Reclusive Baduy cope with tourism and materialism

By Dini S. Djalal

JAKARTA (JP): The river straddling the picturesque village of Gajeboh, one of the many highland communities of the reclusive Baduy people of West Java, shimmers translucently in the gentle morning glow.

A handful of boys scurry across the bamboo bridge carrying sacks of palm sugar. A group of women pound padi (unmilled rice) underneath the thatched roofs of their rattan huts. Across the river lies the harvest of the their hard work: dozens of leuit (rice barns) storing enough rice for a decade.

But my peaceful riverside stroll was soon interrupted by the blare of a battery-charged radio and the loud chatter of the high school kids turning up the music. In their neon Benetton T-shirts and fancy sports sandals, they bounded past the muddy paths by the dozens. Trailing behind them were men of the more traditional Baduy Dalam (Inner Baduy), who carried the kids' rucksacks throughout the hour-long hilly trek to the Baduy border town of Kaduketug.

Quiet returned as the last tourists grumbled their final gripes. But while the kids may eventually have little recollection of their Baduy journey, they left more for the Baduy than the community bargained for. Along the dirt trail were scraps of styrofoam -- the remains from dozens of Pop Mie (instant noodles) containers. Plastic packets of Sunsilk shampoo and Aqua bottles floated on the clear water. Old batteries lay among the shrubs.

When I returned to Kaduketug, the kids were camped out at the dozen dwellings which comprise this buffer zone between the Baduy land and the outside world. There were more than 400 kids in all that weekend, who toured the Baduy territory on school-sponsored "cultural" expeditions. They came from SMA 10, East Jakarta, SMA Negeri, Tangerang, West Java, and SMA 3, Serang, West Java. Many stayed at the Inner Baduy village of Cibeo, a hamlet of a few dozen families. The entire Baduy community, made up of 44 Outer Baduy villages and 3 Inner Baduy settlements, counts a population of 6,500 people.

Tourist influx

The tourist influx may be small compared to other tourist destinations, but the effects must be seen in the unique context of Baduy society. The night before, Kaduketug was an anthropologist's dream: an oasis of tradition and tranquility, fueled only by oil lanterns, children's laughter, and composed conversation among the elders about the Baduy's self-imposed isolation from the modern world.

The adat (traditional laws) of the Baduy has always raised controversy, but particularly now as Indonesia accelerates into high-technology civilization. In the highlands of Lebak Regency, the Baduy live only several hours drive away from Jakarta, but light years away in accepted terms of "sophistication."

Among those things considered buyut (taboo) by the Baduy religion of Sunda Wiwitan -- a blend of ancient Hinduism and shamanism -- are formal schooling, modern tools (including roads, cars and electricity), the raising of four-legged animals, and modern agriculture. The Baduy continue to practice a nomadic farming system on their 5,000 hectares of land, resorting to a four-year ritual-rich planting cycle rather than the aid of fertilizers, which they regard as "poison" for the earth.

Tenacious traditionalism, however, has been a mixed blessing. While many Baduy preach the virtues of their isolation, citing crime and poverty as the price of urban life, as many Baduy lament their seclusion.

"I couldn't put up with the adat anymore. You can't change things in the Baduy Dalam. You either conform or you leave," said Sarif, a 40-year-old former Inner Baduy who became an Outer Baduy a year ago. Jaro Pulung, the 50-year-old village head of Kaduketug, said that contact with the modern world has lured some Baduy to leave not only the inner community, but the Baduy life in general. "We can't tell the young not to leave, and some do leave," said Jaro.

Sarif himself decided to leave his Inner Baduy village after making six five-day trips on foot to Bandung; as a Baduy Dalam, he was forbidden to use modern transportation. He and his family moved to the Outer Baduy in order to make their lives easier, since Sarif often travels to Jakarta and Bandung. When asked why he goes to the city, Sarif's eyes lit up with the spirit of a small-town man wanting to experience a larger world. "I go to play, to see people, to make friends," Sarif answered.

Other Baduy are not only bored with their limited social circle, but wary of the material scarcity tradition requires. During my stay, a group of dental hygienists was conducting a study on the Baduy's health conditions. Not only are their teeth in a deteriorating state, but the children's bloated stomachs, red eyes, and brown hair are all indications of malnutrition.

"They won't buy food because it's taboo," said Budi, a dental hygienist from Bandung's Padjadjaran University. "But if you bring food to them, like fish, they will eat it."

The most frustrating aspect of the Baduy's health problems is that they are caused by false poverty and pride. "They never consider themselves poor, because if you have one leuit (rice barn), you have enough rice for one year. Some families have 10 leuit," said Budi. The Baduy also sell petai (beans), durian, bananas, and palm sugar, as well as various bark-cloth crafts, to the outside world. But despite the riches that bartering brings, tradition still forbids the Baduy from dietary and medicinal improvements that could make their lives easier.

And Baduy life is relatively easier, at least for the outside world to see. Access to Baduy lands have been opened in recent years. One use to have to walk for days to reach even Kaduketug. Today, an asphalt road and a two-hour bemo ride shorten the journey from Rangkas Bitung to Kadukatug's Moslem sister town, Ciboleger. There the road stops, but every month, the Baduy see hundreds of visitors, from high school kids to nature lovers to anthropologists. "The government built the road for tourism reasons," said Sarif. "They support us in maintaining our culture, because they want tourism to grow here," he said. Every visitor to the Baduy territory must obtain written permission, which includes a monetary fee, from either the village headman or a government office.

This formal method of traveling through Baduy territory makes it difficult for the Baduy to control the number of tourists. In addition, Baduy adat requires tolerance of visitors. "We don't mind if they come and go, as long as they don't ask us to change our adat. It's our responsibility to welcome guests, to feed them and clean up after them," said Jaro Pulung.

What the Baduy did not expect was intolerance on the part of the visitors. Ibu Ellawaty, a sociology teacher from SMA 10, East Jakarta, said that she brought her students to the Baduy so, "they could learn differences between cultures, and learn more about traditional societies."

Whether the cultural exchange was mutually beneficial, however, is debatable. When the kids left, the villages were littered with plastic and other garbage. Many of the kids also asked the Baduy Dalam to carry their bags, bringing on an unequal social dynamic regardless of monetary payment. "I couldn't bear to have those tired kids carry their bags but who will pay the carriers?," said Ellywaty, momentarily forgetting the sensitivity required of better sociologists and anthropologists.

The Baduy themselves are also confused about their relationship with the visitors. "Some of the kids left without saying goodbye," said Medi, Jaro Pulung's son. "It was very rude."

Medi further complained that the normally passive Baduy Dalam were upset that there was no reward, financially or gesturally, for their carrying the kids' luggage. Both the complaints of Medi and his Baduy Dalam friends signal not only the encroaching threat of a culturally ignorant and impersonal modernized world, but also its demonstrative effect and influence on sensitive folk societies. Voicing his bewilderment in coping with traditional simplicity and modern materialism, Medi said: "It's very difficult for us Baduy because it's not part of our culture to talk about money, to ask for money, but how can they treat us like that?"