Sons and daughters of a lesser god
Sons and daughters of a lesser god
Fabio Scarpello, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta
Approaching Teluk Gong, along the West Flood Canal in North
Jakarta, an apocalyptic vision of utter poverty and misery
strikes you.
Resembling a war zone, makeshift tents, burnt huts and litter
stare you in the face. Garbage is everywhere and rats rein
supreme where children play. Conditions are conducive to an
epidemic, and only the frequent visits of volunteer doctors have
prevented the situation from deteriorating. But these people are
not at war.
Pak Ijar invites us into his tent.
"Why is our government treating us like animals?" he asks.
His is one of the 444 families still living in the area. In
October 2001 there were over 8,000. Since then 12 "visits" by the
police and public order officials -- enforcing eviction orders --
have reduced the number drastically. The last visit was on June
24, the next feared not too far away. Every time harassment and
beatings have occurred, and on six occasions houses were burned
down.
All these people's earthly possessions have evaporated with
the smoke, leaving a deep feeling of powerlessness, mixed with
anger and frustration.
"I am still living here because I hope that there will be
justice for the people of this country. My children are still
going to school and I want them to have a better future, besides
I have no money to go anywhere else," Ijar said.
The tent he shares with his wife and three children is only
two meters by three meters in size. Even the bare essentials are
missing but he still fears the worst: They will come back and
destroy what they find.
"Sometimes they throw the bed in the river, sometimes other
things. There is no end, we are used to it," Ijar said.
These people are considered squatters -- this is their crime.
Legally they are not resident in Jakarta but the maze of today's
bureaucracy leaves them little room in which to maneuver.
To obtain residency you need an ID card, and hardly any of
them has one. To get an ID card you need residency. It is a
classic catch-22 situation.
Nasaruddin is bewildered. He has been living here for the
longest period of his life.
"I was the first here. I arrived 30 years ago when the area
was a forest. I used to plant vegetables and sell them, managing
-- at that time -- to make a decent living. I have five children;
they were all born here. This is home -- where am I meant to go?"
Shifting them to their village of origin would give Jakarta a
face-lift but hardly seems the solution to the problem.
Ismu Andoro, from the non-governmental organization
Humanitarian Volunteer Team, has been living with these people
for the past nine months. He shared their houses and now shares
their fate.
First he praises the community and the way it has rallied to
help the squatters. Everybody has been very supportive, he says
-- food and clothes are regularly brought in. Volunteer doctors
take turns in visiting these people and organizations such as
Sanggar Ciliwung and Sanggar Akar have provided the children with
alternative education.
"But obviously, this is not enough to compensate for the lack
of 'proper' schooldays missed," he said.
Saying that, his body language changes drastically, betraying
frustration: A viable solution would have been to grant temporary
residency. This would have given the squatters a breathing space
during which to apply for an ID. But this idea has been rejected.
"Now, with Komnas HAM (the National Commission on Human
Rights), we are trying to form a commission to investigate the
human rights abuses that have taken place and give the squatters'
requests a voice." he said.
The requests are straightforward: compensation for the
material losses incurred and a place at which to stay for a
minimum of three years.
But the city government seems -- so far -- unmovable. Teluk
Gong has been declared unavailable for dwellings, no alternative
location has been provided and compensation has been fixed at Rp
500,000 per family.