Urban heroes work for the future
The Jakarta Post, Jakarta
Indonesians commemorate Hero's Day to remember those who had taken part in the country's long struggle for independence on Nov. 10.
However, 60 years down the line, the term hero (pahlawan) has expanded beyond the aging veterans who fought against the tyranny of colonialism to a person who is admired for his or her achievements and noble qualities.
The Jakarta Post has recognized three such people whose devotion to their profession has led us to believe that there are heroes among us.
Suharmaji, a teacher
Junior high school students at State High School No. 285 on Untung Jawa Islet in Kepulauan Seribu regency, may well call biology teacher Suharmaji, 41, their hero.
For about three years now, Suharmaji, has left his home in Bekasi at 5 a.m. in the morning on his motorcycle to travel three hours to Tanjung Pasir Port in Tangerang. Another half an hour by speed boat gets him to the small island.
There he uses what the students know of their surroundings -- their natural playground of the sea, sand and mangrove forest -- to teach about the ecosystem.
"My students are one step ahead of those studying on land, they are directly familiar with the mangrove forest," Suharmaji likes to say.
By giving more knowledge about something familiar to the students, he is able to create interest in the subjects he teaches.
Keeping interest alive is a challenge on Untung Jawa Island. The 35-hectare island has a population of about 1,600 people. To this community -- which relies on fishing and the sea for their livelihood -- obtaining an education is secondary to having a big fishing boat.
This is why the high school teachers regularly visit the students' families to give them the understanding of the importance of education.
Suharmaji admits that he has learned more from his experience teaching anak pulau (island children) than all of his 19 years at a vocational high school in Plumpang, North Jakarta.
"There, a teacher who can stop his students fighting is considered a success," he said.
Chaeruddin, a conservationist
Native Betawi people living along the banks of the Pesanggrahan River in Lebak Bulus, South Jakarta, can thank Chaeruddin, 49, for the conservation and preservation of their environment.
The area along the eight-kilometer stretch of the river is like an idyllic neighborhood from the olden days of Batavia, with the sounds of birds singing and long-tailed monkeys cackling among the trees.
It was not always like this however. Considered the guardian of the area, Chaeruddin began his regreening effort in the 1990s simply because he found that the area had changed for the worse.
"Nothing was still the same from our childhood and nobody seemed to care about it," he said.
Chaeruddin, familiarly known as Bang Udin, began by educating his neighbors -- young and old -- about the river, opening their eyes to the benefit of conservation.
Along with fellow Betawi people he gathered data about animals and plants once found in the area and tried to collect seeds to be reintroduced to the area.
He was also well aware that people would be more interested in conservation if it had some economic benefits for them, which was why he also planted fruit trees, medicinal plants and secondary crops.
The locals can now harvest the melinjo trees, which bear edible leaves and fruit, planted along the river, as well as vegetables, banana and papaya. The area is also now home to long- tailed monkeys, 17 bird species, various mammals and reptiles, as well as fish.
For his effort, Bang Udin has received numerous awards, including the Kalpataru national award in 2000. But for all this he says, "forests and rivers should be considered sacred. God leaves them for us to care for".
Yunus Makasau, a civil servant
Those who have come up against Yunus Makasau, 54, know that here is a man not to be trifled with. Big shots from the former national police chief and former ministers to endangered animal traders have not been spared from his efforts to reclaim endangered species.
Now a staff member of the Ministry of Forestry, Yunus uses various approaches from direct raids on markets to quiet diplomacy, and has no scruples about bringing the media in on the action.
"It's more effective than taking the police," he likes to say.
The endangered species trade -- both domestic and international -- is a lucrative one that promises fast cash, for which many are willing to break the law.
An orangutan, for example, can bring in about Rp 18 million (about US$1,800) at seedy markets in Jakarta, and the price rises to $9,000 on the black markets of Taiwan and Japan, and $54,000 in the United States.
The penchant of Jakarta's rich for keeping rare animals in private menageries as a kind of status symbol does not help the termination of this trade.
Yunus's raids on animal markets where protected species are sold, such as on Jl. Barito in South Jakarta and the Pramuka Market in Rawamangun, East Jakarta, and confiscation of private pets have not gained him many friends.
"I often have to face police and military officers who threaten me with their guns," Yunus said.
But in the government conservation compound -- built partly with financial assistance from the Swiss-based Gibbon Foundation -- in Tegalalur, West Jakarta, where he works, owls and gibbons from Sumatra, honey bears from Kalimantan, and birds of paradise and pig-nosed turtles from Papua, are waiting to be returned to their natural habitat.
In a way, Yunus is a hero for the continuing survival of endangered species, and their educational potential for later generations.