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