Pangkalan Jihing

We are now in a village called Pangkalan Jihing. Like Nek Doyan, this place is also dominated by logging, and the logging income has made many people here rich. Even though the village is fairly remote many of the houses here are ornate and new. WE are staying with the kepala dusun (head of subvillage) who is a very stern man and suspicious of our activities. This man is a logging boss, and it shows – his house is huge and beautiful, and includes an indoor shower and toilet – whoohoo!

Today one of my team members came down with chicken pox. Funny: I was expecting to encounter all sorts of strange diseases here in the Asian tropics but all I've seen are chicken pox, head colds, and of course the unavoidable diarrhea. This incident, plus some smaller health problems in the team (impacted wisdom teeth, bee stings, rashes) make me eager to enroll in further first aid training when I get back to the US, and perhaps to bring a medical reference to the field with me as well. Then I would know, for example, how contagious chicken pox is, and how best to treat unknown rashes.

Dogs vs. Cats

Unlike the previous villages we’ve visited, Nek Doyan is dominated by Christian/Dayak people, not by Muslim/Melayu people. The difference is immediately obvious when you look at the animal population. In Melayu villages, there are very few dogs, and no pigs, but plenty of cats. In Dayak villages, there are lots of dogs and pigs, but fewer cats. My Muslim coworkers (like most Muslims) strongly dislike dogs and pigs, and are actually afraid to be within a 10-food radius of a dog. I think it is difficult for my friends to live in a Dayak village because of the dog issue. I, on the other hand, prefer the Dayak villages because there are fewer rules – Non-Muslims are allowed to drink alcohol, non-Muslim women can wear any clothing they’d like, and Dayaks seem to have a more flexible perspective of the world (at least this is my analysis).

Bee Sting

Today I got stung by a bee. Ouch! This was bound to happen sooner or later – working in the forest we run into all sorts of dangers, from rotting bridges to snakes to bees. Nevertheless, I believe the forest is safer than riding a motorbike in this country.

The bee experience was my second in the tropics, and quite a bit nicer than the first time (in costa rica). My coworker and our guide (Abang Abing – funny name!!) were walking down a hill. I was the last one in line, and I noticed that my coworker and Abing were suddenly running and yelling. Of course they were yelling in Indonesian (probably something logical like: “Run! Bees!”) which I didn’t understand, but somehow I understood that I should also run away. I started dashing up the hill as a very large (quarter sized) black object buzzed by me and suddenly my leg was burning and I was slapping my pants because it hurt like he**. Upon later inspection I learned that these were not small honey-bee type stings, but nasty things that swelled immediately to the area of a small pancake and throbbed for three days straight. Luckily I escaped with only one sting, my coworker two, and our guide none.

Nek Doyan

Nek Doyan is a logging-dominated village. Most men here earn a living by logging, and the only other major village income source is durian. Durian season comes one month per year (December), which makes logging the main activity for the majority of the year. Our host in Nek Doyan is a Muslim hunter, and his wife. Their house is dank and dark, and compared to the other places we’ve stayed not the nicest atmosphere. But the people are nice and the food is good, so I can’t complain too loudly. A medium-sized river runs behind the house, thus only a few steps to the place to bathe and wash clothes.

In the field today my teammate and I visited many, many, durian gardens. In case you don’t know, durian is a tropical fruit that is very expensive and smells like poo. Some people love the taste of durian, and others hate it. Durian trees in the region where I am working can be huge, more than 50 meters tall and over 100 cm DBH. These large trees were planted by the ancestors of the people who now live in the village, and were handed down from father to son (or daughter) so that the same family has harvested durian from the same trees for decades. The trees can be very close to the housing area, or as much as a two-hour walk away. I’m very sad I can’t be in the region during durian season (I’m in the “love durian” camp) but perhaps next year…

Back to the field

This time I traveled alone – I had to finish a report for the Indonesian Science Agency to fulfill my visa requirements, so stayed behind in Ponti for a day while the rest of the team continued on to our next study site, a village called Nek Doyan. After finishing the report, I flew to Ketapang and then rode on the back of a motorbike (with my laptop and two backpacks) four hours to our study site. Exhausting, yet exhilarating as well to get around via motorbike. I hope to learn to drive one someday soon…

Haircut

Haircut. Yes, I did it: my hair is now about an inch long. The decision came after my hair was snagged in rattan for the nth time. Now fieldwork will be much easier, my hair will be easier to care for, but I do miss the long blond curls…

The haircut itself was quite an experience. I walked into the salon on a Sunday evening, and tried to explain that I wanted my hair short. The hairdresser seemed to understand. First he washed my hair, and then unsuccessfully tried to brush it. Eventually I got fed up with the ineffective tugging with a comb, and offered to brush my own hair to speed up the process. After the brushing, my hairdresser started cutting. But he was not brave – each time he would cut off about 2 inches all the way around, and I would instruct him to cut more. This happened about 4 times until he finally got the idea that I wanted really, really short hair and he exclaimed, “Like a boy!” Umm, yeah, like a boy. After an hour-long haircut process, I walked out of the salon with a decent haircut which only cost $2, such a great deal!

Men Working Wood

Today was our second day with the National Geographic photographers. The plan was to drive to a village called Cali and take photos of illegal logging. We met our driver at 5 am in front of the hotel, and immediately realized the trip would be uncomfortable: the vehicle we hired was like a Jeep Cherokee, but without a trunk. When we packed ourselves and gear into the jeep we noticed another problem. The front passenger seat was broken, so the passenger couldn't put any weight on the seat back. So instead of the largest person in the front seat, Dessy (small Indonesian) sat in the front seat and the photographers and I (large Swedes) packed into the back like sardines. To top it off it was raining as we left (and had been all night) so the road was slippery as well as the usual bumpy.

After driving two hours we arrived in Manjau, the village we finished surveying just a week ago! Instead of continuing to Cali as planned, we stopped in Manjau hoping to find illegal logging. But the rain was problematic; loggers (like most human beings, I think) don't like to work in the rain, and we didn't hear chainsaws all morning. In the afternoon, a bit discouraged, we finally heard chainsaws and excitedly found guides to take us to the source of the noise.

Illegal logging is a very sensitive issue here in Ketapang District, and our guides were reluctant to take us to the chainsaw noise. They finally agreed after talking with us for a while; I think the three tall blonde tourist-like buleh probably looked so ridiculous we were not threatening.

After walking for about an hour, we found the "orang kerja kayu" (man working wood) in the middle of a burned area, cutting a small partly burnt fallen tree for firewood. So sad! But the photographers took some photos anyway, before hiking back to the road.

We packed into the car again (after taking a few photos of us with the villagers) and started the long drive home, tired and slightly defeated. But as we were driving along the road, we noticed a small river with many people standing nearby, and....timber! A red flag for logging. We hopped out of the car and discovered a very interesting phenomenon: transportation of belian (a high-value timber, so dense it will not float) via rafts, from forest to trucks waiting along the road. Loggers cut the timber into 2-by-4s and nail the 2-by-4s to poles to make a raft that will float. Then the loggers string the rafts together with twine or vines and guide them down the river, two guides per raft.

We stayed at this "port" for a couple of hours. The photographers took many photos while Dessy and I chatted with the workers. Some of the workers are extremely young - maybe 10 years old, already learning to be loggers. Sad, because logging is very tough work.

As it started to get dark outside, we hopped in the car and headed back to home sweet hotel in Ketapang. Upon arrival at the hotel (after a long trip that included a flat tire) we unexpectedly met with the minister of forestry in West Kalimantan. He was in an incredibly bad mood due to an incredible amount of wood (all illegal) that had shown up on the nearby Pawan River. The reason? The military operation against illegal logging finished last week, and all the wood that has been hidden for the last four months is now being shipped to market.

Now to bed...we return to ponti tomorrow by private plane, so posh!

National Geographic Fun

Today was the first day of a three-day trip with national geographic photographers in West Kalimantan. We started the trip with a flight from Pontianak to Ketapang in a little, red, 6-seater prop plane. I love flying, and this was (almost) flying heaven: a view of a beautiful tropical landscape from a relatively low elevation (we flew at 3000 ft) , low enough to see details like houses and boats. The day was cloudy but not rainy, and the hour-long flight was exhilarating.

After touching down in the Ketapang airport, we took a car to a hotel in town and dropped our stuff off before heading to the field. The plan for the day: go south to a large bauxite mine and try to photograph the mine workers. We rented a car and jumped in, and I immediately fell asleep. Upon awaking, I saw we had arrived in a small village, where there was a little shop to eat lunch. After grabbing a bite to eat (predictably ice tea, rice, vegetables, and fish) we got back in the car and headed to the bauxite mine.

Bauxite is an aluminum ore. In Ketapang, bauxite mining involves finding a small mountain, asking the government to give you this mountain, and after getting permission, leveling the mountain to get at the bauxite underneath. Not the most environmentally sensitive process. At the bauxite mine we visited, they were in the process of leveling two mountains with an incredible array of heavy-duty equipment. The mine is open 24 hours per day, seven days per week, and there are enough mountains left in the area to last for years....

The photographers asked our driver to quietly take us to a little hill overlooking the mine. They scrambled down a slope and sneaked up on a large pipe spewing mud, to take photographs from a variety of places with different light levels. My fellow researcher Dessy was asked to model in a few pictures -- who knows, perhaps she will make it to the front cover of national geographic! After taking pictures from afar we drove to the mine and the photographers again scrambled up a large pile of stones (bauxite, actually) to a rubber belt that transports the bauxite to waiting trucks. I did my best to distract the workers from the silly Swedes with the cameras by pretending to be a silly Swedish tourist. The tactic worked for a bit, but eventually we were asked whether we had permits. At that point, we high-tailed it out of the mining area for fear of being told to meet with the boss, or worse.

In the afternoon we rented a speed boat and zoomed up a nearby river to find the barges that transport bauxite away from Kalimantan, perhaps to Java or Malaysia. The afternoon was beautiful, with rainbows and sun and a cool wind generated by the speed boat. My blog will get sappy now...close your eyes if you must. Sometimes I can hardly believe that I'm able to work in this beautiful place called Kalimantan, I feel so thankful that I can do this work! Moments like these make all the hassle of navigating Indonesia worthwhile. Okay, you can open your eyes now =)

Tomorrow we go chasing illegal logging in Cali.

Jakarta again

Spent the weekend in Jakarta, where I met up with a couple of friends from the Yale forestry program who are traveling in the region right now. I also picked up some field equipment from a co-worker, and…wait for it…went salsa dancing! I think I found the only salsa dancing scene in Jakarta. Amazing live salsa music (we couldn’t decide whether the singer was Asian or Latina, but she had a perfect Latina accent), and some decent and very friendly dancers. Social dancing is funny – even in the middle of Indonesia (very different from western culture) the culture of social dance is the same as in the west: goofy, energetic, friendly and talented dancers willing to share dance with anyone who is interested. Tomorrow we start overflights with national geographic, which should be exciting and informative. I love seeing the big picture!

Mind the gap!

Sorry to everyone who noticed the large and unannounced gap in posting. We were rather unexpectedly in the field for about 1.5 weeks. I’m very happy to be back in Pontianak, where I am resting in all senses possible: my stomach is taking a break from rice, my head is taking a break from Indonesian, and I’ve slept most of the last couple of days. Field work is wonderful but also draining, and I need to stay in marathon mode instead of sprinting. More about this second field experience soon...

Riam Berasap

This weekend our team took a vacation and hiked to a beautiful waterfall in Gunung Palung National Park called “Riam Berasap”, which means smoky waterfall. The hike was arranged by a team member who has worked in the area in the past and has some good connections with park officers. The expedition was 13 people: Myself, seven SIMPUR team members, a village leader, a national park officer, and three village members. We hiked for about four hours on a “jalan tikus” (mouse trail) through the woods near a large river in the park. Before entering the park we were briefed about correct conduct in the area: no whistling and no comments about nature (e.g., I cannot exclaim about the large size of the fish in the river). We also prayed before entering the forest, which was admittedly the first time I had ever paid nature such respect before embarking on a backpacking trip.

Unlike backpacking in the US, where camping equipment is small and lightweight and self-contained, here they really set up house in the woods. We brought large pots, pans, plates and cups for everyone, 5 kilos of rice (which we ate all of – Indonesians cannot survive without rice, apparently), fresh vegetables, tarps as tents, and lots of fishing equipment. It was a beautiful and relaxing couple of days in the woods, and allowed me to let go of all the stress that fieldwork brings. I let my brain take a break from bahasa Indonesia, and spent most of my time swimming and reading English books, instead of talking and listening.

The waterfall itself is not the most beautiful, or the tallest, or the biggest I’ve seen. However, a huge, deep pool exists downstream of the waterfall, and the pool is ringed with large stones for sitting, relaxing, and fishing. The water is a bit cool, but tropical and definitely swimming temperature. Paradise.

We made this trip at the right time, because usually the buzz of saws from illegal logging can be heard throughout the forest. However, we did not hear chainsaws or encounter any recent logging activity, although it was obvious the area has been heavily logged within the last couple of years.

Thoughts in Manjau

Learning Indonesian is probably the most difficult thing I’m doing this summer. Not because it is difficult in the intellectual sense – I’m happy with my progress – but difficult in terms of the energy learning requires! Every night I fall into bed exhausted. At first I thought my tiredness could be blamed on the hard physical labor we are doing every day, but I think learning Indonesian is even more draining. Whether I choose to listen or not, when people talk Indonesian around me my brain is constantly trying to process the conversation, and understand. This, added to the fact that I usually try to be an active listener, means that my brain is in overdrive – thinking and talking consciously in English, and subconsciously learning Indonesian. I’ve never done language immersion like this before and I find it very interesting to take a step back and think about the language learning process from an observer’s perspective.

Other thoughts? Manjau is a really beautiful and kind village, but it has its sad side just like any other place. Today I visited an old man who seemed near death. I’ve never seen anyone so skinny before, and it was difficult and disturbing to look at him. He is receiving basically no medical care – the hospital rejected him (I suspect he has lung cancer or some other terminal disease) – and his family is treating him with herbs. The house where he lives was filled with people when I arrived – maybe twenty villagers, of all ages, male and female. It made me think about end of life issues – in the US, the same man would probably be in the hospital, possibly with the support of his family but without a whole community of people with him as he passes on. Eek…depressing thoughts…I promise I’ll write about something nicer next time!

Coffee and MSG

In Indonesia, rice has many names. When the rice is growing in the field, it is called “padi”. When harvested, dried, but not yet cooked, it is called “beras”. After cooking, it is generally called “nasi”.

There are two kinds of coconut here. Kelapa muda (young coconut) is for eating and drinking fresh. Kelapa tua (old coconut) is for cooking and flavor.

Why do I tell you all this? Today I had one of the most interesting coffee drinks thus far – a mix of roasted coffee, beras, and kelapa tua, with some sugar to boot. Amazing, rich, smoky flavor. Maybe such a drink exists elsewhere in the world, but I am fairly certain this combination can only be found in Kalimantan.

The only problem I have with the food here in Manjau is the incredible amounts of MSG they use as flavoring. Everything, even the sweet dishes, contain MSG. This is unfortunate, because my body does not deal well with this particular food additive, and I get a stomachache after every meal. Luckily other than the MSG, however, food is quite yummy and much more interesting than in Cali or Mensubang, because of the better market access in Manjau.

Jalan Jalan

Long, long day. After breakfast we walked from our house to the village water source. This is the first village I’ve visited that actually has water piped to the village area, instead of taking water directly from a river or well. The water source is a stream near an area called “Gua Maria”, which means “Cave Mary”. The whole area is very Catholic, with crosses next to the river, a chapel that is a strange mix of Dayak and Christian symbols. Because we had an extra day, to prevent everyone (including myself) from becoming bored I decided to conduct a water survey, to see where folks in the village really get their water. I had a hunch that although there is water available via pipe, there are other drinking water and irrigation sources in the village.

While half the team walked around the village conducting this water use survey, myself and three other teammates acquired a couple of motorbikes and drove to a neighboring village, Nek Doyan. Our objective was to meet with the Kepala Dusun of Nek Doyan and ask permission to survey the village in a couple weeks. After we talked with the Kepala Dusun, we had most of the day left, so we decided to drive east to see an oil palm plantation, protected area, and make contact with another potential study site village near the Pawan River.

I believe I’ve already blogged about the difficulties of riding a motorbike over bad roads for long periods of time. It seems like an easy thing – you just sit behind the driver and look around, right? Wrong! If the road is bad, the passenger always has to be ready for the next bump or pothole or bridge or slippery spot, and when these obstacles present themselves the passenger must hold on (with hands and feet and knees) for dear life, as to not be bounced off the back of the bike. If the motorbike goes up a steep slope, or passes through mud, or navigates a narrow bridge, the passenger must get off and walk. If the bike gets stuck in mud, the passenger helps to get it unstuck. After five hours of riding on the bike, I was exhausted. However, upon return to Manjau I immediately had to mandi (bathe) and get ready for the evening’s map-making meeting.

As usual, the map-making was an informative process, where the team learned about the village layout, local perceptions of land use, and a bit about the local political situation as well. After a long three hour meeting to make the map, and another hour to arrange with village guides, our teams returned home tired but excited to get into the field tomorrow.

Manjau

Today we left for the field again. This trip was a bit rushed and definitely unexpected, as we returned from the field only a week ago. The plan was to recover and enter data for a week, then meet up with a couple of national geographic photographers who want to do a story about the region. However, the photographers were delayed until mid-august so we decided to go to the field again and finish mapping another village in the interim.

The survey village is called Manjau, and is the first ethnically Dayak villager that we’ve worked in thus far. In Ketapang, there are two broad classes of native people. Melayu are river people, and are almost all Muslim. They don’t eat pig or drink alcohol, and most do not keep dogs. Dayak are forest people, and are generally Christian although they used to be animists before conversion by missionaries. Dayaks drink arak (fermented rice beverage), eat pig, and keep dogs. The physical difference in appearance between Dayak and Melayu people is not obvious to me, but the dogs and the pigs tend to distinguish Dayak from Melayu houses. In Manjau, all the Muslims live in one part of the village, the protestants live in another area, and the Catholics in yet another. Apparently this minimizes conflicts among cultures.

Manjau is very near to Gunung Palung National Park, and thus the residents of Manjau are used to buleh in the region. This fact came as a happy surprise to me; I have not yet been stared at or “hello mister”ed. The village is in a beautiful valley that somehow reminds me of home in Montana. When we arrived (at about 6 pm at night, after a full day of travel from Pontianak – by truck, speed boat, and motorbike) a warm wind was blowing, very unusual in the tropics but wonderfully pleasant.

Our hosts in Ketapang are a woman named Mama and her husband, the head of the local masjid (mosque). Mama is a character, and talks to me quickly in Indonesian as if I’ll eventually understand what she is saying if she talks enough. She definitely fills the Mom role, telling everyone to “makanyo” and “minumya” (eat and drink) constantly. A daughter-in-law and her 1 year old son also stay in the house, as does a brother-in-law and a random old man. I honestly have no idea while the old man is there, as he has not yet spoken a word and does not eat with the family.

Tomorrow we will meet with the Kepala Dusun and start our mapping activities, but now it is time for bed!