[June 1997] Indonesia is a complex archipelago with a level of diversity, arguably, found nowhere else in the world. The state owes its existence to Dutch colonialism yet it would never exist if the Indonesian people had never demanded their independence from that tiny nation state at the other end of the world. Though some argue that the modern Indonesian state's boundaries have historical foundations in the Majapahit kingdom of the 14th Century, there are few modern scholars who take this claim seriously for reasons that are too complex to cover here. Again, the complexity of the colonial takeover of the archipelago by the Dutch, a process initiated by a state-sanctioned monopolistic trade group known by its abbreviation, VOC (Vereenigde Osst-Indische Compagnie translated as the United East India Company), cannot be covered here, but the general methods of Dutch colonialism were quite simple. Rather than "dividing and conquering," the Dutch exploited preexisting divisions amongst the various nations that inhabited the archipelago that now consists of Indonesia. The enemies of the alliances that were formed with the Dutch were conquered into a submission that led to a consolidation of the area under Dutch control. This consolidation was a tireless one that touched five centuries, none of which were free of armed resistance. The legacy of colonial rule over the archipelago and the biases necessarily tied to domination of foreign peoples is most obvious in the root name of the nation, state, people, and language: Indonesia, the "Indian islands" or "the islands of indians" ("indo" is really more generic than "Indian" because it referred to a people that were "of India" in as much as they were not Chinese or European). It was not my aim, in the cultural travelogue which follows, to present the diversity of that archipelago or even to delve into the complex history of Indonesia. Rather, what I hoped to do was to present an initial exploration of a land and its people in a way that suggests the richness found there by looking at some of the more easily accessible doors to cultures found in Indonesia.
In our sojourn to Indonesia, my wife, Karen, and I traveled through Bandung, Cirebon, Yogyakarta, Borobudur, Prambanan, Solo, and Bali. The landscape of Java was covered with a lush green of terraced rice fields, and cassava and palm trees. "Civilization" had de-virginized the landscape with railway tracks and roads. The trains, with Dutch words here and there, were visible reminders of the Dutch colonial era. The roads were amazingly well maintained for a relatively poor country, but the automobiles which swarmed upon the surfaces measured their discontent with the roads' narrow width in an orchestra of near-misses every few seconds. The single greatest reason for these near misses were the drivers who, intent on passing slower traffic, drove on the wrong side of the road almost as much as the proper side. On Bali, you can rent bicycles, mopeds, motorcycles, and cars with or without drivers. On Java we utilized just about any form of transportation that we came across: train, bus, sub-minivan, taxi, becak, bullock-drawn wagon, and our own two feet, but becaks and angkotan kota (city sub-minivans) were the most common form of public transportation. In Bandung, the becaks, or trishaws, were painted with colorful designs and a popular style was to have a portrait of a personality painted on the back of the passenger's seat. An angkot is smaller than any van you would see in expansive U.S., but one we took from Cirebon to another coastal city, named Indramayu, managed to fit no less than twenty-six people on board, including children. People can be seen everywhere on the densely populated island of Java, but the simple villages give way to small towns and larger cities only infrequently. In all these communities, the houses are covered with reddish-orange tiled roofs which are then crowned with television antennas. It is these television antennas which remain in my mind's eye as the symbolic skyline of Indonesia.
Of course the best way to learn about a country is to visit it and speak with the people who live there. The expense and the time are the two biggest obstacles to doing this however. Fortunately, for those of us who find it practical to learn no more than the few words necessary to conduct the commerce of everyday life, English is truly an international language that helps bridge the gap between cultures. On the rare occasion that we were able to encounter someone who both spoke English and was interested in talking with us, I seized upon the opportunity to expand upon what I was learning about the places we journeyed through in Indonesia. Other times, we had simply to rely upon our eyes, ears, noses, stomachs and skin to observe our surroundings and interpret what we encountered the best we could...
In search of a place to unload our luggage when we arrived in Bandung, we saw a young child walking in our direction down the street at a quick pace. At first I thought the child was a girl due to its mannerisms, but when I got closer I realized it was in fact a boy. He was only wearing a shirt and he didn't have any pants, underwear or shoes on, and looked as if he hadn't had a bath in some time. I didn't know what to do, but I couldn't speak the boy's language much less take him to some authorities in this foreign country. Others just walked past him too.
This was our introduction to Bandung, a city that at first glance looks dirtier than it really is. The city is dilapidated and the newer buildings have a look to them that they've been thrown up simply to offer efficient shelter. The sidewalks are incongruous whether the portion in front of one store is wider, higher, or nonexistent in relation to a portion in front of another. This lack of uniformity and interest in ascetics on the part of the local architects caused the city to look duller and even dirtier than it really was. Similar to other places in developing Southeast Asia though, there was an abundance of trash that seemingly had no where to go. We saw many workers sweeping the streets and some roadside trash was in a nice little pile. One man even took the time to cleanup garbage that was on the ground next to a trash bin though he didn't appear to be employed by anyone for the task.
One of our first experiences with food in Indonesia was with a meal we had in Bandung. I was a little concerned with the meat that was placed at my table after I had ordered chicken at one restaurant. The meat was of a bird that seemed far to small to be any chicken I had ever eaten so my imagination speculated that it might really be pigeon. Well, the next day we were walking through a market and we saw the miniature chickens of the variety that the restaurant had served me the night before so I began to feel a bit better.
On another occasion, a Sundanese meal laid out on our table in a simple restaurant suggested a feast. On this table was placed a small, tin bowl with water in it for rinsing our fingers, a plate with rice for each customer, a small communal bowl with spicy shrimp paste, and about a dozen dishes with such things as boiled fish - both large and smaller varieties, tofu, vegetables, three different meat dishes in delicious sauces, and pods of some kind of large pungent beans. Later, we learned from our Sundanese guest that this sort of restaurant provided all of these foods, but we were only charged for the items we ate.
Bandung was also our introduction to the Indonesian woman. I shouldn't over-generalize, but the young, above average looking Indonesian women, near or at marriageable age, typically bore an aristocratic look. I thought that it might be just something that I was reacting to, but my wife told me she had observed the same thing even before I mentioned it to her. We noticed it everywhere we visited in Java, but I can't recall noticing this snobbish attitude in Bali. I tried to ask some Javanese about this phenomenon, but it did not seem particularly unusual to the few men I asked. Somehow, girls don't have this attitude and we never saw a married woman act this way either. As near as I could determine, it was something that made these women seem more attractive in the eyes of the Sundanese and Javanese men.
We noticed that everywhere we saw school boys, they seemed to be smoking fragrant, clove cigarettes of some kind. A guesthouse owner in Bandung told us it was common for school boys to smoke. He didn't care if his boys smoked, after all he had begun smoking himself at the tender age of thirteen. The cigarettes weren't as offensive as most, they are made from a complex blend of several ingredients including tobacco, cloves, shells, and sometimes sugar to make them taste good and give them their fragrant smell. Women in this Muslim city don't smoke, but it seems to be a common practice amongst males. A couple of severe looking soldiers in Bandung asked me to have a smoke with them, but I declined with a motion that I don't smoke. Then they invited me to have a drink with them. I didn't want to be rude, but I was with my wife, they probably couldn't speak English much better than I could speak Indonesian, and I had just had a good meal so I declined, somewhat embarrassed, and raced off. A young man walking door to door in Cirebon selling cigarettes asked me if I cared for a smoke. After I told him "no" he told me that it was good that I don't smoke. The guesthouse owner had also told me that he believed smoking was bad for you, "I can tell by your face [complexion] and eyes that you don't smoke. People who smoke have yellow eyes and their face looks bad."
In general the people in this city did not seem particularly friendly, but it was a college town of sorts and their were some younger Indonesian youths in search of English speaking foreigners to practice their conversation skills with. Dadang is a twenty-one year old Sundanese man who works as an engraver for silkscreen printing at a factory and also attends school in this West Java city. He earns about US$80 a month so he can't afford to attend the more prestigious university to study English, but he was driven to improve his foreign language skills and approached us to do so.
Dadang's aspiration is to learn enough about English so that one day he may earn a living teaching it to others. From talking to Dadang, who is a conservative Muslim yet tolerant, it seems that his motivation is a practical one of survival rather than one based on any inherent interest in foreigners or language. Dadang was raised in a village outside of Bandung where the younger men traditionally farmed and the women and older men made songkok, Muslim kopiah (the Arabic term Dadang used for hats). The kebaya and sejong are no longer common even in his village, and the men there no longer wear loose fitting, black clothes similar in style to karate clothes, but it is village life that Dadang still prefers to the city. This village is also still home to his parents and his two sisters, who have married, and now live with their husbands in the houses next to their parents.
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Well, the next day we were walking through a market and we saw the miniature chickens of the variety that the restaurant had served me the night before so I began to feel a bit better.
some kind. A guesthouse owner in Bandung told us it was common for school boys to smoke. He didn't care if his boys smoked, after all he had begun smoking himself at the tender age of thirteen. The cigarettes weren't as offensive as most, they are made from a complex blend of several ingredients including tobacco, cloves, shells, and sometimes sugar to make them taste good and give them their fragrant smell. Women in this Muslim city don't smoke, but it seems to be a common practice amongst males. A couple of severe looking soldiers in Bandung asked me to have a smoke with them, but I declined with a motion that I don't smoke. Then they invited me to have a drink with them. I didn't want to be rude, but I was with my wife, they probably couldn't speak English much better than I could speak Indonesian, and I had just had a good meal so I declined, somewhat embarrassed, and raced off. A young man walking door to door in Cirebon selling cigarettes asked me if I cared for a smoke. After I told him "no" he told me that it was good that I don't smoke. The guesthouse owner had also told me that he believed smoking was bad for you, "I can tell by your face [complexion] and eyes that you don't smoke. People who smoke have yellow eyes and their face looks bad."
