An intriguing Chinese temple off the beaten track<\/p>\n
By Michael Upton<\/p>\n
TANJUNG KAIT, West Java (JP): Having lived for several years
\nin Jakarta, it came as something of a surprise to learn of an
\nhistoric Chinese temple quite close to Soekarno-Hatta
\nInternational Airport.<\/p>\n
Close as the crow flies, that is -- from Jakarta itself, it's
\nbest approached via the toll road and Tangerang. From there, take
\nthe road to Mauk. I use \"road\" metaphorically, as most of it is
\nrubble.<\/p>\n
A riverside overhung by trees runs alongside, the wet paddy
\nfields glinting through them. A low haze hung over the distance.
\nThe potholes seemed to multiply and the view in front consisted
\nof an interlacing matrix of zigzagging motorcycles avoiding them.<\/p>\n
I passed through a market. And I mean \"through\" -- it spread
\nall over the road so that even the potholes were covered. Traders
\nand buyers were busy loading and unloading papaya, bean shoots,
\nbananas, onions and garlic. Becak (pedicabs) were everywhere,
\ncarrying people, fruit, sacks of rice.<\/p>\n
Goats filled the gaps between the becak and two tiny kids
\nskipped along. With their oddly thick forelegs, they appeared
\nquite cute, a characteristic the adults entirely lack. Perhaps
\nthey think the same of us.<\/p>\n
Leaving the market behind, I caught up with a minibus, which
\nproceeded to stop every 30 meters. I stopped also to avoid
\noncoming goats. The minibus had lost half its rear panel
\nincluding the number plate, but its rear lights were still
\nhanging in there. Literally -- they were dangling free on their
\nwiring, swinging merrily over the bumps.<\/p>\n
At Mauk, I decided against calling in on the mayor to comment
\non the state of the highway, but turned right for Tanjung Kait.
\nThe road, though narrower, became suddenly smoother, the tarmac
\nnow stretching more or less all the way across it. I passed
\nbetween tall coconut palms. Is there any sight more full of
\ntropical appeal than a grove of coconut palms swaying in a sea
\nbreeze, their notched trunks stretching up to rustling fronds and
\na golden cluster of ripening fruit, a scattering of neat kampong
\ndwellings in the shade beneath? Yes, I hear you reply -- a large
\ncocktail sparkling on a poolside table at a 5-star hotel.<\/p>\n
Well, anyway, it was certainly more inviting than the next
\nvista, which was the salt-panning area. Assisted by bailing, a
\nhigh tide brings the sea running in over the flats, which are
\ndammed to capture the saltwater. Over a period of weeks
\nevaporation leaves behind a crust of salt crystals that are
\nscraped up for use. It seems like a hard way to earn a living and
\nI suspect these salt-panners are the poorest of the poor.<\/p>\n
Further on I spotted two overgrown Chinese grave mounds. The
\ntemple I was going to see is supposed to have been built by
\nChinese merchants and it's likely that some of their descendants
\nlived -- and died -- in the area. The road passed through another
\npalm grove, this one with a fighting cock standing resplendent in
\nhis cage on the freshly swept packed earth in front of a house. I
\nstopped to admire it and succeeded in understanding from the
\nowner that the bird is nine months old and a good fighter.<\/p>\n
Another cluster of Chinese graves announced my arrival at the
\nvillage of Tanjung Kait and the Tjoe Soe Kong temple was straight
\nin front. The guidebook says it is 200 years old, but everyone I
\nasked said 300. Either way, it survived -- miraculously? -- the
\nravages of the Krakatau eruption of 1883 which devastated much of
\nJava's northwest coastline.<\/p>\n
The temple was larger than I expected, probably twice the size
\nof the better known one further west along the coast at Banten,
\nand I was the only visitor, though I was assured that many
\npilgrims come from all over Southeast Asia on feast days.<\/p>\n
The tenacious tradition of Chinese temple design means it's
\nhard to be sure, but the oldest building in the complex appeared
\nto be at the rear, with several forward extensions, or rebuilds,
\nhaving been erected later. From the back wall, a large potbellied
\nBuddha smiled benignly down across a grassed courtyard. The
\ncolumn bases supporting the roof over him were decorated with a
\nbreaking-wave motif.<\/p>\n
Behind the temple is a small harbor used by fishermen and
\ntheir offshore fish-traps are visible from the jetty: Tanjung
\nKait means Cape Hook. Across the road from the main temple stands
\na shrine to Dewi Neng, a local saint. Inside are memorial cradles
\nto dead infants, relatives of the saint. This small building is
\nwhat made the trip worthwhile for me. I approached it through a
\nbrightly painted Candi Bentar, a Hindu-Javanese split gateway,
\nthough the paint would be a Chinese contribution. Close by stands
\na splendid frangipani, the quintessential Muslim funerary tree,
\nand the whole composition is framed by an enormous stately
\nbanyan, a worthy attendant to many a Balinese temple.<\/p>\n
Admittedly, the building itself is undistinguished, but the
\nassemblage formed a microcosm of the country's diverse cultural
\ntradition, a reminder of Bhinneka Tunggal Ika, unity in
\ndiversity. Perhaps this virtually unknown shrine standing in a
\nlittle-visited corner of Java could provide a symbol for the
\ncountry's future.<\/p>\n
On the way back, I got stuck again behind that decrepit
\nminibus, its taillights swinging along in unison. The thought
\noccurred to me that this was another potential paradigm for
\nIndonesia. I preferred the Dewi Neng shrine.<\/p>",
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