Anecdotes from Goat Puddle and Jambi

Lubuk Kambing is an unbeautiful place. When I was here last, I was worried that it was really just the village life that I did not like, or that in some way, I could no longer handle living in villages. Nope. I was wrong. It really was just Lubuk Kambing.

America has its logger towns. This is one of Indonesia’s. Guys on merantau, who have left their home to seek their fortune for a couple of years after high school, come here in droves. While here, they work as illegal loggers. They leave for the forest early in the morning, sometimes spending a night or two in the forest, and then take their logs to the sawmill late at night. Until last year, there was no real opposition to this. Then the current Indonesian president passed a law against illegal logging (redundant? perhaps not). Problematically, the president did not set up any alternative forms of livelihoods for the loggers. This has meant, in Lubuk Kambing at least, that loggers are still logging, but they are also getting nervous, and getting caught. The day before I arrived, the husband of a woman that I knew was caught and taken away by the police to Kuala Tungkal, about 6 hours away. This is one of the first arrests in the village, and no one really knows what this will mean or what will happen.

This creates a strange atmosphere in this town. When I first came here, fresh from the big city of Bogor and my travels before that, this place felt like a small village. Now, in comparison to Sungai Telang, this feels like the big city. There are more than 3000 people here, many coming and going along with the logging work. A lot of them are the bujang, the young unmarried men, who are here on merantau. They are certainly my least favorite subset of the Indonesian population. In the evening, they take their motorcycles and zoom past the house, which is on the first straight stretch of road outside of the main village. And, since many of them are nervous about working, a lot of them just hangout all day, playing dominos.

A perfect example is Nopi, a tall skinny funny looking guy who lives with his uncle next door. He has got be about my age, 22, 23. He is absurdly tall for an Indonesian, maybe 5’11’’. He is from Tungkal Ilir, a village by the sea. His uncle moved here many years ago and set up a shop, and now has a big family and a brand new baby. Nopi came here because he wanted to seek out his fortune and heard that the logging here was a good way to do that. Now, whether because of nervousness about the police, or simply laziness, he hangs out all day, filling in crossword puzzles. Sometimes, he plays the guitar and sings in an incredibly flat tone. He is really a very nice guy—a little dim—but nice. He calls me auntie. In my almost a month here, I have seen him work one day. Other than that, he hangs out at home, or borrows someone’s motorbike and drives around. He often sits on the front porch of the teacher’s houses and wails about how his two girlfriends broke up with him. He is incredibly melodramatic. He also like drawing, and was very happy sitting outside for house with my oil pastels. Other than that, he plays dominos with other guys, all very much like him. Standard Lubuk Kambing guy.

So, um, yes, I am back in Lubuk Kambing. Sorry for the long spell without posts—I have been moving around a lot and have been a bit too preoccupied with my future and figuring out what I am up to next to reflect on the world around me. My bad. Since I last wrote I finished up my time in Sungai Telang, returned to Bogor for ten days, and am now back in the unlovely Goat Puddle. Sungai Telang was nice—good work got done and it was generally a pretty place to be. You can see from the pictures I posted. Then it was back to the comforts of the big city and the CIFOR guest house. That was fun, if jarring. The 24-hour internet access and the hot running water was a little overwhelming at first—as was interacting with so many westerners. But they were fun once you got used to them. There were even some people from grad schools I am thinking of going to, who I was able to ask all sorts of questions of. So yes, I am also applying to grad school. It feels a little weird to be sitting in Lubuk Kambing thinking about going to grad school, but so it goes. I spent some time sending and getting emails about grad school from professors I idolize while in Bogor. It was far more exciting than it should have been. The plan is to apply this year to start in August 2006. The plan is also for a master’s, perhaps a dual master’s, but I may be forced into a PhD program because of funding. There is still a lot I have to figure out. Hmmm.

But now I am back in the villages. I will be here for a short while, in comparison to the last trip. The whole trip is planned for about three weeks—about 10 days in each village, and a couple in the cities in between. Just following up and continuing on the work that I was doing the last time I was here. It’s good to be back, to be coming to a place I know with people that I know. But it is also hard to be moving so much, so often. A little overwhelming, as always. But all is very well.
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I just got out my computer to start writing this blog... I put my ear phones on to listen to some music when Nopi came in to check out what I was listening to. Really really funny. Right now, he is uncoordinatedly dancing in his chair to Outkast. But damn, someone just came by to tell me that the village head wants me to come over… time to kill the dance party.
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Here is a character for you, the village head, Pak Depi. Depi is normally referred to by only his first name when he is not around, partially because he is young, maybe 30, and partially cause no one has any respect for him anyway. When he is in front of you, or you are referring to him in some official contest, he is referred to as Pak Kades, Mr. Village head. Even his mom calls him that.

Depi was the first one in his family, and one of the very few in his village to go to college. He went to Jambi University and got a bachelors degree in Economics. A large picture of him in his graduation robes is the centerpiece on the wall of his living room. As far as I can tell, he then came back to Lubuk Kambing, ran for village head, and won by a small margin. Where everyone around him speaks in the local dialect, he speaks in formal Indonesian—a language that is pretty much reserved for speeches and formal letters. It is often incomprehensible to normal people, especially those who do not have a very high level of education.

Last night, as per the blog above, I was called to his house. That is a totally normal thing to happen, although my western-ness still makes me bristle when ordered in the middle of the night to drop whatever I am doing because someone orders me to. The view when I got there was almost stereotypical. Depi’s room was full of old men, nodding slowly while Depi monologued in the dim light. To his left was a tough looking guy with buzzed hair and big muscles. To his right, a skinny, squirmy old man who looked the perfect wormtail type.

As is probably clear, I am frustrated with Depi. Why, you ask? Well, I shall tell you. The Farmer’s Group that we have been working with in the village has been working for over six months on a proposal to get rubber seedlings from the government. Neldy has been facilitating this as part of our project. The proposal is now complete, and needed only the signature of the village head, Depi, stated that he was aware of the proposal. Just aware of it. When first asked for the signature, he stalled, saying that he wanted to ensure that all the people in the village were village members, and to confirm their land holdings. Sure. Now, I come back a month later, and he announced that he actually submitted a proposal to the government for the entire village to receive rubber saplings, which he would then decide how to give out. This will take much much longer than the Farmer’s Group’s proposal and result in a small amount of saplings for a small number of people in the village—none of whom besides the FG have expressed any interest in getting rubber saplings. Of course, it does mean that anything coming to the village is coming straight out of Depi’s hands, which is, of course, the point.

The issue is not only his handling of the FG that frustrates me. No one in the village really has faith in him, which makes working in the village very difficult. The way the Indonesian bureaucracy is set up is that anything that you want from the government has to be signed, “known” by the village head. This means that anything that we try to accomplish with the village groups that has any form of governmental assistance is open to be used by the village head. And use these things he does. It is also a problem with the women’s groups, as the village head’s wife is the head of the collective organization of women’s groups, the “PKK”. Therefore, things done by the women’s groups must be approved by her. She is actually not that bad, but is perfectly willing to unquestioningly do whatever her husband tells her to.

How, oh HOW, are we supposed to work on developing collective action among village people when the main source of support for village people is being gate-kept by Depi and his useless wife? We can work around governmental support, but even then, working without the direct permission of the village head is beginning for problems for the villagers. At some point they will want something from the government (like, say, permission to marry) and you can trust Depi won’t give it if you have outstanding business with him.

Ok, enough ranting. I am frustrated, but it can’t be anything like the people in Lubuk Kambing who have to deal with this man everyday, at least for the next 4 years of his 5 year term.

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In Jambi at the moment.

Nice anecdote: I was feeling a little down after getting a chance to check my email and getting all sorts of nice emails from all you people. Ah, I am so lucky to have such great people on the other side of the world.

But, so I was feeling a little down when I get a text message on my phone. It read “We are capable, it is possible, yes, it is possible, we can do better. DREAM please. START now”. Anyone who was with me in DC for the inauguration protest may remember that this was a sign that some anonymous girl was wearing on her back. I took a picture of it. Last time I was in Bungo I stayed in a friend’s room, and he left me a picture frame, challenging me to fill it. And so I did. With that picture. This friend just got back to Bungo after a month in Bogor with his wife and new born kid, and got the msg. Learning I was back in Jambi, he texts me, with the message from the poster in DC.

It was perfectly timed. Not sure if the niceness of getting that message when one is down totally comes through. Anyhow, it was really nice.