BBC Travel

How many people know there’s an Indonesian god at Jakarta’s oldest Chinese temple? And who knew the city’s oldest church was originally built for slaves, who were freed in exchange for changing their religion?

Most Jakarta residents probably neither know nor care much about the old houses of worship of minority religions. Yet these places provide fascinating links to the past and are worth a visit for anyone seeking a spiritual change of scene from the monotony of the city’s modern monuments to consumerism.

The title of oldest temple generally goes to Wihara Dharma Bhakti (Temple of Devotional Service) on Jalan Kemenangan III in Petak Sembilan, part of the main Chinatown district of Glodok. A Taoist temple was built at the site in 1650 at the order of a Chinese lieutenant named Kwee Hoen. In those days, the Dutch colonial administration followed the Portuguese example of giving military titles, such as captain and lieutenant, to its appointed leaders of ethnic groups. Lieutenant Kwee named his temple Koan Im Teng (teng means pavilion) after Kwan Im, the goddess of mercy and compassion. Adopted into Taoism’s pantheon of immortals following the spread of Buddhism in China some 2,000 years ago, Kwan Im had evolved remarkably from the Indian Buddhist male deity Avalokite?vara into a Chinese goddess due to losses in translation and gender.

Koan Im Temple was razed to the ground in October 1740 when the Dutch quelled a rebellion by massacring most of the approximately 11,000 Chinese residents of Batavia. This ethnic cleansing of the city’s mercantile class caused a recession, which was only overcome when more Chinese were enticed to the area by the prospect of profit. Fifteen years after its destruction, the temple was rebuilt in 1775 by Chinese captain Oei Tjhie, who renamed it Kim Tek Yi (Temple of Golden Virtue) to signify that people should focus more on goodness than materialism.

The temple’s common name in Mandarin is Jin De Yuan and it is now visited by over 100 people each day, mostly followers of Buddhism, Taoism and Confucianism, as well as a few tourists. Historical attraction aside, the temple is a haven of peaceful open space, covering some 3,000 square meters, and has colourful iconography rarely seen in Jakarta. There are 24 altar stations and more than 50 statues of deities. Beneath one of the long-bearded deities is an intriguing placard bearing the words: “Typically Indonesian Local God”. This particular deity was a real person, born Kwee Lak Kwa in the Central Java city of Semarang in 1695. After the 1740 massacre, Kwee was among the leaders of a Chinese guerrilla war against the Dutch but he disappeared near the northern coastal town of Tegal after the rebellion faltered in 1742. He was reputedly killed along with two Javanese aides while fighting the Dutch on the island of Karang Jeruk, although legend has it that his boat was attacked by pirates or Dutchmen off Tegal and he escaped by walking on water. Tales soon emerged that he had obtained supernatural powers and was helping fishermen. An emperor of the Qing Dynasty bestowed upon Kwee the title of Tek Hai Cin Jin (Guardian God of Sea Trade). There are statues of him at six temples across Java.

The simplest way to reach Wihara Dharma Bhakti is by taking a taxi or the Busway to Jalan Gajah Mada and then walking from Glodok as access is via cramped streets and parking is not easy. Directly opposite the Busway’s Glodok shelter is Jalan Kemurnian I. Head down there to the end, find the man selling caged birds with clipped wings (bought by devotees, who believe they will receive good karma for releasing creatures from captivity, even maimed birds and homing pigeons) and behind him is the temple’s entrance. If you’ve missed it, just ask any local for the kelenteng or candi (both mean temple). Right alongside the main complex are two separate, more recent temples and outside them are plenty of beggars, mostly older people prostrate on the ground. For those wishing to pray, incense sticks, red candles, fragrant oil and joss paper are for sale. Some visitors also bring fruit, flowers, pork and money as offerings. There is a pervasive smell of incense and quite a bit of smoke and ash. Visitors can pick up a few pamphlets with suggested mantras and advice on how to deal with life’s adversities, such as ‘Why is my husband unfaithful?’ and ‘Why don’t children think?’. The temple is open from 5am to 5pm and entry is free. If taking the Busway, note that there’s no pedestrian crossing or overpass at the Glodok shelter, so take care dodging the traffic.

Another contender for Jakarta’s oldest Chinese temple is Sin Tek Bio, built in 1698 and now well hidden in the narrow, winding alleys of the old market district of Pasar Baru. Originally named Het Kong Sie Huis Tek (House of Blessings Temple), it was built to honour the Chinese earth god, Hok Tek Cin Sin, provider of good fortune to farmers and traders. He is also called the god of business. In 1820, when the Dutch founded Pasar Baru as a commerce centre, the temple’s name was changed to Sin Tek Bio (New Market Temple) and in 1982 it was renamed Wihara Dharma Jaya in line with the Suharto regime’s terminology for Buddhist houses of worship. Although smaller than the Glodok temple, this one is more exciting because of its concealed location. Again, entry is free, although here there are no beggars lying about at the entrance. Anyone wishing to visit should make their way to Pasar Baru, have a meal at the famous Bakmi Gang Kelinci restaurant and then start wandering among the backstreet labyrinths or ask a local for directions. The temple’s caretaker says the city administration provides very little in the way of maintenance funds, despite requests for assistance.

And so to Jakarta’s oldest church, which is Gereja Sion, built over 1693-95 and located at the corner of busy Jalan Mangga Dua Raya and quieter Jalan Pangeran Jayakarta (a healthy walk from the Glodok temple). While Christian houses of worship in some parts of Indonesia are being shut down due to the government’s failure to combat religious intolerance, Gereja Sion has been a protected heritage site since 1972 and receives upkeep funds from the city. There are no beggars outside, but sometimes there are police stopping motorcyclists for illegally turning onto Jalan Pangeran Jayakarta. Such infractions are quickly resolved with an informal, on-the-spot fine.

The church was originally named De Nieuwe Potugeesche Buitenkerk (the New Portuguese Outer Church), being the second in Batavia for Portuguese and just outside the city walls. As the Dutch conquered Portuguese trading ports in Coromandel (1616), Malacca (1641) and Ceylon (1656), they sent many natives and Eurasians to Batavia as slaves, most of whom were Catholics due to Portuguese influence. The Dutch promised them freedom if they would convert to Protestantism and speak Dutch. It was for these former slaves, known as Mardijkers, that the church was built. Since 1675 the site had previously been the location of a small Catholic chapel used by Mardijkers. One of the governor-generals of the Dutch East India Company, Hendrick Zwaardecroon, was buried at the church’s graveyard in 1728 in accordance with his wish to be among the common people. His is one of only 11 remaining tombs, although in 1790 alone 2,381 people were buried there amid an outbreak of plague.

When Batavia’s main Dutch church was damaged in the 1730s and underwent lengthy renovations, officials and their families began to use the New Portuguese Outer Church. This led to the development of luxury stores in the area and the Mardijkers were expelled, ending up in Cilincing in northern Jakarta. They managed to build their own church there in 1738, only for it to be destroyed two years later by the Chinese rebels, who viewed them as accomplices of the Dutch. Today, some descendants of the Mardijkers now live in the Pajambon area near Gambir railway station.

The church eventually became known simply as the Portuguese Church after original one inside the city burnt down in 1808. When the Japanese occupied Java from 1942-45 they planned to use the church as a repository for the cremated remains of their slain soldiers but ended up using the larger Immanuel Church near Gambir. After independence, the Portuguese church came under the control of the Western Indonesia Protestant Church, which in 1957 changed the name to Gereja Sion after the Zion hill of ancient Jerusalem. In the 1960s some of the tombs were moved to Tanah Abang to make way for a carpark.

Nowadays the church looks like an unexciting square block from outside, with a basketball court adjoining a primary school, but inside are several treasures, including original copper chandeliers from India, an enormous original pipe organ (presently awaiting funds for repair), a tall baroque octagonal pulpit, several of the original ornamental chairs and other artefacts.

Originally located on 6,725 square meters of land, the church’s grounds were reduced in 1984 to widen the two streets outside. Also displaced were about 200 parishioners who used to live on Jalan Mangga Dua.

The church has a capacity for 1,500 worshippers. Three services are held each Sunday, including one in Mandarin, while the nearby school worships there on Monday mornings. Visitors are welcome, generally between 8am and 4pm on weekdays, and should ask the security guard near the gate for a tour before attempting to enter. The tour includes a chance to sign the visitors’ book placed atop a donation box. The tour-guard may also appreciate a donation for his efforts. Much like how some mosques announce received donations, the church’s regular newsletter faithfully records who gave how much for fundraising activities.

While it’s impossible to imagine no religion in Indonesia, taking the time to appreciate the sites of its minority religions can’t hurt.

Kenneth Yeung is nothing if not a hypocrite.

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What makes a great Monday morning? Sleeping in? Not wearing any clothes until lunch? How about summiting one of the world’s most active volcanoes via a treacherous three-hour trek through dense jungle at night with only a torch as your eyes, followed by a one-kilometre climb at a 70-degree angle atop loose rocks? If you fancy the last option you are either blissfully insane or fully prepared to climb Mt. Merapi in Central Java, which also requires the aforementioned insanity.

Mt. Merapi, literally known as the mountain of fire, towers over the Jogjakarta region at about 2,930m, and although it is not one of the highest mountains in the area (that being Mt. Slamet at 3,428m or Mt. Semeru in Eastern Java at 3,676m), Mt. Merapi masterfully remains the most active volcano, especially in relation to the dense populations surrounding it. As one of the 16 Decade Volcanoes, Mt. Merapi holds eruption parties every three to five years, the last major eruption occurring in 2010, which tragically resulted in 353 deaths. However, Mt. Merapi is certainly not such a brooding terror when it comes to a pleasant hike, as people with literally no climbing experience, much less mountaineering experience, are able to take the three hour trek up adequate dirt paths through picturesque jungle foliage, ending their journey at a plateau named pasar bubrah, just short of the menacing climb to the summit. This final leg of the journey up Merapi is reserved only for the brave who do have prior climbing experience, adequate muscular performance, and the artful ability to not panic insufferably. Reaching the summit is one of those rare achievements where you are able to peek inside the smoking crater of an active volcano on one side, while in the other direction there is a lovely hypnotic view that overlooks central Java as far as the horizon holds, with the lower clouds softly rolling over the lesser peaks below. Strong winds may be blowing along the summit, and the ground is certainly unstable and is always shifting, but what matters most atop Mt. Merapi is the entirety of the Jogjakarta regional landscape that just seems to go on forever in an endless dream.

Whatever climbing skill and experience one may have, it is always highly recommended to hire an experienced guide, someone who can not only show the way but also alert hikers to any present dangers and hazards. This is especially important for those willing to fully summit the mountain, as Merapi has claimed several lives in the past, including naïve photographers who lost their footing on the loose rock and seasonal climbers who unfortunately were destined to rolling boulders screaming down the mountainside. So remember, although jump pictures are fairly cool, it’s just important to keep them on stable ground and not at the top of a volcano. The intense view from the summit of Merapi is not for everyone, but sometimes the most phenomenal things in life require a little danger, and climbing Mt. Merapi certainly is one of them.

Making a Merapi expedition extraordinary can also be budget-friendly as well. In Jogjakarta there are numerous little travel shacks that offer hiking packages to Merapi. On Jl. Prawirotaman, across from the popular Ministry of Coffee, a incredibly friendly travel business will offer everything a group of friends would need to begin a Merapi adventure, costing a mere 600,000 IDR for three people. Different agents can be found on Jalan Sosrowidjian in Jogjakarta as well, all for a very reasonable price. Without venturing into Jogjakarta, the easiest place for a base camp at Mt. Merapi can be found at New Selo, where guides can also be hired at friendly prices. There is one catch/advantage to starting a Merapi adventure with the travel agents, as most of their Mt. Merapi packages offer a climb that starts around 1am, where hikers arrive at the plateau of pasar bubrah or the mountain summit just as the eye of the day (the poetic translation of ‘sun’ in bahasa) is beginning to peak over the horizon, encapsulating the entire landscape in a surreal morning beauty that will be engraved in one’s mind forever to come. However, climbing at night does require a torch and, more importantly, warm clothes; it will get very, very cold. Also, as the day progresses Mt. Merapi is known to secrete certain gases, making the morning climb much safer in terms of not inhaling hot and toxic volcanic gasses like sulphur dioxide.

Going through an agent has a lot of advantages as well. A private car will pick hikers up from their hotel, take them to the village of New Selo at the base of the mountain, where a friendly (and quite skilled in English) guide will escort the hikers as far as they want to go, even to the summit if they wish and the guide agrees, which is based upon strength and stamina. The guide will be as courteous as possible to the hikers speed and stamina, willing to take a break whenever one would need it. From the large New Selo sign at the base of the mountain, it takes hikers around three to four hours to reach the plateau of pasar bubrah. The plateau is certainly enough in terms of catching that ethereal sunrise.

The final summit of Merapi will loom in the near distance, tormenting and tempting climbers, but those with famished legs will be fully surprised and fulfilled by the plateau’s exquisite demeanour during the sunrise. For some, pasar bubrah will not be enough to call it a day’s work, especially with the peak of Mt. Merapi hysterically laughing in their stern and determined faces. The climb from pasar bubrah to the summit takes between an hour and an hour and a half, depending on skill and speed. However, despite the skill, a slow and comfortable speed is highly recommended, as the entire climb is based on balancing across loose volcanic sand, climbing loose rock, and never looking down the steep slope. There are stories of climbers making it halfway up the climb and panicking after looking down, freezing and clutching the nearest rock for dear life, unable to move. A wrong step can turn into a deadly disaster, so climbers must be wary of their footing and hand placements: check the rocks before using them. Making it to the summit is something that the writer of this article refuses to detail, as what a terrible injustice that would be to the feelings of standing on top of one of the worlds most active volcanoes.

Descending the summit is also another task that must be handled with extreme care, as gravity is now working with the climbers. Nonetheless, at the section of heavy volcanic sand that was so frightening on the way up (right after the pasar bubrah plateau), I personally was given the treat of running, yes, literally running, down the steep slope of the mountain as fast as I could with the guide. Sand flew in every direction, and as we ran both our backs were arched as far back as possible to avoid falling. It was one of those short experiences that will throw endorphin shrapnel through one’s entire body. Every aspect about summiting Mt. Merapi is nothing short of incredibly astounding.

After the climb down in the early morning, passing farmers hard at work and the warungs opening at the New Solo base camp, the hikers are treated to breakfast and a sleepy ride back to wherever it was they came from. By utilizing one of the many travel companies in Jogjakarta, the entire climb will be organized and tailored to the hikers ability and wishes, making the entire journey a fantastic experience. Additionally, since Mt. Merapi is only about 28 km from Jogjakarta, a Mt. Merapi expedition can be perfectly supplemented by a trip to the famous Borobudur temple, where hikers can then learn about how they had already reached nirvana that cold and unforgettable morning; the one where the entire region was under a silhouette of the golden morning sun and the clouds rolled lazily over the lesser peaks below, where they were standing above the origins of fire.

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Photo by Peter Milne

If you’ve ever dreamt of riding through the hills and rice terraces of West Java on a trail bike, dream no more. Now it’s possible. Not only that but, as I discovered when I took a friend who was a complete biking novice with me on my second visit, even total beginners to bike-riding can become proficient in a weekend. A little operation, called Totally Wild Tours, offers trail-biking weekends in the foothills of Gunung Gede, not far from Sukabumi. One of the great things about the weekend is that you are picked up from your home in Jakarta on Friday. You don’t have to worry about driving through rush-hour traffic; instead you just sit back and enjoy the ride. In a few hours you’re up in the fresh hill air of Ubrug, the village that is the base for the weekend, which is a few kilometres off the road down to Pelabuhan Ratu on the south coast.

TWT is run by a youthful and energetic Indonesian called Joko. Occupying a small area of land, his centre of operations has the most amazing views across a lush-green terraced valley looking towards the dark volcanic outline of Gunung Gede on the horizon. There are four small but tastefully styled bungalows (maximum capacity of 8 people) overlooking the valley, a small swimming pool, and a comfortable joglo, for relaxing and enjoying the view.

After a wonderfully peaceful night’s sleep lulled by the sound of cicadas, we were up and ready for the first ride the following morning. All the protective gear is provided, including knee- and elbow-protectors, and boots too, so you need only bring suitable clothing for yourself. After getting fitted in the gear, we were introduced to our trail bikes, in my case a customized Kawasaki KLX 150. And then, with Joko leading the way, we were off!

After passing through the edge of Ubrug, with Sundanese villagers going about their daily chores of preparing food, hanging out washing, and caring for small children, we headed into the sawah (rice-fields) down a rocky track. Having never done this kind of biking before, we focused on getting used to the bikes. But that didn’t prevent us from appreciating the stunning scenery and the terraces, dotted with small desa.

We had a short break after half an hour, at which point Joko informed us that we had just finished the “warm-up”. He was right: we then proceeded to attack a steep hill, called Bukit Cilutung, passing through small Sundanese desa, and rubber and minyak sawit (palm oil) plantations higher up. It was exhilarating stuff; the rocky track was so steep that I doubted the ability of the bike to pull me up the incline, but what was lacking was only my faith in the power in the bike. Remarkably forgiving but potent, the trail bike managed to deal with every challenge and rock in my way, right up to the top of the hill. But it’s physically tiring stuff, so another rest was in order once we’d made it. We then headed on, passing through a development area, complete with newly finished golf course, half-finished hotel, and still largely empty housing plots — a sign of things to come. These Sundanese hills will probably be one big luxury housing estate for the Jabotabeka elite a decade from now.

Photo by Peter Milne

After passing along a track overlooking the small town of Cibadak, we made our way back to Ubrug in the early afternoon, triumphant in having overcome the challenges of the 40 km route, but also happy to be able to profit from a mandi and a bit of relaxation back in the joglo. In the evening, we were treated to a traditional Sundanese dinner served on a large banana-leaf ‘table-cloth’ prepared by Joko’s wife.

On the second day’s ride, we descended further into the valley instead of scrambling up into the hills. Surprisingly, this made for quite challenging riding, as the tracks were very muddy, and it was hard to stay on the bike at times. We suffered a couple of undignified spills, but no major harm was done. And the verdant rice terraces, tiny hamlets and friendly locals made up for the mishaps. As Joko explained, these rice-fields are not on the tourist track, and most of the locals have never laid eyes on a westerner. So, dressed in our rather outlandish Robocop protectors and riding our growling bikes we got a lot of thumbs-up as we passed.

Apart from biking weekends, Joko also organizes three-day trips down to Ujung Genteng on the south coast of West Java. The only caveat is that you need a group of at least three riders to make it viable, so I’m on the look-out for another couple of adventurous souls to join the next trip.

But it’s not just about trail biking. If you’re not into the biking thing, then Joko can also take you on mountain-bike trips. Or, if you prefer walking, then just day trekking through the hills is also an option. The Ubrug base is also a great place just to hang out for a weekend away from the stress of Jakarta, reading, writing, or just taking things easy.

The pick-up from, and drop-off back to, Jakarta costs Rp 300,000 per person, while the trail-bike riding costs Rp 250,000 for the first hour of the day, and Rp 150,000 for each subsequent hour, all gear, fuel, and instruction included. Not bad for a totally wild break from the city.

Totally Wild Tours
Contact: Joko Sutiyono 0817 847 039
jlandungsutiyono@yahoo.com

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Raffles and the British Invasion of Java
Tim Hannigan
Monsoon Books 2012
368pp
ISBN 978-981-4358-85-9

As a lad growing up in post-World War II London, I was force-fed a history diet which told me that Britain was great because it once had an Empire. I was taught that as an island nation, we had fought off the likes of the Spanish Armada, Napoleon and Hitler, and that our sea power had enabled us to civilise far off nations: we exported Bibles and imported resources such as cotton. Through our strict Protestant work ethic, our coal and our sheer inventiveness, we had harnessed steam and thus created the Industrial Revolution which was to prove a boon to Mankind.

All very simplistic and to our adolescent minds rather romantic. Our heroes were the adventurers and explorers such as Walter Raleigh who brought us tobacco, potatoes and gold he’d pirated off Spanish buccaneers. In 2002 he was listed in a BBC poll of the 100 Greatest Britons.

But Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles wasn’t. Until reading Tim Hannigan’s new published biography, I’d continued to share the notion that Raffles was a great man; discovering Borobodur, founding Singapore, and having a hotel named after him seemed to be credit enough. Mind you, I wasn’t sure that the rafflesia which also bears his name was intended as a compliment: the world’s largest flower emanates a stink akin to that of a rotting corpse.

Hannigan gives solidly researched grounds – see the closing bibliography – for suggesting that the flower might be the most appropriate recognition.

Hannigan’s is possibly just the second*1 of some 20 biographies which isn’t hagiographic, extolling the East India Company’s representative’s “saintly virtues”.

Unlike the majority of other biographers of Raffles, Hannigan has lived and worked in Java, speaks Indonesian and has written on the history and culture of this fascinating island for the mainstream English-language media here, and the Asian Geographic Magazine. His researches, both here and in the Reading Room of the British Library in London, were meticulous, and included a “source … which the Raffles-worshippers had always ignored: the other side of the story. An account existed of the years when Raffles ran Java, laid out in the allusive stanzas of high Javanese, written by a local aristocrat.”

This refers to the sacking of the royal city of Yogyakarta on 20th June 1811 in order to replace the Sultan with one more compliant to British rule. When it was over, “just 23 members of the British party had been killed, and a modest 76 had been wounded. All along the battlements meanwhile, tumbled in the ditches, abandoned in the alleyways and heaped in great steaming piles in the broken gateways, were thousands of dead Javanese.”

How Raffles came to be Lieutenant-Governor of Java is a tale of patronage and egotistical connivance and ambition.

The suggestion that Raffles came from a poor family is patently false. His father was the captain of the slave ship on which he was born. That he left school at 14 was not unusual (as did this reviewer’s grandfather a century later); however schooling was a privilege for a minority in the early 19th century. Through the ‘patronage’ of his mother’s brother, he became a clerk with the East India Company, the de facto ruler of India, on a generous salary of £70 per annum. (Charles Dickens, who was born a year after Raffles set sail for Batavia, from the age of twelve worked a ten-hour day in a factory earning just over £15 per year.*2)

During his ten years as a Company clerk, and thereon, Raffles was a prodigious autodidact, with a curiosity and drive which attracted both admiration and resentment.

In April 1805, Raffles and his recently wed wife Olivia set sail on a five month voyage to Penang where he was to be the assistant secretary to the newly appointed Governor of Penang. Why he was granted the position at a salary of £1,500 – an incredible rise from his then probable annual salary of £100 – has never been satisfactorily explained. Gossipmongers of the time said that it was related to Olivia’s ‘dark past’, a relationship with the Company Secretary, William Ramsey, but she never faltered in her support of her husband.

Once in Penang, Raffles impressed Lord Minto, the Governor-General of India, sufficiently to be given the task of gathering information about Java, a project which the Company had been discussing for a dozen years. Raffles later claimed that it was he who had initiated the Company’s (mis)adventures here because it “was worthy of His Lordship’s consideration, beyond the Moluccas”.

Hannigan brings to the fore other dramatis personae of the British inter-regnum, few of whom have been treated kindly by history. Some, such as Major-General Rollo Gillespie, the military commander, was eulogised in his lifetime, but there is little trace of Col. Colin Mackenzie who surveyed Prambanan or John Leyden, an orientalist who beguiled Raffles with his scholarship and poetry. Others, Hannigan treats less sympathetically.

However, one thing is clear. All were subservient to Raffles’ self-aggrandisement, subsequently enhanced and polished by Sophia, his second wife. For more than a century, Singaporeans and we Brits have been under their spell. Hannigan has done us a great service with his – erm- spellbinding biography. It is packed with a wealth of background about the earlier history of Java, life in the sultanates with their intrigues, of the Mataram and Majapahit kingdoms, about how religions arrived with ill-educated traders, and the still relevant Javanese mysticism, with footnotes where appropriate.

I cannot praise Hannigan’s work highly enough, but have one caveat: a book with such riches for anyone with a smidgeon of interest in Raffles and Indonesia would greatly benefit from an index.

Source:
*1 Sir Stamford Raffles – A Manufactured Hero? by Nadia Wright.
(http://artsonline.monash.edu.au/mai/files/2012/07/nadiawright.pdf)
She suggests that the first was H. F. Pearson’s This Other India: A Biography of Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles (pub. Singapore: Eastern Universities Press 1957)
2 Ibid.

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Most of us have heard of India’s Kama Sutra and Tunisia’s Perfumed Garden. Every ancient agricultural society has its own celebration of fertility, sensual pleasure, and romance.

Java is no exception. But with the advent of sociopolitical conservatism in Indonesia, it is hard to imagine the existence of a Javanese sex book that “keeps it real” without losing its civilised finesse and religious compass.

Serat Centhini is a poetic anthology of Javanese tales and wisdom, commissioned by Prince Pakubuwono V of the Surakarta Sunanate in 1814. In the interest of compiling a written record of the entire Javanese cultural heritage, the Prince sent two royal scribes on a journey across Java, and another one to Mecca.

Tradition speculates that Centhini was chaste when the scribes completed it, but the Prince “sexified” it. Centhini was then a holy book in the royal palace, which the Prince read for pleasure at bedtime. After a short reign of five years, the polyamorous Prince died of syphilis.

Since then, the original scriptures went missing, but not before scribes copied its manuscript. They are now housed in the Yogyakarta and Surakarta palaces, the University of Leiden, and in the possession of various collectors. Despite the fact that most Javanese commoners have never read Centhini, its verses permeated the folk’s culture through music and arts. The Jogja HipHop Foundation has even made raps out of them.

In 2006, Dr Soewito Santoso and Kestity Pringgoharjono’s condensed English version of “The Centhini Story” was published. It follows the lives and trans-Java wanderings of adolescent brothers Jayengresmi, Jayengsari, and Mas Cabolang. Jayengresmi and Jayengsari were the sons of a 16th century East Javanese monarch who went into exile and journeyed separately. Cabolang is Jayengsari’s adoptive brother in exile, who fled his father’s house for a coming-of-age “adventure.”

“Cabolang is the most curious one, he tried ‘everything’. Jayengresmi, in contrast, is the good boy, the pious one, but his story ends with a twist,” said Kestity, showing her colour-coded sticky-marked book–perhaps 75% of which contain sexual references.

Despite Centhini being an Islamic text, it refers to Hindu-Buddhist principles such as the four essentials: artha (gaining wealth), kama (worldly pleasure and harmony), dharma (practicing religious teachings and philanthropy), and moksha (liberation from worldly desires). Artha and kama are the assets that enable one to perform dharma and eventually attain moksha. Sex is an element of kama.

“Sex can make one love or hate another,” said Kestity. “To have a harmonious relationship, a couple needs a healthy sex life. It guarantees the happiness of the family, and is one of life’s purposes. That’s why in his pre-adulthood journey, Cabolang searches for his identity and soul mate.”

Cabolang falls in love with four female students at a hermitage and marries them after solving a naughty riddle. Having difficulty satisfying four women, Cabolang learns the hermit’s science of amorous play: one at a time in bed, visual and auditory pleasure, conversation, kisses, and making sure every wife gets a turn. But after successfully practicing it, Cabolang divorced his wives and continues his journey eastbound.

Further in the journey, Cabolang learns to look for the qualities of a good wife: a good background, good manners, patience, charm, and a compassionate heart. Other lessons include the anatomy of pleasure, lovemaking moves for every day of the month, and prayers to chant during sex to protect the marriage.

“Safeguarding marriage is a two-way street, so Centhini also tells men what women want in a husband, lest the woman falls for another man who has it better. The man is responsible for gaining status, a sense of enjoyment, skills in earning a living, sufficient wealth, and good looks. The Javanese have thought of these ideas for centuries,” said Kestity.

Cabolang’s journey goes wilder as he and his band learn about the Prambanan incest scandals, spend time with Mataram’s ronggengs (female trance dancers hired to sleep with other people’s husbands for good luck in the family) and Ponorogo’s jathils (cross-dressing gay dancers), have a homosexual affair with the regent of Wirosobo, and get arrested for sleeping with married aristocratic women.

But sex is only one of the elements to living a fulfilled life, which calls for solid foundations outside the bedroom.

“Part of kama is also building a good home, and thus the chapters on constructing a good house, selecting wood for it, and treating the wood to make it lastingly robust. It’s not like today where industries just put wood in the oven and it becomes brittle in a few years time,” said Kestity. “And then there’s advice on selecting nutritious foods, and recipes for Javanese medicine. It takes shelter, food, and clothing to make a home, and Centhini addresses them all.”

For a work of fiction, Centhini has amazingly accurate geographical references. “The Centhini Story” photographer Fendi Siregar spent two-and-a-half years following the Centhini trail. Surprisingly, many places that seem mythical actually exist. Perhaps the most phenomenal of these is the tunnel connecting the saltwater volcanic geyser of Bleduk Kuwu (Grobogan, Central Java) with the Indian Ocean through Java’s South Coast.

To a lay reader, the mention of such a tunnel in Centhini sounds like pure fantasy–especially given Bleduk Kuwu’s distance from any coast. Legend has it that while lusting after a village beauty, King Joko pronounced a spell that caused his seed and her egg to fall to the ground, and the virtual union produced a dragon. To gain the King’s acknowledgement, the dragon must defeat the White Crocodile of the South Ocean. After winning the battle, the Queen of the South Ocean gave her daughter in marriage to the dragon. After the wedding and coronation, the dragon travels home to King Joko; but in order to protect his bride, travels through a secret underground tunnel passing through Kuwu.

“This is ancient knowledge, packaged in the form of a legend,” said Kestity. “Unfortunately, when Fendi visited the geyser to take photos, it was full of garbage and needed serious cleanup. People today just don’t know its significance. Even the local authorities were apathetical about the geyser’s condition, which is a pity because with better care, it could be a fascinating travel destination.”

Kestity said there are still no plans to publish “The Centhini Story” in Indonesian. “It would be interesting, but I don’t know yet how Indonesians would react to it,” she said.

“Since Indonesian culture is very communal, it is often unacceptable to have different views. We are still learning how to appreciate differences, and to agree to disagree,” Kestity added, referring to the rise of sex-negative religious conservatism in Indonesia. “Our youth is often frustrated with our culture’s lack of freedom of expression and its cookie-cutter tendencies.”

“But Centhini follows the story of contrasting characters. Sometimes you just have to be adventurous, get into trouble, and learn the hard way. That’s life.”

“The Centhini Story: The Javanese Journey of Life”

Published in 2006 by Marshall Cavendish International (Singapore)

Available at Lontar Foundation
Jl Danau Laut Tawar No A/53
Pejompongan
Jakarta 10210
Tel 021 574 6880
http://www.lontar.org

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The one hundred and eight passengers and crew onboard the Lion Air flight from Bandung to Bali on Saturday afternoon 13 April 2013, which landed at 3:10 pm, 50 metres short of the apron, are the luckiest in airline history.

While details are still emerging, it appears that wind shear may have been a factor which caused the pilot to say we were “dragged” from the sky as the plane hit the sea atop the narrow coral reef in front of the runway and came to a violent stop.

Lion Air, a company registered in Indonesia in 1999, and which started operating with one aircraft in 2001, has grown to be Indonesia’s largest airline accounting for reportedly 45% of all flights by 2013 and seventy plus destinations. Unfortunately, it also has had the most aircraft incidents of any Indonesian airline over this period – six in total, though only one fatal when 25 people died after one of its planes crashed on landing in Surakarta, Solo, in 2004.

The airline, owned by two brothers with one, Rusdi Kirana, being its CEO, aims to have some 700 aircraft flying by 2025, 12 years’ time, making it one of the biggest, if not the biggest,  low cost airline in Southeast Asia at that time. Both manufacturers’ new aircrafts are the most fuel efficient ever.

On the basis that the best way to respond to this incident is with humour, here we look at the job its fictitious advertising company has been given to come up with some new slogans to get more people, many of them new customers, to fly Lion Air.

Some suggestions from the advertising execs for Lion Air’s new advertising campaign include . . .

Fly Lion Air. The best way to fly.

We guarantee every flight gets you to your destination.

Another first for Lion Air – the only airline that has ever dropped off its passengers in the sea and all survived. Wet, yes. But alive.

So let us take you up high for the experience of a lifetime. Fly Lion Air soon.

Fly Lion Air. And give new meaning to being a member of the “high flier” club.

Lion Air drops you in the drink.

Whether you’re six or sixty, Lion Air guarantees you your most memorable flight ever.

“Forget city to city, Bandung to Bali. Just bring a towel, we’ll drop you right on the beach.

Now that’s customer service for you.

Who says our staff are over worked and underpaid. Our two lucky pilots will have to answer a few questions from crash investigators so we have obliged by grounding them for two weeks on full pay. That means they get to go home EVERY night.

Fly Lion and get your medical bills paid.

Lion survivors get a Rp. 25 million bonus insurance payout and free travel to their next destination – guaranteeing they’ll fly with us again and again.

True, five Lion Air pilots were arrested for being high on drugs in the past two years. It’s a recreational habit you see. They just want to be up high all the time!

Fifteen months ago Boeing agreed to supply Lion Air with 230 new aircraft over the next 12 years – that was Boeings largest order ever. Airbus came back with an even better offer signed just a month ago for 234 new planes over the next 12 years, its largest order ever.  Lion Air, together with some other Indonesian airlines are currently banned from flying to Europe and the USA. In the meantime, Lion Air have undertaken to test both makers’ aircraft to destruction.

Lion Air is following in the footsteps of Tony Fernandes’ AirAsia in trying to be Asia’s largest low cost airline. With so many planes to park, AirAsia has its global hub at Kuala Lumpur.

Indonesia’s newest airport hub is to be at Singaraja which means Lion King – will this be Lion Air’s new kingdom, too?

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Background aviation site report:

A Lion Air Boeing 737-800 NG for New Generation aircraft, registration PK-LKS performing flight JT-904 from Bandung to Denpasar (Indonesia) with 101 passengers and  seven crew, was on approach to Denpasar’s runway 09 at about 15:10L (07:10Z), but came to a stop in the sea short of the runway, the aircraft broke up in two parts. All occupants were evacuated from the aircraft and have been taken to hospitals with minor injuries (scratches).

The airline confirmed flight JT-904 went into the sea while landing at Denpasar Airport. The aircraft PK-LKS originated in Banjarmasin and was scheduled to fly to Bandung (JT-945), Denpasar (JT-904) and back to Bandung (JT-905). The aircraft was directly received from Boeing on Mar 28th 2013 and was in operation for just about two weeks, it is a different one to the former PK-LKS/9M-LNB. The captain on the accident flight was highly experienced with more than 10,000 hours of flying experience; he was and is in good health condition.

Radar data confirm the aircraft was approaching runway 09 and suggest the aircraft was about 100 feet below a three degrees glide path descending at 700 feet per minute at a speed between 126 and 135 knots over ground, descending through 200 feet MSL about 1nm short of the touch down zone and 0.6nm short of the sea wall.

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The idea you can travel seamlessly from Singapore to Hong Kong by train remains a distant dream, at least until Cambodia can get its lines up and running after decades of neglect. But certainly much of the journey can be done by the intrepid. The journey begins of course in Singapore, but no longer from the historic railway station. In the glorious name of progress, that sees so much of our heritage ripped away from us, Singapore’s terminal is at Woodlands, far closer to the border.

A short chug across the Causeway and you are soon in Johor Bahru in a new country at the southernmost tip of the Asian mainland. Unless rubber plantations or vast swathes of palm oil trees are your thing, the first few hours of the journey north are likely to be unexciting beyond the soothing rattle of the wheels over the rails. The vista remains unchanging except for the occasional station.

At Gemas the line divides. To the West lies Kuala Lumpur and Penang, centre of business and industry, but far less pleasing on the eye than the jungle clad interior that is the backdrop to the North Eastern line. Kuala Lipis epitomizes rural Malaysia. Once considered as the capital of the country it sits comfortably in the middle, not far from the immense Taman Negara. But Lipis boasts other charms. It has a languid, carefree nature where time runs slowly, if at all.

The railway station is hemmed in by crumbling shop houses, shuttered and blinded against the mid day sun while further afield colonial, stilted bungalows recall a time when the British ruled the roost in these parts. Indeed the area around Kuala Lipis saw plenty of action during the ‘Emergency’ when communist insurgents tried their best to fly the red flag that was so popular in the 1950s and 1960s over the country.

It’s a long, slow journey north but after a couple of days in Kuala Lipis, this should come as no surprise. This is not the west coast where progress is measured by high rise and traffic jams. Here in the heart of Malaysia is the Malaya of myth. This is the Malaya of literature like Soul of Malaya by Henri Fauconnier, a timeless place filled with dreams and birdsong where crickets, frogs and geckos fill the cool evening air as the tuan sits on the verandah enjoying the first stengahs of the day.

The train pretty much resembles the market communities it serves, as traders board and alight, carrying their fruit and vegetables.

Entering the state of Kelantan and you break the jungle. Evidence of deforestation is all around as you rattle through stations like Gua Musang and Tanah Merah. The final stop is Tumpat and although the line does carry on to Thailand, it hasn’t been used for decades. The state capital of Kota Bahru is a short taxi ride away and worth a couple of days exploring. As the Japanese were bombing Pearl Harbour, they were simultaneously landing on the beaches just off KB, beginning the headlong rush down the peninsula that saw the British humiliated in a few short weeks.

The landing beach, crisscrossed by creeks and within spitting distance of the airport, still boasts pillboxes that proved futile in face of the onslaught.

It is possible to reach the border by bus from KB which stops on the Malaysian side. The walk across is painless, if hot, and there are motor cycle taxis waiting on the other side to take people to heart of the Thai town of Sungei Golok. An unassuming town, it is hard to see how Sungei Golok could be so appealing to the Malaysian hordes who cross the border daily until you remember that Kelantan is a conservative state where alcohol and other hedonistic delights remain hard to find. Thailand on the other hand, despite the Muslim majority in its southern provinces, has no problem filling that void so the town here is filled with hairdressing salons where hair cuts are just one item on the menu and coffee shops where coffee is an afterthought.

The provinces of Narathiwat, Yala and Pattani are in the heart of the multi-faceted southern insurgency that has claimed thousands of lives in the last decade or, so though they tend to occur in the more rural areas. Part nationalist, part religious and part gangster motivated it is a slaying that shows no sign of easing up as the Thai government struggles to keep a lid on the many factions involved.

The train takes you through all of that!

Hat Yai is the first city in the South. Intriguingly it translates as ‘Big Beach’ although very much an inland city, and is the sort of town Indonesians would love; filled with malls and traditional markets. Indeed the airport frequently handles flights from Malaysia and Singapore for visitors keen to shop and, being Thailand, there is also that nightlife that carries on alongside the malls.

For those with no interest in shopping or the other stuff, there is actually nothing of any appeal in the place except a side trip to Songkla for history and beach buffs.

The train from Hat Yai heads north to Bangkok – a long but comfortable 16 to 18 hour trek along the country’s narrow spine. Alternatively, another line heads southwest back to Malaysia, crossing the border at Padang Besar and touching down at places like Butterworth, with ferry connections to the island of Penang, the historic city of Taiping, the karst formations of Ipoh and of course the capital city Kuala Lumpur with its eye catching Moghul themed railway station.

A six hour run south takes you back to Singapore and thoughts of home!

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“Perhaps life is just that… a dream and a fear.” – Conrad

And so another sojourn in the far-flung archipelago of Indonesia; this time to the Derawan islands off the northeast coast of Kalimantan – the name for Indonesia’s part of Borneo, the third largest island in the world and the largest in Asia.

I’d never been to Borneo before, and so it was with much excitement that we arose at the ungodly hour of 3am – a calculated move, mind you, to avoid Jakarta’s soul-crushing traffic jams on the way to the airport, a huge problem at many other times of the day, which often results in people missing their flights.

Our first flight brought us as far as Balikpapan, and from there we took a connecting flight to Berau, or more accurately Tanjung Redeb, the town that Conrad based his imaginary village Sambir in his books Almayer’s Folly and an Outcast of the Islands.

Yet despite its associations with classic literature, Tanjung Redeb is not as beguiling as it sounds; in fact, it’s as nondescript as a plain cardboard box, a more unattractive place in Indonesia you will struggle to find, succinctly summed up by Conrad’s fictional character Almayer as “that god forsaken hole”.

Back in Conrad’s day, Tanjung Redeb – which is situated on the banks of the huge Mahakam River – was a trading post for goods from the interior; bird nests, gutta percha, rattan, that sort of thing. Occasionally, indigenous tribesman from the interior would make their way up the river – these are the Dayak, famed headhunters and cannibals (at least they were), notable for their elongated earlobes and tribal tattoos.

But times change and what you get floating up the river in 2013 is felled timber and humungous-sized barges of coal, much of which is sourced from the vast Berau Coal open mine coal pits (in 2012, production reached around 21 million tons), partly owned (indirectly) by Aburizal Bakrie, the Golkar Party chairman and aspiring 2014 presidential candidate.

To get to the small port on the coast from Tanjung Redeb takes about two hours by car. You can look out the window and witness for yourself the ongoing destruction and mutilation of Kalimantan’s once pristine jungles or you can keep your eyes closed. I’d recommend the latter – it’s less painful.

From the small port called Tanjung Batu, it’s a 40 minute ride in a speed boat to Derawan – easily the most fun part of the journey.

Derawan Island

Derawan is a small island that you can walk around in 30 minutes or so and is famed for its turtles, which are easy to see whether diving or snorkelling, or even from one of the island’s jetties which stretch out into the open sea. Derawan is also the most practical place to base yourself while in the area; the accommodations are cheap (no overpriced luxury dive resorts here), there are plenty of simple restaurants to eat at, and you can also organize diving and boat trips to the other islands – of which there are 31 in total. There is a population of around 800 hardy souls living on Derawan, many of whom are the famed bajau (sea gypsies) who can trace their ancestry to the Philippines where they once lived a nomadic lifestyle.

So is it paradise? Well yes, and no. From a positive aspect, the turtles are truly magnificent and the island’s relative remoteness means that Derawan still retains that “Robinson Crusoe” idyllic island charm. But this may not last.

Unfortunately, the locals don’t care much for turtles and will steal their eggs if they can (the WWF had to initiate a conservation program to prevent turtle eggs from being stolen after they have been laid). On top of that, the locals also consider their beautiful island to be some sort of a huge rubbish tip and dispose of garbage anywhere and everywhere; on land or into the sea – it doesn’t really matter as they don’t seem to care. As for your long sought-after tranquillity? Well, you should definitely get it on the weekdays. But come on the weekend and be prepared to have your peace shattered by groups of noisy, local tourists who descend upon the island in droves.

To reach the other islands near Derawan you have to charter speedboats. Obviously the more people there are, the cheaper it works out.

Kakaban

This incredible island feels like something out of Jurassic Park and has a pristine coral reef to snorkel or dive, but is best known for its salt water lake which is populated by a huge number of non-stinging jellyfish – making it a truly amazing and unique place to snorkel.

Sangalaki

Sangalaki is best known for its mantas, although in a rather ominous development, they are becoming much more difficult to spot, possibly frightened away by fishermen or for other reasons.

Maratua

Home to at least three luxury dive resorts, Maratua is the most populated island with c. 3,000 inhabitants. Despite the crystal clear waters, however, I was astonished by the large amount of floating trash – especially plastic bags and empty bottles, directly in front of one of the dive resorts. I was assured by one of the resorts staff that this was “natural” rubbish and had nothing to do with the people living on the island. Hmm…

Traveller Tips

• One of the best places to stay on the island is called the Reza and Dira Homestay. The rooms are newly built and situated above the sea by a wooden jetty. The rooms are clean with decent beds and aircon, which, be warned, doesn’t work when there are many guests as the power supply is not large enough! Breakfast is very simple (bread) but you do get a flask of hot water to make coffee and tea. The price per night as of July 2013 is a very reasonable Rp.250k.
• To get to Derawan you need to fly to Berau. From there you need land transportation to Tanjung Batu and then a speedboat to Derawan. It’s best to arrange this in advance. If you stay at Reza’s, they will handle it for you (the return trip Berau- Derawan will cost Rp.1.4 million for three people). The contact man at Reza’s is Darjohn (he can be reached by phone at +62 81347955950).
• Besides organizing transportation (including boat trips to the other islands) Darjohn is also involved in the WWF’s program to protect turtles. If it’s the right time of the year, turtles come on shore to lay eggs (usually between 8-10pm). And if you are lucky, you may be able to see this yourself. Ask Darjohn.
• Diving can easily be organized on the island (for example at the rather rundown Darakan Losmen). A new dive place in the village has also just opened. Make sure, however, that you are clear over prices or they may overcharge. Also check that the dive equipment is okay and that the dive instructor is competent; it’s an awful long way to the nearest decompression chamber (just ask Angela).
• There are a lot of bad restaurants on Derawan. By far the best one is called Restaurant Nur. It is run by a droll middle-aged woman who is honest and an excellent cook. Her fish, squid and shrimps are always fresh. Just be prepared to wait a while for her to fix your meal!
• Apart from the seafood and not much else, everything has to be transported from Berau – and so tends to be fairly pricey or unavailable. For this reason, bring plenty of snacks, and if you think you might need it, a bottle or two of booze.
• Getting to Derawan is pretty expensive and time consuming, so don’t just come for a few days but stay at least a week.
• If you need to be connected to the outside world make sure you have either a Telkom or XL SIM card. Other operators do not work here.
• Bring some reading material. Almayer’s Folly: A Story of an Eastern River by Joseph Conrad is in the public domain and can be downloaded for free at Gutenberg.

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