Local Chinese in Sambas give up education to ward off hunger

Local Chinese in Sambas give up education to ward off hunger

SAMBAS, West Kalimantan (JP): People can put up with poverty, but when it comes at the expense of education, then sadness turns into despair.

In Sambas district, West Kalimantan, many inhabitants have found themselves in this category, but more so those of Chinese descent.

"The majority are forced to live like animals. They have to be satisfied with two meals a day," said Tek Cun, owner of a haberdashery kiosk in Jamtang in Tujuhbelas district.

Ng Yan Tin, a 16 year old from Parit Baru, Sebangkau, looked down when asked where she went to school.

"Don't ask her that or she'll cry," whispered her aunt, Ng Shit Kie.

Ng Shit Kie explained that Tintin, as her niece is known, had to quit school due to the financial troubles of her nine-member family, which survives on Rp 42,500 (US$18.4) a month by peeling coconut skins. They used to earn Rp 125,000 until the coconut trees inherited from Tintin's father succumbed to a local plant virus.

As a result, the family's welfare has come at the expense of her education, something the Chinese highly appreciate.

"In Chinese culture, warriors and intellectuals rank highest on the social scale," explained a sawmill industrialist. "But we cannot fight hunger."

Hari Poerwanto, an anthropologist at the University of Indonesia, notes that 40 percent of the Indonesian Chinese in Sambas are in the retail sector. They mostly sell vegetables, meat (beef, pork, goat and chicken) as well as fish and salted fish. They lug their merchandise around on bikes or in cattle- drawn wagons, going from village to village.

However, there is usually only one commodity and then no more than five kilograms worth. As a result of the limited supplies, profit is generally a mere Rp 5,000 per day.

"We don't have enough funds," said Tet Po, a door-to-door pork seller in Nuryo.

But the real impoverished Chinese are found in the labor sector. They account for 27 percent of the Chinese population in Sambas and earn about Rp 2,000 per day, said Darmadji, a Chinese official in Singkawang.

Only a small 1.6 percent of the population is attracted to the agricultural sector, despite the fact that it was the traditional income earner before they were forced to switch to trading.

"Where can we farm? We don't have land," said Liong Mui, a fortune teller in Pasiran.

The remaining 31.4 percent are scattered in various informal sectors. Nobody, however, is making big money.

"Sometimes we make money. Sometimes we don't. Most often we don't," said Bong Jan Lu, wife of Kong Cin Lin, a laborer in Pakunam.

Education thus becomes an expensive commodity under such economic conditions. What's more, most Chinese in Sambas have large families. One home may accommodate three families, each of which normally consists of six members. Together, they work hand in hand to meet their daily needs.

"School? Searching for daily meals alone is already a problem, let alone going to school!" said Luan Chi, a Chinese fisherman in Pemangkat in a tone of cynicism and sadness.

It's not easy to find education data on the ethnic Chinese in Sambas.

"Such information is usually found in registers under gender and age; it is not identified according to race," said Uray Machmoed, a regency spokesman.

Hari Poerwanto did not touch on the subject in his dissertation. He only drew attention upon such factors as poor motivation to spur ethnic Chinese into following an education besides the financial problems they have to cope with.

"The obstacle is a psychological one related to experiences of a political nature," wrote Hari, a teacher at the Gadjah Mada University's School of Literature.

Before the incident in 1967, Chinese in the Sambas regency sent their children to special religious schools or privately-run Chinese schools.

In 1966, however, special schools for ethnic Chinese, of which there were quite a few, were banned throughout Indonesia.

In 1968, a decree from the Minister of Education and Culture (No. 015, Chapter 6, Paragraph 13), ruled that there should be a racial balance in classrooms of at least 60 Indonesians to every 40 Chinese. This resulted in Chinese children moving to state schools; likewise, Indonesian children entered Chinese-run private schools.

For those Chinese citizens forced to move to isolated housing complexes, transportation costs rose dramatically as did their school fees.

"The monthly fee for BBP3 (the organization of school parents), for example, is Rp 500 higher than that paid by Indonesian students. Chinese pupils have to pay much more even though they too are Indonesian citizens," lamented A Djung, a Singkawang parish house employee, whose children are in a state elementary school.

Racial discrimination is one of the factors that has discouraged ethnic Chinese children from entering state-run schools. Indigenous students often hurl derisive remarks like "Chinese sons of bitches" or "Go back to China". Moreover, in times of conflict, Chinese children become targets and confused by what is happening to them.

"They are children and it hurts them to hear such words," said A Djung. Children who can no longer take the verbal abuse eventually decide to quit school or their parents look for a private school.

Despair has plunged many ethnic Chinese into bleak destitution, although some manage to muster enough strength to mover forward with their lives. Yulius Ng Fong Fung is a shining example of one of the steely Sambas Chinese in Singkawang who fought for his grandchildren's education.

Education gets first priority on the family list of this old man. Fung is not choosy about schooling, private or state schools will do.

"As Indonesian nationals, ethnic Chinese have the right to get a proper education that includes education provided by the state," he said.

Grandpa Fung told his children, who often experienced racial discrimination in state schools, to be patient and humble. "They are narrow-minded children who don't understand Pancasila. Moreover, they haven't killed you. So you have to hold out and persevere," he routinely told them.

Now one of his 10 children in Sambas studies at an upper-level technical school, two are at Trisakti University and the rest are working.

"We were willing to reduce our food intake as long as they could go to school," recalled grandpa Fung, a jack-of-all-trades and amateur photographer in Singkawang and Pontianak.

Fung's attitude and spirit have been passed on to his grandchildren.

"I have to get a higher education. Then I can grow rich and reach a high level in society. It isn't nice to be poor. All those mosquitoes!" exclaimed Andreas, who takes any job that comes his way after school and English lessons at night.

"I am responsible for Maria, Christina, Yuliana and Stephanie," he said in reference to his sisters.

-- Imran Rusli