Plight of the Poor in Indonesia

General rule of thumb; try do what the locals do.

From Indonesia

Things that I’ve heard, but I’m still not sure about yet.

Don’t give:
- To kids
- People who come up to one at the lampu merah (traffic lights)
- People who look extremely well fed

One time on Jalan Malioboro (tourist shopping street), Annika, Claire and I were shopping. A really small raggedy boy came up to us, holding out his cupped hands. I told Annika not to give him any money, but she wanted to give him something, so she dug into her bag and brought out this cool green pen attached to a zipper chain she had bought. Annika’s like “Yeah! A cool green pen!” His face completely changed when he saw that pen, completely lit up with this beautiful shy smile. The kind of smile that makes one want to give a kid a hug, then take him home. We all felt rather pleasant after seeing his expression.

Only 10 minutes later or so, strolling further down the street, I noticed the same green pen in the hands of an old becak driver.

It’s hard to weigh up the situation, since there were things that happened that I wouldn’t know about. It could be, as we’ve all heard stories about it, that there is organised crime, adults recruiting children to go out and beg on the streets, collect the goods at the end of the day. It could be this man was the kid’s uncle, grandfather whatever. It could be this random mean man, who bullied the kid into giving that pen to him just because he can. Who knows. It bugs me, but who knows.

There is no welfare system in Indonesia. Old people and disabled people have it quite hard. Yogya is considered one of the better (maybe the best) when it comes to the socio-economic divide. It’s not at all as extreme as what I saw in Jakarta. People work hard, but still find it difficult to scrabble enough money to eat and keep a roof over their heads.

But on the other hand, in my Peace Studies class, the lecturer once told us about how there have been cases where beggars have refused to take government passouts because they said they were better fed by the community than by government passouts. And she’s a pretty cool lady, doesn’t seem like the sort to make things up. (Her name’s DK or Diah Kusumaningrum by the way. She’s very very good with the whole interactive learning and discussion thing… Pengantar Studi Perdamaian, Fisipol.)

It’s all very hard to figure out what is the right thing to do. And I still don’t know. I tend to give to old ladies, people who are disabled and people who busk out a really good song. I used to give money to kids too, but the idea that I might be perpetuating poverty bothers me. I think later I’ll give money to an Indonesian organisation that works within the community, and think that money will be better spent than otherwise. It doesn’t stop me cringing but, when I raise my hand to say no to the immediate situation.

Tav pointed out one night these little plastic cups attached to the front of some houses, and told me that people put coins in them, so if anyone was really hard up and need some money, they could. I like that a lot. I had never even noticed those cups before he mentioned it.

One of the things I like about being here, is the fact that in general, most people manage to smile, be friendly and sweet, in relative poverty. Their sense of humour is grandly different from the cynical matured sense of humour back at home. This might be because my Indonesian isn’t good enough to understand any cynical matured senses of humour here, but the majority of the time I still manage to have a laugh with anyone really.

From what I’ve seen, I like how kids are really and truly kids. Despite having all the luxuries we have at home (or maybe because of all the luxuries back home) kids don’t seem to act like kids anymore. Three 6-9 year old boys with a shoddy skateboard, mucking around on it in their concrete front-yard, having a grand time.

Having said that, at university level, it can be tiring to be around a bunch of 15 year old boys in class making stupid comments. For example, while taking attendance, and replying “I’m not here!” when they clearly are. Bargh. Enough to drive anyone insane.

Anyway, I'm just wondering what everyone else's opinion is about this? What do you think is the right thing to do?

Broken Pieces

Rode on bikes early early early in the morning to Prambanan with Meg, Terry and Cecily.

Photo blogpost.

From Indonesia

Meg and Jenai on the way back to Prambanan. Hahah!! My face is crazy. From Meg's facebook page

From Indonesia

One of the Main Temples. From Indonesia

Gadjah Mada full of wisdom in his fat belly. From Meg's facebook page

The more awesome temple - still be renovated. All the temples were in pieces because of the 2006 Yogya Earthquake From Indonesia

And ever since then, they've been taking all the bits and trying to piece it together It's like a jigsaw puzzle. Many of these pieces might not even meant to be put where they are, yet we must salute their grand effort! From Indonesia

From Indonesia

From Indonesia

Ruins made me feel really in awe of the thousands of years history in these temples. From Indonesia

Magical Waisak

Trying to describe things but so hard to accurately!

Anyway, I’m on a psycho extremely energetic, high on life kinda moment right now.


The moon is full, bright shining like a halo. I don’t need any form of artificial light to see, because right now the sky is clear. Only moments before, clouds were floating by.

Just came back from Borobudur a few hours ago with a big crew of us bules.

What can I say? …

Just amazing. Wonderful. Like, I want to sing, dance and be silent at the same time.

Firstly, for all you Borobodur virgins (courtesy of the Meg); Borobudur is one of the most ancient, amazing Buddhist structures that remain in the world. It is a UNESCO heritage listed spot that has survived many thousands of years of history. Hidden in the ash of Gunung Merapi until someone came along and re-discovered it. What’s different about this structure to other Buddhist structures is that it’s not a temple that is for worship or prayer, but rather a representation of the ascent to Nirvana.

Today, I hired a bus and set off with a big ACICIS crew to witness Waisak, which is a Buddhist festival celebrated usually in May, on a full moon. This festival seemed to celebrate the birth, enlightenment and death of Buddha, and is known to have many Buddhists from around the world to make the pilgrimage there.

At first when we arrived, it seemed all the action had already happened. The monks with their yellow robes and shaved heads had already made the journey, and thrown their flowers before we could see anything. The only evidence being these huge alter and many offerings at the golden Buddhas’ feet.

From Indonesia

It had rained earlier on, and as a great majority of Indonesians cannot stand getting wet, it was great for us, because it meant that it wasn’t so intensely busy.

We walked around in, went our separate ways. Some seated in the huge amazing tent waiting for the show to start while, me, Tav, Meg, Cecily and loitered; wandering, eating, chatting, coffee, huddled underneath lovely ponchos.

We wandered a bit and tried to walk into some other part of the garden, but was stopped by a few guards/soldiers, because it turns out that SBB (President of Indonesia) was going to be using that road to enter. I was fairly uncomfortable with the number of army boys in their khaki uniforms and cool berets holding huge guns walking around, but those guys before at the road were so pleasant and polite that I would say they’re great, except for those huge guns slung over their shoulders.

Anyway, eventually SBB came, spoke, and there many cultural performances from different countries, eg. Thailand, Vietnam. Eventually we made our way into the snazzy white tent. There were some AMAZING performances. I was a tiny bit disappointed I couldn’t see that well and up close, but what we did see was great. Lots of fire flares going off. The video-ing of the whole event made the place look way bigger than it really is, and I found that so bizarre.

In the tent, Tav is a really popular boy, because another girl wanted to take photos with him, and clearly, the woman thought I was the tourguide, because she asked me to ask them if they would take photos. The girl chickened out though. (I’m so dark these days!!)

But WOW, monks seem to have it good these days! Tav laughed and pointed at the monk that was having a smoke.

“I only smoke here, I wouldn’t smoke in Thailand.”

We saw one holding a really snazzy camcorder, and another with a hardcore SLR digital camera. One with a mobile phone. HAHAHA… These monks are damn funny. But their smiles are so sweet, one can’t really hold it against them.

Somehow we (that is, the aforementioned crew that ngobrol2ed.) ended up, each individually seated in front of a candle near the bottom of the stairs to Candi Borobudur. We began with lighting the candles, then meditation for a while.

After the meditation, we were give these tissue paper lanterns and told to light them. They began flat, as it filled slowly with hot air and eventually we let them go. Imagine hundreds of these warm yellow paper balloons being let go at random times, out of sync, but released in masses. As they drifted further and further away, these balloons became stars in a starless sky. It was intensely magical.

Magical Lanterns in the sky. From Indonesia

All this really does make me incredibly curious to learn the teachings of Buddha properly, and really ask in depth questions about Buddhism.

My mind is so … macet these days. My insides feel really unsettled.

I’m still trying to work out how to be the best person I can, and to learn to not give a shit about things that don’t matter. It’s hard. I haven’t felt like I’ve had a place and proper time to reflect properly on who I am, and look inside harder.