A gloomy picture of a Dutch colonial inheritance

A gloomy picture of a Dutch colonial inheritance

By Sumanto

YOGYAKARTA (JP): In the beginning, she felt ashamed stretching
out her right hand, begging for money from passers-by. But now
she has gotten used to it, and her five children have joined her
in the work.

Tomorejo recalled how hard it was when she first decided to
beg. She had to fight her feelings of shame and the mental burden
that came along with her choice.

"I managed to handle all the obstacles. The mental burden and
the shame have vanished on their own. My children and I work in
this way. It is no problem, it is also called work, isn't it? We
leave at seven in the morning and go home at six in the evening,"
said Tomorejo spiritedly.

The woman, who is in her sixties, said she became a beggar
after her husband died, though she does not remember the exact
year. But she said she got married at the age of 18 and her
husband died when their child, who was born a year after they
were married, was only 6. Now she has four other children from
four different men -- all born outside of wedlock.

Tomorejo and her children live in the hamlet of Karangrejek,
Karangtengah village, Imogiri district, Bantul regency,
Yogyakarta. Karangrejek is often referred to as the kampong of
beggars, because most of its residents earned money in this line
of work. Today, many of the residents have other jobs, but
Karangrejek's nickname remains -- much to the annoyance of many
of the residents.

Pargianto, 30, chief of people's welfare affairs in
Karangtengah village, said that in Imogiri district there were
many people who were not from Karangrejek who made their living
as beggars. They live in villages throughout the region,
including Srunggo, Selo Pamioro, Kretek, Mbobok and Nambangan.

"But when you ask the beggars where they come from, 99 percent
say Karangrejek," said Pargianto.

Its status as a beggars hamlet dates back to the Dutch era.
Atmodirejo, 70, a farmer and a local leader in Karangrejek, said
that in 1915 the Dutch government issued a regulation saying that
anyone wishing to till the land had to pay 10 guilders plus an
additional five guilders in taxes every year. This amount was
quite high for the locals; with 10 guilders at that time you
could buy 10 adult buffaloes. The only villager who could afford
this price was Mbah Gumbrek, who was one of the richest people in
Karangrejek at the time. The other residents could not cultivate
the fertile land in their own village, and as life became
increasingly difficult for the farmers, many of them turned to
begging.

Atmodirejo believed that in the beginning people would beg
only to survive, but when the situation changed they would become
farmers again. But nothing changed, and so kept from they land
they continued to beg.

Amat Damiri, 78, another resident of Karangrejek, confirmed
that begging became a kind of tradition that continued into the
1980s. He still remembers a time when nearly all the residents of
the hamlet worked as beggars.

The number of beggars has decreased gradually, but it has not
entirely disappeared. Out of about 80 families in the hamlet,
dozens of them are beggars.

The money these people make is enough to survive. Tomorejo
said that on average she earned no less than Rp 7,000 a day.

Amat Damiri, who spends his days working his 1,000 square
meters of land, earns roughly the same amount of money as
Tomorejo.

The level of living of the beggars in the hamlet is hardly
distinguishable from that of the inhabitants who are not beggars.
They all have houses, some semipermanent, others permanent
dwellings with brick walls. The houses have TV sets, and some of
the beggars' children have achieved as much in their lives as the
children of other residents. They have houses, motorcycles and
businesses that according to village standards are well-
established. According to Pargianto, one beggar's son has
finished a non-degree program at a university.

The man, however, was not willing to be interviewed. "Let my
past, my parents being beggars, be my own. Allow me not to retell
it."

The central government's social safety net fund has also
reached Karangrejek. The beggars got their share of the money,
but they looked at the fund as nothing extraordinary.

Karto, 46, said that after he received money from the fund his
life did not change. He added that he saw no difference between
the money from the social safety net and the money he earned
begging.

"It was not bad. It provided extra time in life," said Karto,
adding that he was content with his life as a beggar.

Karto, however, said working as a beggar was not always easy,
and there were times when he faced difficulties. For example,
when there are cheap goods available but he has no money, as when
the government launches a cheap rice program and he cannot afford
to purchase the cut-price rice. "Even at a price of Rp 1,000 a
kilogram it is useless if I have no money. It is not funny," said
Karto, who always wears a caping (pointed broad hat made of
plaited bamboo), when he begs.

Whatever a beggar's income, it apparently is never enough to
raise their status. Therefore, Karangtengah village head Basuki
and a number of organizations, including Muhamadiyah, the
Indonesian Muslim Students Association and Bina Nusantara
Foundation, are working to increase the beggars' awareness of
their own dignity and worth.

"We try to make them proud for having achieved something
through their own sweat," Basuki said.

Basuki said local religious figures also had a role to play in
raising the dignity of the beggars. Besides the schools and other
public facilities, Karangrejek has two mosques and four musholla
(small buildings or rooms for the performance of religious
duties).

"The children who come to study the Koran will probably not
become beggars like their parents," said Basuki.

Geographically, Karangrejek, at an altitude of 200 meters
above sea level, has a loose soil structure and planting is easy.
Now, Sultan Hamengku Buwono X -- the sultan and governor of
Yogyakarta -- has invited 200 family heads from Karangrejek to
cultivate land owned by the sultanate.

Many residents have begun to work this idle, fertile land.
However, many of the beggars appear uninterested in following
suit. They seem uneager to become farmers, choosing instead to
remain beggars.