Justice is but an old man's hoe<\/p>\n
By Prapti Widinugraheni<\/p>\n
JAKARTA (JP): They say justice is blind. It discriminates
\nagainst nobody, be they rich or poor. It always sides with the
\ngood guys and punishes the bad guys.<\/p>\n
But try tell that to 60-year old Tasiran, a simple peasant
\nfrom East Java who had always kept up with his land tax
\nobligations, and he will tell you immediately that justice takes
\nthings away from him. First his land, then at one time his
\nfreedom, and now his precious old hoe.<\/p>\n
For more than eight years, Tasiran has traveled hundreds of
\nkilometers, shuttling back and forth from his home village in
\nTulung Rejo, to Bojonegoro, and to Jakarta, in search of justice.<\/p>\n
What does justice really mean for him?<\/p>\n
\"The court stole my hoe. That's what I said to them and, boy,
\ndid I stun them,\" said the small, dark man who didn't stop one
\nminute from puffing on his hand-rolled tobacco cigarette.<\/p>\n
He was speaking in Javanese, the only language he knew.<\/p>\n
Tasiran was obviously unaware that the world was loaded with
\npeople who could do more than just \"stun\" a courtroom.<\/p>\n
He was spotted by several journalists, or rather he made
\nhimself be spotted by them, at the headquarters of the National
\nCommission on Human Rights earlier this month.<\/p>\n
Approaching a group of them with an old, worn out briefcase in
\nhis hand, Tasiran began to tell his story as he took out pieces
\nof old, battered, yellowish-brown papers from his briefcase.<\/p>\n
\"I received these when I visited Bina Graha (the presidential
\noffice) and the State Secretariat. They ordered the court to
\nreview my case and appointed a lawyer for me,\" he said.<\/p>\n
Among the assorted old papers was a court sentence from the
\nBojonegoro, East Java, district court that sentenced him to jail.
\nIn several other letters, where his signature was required were
\nhis thumb prints, indicating that he was illiterate.<\/p>\n
There were also clippings of a 1992 edition of the Forum
\nKeadilan magazine which ran a three-page profile on Tasiran.<\/p>\n
Tasiran's problems stemmed from a dispute over two pieces of
\nland -- measuring 185 and 190 square meters each -- in Kedung
\nArum village originally belonging to his parents before they died
\nin the mid-1940's.<\/p>\n
The plots were later cultivated by Tasiran's older brother
\nbefore he died in 1962.<\/p>\n
Afterwards, he moved in to till the land and Tasiran, who at
\nthat time was living in neighboring Tulung Rejo village with his
\nwife, kept paying the annual land tax, believing that the farmers
\nwere merely land tillers who would eventually move out.<\/p>\n
He was right on one thing. The tillers moved out. But he was
\nwrong on another. The tillers were selling his plots and they had
\nchanged hands several times without his knowledge.<\/p>\n
The news only came to him in 1984 when he received notice from
\nthe inland revenue service notifying him that he no longer needed
\nto pay land taxes for the two plots. It informed him that one
\nplot was owned by someone named Sukiman and the other by Muryadi,
\nat least according to the certificates.<\/p>\n
\"Everyone in the village knows the land has been in my family
\nfor years ... How could a piece of paper prove otherwise?\" he
\nasked.<\/p>\n
That was when he started to seek \"justice\".<\/p>\n
In early 1985, Tasiran put his faith in the Bojonegoro
\ndistrict court.<\/p>\n
The results? His lawsuit was rejected on the grounds that he
\nhad no concrete evidence to support his claim. The land taxes
\nthat he had been paying for the two plots did not count. The
\nlocal authorities could not find anything in their files to show
\nthat the land had been registered by his parents.<\/p>\n
Besides losing faith in the local court, he also lost faith in
\nlocal officials who offered their services -- in return for a sum
\nof money -- to help him with his court case. But obviously they
\nwere not helpful.<\/p>\n
Upset, disappointed and confused, Tasiran defied the court
\norder and decided to occupy the land which he believed was
\nrightfully his.<\/p>\n
He was tilling the land with his old hoe a few days later when
\nhe was arrested by police on charges of trespassing.<\/p>\n
In 1986 he was tried and sentenced to three months
\nimprisonment and six months probation.<\/p>\n
After he was released in November that year, Tasiran decided
\nto continue his search for \"justice\". This time, his destination
\nwas Jakarta.<\/p>\n
He tried to take his case directly to the top. He tried Bina
\nGraha, the State Secretariat and the Supreme Court.<\/p>\n
They were all sympathetic, but insisted that he ought to
\nsettle the issue locally. He was provided mostly with reference
\ndocuments to support his case if he wanted to appeal, which would
\nthe proper legal course for him to pursue. One of them appointed
\na lawyer for him -- free of charge.<\/p>\n
But Tasiran said he did not want to go through another court
\nnor trust a lawyer. \"I am afraid (the lawyer) will give in to
\nmoney,\" he said flatly.<\/p>\n
Now coming to the realization that there is no hope of getting
\nhis land back, he simply wants someone to show him that there is
\nstill a little justice left in this country.<\/p>\n
He is not asking for a lot, just a token to restore his faith
\nin the legal system. He wants his hoe back.<\/p>\n
\"The court took away my hoe as evidence even though they
\ndidn't catch me red-handed. They claimed that it had been
\nreturned after I was released, but I never received it and I
\nstill don't have it back,\" he said.<\/p>\n
\"I will tell people that the court has stolen my hoe... that
\nwill really get them and the other officials as well,\" he said,
\nso confident that he could \"punish\" the institutions which he
\nonce trusted so much.<\/p>\n
He has since been shuttling back and forth between Tulung Rejo
\nand Jakarta in search of justice.<\/p>\n
His visit to the National Commission on Human Rights this
\nmonth was part of his now almost nine-year crusade for \"justice\".
\nAmazingly, he still believes it's there.<\/p>\n
How much money has he spent all these years? \"I've sold six
\ncows to pay the officials, court administrative fees and for the
\ntrips,\" said the father of four children and grandfather of
\neight.<\/p>\n
A cow currently sells for about Rp 2 million, not a small
\namount for rural people.<\/p>\n
He was carrying with him a crumpled letter, dated some time
\nlast year, and carefully took it out of its once-white envelope.<\/p>\n
Due to his illiteracy, he had memorized all of the letters.
\n\"This is a letter from local officials which says I can get a
\nfree ride on buses, trains and free meals,\" he said showing the
\nletter around.<\/p>\n
Illiterate though he may be, his mistrust of the court and the
\nlegal system represents the feelings of many people in the
\ncountry.<\/p>\n
\"Going to court would be cheaper, but you can't bring money to
\nyour grave. Justice, you can,\" he said philosophically, despite
\nhis naive appearance.<\/p>\n
What if someone decided to just buy him a hoe to replace the
\none the court had taken from him?<\/p>\n
\"I wouldn't want it. That's not what I am looking for. I want
\nto get them: I want people to know that the court stole my hoe,\"
\nTasiran insisted, collecting his papers and getting ready to head
\nfor the Supreme Court.<\/p>",
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