The Road Back (15 page)

Slowly, too, the men also came to accept my presence, and would answer my questions about farming, the care of the water buffalo they used to plough their fields, and how their system of payment for the use of the land operated, which, of course, favoured the land owners. But what I really wanted to know from them was how the political dynamics of the village worked. It was not always easy to get details about this, but this was essentially what I had been sent to find out, for unless there was understanding about the way the village operated, it would be hard to institute workable reforms and improvements.

It wasn't long before I saw that, although the village looked to be a harmonious place, there was a permanent power struggle going on.

The village was run by two paramount chiefs, one of whom looked after civil affairs, while the another dealt with religious issues. These men were helped by village elders whose judgement was held in esteem, and one of these was Darma, with whom I lived. But I also learned that other men, who were assumed to have expertise in other areas, especially magic, might also be consulted by the villagers. This undermined the authority of the paramount leaders and often led to tensions.

Situated where we were on the equator, Bogor, although not as warm as Jakarta, was still always hot, and late one afternoon when I took off my cotton slacks to wash them, I wrapped a length of batik around myself. Utari saw me, pulled me into the little room she shared with her husband and opened a box. She took out a sarong and
kebaya
top and insisted that I put it on. She wound a long sash around my midriff and then added the sheer top edged in cotton lace, fastening it with tiny press studs. She called to the other women, who crowded around and admired me. They pulled back my hair with pretty plastic combs, smoothing it with oil that smelled of vanilla and coconut. That evening we walked with the little children through the
kampong
to the water pump, giggling and singing.

I felt very feminine and comfortable, and decided that when I went into Bogor I'd try to persuade Norma to come with me to the big market and buy a
sarong kebaya
to keep as a souvenir. My blouses and skirts were difficult to press because the irons were heavy charcoal-burning ones that were tricky to use, so I was very tempted to wear sarongs all the time.

However, I pressed my clothes with more care than usual when I arranged to meet Jimmy Anderson in Jakarta. David, Mark and I had decided that we would travel to the capital for a weekend's break and I would stay with the Wijayas again. Both David and Mark teased me when they knew I was having dinner with Jimmy.

‘You're a bit of a dark horse, contacting that Yank, aren't you, Susan?' said David.

I blushed. ‘Communication is so difficult from the
kampong
that I just had to take the bull by the horns and I sent Jimmy a note. It's something I probably wouldn't do at home,' I explained.

‘I think it's a good idea and I hope you have a lovely night,' said Mark kindly. ‘David and I shall just have to put up with each other for the evening.'

Jimmy gave me the choice of eating a western meal in a hotel or venturing to a local restaurant. Of course I chose the latter. It turned out to be a rather romantic place with a small courtyard with candles on the table and lanterns overhead. Jimmy did most of the talking as I was keen to hear about his time in Indonesia, especially during the overthrow of Sukarno. I found some of his experiences unsettling and quite scary. I was saddened when he told me how the libraries set up by the US Information Service had been targeted and the books burned.

‘The libraries were established so that Indonesian students could borrow books for their studies. It was such a stupid anti-American gesture. So pointless.'

‘Mr Putra spoke to us about President Sukarno. There seemed to have been a lot of irrational actions under his rule, but Mr Putra seemed very reluctant to talk about the violence that occurred in the military coup,' I said.

‘That's not surprising,' said Jimmy, sipping his drink. ‘After the army deposed Sukarno, it took the view that anyone who was not on the side of the military was an enemy. So much anti-communist propaganda was put out there that just knowing someone who might be considered a communist sympathiser, or worse, being suspected of belonging to the communist party, could be signing your own death warrant. No one questioned the military. People were killed for a perceived association or merely a slip of the tongue. Even now most Indonesians are suspicious and fearful, even though they appear to be friendly and go about life as normal. So I can understand why Mr Putra does not want to say too much. It could cause him problems.'

‘So do you have any idea how many people were killed in this period?'

‘Not really. Possibly hundreds of thousands, maybe as many as a million people, but the government isn't going to inquire too closely about what happened, since they were the beneficiaries of the purge.'

I was shocked. ‘It all sounds so terrible. Did you get involved?'

‘No, I was very careful to stay out of things and my employer had enough influence to stay on the right side of the military, but some of my Indonesian friends disappeared and I can only think the worst.'

Even after everything I'd learned, I still found it difficult to believe that such things could happen. ‘Jimmy, that's awful. Do you think it's still dangerous in Indonesia now?'

‘I suppose there is still some unrest about – I guess that is to be expected – but in the
kampong
where you are staying, you would be quite safe. The villagers would look on you as an honoured guest,' Jimmy said gently, reassuring me.

‘It seems to be a big task, getting this country back on track.'

‘Suharto has made it clear that he is aligned with the west, so more help will come from countries like Australia and America. Just look at you and your friends. You are the start of this increased cooperation. And Indonesians will work hard to improve their country. There's a group here, in Jakarta, nicknamed the Berkeley Mafia. They're smart Indonesian students who were sent to study at the University of California at Berkeley. After they graduated they didn't look for lucrative jobs overseas, but came back here to work in finance and economics and are now being given positions in the new Suharto government. These are the sort of people who will help this country prosper.'

‘Well, I hope they find a way to help the village people prosper too,' I said.

‘You're right. When the economy starts to pick up, it's imperative that everybody benefits. Now, enough of this serious talk. I need to ask you a really important question. How spicy can you take your beef rendang? Or would you like to try the frogs' legs?'

I laughed. But I did try the frogs' legs and I loved them! They tasted like chicken. The time flew by with Jimmy and I couldn't believe how late it was when we left, so he bargained with a
betjak
driver and we squeezed in together as the driver pedalled to the Wijayas' house.

The city was quiet around the sleeping streets, except for the distant chug of the odd car and stray dogs snuffling amongst rubbish. Jimmy's leg was warm against mine and I had to admit I found him very attractive. Jimmy waited out the front of the dim house, where everyone was asleep, until I was inside.

This was to be the pattern of our friendship. On the occasions I returned to the city, we met and went out somewhere different and I was glad to explore Jakarta in the company of the tall American.

Back in Bogor, we had all more or less settled into our jobs. Alan was helping the Bogor council construct a bridge over a nearby river, Mark was organising meetings with the local small business owners to help them develop their various concerns, David was in his element discussing ways for farmers to improve their crop yields and Evan was enjoying the challenge of working in the local hospital. Norma, however, was finding her job at the hospital very depressing.

‘I know that the nurses know what they are supposed to do, but they don't always do it. They don't seem to understand that they must look after all of their patients. They will neglect a mother in great need in order to help one of their relatives who doesn't really need much attention at all.' Evan reassured her that her work was important and necessary and she would be able to bring about those changes in attitude.

Then Norma suddenly got sick. She didn't want to leave her room in the hostel where she and Evan boarded and lay on the small hard bed, sweating feverishly, throwing up everything, even a mouthful of boiled water. I left the
kampong
to visit her and became really worried.

‘Do you know what's wrong with her, Evan?' I asked him as I held Norma's clammy hand.

‘Dysentery, but it's pretty severe,' Evan replied, frowning. ‘Funny that it should happen to Norma, since she is the one who is so fussy about what she eats. And the problem is that she won't go into the hospital. Absolutely shrieked when I suggested it. But I don't blame her. Can you imagine Norma in a twenty-four-bed ward, complete with masses of relatives? It wouldn't work. But if she stays in her room there is no one who can look after her properly and feed her the right things.'

I looked at Norma's sweaty face. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she moaned softly. ‘I could take her back with me to the village, but I don't think that would work either. Evan, could we get her to Jakarta? I am sure that the Wijayas would be happy to put both of us up. I can leave the
kampong
for a few days and, besides, I've got a lot of notes that I need to write up, so I could stay with Norma and nurse her while I do that.'

So Norma and I went to stay in Jakarta. Norma was a very difficult patient, but Ibu Wijaya was very kind and made sure that she bought the food that Norma was able to eat. I cooked it for her and gradually Norma began to improve.

While I was staying in Jakarta, I saw a lot more of Jimmy and we become close. He was the first man I'd known whose company I loved and with whom I could sit and talk for hours and hours. We came to share our family stories, our life back at home, our university days, and spent time trying to solve the problems of the world. Like me, he was deeply concerned about the Vietnam War and both of us were uneasy about its escalation.

‘The Tet Offensive early this year was quite a shock. It's the first time that the Viet Cong has attacked South Vietnamese cities,' said Jimmy.

I nodded. ‘A lot of my friends are questioning Australian involvement in Vietnam. They don't like the idea that conscripted soldiers have to go there and fight.'

Home seemed very far away when I was sharing a beer with Jimmy in a crowded downtown bar. People lived cheek by jowl in the city, but even in the rural paddy fields and farmlands one had the sense of never being alone. Jimmy told me that he had the same feeling even when he ventured into Indonesia's large forests where wild tigers and other dangerous animals lived. ‘You're never by yourself in this country,' he said.

For the first time I realised what a homogeneous society I'd grown up in. At university there had been some Singhalese and Malaysian students and there were Chinese people running businesses in some of the suburbs, but I'd never met an Aborigine. Here, however, I was the odd one out. But I liked it! Each day I tried to learn new words to improve my Bahasa. I loved the food, the customs, and I was slowly grasping the complex levels of traditional society. The religions in Indonesia were still something of a mystery I was trying to unravel. Back in the village I had begun to learn the fundamentals of Islam, and Buddhism also interested me very much. The Chinese family next door to the Wijayas were Theravada Buddhists who made daily offerings to the monks at the small shrine nearby. When I mentioned this to Jimmy, he made a suggestion.

‘Would you like to go to see Borobudur, in central Java? It's the biggest Buddhist temple in the world. It's not in the best of repair, although I've heard that UNESCO is interested in restoring it properly. It will be a major task and will probably take decades to complete.'

‘Heavens, it must be big! It sounds fascinating. How does one get to central Java?' I asked. As much as I wanted to see this amazing-sounding temple, I thought the idea of travelling somewhere with Jimmy was even more appealing!

‘We'd need a few days to really see it, but it's not hard to plan. That is, if you're comfortable with the idea?'

‘Of course, we'll share expenses. Norma's a lot better now so she won't mind if I leave her in Ibu Wijaya's care for a few days. Ibu will cook Norma's food the way she likes it if I show her how.'

I had no qualms about travelling with Jimmy. He was so easygoing, interesting, and to use the word my mother might have said, gentlemanly. And he cared deeply about the Indonesian people. I thought he was a bit on the old-fashioned side in some ways as he also sported an all-American crew cut.

He laughed when I mentioned it. ‘Don't worry, long hair is catching on at home, but crew cuts are still in, especially here in the tropics because they're cool and comfortable.'

We got a train to Yogyakarta and then caught a local bus, which took hours of uncomfortable driving to reach Borobudur. We booked into a guesthouse where we each had a small, clean room, if simply furnished, and shared an Indonesian-style bathroom.

The next day we went to see the temple, and I was stunned at its stupendous size spread out over an enormous area.

‘Just think of the millions of stones that were dragged here to build it, all of them sitting perfectly together with no cement or mortar,' said Jimmy. ‘Some say that it was built to represent a lotus floating above a now dried-up lake, but I don't know how true that is.'

We slowly ascended from terrace to terrace. The lower levels were ringed by a high balustrade that blocked out the view of the landscape below, instead drawing us into the life and teachings of Buddha as depicted by carvings and sculptures on the walls. We wandered amongst the statues for hours. The temple seemed to go on forever.