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Atchafalaya Swamp
Showing posts with label Life in Indonesia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life in Indonesia. Show all posts

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Lives In The Balance: Party Time!

In my previous post, Pak Aa Gym's story took place the day after. This is about what transpired the night before. In my book it's called redemption, to find a balance between light and dark, the bad and the good.

Saturday night was spent at a very happening Jakarta nightspot called SHY Rooftop on Jl. Kemang Raya. Kemang is a bit like Bangsar at night; where the city's young and beautiful upper-class crowd get to look and be looked at.

Housed on the fifth floor of a very futuristic glass building, SHY has an open area balcony where one can gaze at Jakarta's sprawling skyline while nursing a none-shariah-compliant concoction.


I went there with a friend (whose sex I shall not divulge for fear of repercussions and incrimination) who insisted, "Bang, this is where the artistes bareng (hang out)". And I was not disappointed...

The ambiance was first class, the decor smart and cozy. In Malaysia it would be the size of an average pub housed in a shop lot. There were perhaps thirty to fifty patrons in all, coming and going.

The music? M
ostly acoustic guitars with only the bass being amplified, no drums, just bongos and tambourines to the accompaniment of vocals so sweet it will bring tears to your eyes.

SHY being a musician
's joint, the band played everything from Jason Mraz to Sting to Bob Marley. Aaah...

The crowd? If I told you I got to dance with Maia would you believe me? I'll let the pictures tell the story.

I even get to jam my Canon Ixus 850iS right in her face.


Ah, drool over, because everything is about balance, right?







Roy Marten's son, Gading, inadvertently shared a table with me. Apparently he's following in his Dad's footsteps, making a name as actor. I couldn't tell him from Adam until my friend whispered in my ear who that guy across the table was.

Maia Estianty? Everyone knows Maia,the hottest woman in showbiz. She's currently undergoing a very public divorce with mogul Ahmad Dhani, fighting a bitter battle over their three children Al, El and Dul. The kids are also musicians in a band called Lucky Laki, managed by the male parent, who at present has custody. Not a day goes by here in Indonesia where one isn't bombarded by news of Maia and Ahmad Dhani's woes spelt out in gritty detail... I really wanted to ask her how she handled the pressure of it all, but it wasn't a good time. I felt that she wanted to be left alone and I could respect that. Hey, being the subject of gossip and slander by tens of millions, day in day out, must be terrible. Ever since that Ahmad Dhani took up with Mulan, Maia's duet partner in Ratu...

Lives In The Balance: Good Works Vs Bad


I have always held firm to the belief that we must have some balance in our lives; some sort of yin and yang in equal measure. To do some bad and to do some good, because to see the worst in human nature will make us appreciate the nicer parts of humanity. And I don't mean women's bodies...

I'm sure many of you will disagree but that's just me; seeing bad in good and good in bad. And I'm always grateful to be able to tell one from the other.

Because... how else would I find myself in what once was the largest prostitution area in the whole of South East Asia last Sunday afternoon?

I said,
was. Remember the tense, please, was.

It's in north Jakarta, past Tanjung Priok, at a place called Kramat Tunggak.

What once housed close to 4000 rooms in 277 buildings employing hundreds of
germos (pimps) is now the Jakarta Islamic Center. I dare not even speculate how many PSK's (Pekerja Seks Komersial) this bustling area once had. Ten, twenty thousand? More?

Anyway, all that was demolished in 1999 and early in the millennium the Jakarta Islamic Center had replaced all that had once brought misery and ecstasy in equal doses.

But don't take my word for it. Go here to Mualaf Center Online for a background on Kramat Tunggak.

So you ask, what the hell was I doing there?

I went there on a self-induced mission to visit a friend who once worked as a radio operator on my rig in Kalimantan.

Pak Aa Gym, fiftyish and obese, suffered a stroke about a year ago in his
kost (rented room) in Balikpapan. Workers like Pak Aa Gym don't get to go home during time off like I do because their point-of-hire is in Balikpapan. They see their families perhaps once or twice a year, usually over Lebaran Idul Fitri, and of course, paying out of their own kantong celana. They just don't make enough. Their schedules are usually "two-one" - two weeks on and one off, and it was on one of those "offs" that his neighbor noticed that he had not emerged from his kost for two days running.


So he had suffered a stroke, alone in his
kost, with no one giving a damn.

He was hospitalized for a while and when he was able to walk, his kin came to take him home to Jakarta. He had, by then, lost his faculties to speak.

So I promised myself that if I ever spend a day or two in Jakarta, I would hunt him down and pay my dues to a fellow comrade.

But finding him was no easy feat. I had to ask around until I found another offshore worker called Sugeng who could get me his address. So I kept that battered piece of paper with some crude references to
Bekas Tempat Prostituisi Terbesar and finally, there I was.


I kept the meter running on the taxi (no need to expound on my getting lost in the maze of Tanjung Priok - the taxi driver had never been there either) which eventually made me poorer by almost RM 150.00 (yes, it's that far). After asking around I found the "Ibu RT" (some sort of neighborhood leader) who finally led me to Pak Aa Gym.

There was no one home except Pak Aa Gym, dressed in a white T-shirt and sarong with a metal cane by his side. He had lost perhaps fifty pounds. He registered surprised, and a pitying 'huummm, huummm' escaped his throat. He grabbed my waist and cried. And so did I.



And so I had come to fulfill my vow.

What struck me was what "Ibu RT" said to me as she left me outside his gate, "Pak, you're the only friend from his workplace that visited".

In reply, I said, "Alah...but my house is just on the way, Bu...", shrugging it off.

She had no idea that my house is in another country.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

"Rainbow Warrior" aka Laskar Pelangi


Best movie I've seen in a long while, folks. And that includes all the Hollywood ones.

An adaptation from Andrea Hirata's novel, the first of the tetralogy, this movie broke all box office records in super-populous Indonesia.

You'd think with rampant
ciplaking and DVD bajakan going on, people won't flock to the big screen any more. But they still do. Especially when a real good movie comes along, they still line the velvety ropes, don't they? Great movies are best savored on the big screen, as God had intended them to be. Not on your plasticky grey China-made 21 incher in the old 4:3 format.

Even President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono was not spared by the movie's impact. He forced his whole cabinet to watch at a legislative sitting - just so his reps can truly appreciate the failings of Indonesia's public school system.

All this was almost a year ago.

Hmmm.

And it still hasn't hit the big screens at our glitzy cineplexes in 1-Utama or Mid-Valley either.

Poor culture-starved folks in Malaysia can only settle for generic (and forgettable) horror fare like
Setan Budeg.

A gross injustice has been perpetrated here, man. I almost feel compelled to write to Cathay and TGV, the main movie distributors in Bolehland, and ask -
Why?

I live and work in Indonesia - each time I come home to Malaysia I open the movie listings page with trepidation - and disappointment.

Notchetyet, lah.

It's been so long that even the official DVD has hit the shelves here in Indonesia. I've been raving about it to my family so much that I already bought some to bring home. Just to feed their curious anticipation too.

The DVDs are in my laptop bag right this moment and coming home to a private screening at my cluttered living room on my 32" CRT TV soon.
Belum ada Plasma laa bang...

Cinematography? - Top Rate.

Acting Cast / Ensemble? - Brilliant. Cut Mini Theo is beautifully cut out for her role as the early seventies Ibu Muslimah. Supporting casts include stellar Indo thespians like Ikranagara, Tora Sudiro, Jajang C. Noer, and Alex Komang. But the kiddie actors, as in Slumdog, is what this movie is all about.
Folks, you're going to shed plenty of tears. Don't say I didn't warn you!

The actors had to undergo intensive training in Bahasa Melayu to perform their roles convincingly. And after watching it you can almost believe that you are watching a Melayu movie. A "Melayu" movie that became the best-selling ever movie in Indonesia, that is. Imagine that, watching a an "Indonesian" movie - arguably the best ever - in Malay?

According to Cut in an interview, she had "begged" director Riri Reza and producer Mira Lesmana for the role of Ibu Muslimah. Riri was impressed that Cut was able to impart a certain sadness even while smiling, a required trait that l
anded her the poignant role.

The set direction was flawless. As a child growing up in the 60s and early 70s, Belitung was similar to rural Malaysia as I had remembered it. The producers certainly took great pains to create scenes for this period piece. Great for nostalgia buffs.

Is this the best Indonesian movie I've ever seen?

Yes. Me thinks it deserves and Oscar for Best Foreign Film.

I'm hoping the Malaysian Cathay or TGV distributors will come to their senses and bring it in for release.

Just don't borrow the DVD from me, though. It has already been booked months in advance!

And please don't buy the pirated copy. Besides, it's haram to do so.The original DVD will probably find its way to Malaysia eventually. Better yet, and I'm sure good sense will prevail, Laskar will hit our cineplexes soon.

Better see it on the big screen
lah!

N.B.


I was prompted to write this after being inspired by Alina Abdullah's take in her "ranting chanting" blog.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Celebrating H.U.T. - Dirgahayu R.I. ke 63


DARKENED RAINCLOUDS LOOMED Sunday morning over the vast dreary swamps of Kalimantan Timur where a rig called Yani was temporarily shut down.

Led by Liaison Officer Captain (Mariner) A. Mannan of the Indonesian navy, the crew assembled on the heli-deck to commemorate 'HUT' (pronounced 'hoot'), Indonesia's 63rd birthday, or - Hari Ulang Tahun - as they liked to call it.

Mat Salo ,being the sole Malaysian on board, was given the unenviable position of guest of honor, worthy of a Du-Bes (duta besar).






We quickly got the outdoor part over before the heavens opened (portend of things to come?), commencing to the galley below for a Lucky Draw; the door prizes donated by our respective companies.

By the way, I 'won' a rice-cooker. Now what in heaven's name shall I do with it?









Adjourning to galley below. . .

Drawing Straws for The Lucky Draw

A jubilant crew member - "I won a TV set!"



The Captain  & Me

The Captain & I

©2007-2008 mAtsalo iMages

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Pak Lah apologises to SBY, IGP Musa writes an apology to Donald, and Donald says sorry to ME?

I AM NOT PULLING anybody's leg here. He really did say sorry to me, Mat Salo.

A year ago, Pak Lah, as was widely reported in the Indonesian media, had personally telephoned Indonesia's president Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono to convey his deepest regrets. Not to be outdone, IGP Musa Hassan too had written a letter of apology that was delivered to Donald at his Jakarta hospital bed via Malaysia's very own ambassador. And Donald, in turn, had actually said "sorry" in an SMS to me yesterday, the 19th of July.

Well, apologizing for not being able to meet for a private interview, that is.

To refresh your memory, a year ago Pak Donald was beaten senseless by Royal Malaysian policemen outside his hotel in Nilai,Donald_1 Negri Sembilan, an incident that provoked outrage and threatened to derail Malaysia's and Indonesia's "fragile" bilateral relations. Pak Donald had been attending a Karate event as a Ketua Wasit (chief referee), and was out minding his own business when he was unceremoniously dragged away to be shown Malaysia's special brand of hospitality that ended with him in a hospital emergency ward. Courtesy of the Royal Malaysian Police of course, currently once again being brought to scrutiny: Altantunya, Anwar, girl-raped-in USJ police station, Gemas. Ge-mas? Isn't that in Negri Sembilan too? Well, the State Police Chief was quoted as saying that in no way was transferring the alleged corrupt cops meant that there were "guilty". Yeah, sure.

Was Donald mistaken for an illegal alien? Who knows? I'm not even certain if the perpetrators were ever brought to book; or were they just given a slap on the wrist? Or a nudge and a wink to for "teaching an Indon a lesson"? A subtle thumbs-up? After all, blowing up tourists with deadly C4 explosives is not beyond them.

A few days ago I had overnighted at East Kalimantan's premier hotel in Balikpapan during the busy PON week. PON is Indo short-speak for Pekan Olahraga Nasional, Indonesia's national sports meet for regencies and provinces that is held once every four years, with the Indonesia's richest kabupaten (province) of Kaltim hosting this year's event. It is a bit like Malaysia's SUKMA.

The staff at the hotel there are my eyes and ears; having stayed there often and enjoying their graciousness, friendliness and uh, okay, the delectable staffs' uniform. One of the very pretty PR managers, a Miss Novi, with her impeccable calves shielded only by lacy black silk stockings, had whispered in my ear that that karate referee who was beaten up the Royal Malaysian Police is staying at the hotel too.

With that juicy piece of information delivered by an even juicier conduit, I repaired to to my suite (yes, suite -- I was upgraded during the busy PON week where all the city's hotels were running at 110 percent occupancy) only to abuse the mini-bar. Suitably quenched and inspired, I took a piece of the expensive hotel stationary paper and proceeded to write Donald a letter. Along with my own regrets delivered in terrible Bahasa Indonesia, I signed off with a request for a meeting. I put in my local Indonesian mobile number together with my room number in case he decided to take up on the offer. After having licked the enveloped and sealing it, I took the elevator to the lobby to meet again with Novi, where I unabashedly told her (after gaining the confidence that only a mini-bar's contents can provide) that she has the most lovely legs and the only reason I hang around in the lobby is to cuci mata. And so on, ad nauseam.

For almost two days I sat stewing until it was time for me to leave. Over breakfast on my final day I finally saw my prey. While nonchalantly heading past his table to fill my bowl with Mee Soto, I noticed that the scar above his right temple was still visible. He was sitting in the No Smoking section with some heavy types, whom I presumed also to be national karate referees. That spoiled my chance of walking over and extending a hand; if he was alone, sure, but with these heavies? Who's to say if they too want to extend me the same level of "hospitality" that Donald was shown in Nilai a year ago?


I needn't have worried; he had read my letter after all. Because a few days later he sent me this SMS, which I quote verbatim:

Selamat malam pak Ahmad. Membaca surat bapak, sy ucapkan terima kasih banyak atas simpatinya terhadap di zoliminya saya saat bertugas sbg wasit di * some text missing * Nilai Seremban. Saya minta maaf selama bertugas sbg Ketua wasit PON di Balikpapan tdk sempat jumpa bapak krn setiap selesai tugas pkl 20, kami hrs meeti *some text missing *ng utk evaluasi kinerja para wasit. Sejak kemarin sampai besok sy sdg rakernas interen perguruan karate sy & tgl 23-27 juli ini saya pimpin refreshing & * some text missing * tanding karate di Kalbar. Sekali lagi mohon maaf tdk dapat jumpa bapak di balikpapan. My Best Regards, Donald PLK

Note that he had extended his "regrets" for not being able to meet me. In his message I felt he showed no animosity to me or to the other 25 million or so Malaysians. Not sure how he still feels about the RMP goons who bashed him though. And why didn't he pursue a claim in the civil courts?

I think he has put this behind him and moved on. I think I shall move on too and delete the poster "Justice for Donald" out of my blog. I don't know if "justice" has been served for Donald or not, nor the perpetrators who had "welcomed" him by beating him to within-an-inch, but inside I feel good. You know, for doing my infinitesimally small part. But raiding the contents of that mini-bar earlier had certainly made me feel better. Not to mention, hornier.

And Miss Novi? Mmm...

I think I'll leave her alone. For now.

Saturday, September 8, 2007

Malaysia The Arrogant


© Gatra

On the cusp of turning 50, Malaysia rears its ugly, arrogant head

Sorry for being tardy in updating my blog. Have been a bit busy lately, and I'm sure, so have you. What with celebrating Merdeka and busy pondering over the bujet.

Working in Indonesia I had the unenviable task of fending off criticisms (and still coming in, I assure you) over the "Wasit Donald" incident. Just to refresh you a bit, Wasit (referee) Donald, the Indonesian karate referee who was ignominiously waylaid and beaten up by four plainclothes policemen outside the Allson Klana Resort in Nilai, Negri Sembilan a week before our so-called "50 th"
Merdeka celebrations.

This had created a furore of sorts in Indonesia.

And the cries of Ganyang Malaysia are still heard in some venerable hot spots across this vast archipelago of close to a quarter billion people.

Gatra, the influential weekly newsmagazine, chose to do a front cover piece on the relations between Indonesia and Malaysia in its latest September 6th edition.

Malaysians need to be reminded that Indonesia’s press is truly free, and they can choose to highlight whatever they like – no “4th Floor” pseudo-editors to whip the Malaysian press and shape the Nation’s news. Therefore it is prudent for Malaysia to mind their bigger tetangga.

Although the press in Malaysia chose not to carry news of Pak Lah’s personal telephone call to President SBY apologizing over the incident, that event was fortunately given a lot of prominence here. So was IGP Tan Sri Musa Hassan’s personal letter of apology (in English) read by Malaysia’s Ambassador to Indonesia Dato’ Zainal Abidin to Donald Kolopita at his bedside at Jakarta’s Pertamina hospital.

I say “fortunate” because perhaps the apology helped douse some of the raging fire of discontent of its citizens. However, some quarters here simply think that ‘Sorry, for the incident – we promise to investigate and deal with the culprits in accordance with Malaysian laws’ – simply isn’t enough. They want justice to be seen and done swiftly.

Even seating Indonesia's VP Yusuf Kalla (a Bugisman too, I might add) in the guest of honor position flanking PM Pak Lah and fellow DPM-cum-Bugisman at the recent Merdeka morning parade didn't help to cool things down. In fact, speculation abounds as to why SBY spurned the invitation to attend and sent his deputy instead was to placate his critics. But this could all be "spin", eh?


There were reports of Petronas petrol stations in Jakarta being blockaded although I can’t confirm this.

There were reports of marauding youths attempting to harass visiting Malaysian badminton players at a hotel in Surabaya.


In Bogor last week, three Malaysian Chinese were expelled for allegedly "working" in Indonesia, thus violating express conditions stipulated on their tourist visas. The knee jerk tit-for-tat response, I suppose.


I now carry my Indonesian Residency Permit (KITAS) on my person at all times if I happen to be in town. Even the once free-wheeling Mat Salo is getting paranoid.


(Like the rules arbritarily enforced on Indonesian guest workers at the whims and fancies of RELA personnel, pehaps carrying just the KITAS alone isn't enough. One can get detained for not carrying the passport AND the work permit too, for example.)

I was also alerted by my Indonesian friends and colleagues here on the sudden proliferation of emails telling other instances of abuses by Malaysian authorities (read: PDRM / RELA) meted on their citizens (especially bona fide Indonesian tourist's tales-of-woe) while visiting Malaysia.

In Tempo’s editorial - another popular and influential weekly newsmagazine -it even highlighted our penchant for calling them by the derogatory term Indon.

Just last week, about 50-stong GOLKAR’s Pemuda Pancasila (PP) - Komite Nasional Pemuda Indonesia (KNPI) - sort of their version of Malaysia’s infamous Pemuda UMNO's Gerak Gempur battalion (who, for some, have likened the group to thugs) descended upon Balikpapan’s Malaysia military attaché office to “demo” and hand over a memorandum. Fortunately, our liason officer here, a Mejar, and a close friend of mine, managed to persuade the protesters to calm down and accepted their memorandum with promises to hand the memo over to our embassy in Jakarta.

The Mejar lamented that I wasn't around to lend him moral support when his compound was besieged. On the drilling barge I was already held in a state of siege myself.

The next day, Balikpapan Post reported on the incident with the headline Arogansi Bukan Budan Melayu (Arrogance is not part of the Malay psyche).

Frankly, being the sole Malaysian in a floating barge surrounded by over 100 seething Indonesians makes me a wee bit jittery.

But really, I have no fear of what can personally befall me. I can deal with that. After all I have dealt with rebel leaders in war-torn Southern Sudan before. Back in ’98 I was chased by Burmese military policemen as I tried to enter the street where Nobel Laureate Daw Aung Sang Syu Kii lives (she was – and still is - under house arrest). I wanted to see what her house looked like. And did I tell you I once had the unfortunate experience of being an overnight guest in a US prison? But all that pales in comparison to the shame I’m feeling now. Shame is something hard for me to take. I’ll take fear over shame any day.

Oh, how can we, as Malaysians, have become so arrogant?


© Antara News Agency

© Antara News Agency

My heartfelt appreciation to fellow Malaysian bloggers Rocky Brew, Elizabeth Wong, Mob 1900, Tokasid and Nathaniel Tan for bringing the issue into the Malaysian conciousness. Please click on the respective links to their blogs for a more comprehensve view.

Finally I will leave you to ponder this Indonesian (written in English) blog that I happened to have chanced upon recently.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Hard to say I am sorry


You know, people say in politics you can spin anything. Not this time, eh Malaysia. It looks bad whichever angle you look at it. Come on.


Background story, read here.


How do you spin a news about policemen beating up a civilian (who is a foreigner) for no obvious reason?


This, of course does not mean we are saying that Indonesian police is better. But you know, with all the news we read about Malaysia, the economic successes (in relative comparison to Indonesia), we thought things would be better there than here. And many things are: Indonesian GNI per capita for example, is USD 1,280, while Malaysia is USD 4,970. Life expectancy at birth, Indonesia 68 years, Malaysia 74 years [1].


But apparently some things remain the same: Read the comments on Malaysia Today [2] regarding the news. We assume it is written mostly by Malaysians, and you'll see that despite the economy, some things just won't change. Like corrupt public officials. Or abusive policemen.


Some of the comments that attracted our attention (just in case it is censored later on by the Malaysian government):



"Bpk harus beri duit kopi dan polisi akan memberi persembahan lagu dan tarian "namawee".Semuanya salah bpk kerane tidak tahu budaya polisi Malaysia"


"The only difference between thugs/muggers and the PDRM is that the former is unlicensed, while the latter is free to hassle the general public. Infact, I truly believe in Malaysia, the PDRM is guilty of more crimes that the criminals. We were taught in school that actually a policeman's role is suppose to be preventive, but somehow that is not the case in Bolehland."


"Don't tell me these policemen thinking that this guy is a foreigner is a good game for robbing (policemen have been known to rob the illegals)"
"In Malaysia we are in constant fear of two groups of people, The Criminals and The Police."


"Years back, the Thomas Cup finals in Jakarta was marred by the unruly crowd. But today, Malaysia has sunk below Indonesia in fairplay & gamesmanship...and the Polis is implicated. IF the Govt. does not stop the rot (at 'the guardians of the law'), the country will be avoided by investors & tourists."


"If Anwar Ibrahim who was then the DPM can be beaten up by the police, who else cannot be beaten?"


We say no more.


Source:[1] World Bank Key Development & Statistics [2] Malaysia-today.net


==========

Sunday, July 8, 2007

Mat Salo's Sometimes Weekly Indo Reports

Birth of a new sport: Malaysia Bashing

Oh let’ see.

[Flipping through yesterday’s The Jakarta Post’s July 7, 2007 issue]

Hmmm, more “Malaysia-bashing”, so what else is new?

Perhaps Malaysia deserved to be bashed. . .

Luthfi Assyaukanie’s analysis, entitled “The growing discrimination against minorities in Malaysia” is strongly critical of Malaysia’s policies. Luthfi is a research fellow at the Freedom Institute, Jakarta, and a lot of his “research” was apparently garnered by trawling through RPK’s Malaysia Today. So Luthfi is an unabashed “Malaysia Watcher”, which in my opinion, is a good thing. It’s always interesting to know what our neighbors think of us – whether our dirty laundry hanging in the clothesline offends them.

His main target is Badawi’s Islam Hadhari, with Luthfi stressing the concept to be flawed, and preceded to shred two of the “Ten principles of Islam Hadhari”, namely:

  • Freedom and independence for the people

  • Protection of the rights of minority groups

Luthfi stated various recent examples to back his argument, and include “the conversion issues”: Muslim woman married to a Hindu, arrested and sent for rehabilitation and R. Subashini’s case whose husband converted to Islam. The latter failed to get a Civil Court custodial hearing and was forced to go to Sharia court. The no-brainer was, of course, Madam Subashini losing custody of her children. To her, seeking recourse in a Sharia court is akin to putting a kitten in a dog kennel.

Then there was Lina Joy, which in Luthfi’s said was a “contradiction that is Islam Hadhari”. And so on.

He also quoted Anwar Ibrahim, who claimed disappointment over the cancellation of the inter-faith conference last May, and said, 'A dialogue would enable us to quell the tensions that arise from our differences'. Luthfi echoed Anwar’s sentiment stating, ‘the last minute cancellation . . . itself a manifestation of the paradox of the oft-campaigned “Islam Hadhari”’.

Wow, this is all heady stuff. On the one hand, Luthfi appeared to be right. But are they, really?

But for Luthfi’s essay to appear on the influential editorial page of Indonesia’s premier English broadsheet means Badawi’s Islam Hadhari is being watched very closely by its neighbor Indonesia, which may or may not spell anything on the diplomatic front.

But with “sensational” news that was played up in the Indonesian press recently, in particular the maltreatment of its Tee-Kay-Weys (TKW – Tenaga Kerja Wanita – maids, to you and me) - Malaysia seems to be fair game for the sport of “Malaysia Bashing”.

So how my fellow citizens in Bolaysia, are we “fair game”?

[Please also see a related story in Kak Ena's recent blog]

Pak Obama, warga Indonesia?

On a lighter note, I was much taken with today’s Sunday Edition of
The Jakarta Post. In it was a story by an American journalist bent on discovering U.S. presidential hopeful Barack Obama’s Indonesian past.

Senator Obama’s colorful C.V. included a four year stint in Menteng, Indonesia, where the Senator once lived in a modest house with a single-mother parent (and an absent father) and attended grade school there.

The reporter had also tracked down Senator Obama’s one-time teacher, a certain “Ibu Is”, and also met one of the potential U.S. president’s classmate.

Ibu Is had brought the reporter Trish Anderton into Fransiskus Assisi’s grade school office, where the register listed the US Senator as “Barry Soetoro”.

To quote Miss Anderton:


'Barack Obama was born to a white American mother and a black Kenyan father. The couple split up when he was two years old. Then his mother fell in love with an Indonesian named Lolo Soetoro. She married him and moved with Obama to Jakarta in 1967.


Obama wasn't shielded in an expat bubble. He played with Indonesian kids and went to Indonesian schools. But his mother's marriage failed, and Obama moved to Hawaii to live with his grandparents. He grew up to become a community organizer and eventually a Democratic senator and presidential hopeful'.


My, my, somewhere among the ¼ billion is an Indonesian with the name Lolo Soetoro, and whether he will ever come out to claim his stake on the Senator is anybody’s guess. He was once , after all, Obama’s “father”. Perhaps Mr. Lolo has passed on, but it will indeed be interesting if Senator Obama ever gets to be President of The United States.

You can bet that all kinds of people would come out of the woodwork here in Indonesia, claiming a “connection” to the Most Powerful Man on Earth.

Oh Senator, gi mana Pak?


The Iconic Pak Zainudin

Yesterday, Pak Zizou, former Les Blues skipper and three-time FIFA Player of the Year, descended by chopper to the remote village of Cisaat, Subang, West Java. Cisaat is about a four hour drive from Jakarta.

Zizou is in town as part of his United Nations Development Program’s involvement as a Goodwill Ambassador. A coaching clinic was held for Cisaat’s lucky elementary school students. Frank Riboud, the French Danone Groupe President was also shown in the papers to be kicking the ball, amidst the backdrop of dairy cows and jilbab-clad schoolgirls.

According to the
story, the organizers claimed that “the village will become a model milk-producing village”. Groupe Danone is financing the project. Anybody who has been to Indonesia and drank it’s most popular bottled water “Aqua” already knows that Danone owns "Aqua".

Sometime earlier this morning, Indonesian TV news carried footage of “Pak Zainudin” playing “Futsal on the Street” on Jalan Jend. Sudirman. No doubt sponsored by Danone as well.

Syabas Pak Zainudin!


More news on the former Juventus' and Real Madrid's playmaker here.



STOP PRESS


Mat Salo, with the roving eye, was appointed Bolaysia's "Roving Ambassador" to Balikpapan recently. A chance meeting with Mejar Mahzan, Malaysia's Military Liason Officer there precipitated the event. Kapten Mohd. Faizal of Samarinda's Malaysian Military Liason Office was also present to commemorate and bear witness to the occasion.

What the hell did Mat Salo get himself into this time?

Part of his duties include getting a list of all known Warga Bolaysia who are residents of this oil-town. The reason, according to the Mejar, in case "something happens" - like war due to situation of the disputed territories in the Ambalaat region, for instance. Or to repatriate mortal remains. Let's not go there, oh puhleeeze.

Contrary to popular opinion, he does not get paid for this thankless appointment. Nor is he privy to lucrative MINDEF contracts.

Apparently, some years back, an M.O.U. was signed between the two countries to foster good military relations by providing corresponding liason offices in Borneo. In Kuching, an Indonesian Military Liason Officer with the rank of Major is also provided a car and suitable premises to host Indonesia's Liason Office.

The funny thing was, when Mejar Mahzan and Mat Salo first met, the Mejar spoke in the Indonesian dialect and Mat Salo had no choice but to reply in-kind. It was only after Mat Salo had identified himself properly did the slang of the Air Tawar, Perak native changed.

Doesn't MS look like a native Bolaysian anymore? Well, this is news, indeed.

There are no consulates in either Balikpapan or Samarinda and the only consulate is in Pontianak, an eight hour drive south of Kuching, Sarawak. But "Ponti" might as well be in Timbuktu, as there are no direct flights there. Not from Balikpapan anyway. Pontianak is also inacessible by road from Balikpapan, and I read somewhere that the 4WD Petronas Nusantara expedition took three days to get from Pontianak to here.

I understand the expedition also required the use of pontoons and ferries. And a whole lot of money too.

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Tuesday Blooody Tuesday

©Mat Salo Images - Photo Time Stamp 18:19:15, May 1, 2007. Digital Ixus 850.

Labor Day Tuesday

When I began my day this morning my thoughts were drawn to my beloved homeland, Bolehsia. I was wondering what my two boys will be doing today, aside from hogging the PS2 and PC - while testing the patience of my eternally suffering wife - because today, May the 1st , is a public holiday.

And the boys will be at home.

Because it's Labors' Day holiday in Bolehsia.

And I'm on a swamp barge rig, on the eastern edge of swampy Borneo - and it's business as usual, of course.

But Indonesia doesn't recognize any form of Workers' Day, and so my thoughts were then drawn to a brave young woman called Marsinah, now dearly departed, who once walked the earth in a place called Sidoarjo in East Java.

Sidoarjo came into the news recently because of the huge ecological disaster allegedly caused by irresponsible drillng practices by a company called PT Lapindo Brantas, in pursuit of the Holy Black Gold. Overflowing hot mud caused 15,000 families to be displaced; some killed, flooded 600 hectares of land and submerged whole villages.

I'd like to think that the disaster was God's Wrath - a retribution for Marsinah.


Lagu Aku Untuk Marsinah (Dan Jua Sebuah Al-Fatihah)

In case you don't know who Marsinah was, here's an excerpt gleaned from an Amnesty International Report:

" . . . . Marsinah's body was found by a group of children in a shack at the edge of a rice field some 100 kilometres from her home. It was bloodied and covered in bruises. There were strangulation marks on her neck. A blunt instrument had been thrust into her vagina causing terrible injuries. A few days earlier she had been a lively 25-year-old leading a strike at the watch factory where she worked in Porong, Sidoarjo, East Java, in Indonesia. She was brutally murdered, almost certainly by the military, because she was a trade unionist who stood up for workers' rights . . . "

And all that she did in '93, this poor young woman, was to sit down with her employer to demand to be paid as was what was on their wage agreement. No more or no less. To demand what's rightfully hers and for her co-workers.

In '98, Ratna Sarumpaet, the famed Indonesian playwright, was thrown in jail in for daring to stage a play on Marsinah.

To this day, the ban on the play is still in effect.

While I leave you to enjoy Labors' Day holiday with your loved ones, O' my Bolehsian readers, spare a thought with this translated monologue from the play by Ratna - Marsinah Accuses.

Then I heard a door being opened right in front of me.
I don't know whether my head hit the wall
or whether I was hit on the brow with a club
I only know I fell headlong on the floor ...
When I tried to move, feet in heavy boots
quickly restrained me, standing on
my shins, my belly, my chest, my arms ...
I was abused with streams of filthy words

during every torture that followed,
I don't know how many times my body was lifted up,
then smashed down, hard.
Lifted up again, then smashed down again ...
Onto the floor ...
Onto the corner of a table ...
Onto a chair ...
Until at last I was truly helpless ...
Such brutality knows no satisfaction ...
I could no longer even move my fingertips
when they began to wildly grope my whole body...
Ratna Sarumpaet, excerpt from Marsinah Menggugat - A monologue from the banned play.

Sunday, April 1, 2007

One in 250 Million

What it Means to be Bolehsian - Are We Really That "Ugly"?


This is a first of series of “street interviews” with your average Indonesian, picked at random, for no other reason than their good fortune (or misfortune, depending on how you look at it) of crossing into my path. The purpose is to delve into their psyche, and particularly, how they view that neighboring country of theirs, a “Paradise” called Bolehsia.


Hopefully it will shed some light on what makes Bolehsia tick; their citizenry, and ultimately their place in the world.

Be forewarned though, for the results might surprise you a little.

I am speaking of Bolehsians in general of which I am one, and after having read my "interview" with Kanabran a.k.a. “Macha”, an Indonesian of Tamil descent from Medan in Sumatera, you’d be well advised to ponder our behavior and attitudes towards the “foreigners” next door.

Inexplicably we call these foreigners by the derogatory term, “Indon”, a term which most Indonesians view with derision. Jelik sekali, rang their unanimous verdict - perhaps on par with calling Bolehsian Indians “Keling”, or calling a Pakistani in London, a “Wog”. Even The Star, the mainstream newspaper in Bolehsia is guilty of this. I admit sheepishly, at some point prior to being a resident here, even I too was often guilty.


Mamak Teascapes in Bolehsia

For urban Bolehsians the ubiquitous place to congregate and swap gossip is the neighborhood “coffee” shop, which invariably always is a “Mamak” joint. “Coffee” shop is thus a misnomer; because tea is often the brew of choice. These teh tarik places sweep the Teascapes of the Nation, reaching its tentacles beyond the cities and on to the kampongs. Many of you have patronized these places no doubt, and are occasionally miffed when the "waiter" sometimes mistook your order of Roti Kosong for Roti Telor. These episodes are quite understandable you see, because that dark swarthy looking creature that took your order is oftentimes not able to speak Bahasa. Not so The Macha, the protagonist in my story, because being Indonesian and having lived in Bolehsia, he speaks perfect Bahasa. At present, most of these service industry types you find in Lotus, Devi’s and places of their ilk, come from India. Their presence is by way of our Immigration Department, duly abetted by agents and their Datuk employers, often fleecing the lives out of these poor, unsuspecting "Machas".

When your intrepid ASP (Agence Salo Presse) correspondent first stepped foot in Balikpapan (Self-proclaimed Kota Beriman - City of the Righteous), an oil city on the swampy edge of Eastern Kalimantan, I found it to be sadly wanting as to the choice of eateries vis a vis “Mamak”. Imagine my surprise and delight then when I stumbled upon the sole bearer of the “Mamak” flag in East Kalimantan, at a quaint little rumah makan by the sea front called the Taj Mahal.

The restaurant came replete with reproductions of the ‘Halal’ logo in its menu, which looked familiar, because it turned out to be an exact copy of Bolehsia’s Jakim logo. For the truly righteous, the ‘Halal’ insignia is debatable. And for those on their high horse galloping on the confirmed path to Jannah (High Heaven), more appropriately it should have read “Pork Free”. And why is that? Because Macha is a Hindu.

Hindu or not, Macha’s blood cursing thorough his veins are as red as yours and mine, and his tale about his time in Bolehsia, jolted me on what it means to be a Bolehsian.


Enter The Macha

Macha is fifty seven, and after decades of toil and misery in Bolehsia, was finally able to strike out on his own in Borneo’s thriving oil town. He left Bolehsia for the very last time in September of 2004, thus making him a thirty-year veteran of the Bolehsian service industry.

Macha’s first foray was in 1975 at an estate called Ladang Tun Sambathan in Sungei Siput, Perak. At that time I was but a stone’s throw from Macha, being in my first year at boarding school in Kuala Kangsar, practically minutes away by car. By his own admission, he had entered illegally from Medan, by boat to a clandestine spot along Perak’s serpentine coast. At the estate he was initially paid a "hefty" five ringgits a day. After a few years of relative anonymity he was eventually caught and sent back to Medan. Wising up, Macha came back with a passport, working illegally each time on a three month social visit pass. For extensions, Macha had to exit the country every three months, usually at a border post between Siam and Bolehsia.

Under the able stewardship of Che Det factories mushroomed in Free Trade Zones and Entrepreneur Parks. But its insatiable appetite demanded it be fed with more and more cheap labor from a "neighboring" country. Isn’t it strange whenever Bolehsian news say of a "neighboring country", Bolehsians without a doubt knows it means “Indonesia”?

From the estates, Macha then graduated to factory work; once even worked at a factory in “Sinawang” (Senawang) that made garments. I smiled at the coincidence because in the early nineties Senawang in Seremban was my first matrimonial home when my wife was stationed there as a bank branch supervisor.

Macha was often caught and deported, and the “cycle” continued. In those days immigration records were yet to be computerized so it was easy for Macha to make a new passport and enter the country again. In 1991 the government realized it needed to streamline measures to deal with the influx of migrant labor. Thus the permit-to-work system was born, with prohibitive fees and levies and a monstrous bureaucracy to go along with it. As a side-effect, it also created "economic opportunities" for unscrupulous agents, officials and their patron politicians.


Post 1991, two thousand ringgits a year went out of Macha’s shallow pockets to keep his Employment Pass in order - to agents ‘inside’ the Immigration Department located in Pusat Bandar Damansara. On two of these occasions, after having paid the fee, Macha will show up the next day to collect his passport and pass - only to find the “inside” agent “missing”. Not only had the “agent” absconded with his hard-earned money, but also his passport. Who knows how many victims suffered this fate? With no one to turn to, Macha was immediately apprehended, sent to detention camp and subsequently deported.

In the second of these sad episodes, he remembered the name of the agent that had fleeced him.

‘Rajah’, said Macha.

‘What, a Malaysian Indian, Macha?’ I asked.

He replied in the affirmative, but then added, a bit unnecessarily in my opinion, ‘Malaysian Indians are the worst, Sir – eighty percent they “eat” their own kind’.

Whoa – wait a minute, this statement begged to be explained and I replied in a tirade of counter-arguments.

For people of Indian descent like him, he claimed, the normal avenues of employment were mostly Bolehsian employers of Indian origin. The employers, he added, were often powerful party (read: MIC) people, and his last “boss” was a “Datuk Doraisamy” of a certain Mamak restaurant chain fame.

He relented to my verbal onslaught, and admitted that the Datuk had once sprung him from the lock-up in Petaling Jaya. See? They can't be all "bad", as I sat there smug in my ability to convince him. But then, why was he detained in the first place? It was harassment in its various guises of course.

His employer of the day (not necessarily as what was stated on his Pass) also holds his passport hostage to keep him from eloping. For "safety" he keeps a photocopy of the Pass in his wallet, in case he gets “stopped” by officials on raids by Immigration and its sidekick, the comical RELA.

Sometimes when for some reason the raids ‘go bad’, Macha gets thrown in the lorry anyway. Pass or no Pass. Because often, he claimed, the RELA goons rip the photocopy, decrying it as a fake. Then, bound and handcuffed, he gets sent to a place called . . .

‘Se-men-ni’, said Macha.

‘What?’ I replied, between mouthfuls of roti canai and sips of teh tarik.

‘Se-men-ni’, he said slowly. At least that’s how I heard it.

‘Oh, Se-me-nyeh laa Macha . . . that’s near my kampong, Lenggeng. I was brought up by my grandparents there’, delighted that he’d once been near my village.

But there was no delight in his voice nor his facial expression. In fact, his face had turned into an ugly snarl.

“Ling-ging”, he voiced croaked, his eyes averted away from mine, deflecting a painful memory.

“Why, Macha?” I had yet to make the connection.

Suddenly, it dawned upon me. Yes, of course, the infamous Lenggeng Detention Camp, where scores of people had disappeared and some say, killed - extra judicially. Suaram (Bolehsian Human Rights Group) had once described of the Camp’s atrocious conditions, ill-befitting in my view, of a kind and compassionate Nation.

Suddenly I am embarrassed, for I am a Bolehsian, and from Lenggeng at that, a place of bittersweet childhood memories and now forever tainted by that abomination of a Detention Camp that smacks of Hitler’s concentration camps and Soviet gulags.

I am horrified, to put it mildly. Macha was there at the ‘1998 incident’ having been caught just prior. As for Macha being caught, I had already lost count of the number of times that he has mentioned this. He was often beaten at the center, he claimed, the favorite being the banging two detainees’ head together. “Head banging” now has now taken a new meaning for me.

To refresh your memory, here’s the full story as appeared on International Herald Tribune dated Friday, March 28, 1998.


Fiery Uprising Kills 8 Detainees in Camp And a Police Officer: Crackdown In Malaysia Sets Off Riot By Illegals

By Thomas Fuller International Herald TribuneFriday, March 27, 1998


Nine people were killed Thursday as hundreds of illegal Indonesian immigrants rebelled at a detention camp here hours before they were to be deported across the Strait of Malacca.

The immigrants, using metal rods and sharp sticks, killed one police officer, injured more than 30 others and burned down half of the Semenyih Detention Center.

The police retaliated, killing eight detainees and injuring scores more, according to a police spokesman. [Emphasis mine]

The deaths were the first casualties of Malaysia's campaign to crack down on illegal immigrants. As the economic crisis continues to unfurl across Southeast Asia, thousands of refugees have sailed from Indonesia, seeking work in wealthier Malaysia.

Kuala Lumpur has turned them back. Faced with the prospect of unemployment for the first time in more than a decade, the country has sealed its borders and last week launched a small fleet of naval vessels and police boats to stop the refugees before they reached Malaysian shores. The campaign is called Operation Nyah, or Go Away.

Police in Semenyih, which is about 40 kilometers (25 miles) from Kuala Lumpur, said the riot occurred after the inmates from the Indonesian region of Aceh learned that they would be next in the deportation schedule. Deportation procedures at four camps in peninsular Malaysia started just after midnight Thursday, according to Ghazali Mohammed Amin, a police spokesman.

"The operation received resistance from the detainees," he said. "They were very aggressive."

The police would not elaborate on what happened next but residents around the Semenyih Detention Center said they heard gunshots at about 3:30 A.M. and then smelled smoke. "We saw flames four or five meters high," said Ramanam Lingam, 29, who said he could see the fires from his house near the center.

By midafternoon, four detention blocks had caught fire in Semenyih, and smoke and flames continued to engulf several buildings.

Evidence of the riot could be seen on the exhausted faces of policemen dressed in dark blue padded uniforms. They sat across from the detention center, some of them holding broken or bloodied riot shields. One policeman, who was asked by a photographer whose blood it was, responded: "Both sides."

Many of the Indonesian detainees here come from a region in northern Sumatra called Aceh. Many Acehnese say they will be persecuted if they are sent back home. Hundreds of them fled to Malaysia several years ago to escape fighting between the Indonesian Army and Aceh separatist rebels, fighting which has subsided.

"The operation was targeted at Aceh people," Mr. Ghazali said. "Because they have been here for too long."

A leader of the Acehnese National Liberation Front in Kuala Lumpur disputed the official figures of inmate deaths on Thursday. "Twenty-four of our people were killed, six wounded," Razali told Reuters, saying he had contacts with camp members.

The deportation of the Acehnese was criticized by at least one human-rights group in Kuala Lumpur, which labeled the detainees "refugees" rather than illegal immigrants. The Acehnese "are in imminent danger of returning to Aceh where they risk torture, extrajudicial execution or disappearance," said Elizabeth Wong, coordinator of Suaram. She called on the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees and the International Committee of the Red Cross to "intervene in this crisis."

Police encountered resistance at two other camps during the deportation, but no deaths were reported at those centers.

At the Lenggeng camp, about 60 kilometers southeast of Kuala Lumpur, 140 inmates escaped during the operation. The police said just 37 were recaptured.

By the end of the day, about 1,500 Indonesians were deported, all to Sumatra, the police said. In Semenyih, about 20 buses filled mostly with women and children were seen leaving the camp.

Some 10,000 illegal immigrants, mostly from Indonesia, remain in the four camps, Rahim Noor, chief of Malaysia's national police, said. "We will send them back," he said, without specifying when. "We started on a peaceful repatriation process without any sweat and tears (emphasis mine), but it turned out to be otherwise."

The anti-illegal-immigrant campaign has received high-profile coverage in the Malaysian media for weeks. On Thursday, following the riot, the evening news program on Malaysia's state-run television channel carried no film coverage of the incident, and a report on the riot on the CNBC cable channel was blacked out in Kuala Lumpur [emphasis mine]
.


I had only re-read this news after my interview with Macha, but what he told me earlier was still fresh in my mind. As there was a news black-out at the time, it was indeed chilling coming from an inmate who was present.

Macha’s version:

‘The police opened fire indiscriminately . . . I saw more than fifty bodies’, said Macha. Obviously the under-inflated figure you read in the news had to come from the Government since no news agencies were allowed inside the camp.

‘Pak, actually one of the wives of the inmates was raped by one of the guards, and then killed, and the husband went berserk. Then all inmates got upset, and all hell broke loose’, continued Macha. To my mind, I already knew why the inmates were killed, and it hinted at a cover-up -kill the witnesses. You only have to look at the lopsided tally of the eventual outcome to know why. 8-1, 24-1 (other reliable sources), and Macha: 50-1.

My God, I told myself, are we as bad Bush and his cohorts? Is Bolehsia a lot like US of A ?

No wonder our flags look so much alike.

These stories of raping and killing are not new of course, only they never appeared on the mainstream media’s radar. Go back to the times of Vietnamese Boat People if you please. I pressed Macha for specifics. Macha claimed the molestation of the female charges was rampant, where the victims were taken away from camp, far from prying eyes. The violations happened at a village someplace else in Negeri Sembilan, he had heard, but not too far away. He can't remember the name. Some were killed, said Macha, their bodies never to be found. The inmates talked about this all the time, he added. I can imagine now how a riot can happen if these claims were indeed true.

Enough, I just had to get away from, and perhaps re-visit Macha at another time. A person can only “take” so much, and I was no exception.


After handing 40,000 rupiahs to Macha for the excellent white rice, roti canai, chicken curry, “mouth washing” banana and teh tarik, I looked him straight in the eye, and with as much sincerity as I could muster, apologized. Not only from me, but from all peace loving, clear and level-headed Bolehsians.



In light of our treatment of their migrant brethren, I walked out of his shop unsure that among the sea of Indonesian faces out there, someone might harbor resentment – not towards me per se – but the Government of Bolehsia, of which I am citizen and be just as liable.

Bottom line, Macha and I are not that different, only God-given fate and circumstances separate us.

I am, indeed, a tenaga kerja and a pendatang too, albeit a very-welcomed one.

For my years as an expatriate in Indonesia, I had not once encountered any hostility in any shape or form. Indonesians to me, as a whole are warm, kind and generous. Sadly, the same could not be said of Mr. Kanabran alias Macha’s experiences, and hordes of others like him, who faced hostility and harassment on a daily basis during their time earning a living in that "Paradise" called Bolehsia.

So the next time that “Macha” with the odd-accent and indecipherable Bahasa screws up your order, just hold-on to your tongue, please.

* * *

For further reading please go here:

http://www.malaysia-today.net/Blog_surat1/2006/10/over-200-migrants-and-asylum-seekers.html

Footnote:





The reason I had bumped into Macha was I frequented the salon next door for pangkas rambut sessions. Uchi, the rather attractive owner, is my stylist. "She" has not been to Bolehsia, but a great many years ago had ventured into Kiasuland to - as she put it - cari makan, Bang. She mentioned Bugis Street. From preliminary inquiries, as my locks fell to the floor, she glibly mentioned that she was once detained at the pleasure of The Ah Beng's Republic.

Hmmm, there might be a story here, which I promise to pursue at another time?




Uchi, striking a pose in front of her salon.


©Matsalo Images, taken exclusively with the Canon Digital Ixus 850