Belitung: A Sumatra Neverland

(JP/Kuntarini Rahsilawati

)We touched down in Belitung with a thud, followed by cheers.

I looked out the window of the plane, it was raining really hard. It didn't seem like the right time to be in Belitung.

Bangka Belitung is a province in southern Sumatra that comprises two main islands separated by a five-hour ferry ride, and a number of smaller islands.

We were waiting for friends to arrive from Bangka. They'd booked their tickets to Belitung through a travel agent in Jakarta who'd apparently thought Belitung and Bangka were the same place.

So, when they'd arrived in Bangka the night before and confidently asked for directions to our hotel, the locals told them there was no hotel called that in Bangka. My friends showed them the scrap of paper with the hotel's address on it, and the locals answered in unison, "Oh, it says here that the hotel is in Belitung,Pak -- this is Bangka! It's a five-hour ferry ride to Belitung." Oh yeah? Very good.

Andrea and Belitung

We'd developed a sudden craving for gangan or fish-head casserole, a Tanjung Tinggi speciality, and by the time our friends arrived we were starving. There's a word in Belitung, kempungan, which is used to describe the bad luck that follows indulging in a "guilty" pleasure. But still we went in search of gangan.

Gangan, or fish-head casserole, is a Tanjung Tinggi speciality. (JP/Kuntarini Rahsilawati)

Tanjung Tinggi is a popular place for swimming, relaxing or simply admiring its white sand beach, turquoise water and granite rock formations.

We quickly found a restaurant, watching kids dive into a granite pool while we waited for our food. When it finally arrived, it was a sight to behold. The casserole, it's sauce a perfect blend of curry paste and pineapple, was big enough for the seven of us -- with leftovers assured.

After lunch, my friends and I scattered like soldiers fighting for the control of strategic spots from which to take photos.

I kept thinking of the book Laskar Pelangi (Rainbow Warriors), which is about the children of poor fishermen in Belitung, who played, joked and encouraged one another in their studies. I was keen to travel on to East Belitung, where the book is set. Instead of taking pictures I returned to the restaurant. A friend asked, "Do you want to meet Andrea Hirata?" Andrea is the book's author.

"Sure," I said. "There he is now, said my friend, "strolling along the beach". Without thinking twice I rushed over to greet Andrea. He is well-known in Jakarta and yet seemed liked a "nobody" in Belitung.

The view from the Lengkuas lighthouse. (JP/Kuntarini Rahsilawati)

Andrea asked me to climb across the otherworldly rock formations with him. We sat high up, overlooking the open sea. It was clear from Laksar Pelangi that Andrea really loves Belitung, his hometown. I could imagine the part in the book when he gazed at the rooftop of his sweetheart's house from Selumar hill in East Belitung. I even fancied I could see the dragons of the South China Sea wrestling from afar.

Ah, gangan, Tanjung Tinggi and Andrea in one day -- welcome to Belitung!

Lengkuas Island

The next day, the golden morning sun filtered through the canopies of leaves and branches along the road to the Tanjung Layar coast. It was the perfect day to sail to Lengkuas Island, or so we thought.

No sooner had we arrived in Tanjung Layar than a chilly wind whipped up and the sun all but disappeared. Boats were tossed about like toys. A fisherman approached us. "Are you sure you still want to sail to Lengkuas Island?", he said, making his reluctance clear. A fisherman I'd met earlier told me that from May to August the sea around Belitung is calm and flat like a mirror, but in December, few fishermen have the courage to go out to sea.

"Just give it a try, Pak," my friend said.

We decided to try our luck, and away we sailed. The small islands scattered in the vicinity seemed within reach, but I knew they were not that close. Halfway to our destination, the water surface was choppier. Our small boat was tossed up and down like an amusement park ride and I regretted our snap decision to sail to Lengkuas.

The granite rock formations of Belitung (JP/Kuntarini Rahsilawati)

There was no turning back, the only way was forward. Our boat was a lone warrior on the sea. There was nothing to do but to hold onto the bench. There was not even a rubber ring, let alone life jackets.

So, for more than an hour, we held tightly to the bench, prayed and kept our eyes on the waves that threatened to swallow up our boat.

As we drew closer to Lengkuas, the sea was calmer. The sun reflected off the whitewashed lighthouse that stood out against the island's green forest. It was a relief to know that we were close to dry land.

The only problem was the water was too shallow for the boat to get any closer. We'd have to wade through waist-deep water. Fortunately, the kindhearted fisherman placed a chair below the deck so we didn't have to jump right in.

Lengkuas Island is surrounded by granite boulders that have a surface pattern of horizontal lines. So straight are they that they look like they were drawn with a ruler.

The interior of the lighthouse. (JP/Kuntarini Rahsilawati)

The lighthouse engineer, Komaruddin, approached us, smiling broadly. He lives there with his family. They receive food supplies only once in three months and are completely reliant on tank water.

If there is no more water in the tank, Komaruddin must call his superior in Jakarta and ask for a container of water to be delivered to the island.

No wonder the sign in the toilet says "Use water wisely".

The white lighthouse was built in 1882 and still functions as an active aide to navigation for ships going to Tanjung Pandan Port or entering the Gaspar Straits, which separate Bangka and Belitung islands. Komarudin is assisted by two men who keep watch at night.

It is rather eerie inside the lighthouse. One room, which has bars over the windows, used to be a cell. From every window there is a magnificent view of the sea. On the way back down the lighthouse stairs, I was struck by the glow of the afternoon sun through the old, broken windows. It was a privilege to have spent the afternoon on this beautiful island.

thejakartapost.com

Tana Toraja: A journey through Celebes Highlands

The valley of the butterflies seemed a nice place to spend a Sunday. The valley is nestled in a deep limestone gorge, just an hour from the hustle and bustle of Makassar, and I was looking forward to some peace and reflective solitude with the butterflies.

 

However, I had forgotten that Sunday means family picnic day everywhere in Indonesia.

By 10:00 a.m., there were already loads of people spreading rugs, juggling rice cookers and playing loud music from speakers.

The waterfall of the "valley of butterflies". (JP)

Luckily the portable speakers (all playing different music) remained stationary and I found an escape route. I followed a small trail along the river, which led to a series of waterfalls, and to my delight I found plenty of brightly colored giant butterflies, which are attracted to this scenic valley.

My journey continued on the long highway leading north out of Makassar — the road that takes you on the timeless journey into Tana Toraja.

The Torajan culture, with its elaborate sacrificial funeral rites and sacred burial cave sites guarded by effigies, has fascinated people for centuries. The colorful hand-painted houses called Tongkonans are beautifully decorated in tribal motifs and buffalo horns from past sacrifices. 

Torajan culture is said to date back to celestial time as the Torajan people believe they descended from the stars and arrived in starships. It is believed the shapes of their houses resemble those very starships. 

I stayed overnight in the town of Pare Pare overlooking the magnificent Makassar Strait, in a hotel perched on top of a hill that offered fantastic views. I was up bright and early the next day for the long, slow drive into the highlands. About five hours later I arrived in Rantepao, the heartland of Toraja country. 

At the summit is a place called Buntu Kabobong, which means “erotic mountain”. Why erotic mountain? Well, laid out before you, welcoming you to Toraja, are two enormous geological landmarks that resemble genitalia. To the local people they are known as “Most Holy Penis” and “Most Sacred Vagina”.

This is the place to where the Torajan people claim their first ancestors descended from the Pleiades in starships. Another belief is that the Tongkonan houses resemble a boat-shaped design to allow the soul of a dead person to be launched back to the stars. 

The Tongkonans are built without nails and are slotted together with precision, making them strong enough to last a lifetime. The houses stand on stilts enabling a cooling air to circulate; the stilts double as a shelter for the family water buffalo. The slatted floors allow the animal droppings to be collected and reused for crop fertilizer.

The next day my local Indonesian (English-speaking) guide Sada called into an Internet café to check his email. He appeared five minutes later with a big smile on his face. 
“We are lucky, Miss,” he said. “Even though the funeral season is usually June and July there is a funeral in progress only 30 kilometers from here. 
“It is day three of the funeral and will be the most interesting day: the day of the animal sacrifice.”

Torajan funerals are held only when the families have saved enough money to host the elaborate event. It is necessary to build a complete village to house hundreds of guests over the five-day period. The temporary village is dismantled afterward. The other major cost involves buying animals for sacrifice.

A buffalo about to be sacrificed, with the traditional Tongkonan houses in the background. (JP)

One healthy buffalo can cost up to Rp 40 million (US$4,370) and a pig can cost up to Rp 3 million. It is not uncommon for more than 50 pigs and several buffalo to be sacrificed. For this reason, the dead body may end up being kept in the house for five years or more to await the accumulation of finances.

One of the traditional villages I visited actually had a five-year-old mummified body in the family lounge. The corpse was that of an elderly woman; her husband’s death preceded her own and the family was unable to pay for a second funeral even five years later.

Some of the preserved bodies are stored in ornately decorated sarcophaguses and if you are a man of royal descent, then your royal widow must stay in the same room as the body until the time of burial. It is also not uncommon for a widow to stay there for five years or more. 

The widow must stay with the disintegrating corpse and sympathetically “rot” herself, living on a special diet for the entire period, excluding rice products. She must become symbolically dead and is not permitted to leave her husband’s side. Lesser widows and slaves tend to her needs. 

To make sure the soul is not neglected, a bowl of food is replenished daily and palm wine poured plus an offering of betel nut or chewing tobacco is made at regular intervals. The Torajans believe it is only through this intense rich ritual that the deceased will always be “a free soul” and become richer in their next life. 

It was already 35 degrees when I arrived at the funeral at 10.00 a.m. Sada escorted me along the 1 km trail to reach the temporary bamboo village, which had been erected for the sole purpose of this burial. 

If foreign tourists come to a traditional Torajan funeral it is seen as a sign of good luck. In the hierarchical order of status, a foreign tourist is seen as a dignitary, and therefore treated as an honored guest. I had many offers of coffee (homegrown Torajan coffee), for which the area is well known, local cakes and other sweets. 

The Torajan society is a highly structured one, with four classes of people, from the nobility down to the peasant class. 

Depending on your ranking in the village, you must offer a certain number of pigs or buffalo, which are then slaughtered and the meat distributed evenly among the guests, depending on their ranking in the village society.

A government official records in triplicate every animal given for slaughter and a tax is imposed accordingly. 

When a funeral is in process, family members come from all corners of Indonesia; many of the local guests spoke fluent English. In Toraja a nobleman’s son or daughter will have an assistant assigned from birth to accompany him or her throughout early childhood and into young adulthood. 

The animal sacrifice had already begun when I arrived. It took place in a specially designed area where pigs and other animals were hauled in to the “circle of death” and killed with great speed and efficiency. 

Blood flowed through the middle of the common area and huge chunks of meat were weighed and divided throughout the day according to the ranking and status of the recipients. 
A few bamboo pipes went past me, filled with animal blood, but I didn’t dare ask what they were for, or where they were going. I checked my tea was actually tea. 

I felt very privileged to attend this ceremonial funeral. In the afternoon I returned to the luxury of the Toraja Heritage Hotel, a magnificent 160-room 4-star property featuring villas designed in the shape of Tongkonan houses. 

The hotel had all the finishing touches including a welcoming meet-and-greet service with cold towels and a relaxing head-and-shoulders massage.

Skulls can be found in many hillside locations, on rocks or in cliff faces, the "graveyards" of the Torajan people. (JP)

Next on the agenda was a visit to several of the death cliffs in the area. This is another fascinating aspect of Torajan culture. The dead are placed in chiseled coffin slots in hillsides, rocks or cliffs. 

Some have effigies placed in the open doorways to guard the spirit of the dead body. Others are left open, exposing the bones for all to see.

On day five I decided to take a two-hour drive to a traditional village and experience a homestay with a local family. 

Sada made a couple of phone calls and organized an overnight stay in a “real” Tongkonan longhouse in a small village perched high in the mountains. 

It was late afternoon when I reached the high road that would lead me to this village. 
As it was a school day, a procession of children dotted the side of road. It is not unusual for children to walk between 8 and 12 km to and from school each day. 

The children were friendly and inquisitive and tried out their schoolbook English with me. It was a very lively and humorous exchange, which led to a series of fantastic photos.

Though these rural people have very basic standards of living with scarce resources, they are always happy and relaxed, seemingly without a care in the world. 

In terms of materialistic acquisition, which many of us in the West aspire to, the Torajans seem happy to live simply, not wanting for much. Their most important asset is a large healthy buffalo. 

When I arrived at the Tongkonan house for the night, I had a choice of which attic I wanted to sleep in. I was told the room rate would be a grand total of $4 including a pancake breakfast.

Terraces of rice paddies.

The owners of the homestay cooked a delicious dinner, and I dined that night overlooking the beautiful mountains of Toraja with an exquisite view of the valley below. To enhance the scene, the full moon appeared, bathing the landscape in its light. 

It was more than enough to make up for the slight discomfort of sleeping on a simple mattress on the floor and taking a traditional stand-up cold mandi (bath).

The next morning I awoke to find I was above the clouds. I descended down into the misty valley where the next adventure awaited me — white-water rafting. 

It was a one-hour walk through a series of rice fields and a small village to the “put-in” on the riverbank. As we paddled downstream, I lost myself in nature. 

Only the occasional swooping of eagles soaring above interrupted the quiet serenity of the deep gorge. 

As the river narrowed, its energy changed as we passed by a series of large waterfalls cascading from the steep mountainous terrain. The rapids appeared in small bursts, but mostly it was a trip down a lazy river — just the remedy for finishing a spectacular seven-day trip into Torajaland. 

For anyone who wants to experience a fascinating culture, set in an exquisite mountain environment, then Tana Toraja is a gem worth exploring.

CULTURE AND MORALITY

Students from a theological school stage the popular Balinese kecak dance during a gathering held at the Proklamasi monument in Jakarta on Thursday. Those in attendance, including former president Abdurahman “Gus Dur” Wahid, called on President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono not to implement the controversial anti-pornography law passed by the House of Representatives recently. (JP/J. Adiguna)

Living off what we throw away

These four pemulung, or trashpickers, make a living from recycling waste at a Gianyar rubbish dump. They are (from left to right) Hussein, Junadi, Gizal and Saiful. (JP/J.B. Djwan)

Wading through rubbish dumps in search of plastic bags, bottles or cardboard he can sell for recycling is how 27-year-old Junadi makes just enough money for his daily rice.

Along with the hundreds of other pemulung (trash pickers) across Indonesia, Junadi makes his living out of what the rest of us throw away.

Originally from Probolingo in East Java, Junadi made the move to Bali earlier this year in the hope of improving his life.

"I heard there was a better chance to find work here than at home, so I moved here this year. At home there was no work and many other people are looking for jobs there so I came here.

"I would have liked to have started a rubbish collection business there, but I did not have the capital to start," says Junadi, kitted out in the gum boots essential for working in a rubbish dump.

The trash sorted and collected by Junadi is sold and sent to Banyuwangi or Surabaya for recycling. Before claiming the local tip as his treasure trove, Junadi was a cycling pemulung, traveling many kilometers per day in search of reusable rubbish.

"I used to live in Sakah and had a bicycle to collect rubbish, but the price for rubbish has gone down so I can make better money here digging through the rubbish," says Junadi, who works with his friend, 21 year-old Hussein, also from Java.

They earn between Rp 50,000 and Rp 80,000 per week as subcontract workers, an amount well below the local minimum wage of around Rp 500,000 per month.

Getting by on around Rp 10,000 per day is tough, the two men say, but they survive by being economical and sharing what they have.

"It's pretty hard. The price of rubbish has gone down by 60 percent, but rice is going up. We get by throughhidup irit, economical living," Junadi says.

"We also live in a group and everyone puts in so we share costs. You could not survive on 10,000 a day if you lived alone."

Other members of this Gianyar pemulung group are Gizel and Saiful, both from Jember in East Java.

Gizel, now 18, travels about 30 kilometers a day on his bicycle, searching out rubbish that is then dropped at a Gianyar depot.

On a good day, Gizel can scavenge out 100 kilograms or more of recyclable waste -- all carried in his saddlebags. He has been working as a pemulung since he was just 13 years old -- an age when most kids are at school.

"My parents could not afford to pay for my schooling, so I became a pemulung," says Gizel, adding he moved to Bali some years ago "looking for experience".

Of the team, only 24-year-old Saiful has a motorbike, purchased with a high-interest loan. The motorbike allows him to travel greater distances in search of saleable waste, such as iron, old saucepans, electric cabling or old buckets.

"Until a month ago I could earn Rp 50,000 a day," Saiful says.

"Out of that I had to pay for petrol and the motorbike loan. Now I can earn, at best, Rp 30,000 per day and fuel has gone up. We've heard this is because of the global financial crisis. It is getting really hard, we have all really been feeling it this past month."

Now, he says, raising the Rp 400,000 per month needed to pay off his motorbike is almost impossible.

Like scavengers in the animal kingdom, pemulung are often unwelcome in villages across the country, despite the role they play in recycling and removing waste.

Many towns in Bali have signs to warn off these workers, who are literally scratching out a living in rubbish dumps.

"There are some places that we can't enter because we are seen as bad people," says Junadi. "It is true there are some bad pemulung. Like everyone else we have the good and the bad."

All four pemulung say what they want in life is to make a success of themselves. For Gizel that means buying a motorbike so he can travel further to scavenge; to Junadi, success means running the show.

"I want to be successful in my life, even if that is just as a pemulung. I'd like to make it to be a pemulungboss," Junadi says, adding that he enjoys his work. "We like our job. It's the only one we can get, so we have no choice but to like it."

And while life as a pemulung is tough, the hardest part for these young men is being far from home.

"We all miss our families in Java. If we had money we would go home to visit, but it is really difficult to do that," Junadi says, still digging through the rubbish dump that allows him to survive.

thejakartapost.com

Orangutans: From illegal trade to conservation

Nine-year-old Yuni held on tight to her mother's hand as a large orangutan approached an enclosure window of the Smutzer Primate Center in Ragunan Zoo, South Jakarta.

"Mama, it's a giant orangutan ... bigger than the orangutan pictures in my animal book," said the little girl excitedly.

Yuni is indeed lucky to see a real orangutan up close; it is quite possible that in the years ahead, children will no longer be able to see this species alive.

Experts estimate that orangutans could become extinct in the wild within 25 years. At present, there are an estimated 54,000 Kalimantan orangutans (Pongo pygmaeus) in Kalimantan, and approximately 6,600 Sumateran orangutans (Pongo Abelii) in Sumatra.

Numbers are getting smaller though, due to illegal animal trading and Indonesia's dwindling forests; a direct result of illegal logging and "slash and burn" agriculture.

In some pet markets in Jakarta, certain traders secretly sell orangutans at expensive prices. The purchase of such animals is not easy; a lot of money is required to bribe authorities and pay for the issuance of documentation to avoid arrest by police.

Irma Haerawati from the Animal Advocacy Institution said she believed many traders still sold orangutans, but they were more careful than before.

"Traders sell orangutans secretly. Customers have to make a down payment first before they buy the animal," Irma, who also works for Profauna Indonesia, a non-governmental organization concerned with the protection of wild animals and their habitats, told The Jakarta Post.

She said the government should investigate the issue further.

"They should find the 'mafia' behind this activity. Usually the government only arrests the small traders," Irma added.

Profauna Indonesia regularly conducts investigations into illegal orangutan trading. The organization has found that around 1,000 Kalimantan orangutans are smuggled into Java and overseas every year; 95 percent of them are very young.

The smugglers deliver them by passenger or cargo ships from Kalimantan that dock in Semarang, Central Java, or Surabaya in East Java before being transported to Jakarta or overseas.

The traders have also been known to transport orangutans overseas on planes departing the international airports of Soekarno-Hatta, in Jakarta, and Sam Ratulangi, in Manado, North Sulawesi.

Irma criticized the country's poor law enforcement, which had a "non-deterrent" effect. Article 21 of regulation number 5/1990 on natural resources conservation, she said, states that trade and ownership of protected animals is prohibited and carries a maximum 5-years prison sentence or a Rp 100 million (US$10,000) fine. However, perpetrators get off with lighter sentences.

"The last case was in 2004, when an orangutan trader was sentenced to only 6 months after he had sold three orangutans overseas," Irma said.

Even though it is widely known that orangutans are a protected species, ownership of the animal, in some circles, is considered prestigious. According to one orangutan trader, most of his customers are wealthy people with certain political power.

A number of entertainment groups also exploit orangutans in animal-attraction shows.

"We seized 13 orangutans that were performing at Ancol in 2007. They were delivered to a conservation center in Kalimantan, because all of them were from that area," said Irma.

When Profauna discovers orangutans living outside their natural habitat, the organization coordinates with the Animal Rescue center (PPS) from the Natural Resources Conservation Agency.

"We work together with this agency to evacuate orangutans, because they have the authority to conduct raids and confiscate the animals," Irma said.

Since November 2007, PPS Tegal Alur in Jakarta has rescued seven Kalimantan orangutans.

The orangutans PPS rescues receive an intensive examination; many of them are found to be infected by tuberculosis and hepatitis, therefore require serious treatment before the center can send them to a conservation center.

Orangutans that have lived with humans for a long time also take on human behaviors, Irma said. The group have encountered many orangutans that smoke cigarettes, drink beer and even act like human beings.

Besides working together with NGOs, PPS deploys some of its members to work undercover to find people who keep orangutans in their homes or who trade them at the pet markets.

"We persuade the orangutan owners to give the animals to us," said Mujiastuti from PPS.

PPS often requests police assistance if the owners refuse to hand the animals over.

"We also rescue confiscated orangutans from foiled smuggling operations to overseas destinations," Mujiastuti added.

She said the number of orangutans known to be smuggled had declined in recent years, as indicated by the small number of confiscated animals.

"The number is lower compared to previous years," she said.

Orangutans free from diseases are taken to conservation centers in Sumatra and Kalimantan or to Ragunan Zoo. The chief of Ragunan Zoo's conservation center, Bambang Triana, said the center had 55 kalimantan orangutans in its Smutzer Primate Center; 28 of them are male, and the rest are female.

"Since 2005, five baby orangutans have been born here. This is a success story for the conservation center," Bambang said.

"Another female is still pregnant, maybe in two months she will have her baby," said Heriyanto, a keeper from Smutzer.

The conservation center also receives orangutans from people who "donate" them without revealing their names.

"Most of them know that keeping an orangutan is against the law, so they probably didn't want their names known," Bambang added.

No one knows what could happen to orangutans in the years ahead if illegal trading of the animal and illegal logging are allowed to continue in the country unabated.

Hopefully these beautiful creatures will still exist; otherwise children like Yuni would only be able to see them in picture books.

A real green experience

The backdrop to Alam Sari is best understood by first experiencing its free Keliki village tour led by Pak Dewa, Alam Sari employee and village resident.

His goal is not to goad tourists into purchasing handicrafts but to teach the "essence of Bali", reflected in the cultural symbols found in their buildings and farming techniques, and intrinsic to the interconnectedness between the villagers and their land.

Walking alongside the rice paddies, through family and temple compounds, Pak Dewa weaves the traditional Balinese values into his talk, those of win-win scenarios, finding the balance between negative and positive and living in harmony.

"The 'green revolution' -- the government's push for three crops of rice per year through the use of chemical pesticides and fertilizers -- killed our natural pesticides and fertilizers such as snakes, frogs, butterflies and snails, and left us with predators -- rats and grasshoppers.

"Now we plant half the government way and half the Balinese way, using indigenous rice and by rotating crops," Dewa said.

"Too many eels in our paddies destroy the rice roots. We have a special trap which catches the big ones, the little ones can escape."

A papaya tree became a lesson on living in harmony.

"We do not strip the tree of its fruit. We take one, we leave one for the gods and we leave the best for the animals, as they will eat it and drop the seeds somewhere."

Inside the family compound were little bird houses. "The Javamunia is a small bird which eats our rice. Instead of destroying it, we make the bird a home in our compounds. When she lays eggs, we take all but two...."

It is these Balinese values which provide the ethical structure for the physical structure, Alam Sari, built by owners Aprile and Hugh Collett. They have been implementing "green" hotel practices years before the 2007 Bali Conference on Climate Change.

"Using certified organic seeds, compost and no chemical fertilizers or pesticides, we grow all the hotel's herbs and spices and many of its fruits and vegetables. We use traditional bug-repelling and butterfly-attracting Balinese plants," Aprile said.

Alam Sari participates in the traditional Balinese subak irrigation association; the water is filtered before irrigating the gardens.

Life-long educators, the Colletts have come to realize the important role Alam Sari and its surroundings can play in educating the next generation, thus they have a well-developed young people's program which caters to school groups.

In addition to environmental issues, children learn about Bali through classes on culture, crafts, music and arts, and also experience it through mountain biking, whitewater rafting, hikes and elephant safaris.

Another example is JAAN's Raptor Rehabilitation Center on Kotok Island which can be reached in less than two hours from Ancol Marina, Jakarta.

The center is home to two species -- The elang bondol, or Brahminy kite, and the elang laut perut putih, or white-bellied sea eagle, which boasts a two-meter wingspan.

"JAAN receives these raptors from the Forestry Ministry, birds captured from Indonesia's illegal wildlife markets. The fledglings are usually caught and sold to the markets by local fishermen wanting to supplement their meager incomes," said Femke den Haas, JAAN coordinator for wildlife protection and welfare.

"The birds need to know they're birds and so must learn to fish. The raptor keepers stock the cages' at shallow ponds with live fish at night while the birds are sleeping."

Walking through the jungle, Sudarno, JAAN's coordinator for equipment and maintenance and a raptor keeper, spoke of his scarred hands.

"Every one of us has had our hands punctured by the eagle's powerful, razor-sharp talons during handling. At times the talons have ripped through our hands to the other side! We can do nothing until the bird decides it's ready to set us free," Sudarno said.

Rehabilitating the birds is a long process, explained Femke. The various cages, equivalent in size to a two-story, medium-sized home, are spread out through the jungle.

"After they can fish and before they are released, a wing marker with a radio transmitter is attached to it," Femke said.

"The marker includes JAAN's phone number in case the bird ends up back at the market or is found injured."

In addition to the Raptor-Rehabilitation Center, reef rehabilitation and organic gardening projects, other projects are underway on Kotok.

Mangrove nurseries have been established, the young plants then transplanted along the water's edge, a program that will be repeated on the other islands, explained Ade Ardiansyah, JAAN's coordinator for the marine program.

As with so many of the country's beaches, garbage also collects along Kotok's. JAAN works with the communities in recycling projects and education.

"It's working! The local island children tell everyone they meet that laut bukan tempat sampah (the sea is not a garbage can)," said tourist Craig Stewart.

In addition to the tour of the Center, JAAN provides lunch. A day trip to the island still allows time to hike around the island, snorkel in the crystal clear, blue waters or sunbathe on the beach.

Field trips are organized with Jakarta's schools, teaching why trading in illegal wildlife is wrong and building environmental and cultural awareness in the next generation.

Day trips as well as overnight trips can be arranged by JAAN. As it is a yayasan supported by grants from institutions as well as individuals, any income earned through these trips is plowed back into the project.

thejakartapost.com

Ecotourism for the common good

Ecotourism, green certification and the common good -- what do these terms mean? Since the Bali Conference on Climate Change last December, these and many similar concepts have been bandied about.

Ecotourism is defined as: "Responsible travel to natural areas which conserves the environment and improves the well-being of local people". Often a facility wears the tag "ecotourism", but closer examination reveals it is just a hotel in a "natural area".

Fortunately there are those who know that life consists of more than just bowing down to the god of mammon. These are people who see with the eyes of their soul. To use an old clich*, "they step to the beat of a different drummer".

For these people and the institutions they support, ecotourism is not just a business decision -- it is descriptive of what they believe in, what they value.

Bali's Wisnu Foundation works directly with local communities developing ecotourism initiatives. Two others are Alam Sari, a privately-owned, 12-room plus villa boutique hotel in the hills near Ubud, Bali, and a Raptor Rehabilitation Center managed by Yayasan Jakarta Animal Aid Network (JAAN) on Kotok Island, of the Thousand Islands.

And how do they work toward "responsible travel"?

An important measuring tool is now referred to as our "carbon footprint", a computation of human activities on the environment -- including what a hotel spends in fuel costs to keep its tourists happy -- measured in carbon dioxide, a nasty pollutant which contributes to, among others, respiratory diseases.

Those dedicated to ecotourism want to shrink that footprint down to toddler size -- they find creative ways to be energy efficient, and not just because it impacts their financial profit.

"Every bungalow has roof-top solar panels which provide hot water, with gas for backup, thus reducing our carbon footprint," said Hugh Collett, who along with his wife Aprile, are owners of Alam Sari.

The Lonely Planet describes Alam Sari as having an environmental focus, but that does not stop the Colletts from developing other initiatives.

"Future plans include carbon offsetting schemes to compensate for greenhouse gas emissions due to air travel and working towards Green Certification...."

A true ecotourist facility not only recycles but does not sicken its neighbors by dumping its wastes over the metaphoric wall onto someone else's property.

A popular ecotourism fa*ade is requesting the guests to reuse their bath towels and only toss them on the floor when wanting clean ones. Meanwhile, the hotel's unfiltered sewage is dumped directly into the nearest stream, river, lake or ocean.

A polluting hotel does not consider the costs that its pollution imposes on society in terms of an increase in medical costs, unemployment due to illness and economic loss if the fish die.

In other words, the hotel has not included all the economic costs of their actions and hence they are not subtracted from their revenues, leading to an inaccurate portrayal of benefits. This can lead to an inefficiency in the allocation of resources -- more polluting hotels are added to the tourist industry with increasing losses to society.

Aware of their impact on the community, April said, "We have installed our own on-site Australian Enviro-wastewater treatment facility to take care of the hotel's sewage, keeping the local environment clean."

In addition, ecotourism builds cultural awareness and respect and will empower the local community. Oftentimes digging a little deeper into a supposed "ecofacility" reveals that all profits are exiting the country to shareholders of a multinational corporation -- with the exception of poverty-level wages for the local staff and bribes to the officials.

That is not "empowering" a local community. Or maybe they've jumped onto the Corporate Social Responsibility bandwagon and 0.005 percent of their profits enable two people annually to have cataract surgery.

Yayasan JAAN sees things differently. Besides rehabilitating raptors, it has several other conservation projects underway on Kotok Island.

Due to its poor soil, the islanders must import 95 percent of their vegetables from Jakarta. Therefore a pilot organic gardening project is underway and will be duplicated on the other islands, "to empower the local communities", said Rio Kornel, coordinator for JAAN's community development program.

Marine conservation is a high priority for JAAN.

"Of Indonesia's reefs, only 6 percent are in excellent condition while 70 percent are in fair to poor condition -- and world demand for coral is high.

"Therefore, working with the national parks department, the local communities are taught sustainable reef farming techniques which provide them with an income and help preserve our national resource," said Ade Ardiansyah, JAAN's coordinator for the marine program.

Another term tossed around these days is "the common good", often referring to the greatest possible good for the greatest possible number of individuals.

In a perfect world, "the greatest possible number of individuals" would include the natural communities/ecosystems which humanity -- as well as the tourism industry -- is embedded within.

The Wisnu Foundation, Alam Sari and JAAN are examples not only of ecotourism, but also of people and communities who have vision and passion to increase the common good for all and have given us the privilege of participating in their visions.

All Jakarta high schools to get Internet links in 2009

Jakarta, (ANTARA News) - The provincial administration of Special Capital District (DKI) of Jakarta sets a target to install Internet connection at all senior high schools in 2009, an official said here Tuesday.

"Our target is to install information and communications technology at all schools to facilitate the teachers with multimedia materials," Margani Mustar, Head of Middle and Higher Education Office said after the declaration of Jakarta`s Middle and Higher Education Community Based on Information and Communications Technology (TIK).

At present all public senior and vocational high schools have their own Internet facility while only 70 percent of private schools have such facilities.

Cooperating with several sides, the office developed integrated information and communications technology that could be used by the students at school.

The office also prioritizes the supply of the facilities including more than 10 thousand computers for schools, seven thousand laptops for teachers and hot spot services at more than 100 schools.(*)