living on a landfill. Later, unable to afford the fees to attend university or to pursue her dream of becoming a doctor, Resa felt compelled to move back to Bantar Gebang, deciding that she would dedicate her time to helping the people here.
“Just because we are born among rubbish, doesn’t mean we are rubbish. My commitment to the people and young people here, it is still big in my heart. I have to do it.” — Resa, founder of BGBJ
Determined to give other children living on the landfill the same opportunity she had, Resa has re-named the landfill ‘The Kingdom of Bantar Gebang’ and started an organisation called BGBJ, which stands for ‘the seeds of Bantar Gebang’, along with her British friend and co-founder John Devlin. Resa believes that the children at the landfill are like seeds, and when nurtured and supported, they will be able to gain an education and to see that they can become something else. At first, with no funding or other support, Resa simply opened her home to the children living on the dumpsite, and began.
Today, with both a hostel and community hub on the landfill, BGBJ aims to develop a healthy and sustainable way out of poverty for the children and families who live and work here, through education and employment. Since 2014, volunteers and travellers have been helping Resa to expand her work and to turn her neighbourhood into what she calls, “the best dump ever”.
Here you can watch a short video interview I made with Resa during my time there. The positive spirit in Reza’s home and at BGBJ is simply amazing.
Sita, one of the young children whose families call the landfill their home, searches for toys amongst the rubbish.
Last year, waste management in Jakarta underwent a major shake-up, with multiple blockades and protests preventing trucks from entering the landfill, after disputes erupted between the Jakarta administration and their Bekasi counterparts. Angry at the stench of the never-ending stream of passing garbage trucks hauling waste to the landfill, which were now violating working hours and using a prohibited road, the protesters nearly paralysed Jakarta’s waste management during early November. The disputes were finally resolved when the city’s acting governor visited Bantar Gebang and promised to double the compensation provided for households located near the landfill to Rp 600,000 (around USD $45) every three months.
Ina, one of the luckier Bantar Gebang children, whose family have a small home with some concrete walls.
Though officials have admitted that Jakarta may need at least ten years to start fully addressing its significant waste management issues, some things look set to change. Recent initiatives to trap methane produced by the landfill and build on-site recycling facilities have eased Bantar Gebang’s pollution, and in 2016 a landmark agreement was made with Finnish energy company Fortum to develop an intermediate treatment facility (ITF) in the capital.
Despite expert concerns that the incinerator at this new ITF may emit hazardous substances if plastic waste is not properly removed, it is expected to process 2,000 to 2,200 tonnes of waste per day, and is intended to help reduce the city’s long-term dependency on the Bantar Gebang landfill. Three more bids are currently being conducted for further ITFs in the city.
For now, however, life remains the same for the families and children of the Kingdom of Bantar Gebang, where Resa is affectionately called the ‘queen’.
Taking things one day, and one project, at a time, BGBJ is not waiting for the government to take action and has ambitious plans for improving the lives of the children and families living at Bantar Gebang, such as a new school, a workshop, a tool shed, improved sanitation, and a computer lab. For the past year, they have also been hosting backpackers and travellers, who come to offer English lessons and to go on jalan-jalan or walkabout around the dumpsite. Providing an amazing opportunity for eco-tourism and cultural exchange these events have been a wonderful success with the kids.
So far, BGBJ has been completely independent, funding improvements with their own personal savings, with money generated from the day trips and overnight stays, and with donations from individuals and groups.
Today, they are raising USD $5,000 in seed funds for a workshop that will enable BGBJ to establish a sustainable social enterprise, called ‘BGBJ Style’. With the goal of producing a range of merchandise and upcycled products from the landfill, they have already begun by developing and producing their own natural insect repellant, balms, and candles. Offering alternative employment to some of the parents of BGBJ kids, this enterprise will generate an income so that BGBJ can continue to pay for and improve its services.
Nila, who lives with her family in a homemade shelter at the Bantar Gebang landfill, peeps out from behind a makeshift curtain.
Mahatma Gandhi once said, “Be the change that you wish to see in the world.” and it is up to all of us to do our bit. For my part, I have been inspired to do everything I can to help support Resa’s work. I hope you will join me.
Resa Boenard, the inspiring founder of BGBJ, with some the kids growing up at Bantar Gebang landfill.
Please help me support this amazing local organization through their current GoFundMe campaign, where you will find more stories and details. More information can also be found about their work through the BGBJ website.
ALEXANDRE SATTLER
Alexandre Sattler is a photographer, traveler, and producer of audio documentaries on our planet's diverse cultures, our shared humanity, and the environment.