Maluku's Kei Islanders fight to protect their environment<\/p>\n
By Dini Sari Djalal<\/p>\n
JAKARTA (JP): The meaning of development has at times eluded
\neven the most earnest optimists. To J.P. Rahail, a tribal chief
\nof the Kei Islands in Maluku, development has become synonymous
\nwith the threat of environmental and cultural desecration.<\/p>\n
"What is development?" asked Rahail during a stopover in
\nJakarta following an invitation to meet his Iban colleagues in
\nSarawak, Malaysia. "So much good can come out of development, but
\nalso so much malady. In the name of development, people build
\nthings, but they also waste resources and take things apart."<\/p>\n
In his home district of Watlaar, Kei Besar, Rahail is known as
\nRaja Maur Ohoi-Wut. Raja translates to "King". Rahail contends,
\nhowever, that his position is not defined by wealth and power,
\nbut rather by the responsibility of leading and protecting the
\ncommunity. Often the police requests his help for legal and
\ncriminal problems, because adat (customary law) is a more subtle
\nand acceptable authority. "A raja is not feared because of his
\npower or wealth," explained Rahail, "but loved because he is able
\nto live with and for his people."<\/p>\n
Born into his royal status 67 years ago, Rahail has spent most
\nof his life in his birthplace. He has only been to Banjarmasin in
\nKalimantan and Ujungpandang in Sulawesi. Although his schooling
\nwas limited to six years of primary education, his knowledge of
\nthe Kei's natural and cultural environment is extraordinary.
\nAfter a few years as a supervisor at a copra plantation, he came
\ninto his calling as the leader of 46 villages which occupy one-
\nthird of northern Kei Besar Island. As a reflection of his
\nposition and his dedication, fourteen thousand people trust him
\nfor advice and guidance.<\/p>\n
By all accounts, Rahail is a stalwart traditionalist. He has
\nwritten a book documenting the Kei's adat system called Larwur
\nNgabal. It was published by the Sejati Foundation and prefaced by
\nthen-Minister of Environment Emil Salim. Because of Rahail's
\nguidance and sheer love for the culture, the entire community
\ngathers annually for a traditional parliament (Madiwun Uun Ma-
\ntan). At their last meeting in December 1994, the main topic of
\ndiscussion was the prospect of oil exploitation on the island.<\/p>\n
Until 1991, life on Kei Besar was like it had been for
\ncenturies, predominated by subsistence activities such as fishing
\nand farming. Adat suffered somewhat due to the migration of youth
\nto the larger islands, either for education or work. Generally,
\nhowever, Kei Besar was every orientalist's dream: an exotic
\nisland paradise nestled in the remoteness of the South Seas.<\/p>\n
In 1991, however, the explorers actually arrived. Without the
\nconsultation of the village heads, the Ministry of Forestry
\nannounced that the forests of the interior were to be closed off
\nas a taman suaka alam (conservation park). When the community
\nasked the District Administrator the reason for the closure, he
\nreplied that it was for the protection of an endangered animal in
\nthe forest. Rahail recounted however, "to this day, no one on the
\nisland has been informed of what this animal actually is, and no
\none knew that such an animal existed."<\/p>\n
Soon after the government's announcement, traders from
\nMalaysia and Singapore began arriving on the island. They went
\ninto the forest to specifically log Gaharu trees. They sought the
\nincense-producing materials inside the bark, but the whole tree
\nmust be cut down to retrieve the precious stuff. The natives were
\noblivious that this commodity existed. "We used the wood, but we
\ndid not realize that the inside was so valuable," said Rahail.<\/p>\n
Suspicion eventually arose about the true purpose of the
\nforest conservation order. The suspicions were confirmed when
\nPertamina's PT. Unit Lima from Sorong arrived to survey the
\nforest for petroleum. "At this point," explained Rahail, "we
\nasked the government, the Bupati (regent), and we still have not
\nreceived an answer. The Bupati transferred our questions to the
\nDepartment of Forestry, but still no answer. I have been pursuing
\nan explanations for over a year."<\/p>\n
Under the Law on Mining, no. 11 of 1967, any land which has
\nbeen designated for mining purposes automatically becomes the
\nproperty of the State, regardless of previous land rights.
\nHowever, Clause 8 of Law no. 11 also states that prior to any
\nexploration activity, those living on the land must be notified,
\nwith formal letters, of all impending activities and compensated
\nadequately. In Rahail's opinion, however, compensation is less
\nimportant than co-operation in the project.<\/p>\n
"Recently, on Jan. 12, I wrote a letter to the Minister of
\nForestry," Rahail continued, "but the Minister then wrote to the
\nDirector General, whom I met. He explained that oil exploration
\nwill bring jobs to the community."<\/p>\n
To Rahail, this was ludicrous. "We already have jobs," he
\nsaid. "We all have jobs. We all have land to work on. We can
\nfish if we choose to."<\/p>\n
Essentially, it is a cultural issue, questioning the economic-
\nminded ethics and priorities of development planning. "We are
\nworried that the oil exploration will disturb the environment,"
\nsighed Rahail. "What if it creates soil erosion and land slides?
\nWhat if it pollutes the water? So far we only take in the sea
\nwith our eyes, we only appreciate its beauty, but we have seen
\nwater elsewhere damaged by development. This is what we do not
\nwant."<\/p>\n
"People may think we are lazy because we don't have very much.
\nBut we are very satisfied with what we have, with the nature
\naround us. Development may bring us more material pleasure, but
\nwill it guarantee peace of mind?" Rahail asked.<\/p>\n
The issue is not merely the threat of environmental
\ndegradation, but also the lack of local participation in
\ndecision-making. "The private sector never consulted the local
\ncommunity about their plans, even after the surveys, road
\nbuilding and plans for housing complexes. Two hundred people
\narrived -- Americans and Australians -- and none of them talked
\nto us," Rahail complained.<\/p>\n
"What is worse is the distrust and hostility that has resulted
\nfrom all this. Some people in the community are very angry about
\nthis and want to kick the workers out, but I don't want violence
\nand disrespect. We recognize that we are Indonesian, that it is
\nIndonesian land that we all share. We agree with Bhinneka Tunggal
\nIka (Unity in Diversity), that we are different but at the same
\ntime one. But the two must be balanced. If all that rules
\ndecision-making is power, then it is wrong," stressed Rahail.<\/p>\n
"Maybe the government and private sector have not consulted us
\nbecause they think we are illiterate or can't speak for
\nourselves," pondered Rahail. "Often small people cannot face the
\nauthorities, even if the authorities have good intentions. There
\nis so much distance between us and the government in terms of
\npower and authority that our voice becomes so small."<\/p>\n
Tribal groups have long had a small voice in the modern world
\nof technological advances and complex bureaucracies. For this
\nreason, a forum called Baileo Maluku was established to campaign
\nfor the plight of indigenous peoples. The locals are also forming
\norganizations through which they may gain a louder voice. Since
\nmeeting with the Iban of Sarawak to learn about his peoples' ways
\nof nature conservation, Rahail has become curious about the World
\nTribal Council, a United Nations of sorts for indigenous groups.<\/p>\n
The key to all of this lies in the younger generation. Rahail
\nrecognizes the inevitability of the youth being pulled by the
\nbright lights of the big cities. "But most of them return,"
\nargues Rahail. "They like city-life, but they often return after
\ndiscovering how difficult urban survival is. Everyone still
\nbelieves in the sanctity of the land, our island."<\/p>\n
When asked if traditional life is still strong on Kei Besar,
\nRahail shied away from absolutes. "Adat is still adequately
\nstrong, but it is difficult to say if you consider all factors,"
\nRahail suggested. "There is a saying in adat that translates into
\n"Do not say ten, it is enough to count up to nine." This is
\nbecause there is always that secret which only nature knows. Man
\ncannot know everything."<\/p>",
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