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Noel's Day by Day Blog First Impressions How Close Does it
Get? The Tsunami Syndrome Gift-giving and Disaster
Aid Folk Disaster Theories Disaster Tourism Earthquake vs. Volcano
Eruption vs. Bird Flu Positive or Negative Post-Quake Reporting? Tourists and Guides Emergency Shelters Behind the Smile The Power of (Not)
‘Being There’ Flexible fieldwork The Unpredictable Workweek After the facts Independence Day Celebrations
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First Impressions
More than one week has passed since a severe earthquake ruined the lives of many people in and around Yogykarta and caused unimaginable structural damage to houses as well as monuments. Material aid is slowly getting organized but many victims are traumatized and very few Indonesians know how to deal with this. The local as well as international media are throwing widely differing statistics and multi-colored situation maps at us, detailing how many people have died or were injured and where most damage has occurred. Does it really matter to have "exact" numbers? Point is that this natural disaster has caused enough havoc to endanger the future of those who were lucky enough to survive it. From an anthropological point of view, I have been intrigued by the politics of aid. For many donors, locals as well as international agencies, it is not just of manner of giving aid. It seems to be important that as many eyes as possible see who donated. Therefore, big chunks of the relief budget are wasted on the creation of huge banners, flashy bumper stickers, colorful posters, etc. As a result, most of the aid seems to concentrate on the affected villages along the main access roads. It seems incredible that some villages still have not received any help, while others are already reselling some of the relief goods delivered because they simply do not want that much. What would Marcel Mauss, who developed the anthropological theory of gift-giving, have to say about all this? People like government officials and academics, those who should be seriously thinking about the long-term effects of the disaster and planning recovery strategies, are too busy right now organizing and delivering relief aid. The consequences for the local tourism industry will undoubtedly be disastrous. With half of the cultural heritage sites (the most important regional attractions) in ruins, and an estimated 66% cancellations of bookings for this summer, I wonder what strategies tourism service workers will rely on to simply survive. As soon as the situation calms down a bit, I want to start talking with the local tour guides, those who are the object of my dissertation research, about how they assess the post-disaster reality. I had never imagined doing fieldwork could be so challenging.
It is hard to picture the scene of a disaster for people who never experienced one. Even if our house is almost thirty kilometers from the epicenter of the quake and we only suffered some minor material damage, our neighborhood is deeply marked by the disaster. First, there is the visible structural damage to several buildings. Interestingly, most houses (many of which were built under Dutch colonialism before 1950) survived the quake remarkably well. As a rule of thumb, the newer the construction and the bigger the structure, the greater the damage. Two recently opened shopping malls were damaged in such a spectacular way that they formed the picturesque background for the first international journalists reporting from the disaster scene. Because we live nearby the airport, from my desk I can see the freight planes regularly flying in relief goods from Jakarta and other cities. Since the earthquake, we also have helicopters circling over our roof. Just across the street lies the huge sport stadium of the Yogyakarta State University. The Indonesian military chose this place as the temporary morgue. Last week, helicopters were constantly flying in corpses from the worst hit disaster zones. A regular stream of minivans brought in relatives to identify their loved ones. The helicopters were the attraction of the day. Entire families, inclusive of small children, came to watch the helicopters land and military personnel take out the corpses. This may look like a morbid form of entertainment to Westerners, but is seems nothing locals would question. I suspect this has to do with the fact that Indonesians are more familiar with death than we are these days. Death is not something that should remain hidden from people but is part of the daily life. All around our neighborhood, colorful banners announce the presence of rapidly erected help posts (called posko). Most collect clothes, blankets, food and water to be distributed to the poor villages down south. Everyday, a large caravan of fully loaded trucks, vans, cars, and motorcycles departs from the city. Since all roads outside Yogyakarta’s ring road are tiny, this leads to traffic jams of humongous proportions. While vehicles are forced to move slowly from village to village, hundreds of people stand next to the road with empty card boxes, begging for financial help. Their eyes express sadness, grief, and trauma. It will take a long time before the inner wounds of the disaster victims are healed. The Tsunami SyndromeJune 7, 2006
Yogyakarta is Indonesia’s second most important tourism destination, for international as well as domestic tourism. While the region comes after Bali as far as importance for tourism is concerned, for relief aid it is now second in line after Aceh. Many locals expect the same generosity from the international community that was shown after the 2004 tsunami. I do not think that is the case. To begin with, Yogyakarta was only hit by a "normal" earthquake, not by something exotic sounding like a tsunami. Second, there were almost no foreign casualties in Yogyakarta. These and other factors made that the quake received little attention in the European press and virtually none in the American media. The fact that I had to inform most of my American contacts about what had happened is telling. There are other differences between Aceh and Yogyakarta as well, cultural ones. This is confirmed by my wife, who is working for a non-governmental organization (NGO) and constantly travels between the two regions. Although practiced in various regions of the Indonesian archipelago, in Yogyakarta the self-help system of gotong royong‚ or reciprocal labor exchange between neighbors (without payment) and assistance from the extended family is particularly strong. This traditional system set in motion the quick delivery of goods and aid the first days after the quake and will undoubtedly speed up the building of new houses. Having said that, locals alone will never be able to rebuild everything that was destroyed without external help. Being only a temporary resident, I am not part of the social fabric here. Nevertheless, I have received numerous personal requests for help, sometimes from people I hardly know. Apparently, some benefit much more from the gotong royong principle than others do. Moreover, as often is the case in disasters, the poorest people were hit the hardest. I try to refer people as much as possible to local NGOs, because they have been around a long time and know best what is most urgent. I have much less confidence in the international NGOs who came in shortly after the quake (many of them simply transferring staff and resources from Aceh). Many foreign aid workers seem to have problems with understanding that, despite years of central government efforts, there is no unified Indonesian culture. As a result, working with Acehnese is very different from dealing with Javanese people. Gift-giving and Disaster Aid
Simply observing the relief operation gives me many opportunities to see how gifts and donations can serve to reinforce the personal or corporate prestige and status of the giver. Most help posts, for example, are situated along the main access roads to the disaster-stricken villages, with clear markers of which relief organization the post belongs to or by which corporation sponsors it. Everybody passing by can see who is helping. For some, the social capital earned by being noticed (especially by the media) is more important than the actual act of helping. On the main city square, far from the disaster area but clearly visible to thousands of people, a renowned NGO has set up a tent camp and a producer of instant noodles is distributing free food. However, the camp is empty and there are no disaster victims benefiting from a free bowl of noodles. Gifts can also be used to dominate the other party (in this case, the victims) by putting them in a position of debt and dependence. For international NGOs, it is not so much about establishing a bond with the victims themselves but showing their presence in every remote emergency to the potential donors back home, who are watching the events unfold in the media. Despite these motivations, the people in need unmistakably benefit from so much generosity. Clearly, altruism and self-interest are intermingled in the act of giving. It is exactly this mixture that makes gift exchange a self-sustaining system: those who refuse to take part in it place themselves outside the community. Folk Disaster
Theories
According to Javanese spiritual belief (Kejawen), the Yogyakarta Palace (Kraton) possesses supernatural powers because it is located right in the middle of an imaginary mythical line that connects the South Sea (Laut Kidul) with the northern Merapi volcano. The former is home to the Queen of the South Sea (Nyai Ratu Kidul), while the latter is personified and addressed as a respected elderly man (Si Mbah). The Palace, led by Sultan Hamengkubuwono X, acts as the regulator of the relation between the male (Merapi) and the female (South Sea) world. Not surprisingly, the Javanese build on this age-old cosmology to justify the recent earthquake and volcano eruptions. According to many of these explanations, the current Sultan – with his agenda of rapid regional modernization – is the scapegoat. The Sultan (who is simultaneously the Governor of the Province) recently endorsed the construction of new shopping malls. The Sultan claims the malls, which are co-owned by him and his entourage, will stimulate regional economic growth. Traditionalists, however, argue the malls obstruct the spiritual line between the sea and the volcano. They claim the Sultan is destroying Yogyakarta’s heritage while his divine mandate is to protect the cradle of Javanese culture. Both the northern and southern powers show their disagreement and the Sultan does not have enough spiritual authority to negotiate a truce. The earthquake is also thought to be the result of an escalating conflict between the Queen of the South Sea and the Sultan. The Queen appears to be angry because the Sultan does not want to take her as his second wife (polygamy used to be common in the Sultanate). A related hypothesis points to the quake as the Queen’s protest against the recently proposed national anti-pornography law (which would prohibit some of the region’s age-old rituals). The folk theories not only refer to celestial power struggles but to human quests for control as well. Mbah Marijan, the 79-year old spiritual gatekeeper (Juru Kunci) of Mt. Merapi, is believed to receive divine knowledge about when the volcano will erupt. Therefore, many people consider him an unofficial local leader. Appointed over 40 years ago as a royal servant of the Palace by Sultan Hamengkubuwono IX, he has repeatedly challenged the decisions made by the current Sultan. Mbah Marijan is so popular that most locals follow what he says, including his recent decision not to leave his abode, although local authorities had warned the public to do so due to increased volcanic activity. The Sultan himself has been remarkably silent about the current natural disasters. Would he be meditating about how to best mediate the perceived clash between Javanese tradition and modernity? Disaster Tourism: A Blessing
in Disguise?
Foreigners arriving in the city, those not primarily related to the relief effort, also wanted to have a look at the disaster scene. They simply took a cab and asked the driver to bring them to the most affected zones. It did not take long before local entrepreneurs became organized and started offering "charity tourism" packages (under the slogan "Help Yogyakarta with Tourism"). The "tourists care" programs bring clients to affected villages where they are expected to personally deliver a donation of at least 50 U.S. dollars. According to the advertisement (on the Internet as well as on flyers), the costs for car rental, driver, and gasoline are fully born by the organizing hotels. Interestingly, the tours do not include the service of a local guide to mediate the encounter between tourists and villagers, most of whom are still traumatized after the recent natural disaste These charity tours might seem a bit ghoulish, and probably will not attract many people (there are not that many tourists around anyway). Luckily, other forms of disaster-related tourism benefit the local tourism sector as well. Journalists and government officials also want to visit the zones of destruction, talk to people, and take nice pictures. Many of the tour guides I am working with have found new temporary jobs as translators. The recently arrived contingent of international NGO workers offers a large but still untapped group of potential clients for Jogja’s tour agencies. Most of them work hard and need regular breaks in order to prevent the common phenomenon of "burn out." However, it remains to be seen how these new tourism-related activities will be able to (financially) substitute for the loss caused by the guests who cancelled their summer trip to the region. Earthquake vs. Volcano Eruption vs. Bird Flu:
Disasters in Perspective
This time around, natural disasters at home seem to be impeding the region’s tourism growth. The people of Jogja are quite used to Mt. Merapi’s volcanic activity. The 2,956-meter high Merapi is one of at least 129 active volcanoes in Indonesia, part of the Pacific Ring of Fire‚ a series of fault lines stretching from the Western Hemisphere through Japan and Southeast Asia. It last erupted in 1994, sending out a searing cloud of gas that killed 60 people. About 1,300 people were killed when it erupted in 1930. Earthquakes, on the other hand, are extremely rare. This partially explains why locals were so at a loss during and after the recent quake. The earthquake, which was moderate according to sensationalist media standards, received some international press coverage, but much less than the worrying reports about the swift spread of bird flu in Indonesia. No wonder both news items eventually were mixed up. A British medical aid agency was at the source of a rumor (diffusing more rapidly than bird flu itself) that the quake victims were at high risk of catching the virus. This might have been an effective means of encouraging more donor money; it certainly did not help the marketing of Jogja as a safe place to visit. So far, the World Health Organization has confirmed around 50 cases of the H5N1 virus among Indonesia’s 220 million, none of the cases in the Yogyakarta Province. However, the image damage has been done. Potential visitors may not want to come here not only because of the recent earthquake or volcanic eruptions, but because they fear the bird flu pandemic to break loose any time soon. Positive or Negative Post-Quake
Reporting? Jogja’s Catch 22
The devastating earthquake that struck Java a couple of weeks ago not only caused a lot of damage; it also confronted local tourism policy makers with a tricky "Catch 22" situation (from the Joseph Heller novel and movie) in which an individual has to accomplish two actions, both of which require that the other one be done first. The cyclical conundrum or no-win situation that Jogja’s decision makers are faced with is as follows: the quake caused extensive physical damage to vital tourism infrastructure like telecommunications, accommodation (hotels and guesthouses), shops and restaurants, and transportation links. Many of the heritage sites and handicraft villages (producing souvenirs) were damaged as well. The estimated budget to help the region return to pre-quake levels of (economic) life is huge, especially because the scale of the disaster is much greater than first thought and there seem to be conflicting recovery strategies. Since few funds are available locally or nationally, authorities and NGOs are appealing for external relief and reconstruction aid. The more they can convince potential donors of the gravity of the situation, the more likely they will receive bigger loans and grants. In order to be successful at this task, the focus is on the many negative consequences of the earthquake. At first, the mass media were lending a helping hand by sensationalizing the natural disaster. However, journalists left as quickly as they had come, looking for events with more news value than a regular earthquake. Tourism stakeholders realize well how much the industry will depend on foreign aid to finance all reconstruction efforts. However, they see the (sometimes exaggerated) negative reporting as extremely damaging for the marketing of Jogja as a prime tourism destination. Tourists may not want to come to the region again if all they see and hear are depressing stories of human suffering. Not surprisingly, many local entrepreneurs were quick to counteract downbeat press coverage with optimistic reports, hoping to lure potential clients back to Jogja as soon as possible. These positive accounts give the false impression that the damage is not that great after all. Which of the two strategies causes less problems? No matter what choice is being made, both have negative consequences. Unfortunately, this vicious circle may be around for some time to come. Tourists and Guides: Flexible Roles in Volatile
Situations
Anthropologists have for a long time conceptualized international tourism
in terms of the intercultural encounter between local hosts and foreign
guests. This view has only recently been revised. One of the criticisms
of such a simplistic approach has to do with the fact that tourism service
providers like tour guides usually mediate the interaction between tourists
and locals. This explains my own interest in the discourses and practices
of local guides. As I am discovering while doing fieldwork, the position
of a guide is a demanding one, fraught with ambiguous roles and conflicting
interests. Local tour guides are often thought of as powerful cultural
representatives or ambassadors, expected to play the role of culture broker,
interpreter, translator, mediator, or teacher. The guides themselves often
see their privileged contact with foreigners as a means to enhance their
local status and start realizing their dreams of a (materially) better
life. Emergency
Shelters: Sleeping Out in the Open Isn’t Always Fun
When I was young, I spent many summers traveling around with friends
and camping in the countryside. I remember our temporary life in tents
was lots of fun, but also had serious drawbacks. It was hard to maintain
the place clean and keep insects out. During the night, it was often too
cold, during the day too hot. When I see under what conditions the disaster
victims who lost their houses are currently sheltered, I have to frown
deeply. Those people are not just camping; they will have to live like
this for months to come. In Aceh, more than one year and a half after
the tsunami, there are still people living in makeshift emergency shelters. ~Noel Noel B. Salazar |
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