BBC Travel

Nearly all UN members have endorsed the 1961, 1971 and 1988 conventions on the prohibition of the main illegal recreational drugs. The objective of these mandates was, in the words of William Brownfield, US Assistant Secretary of State for Drugs, to “reduce the misuse and abuse of harmful products throughout the world.” And the way to reach this goal was to launch an all-out war against drugs. Now, half a century later, the belief that stamping out drugs is not the best way to manage the problem is beginning to take hold.

We are talking here about cannabis, the world’s illicit drug of choice. In the USA, four states have legalised it, as has Washington, D.C., while most European countries have decriminalised its use – but not drug-dealing. Uruguay is the first country to have legalised the whole chain, from growing to distribution and the consumption of cannabis.

In respect of other drugs (and there are quite a number of them) the legislation in Western countries is not as lenient, yet. Users of cocaine and crystal methamphetamine are sometimes still prosecuted, and heroin users might be jailed, but at the same time are provided with access to clean needles and methadone; a substitute to stop addicts from overdosing. In Amsterdam the policy goes one step further. Heroin addicts who can prove that they have tried to kick the habit several times, but failed, can get heroin to smoke or inject three times per day at a municipal health centre. The result is that addicts have disappeared from the streets, and those under 40 years of age are almost non-existent.

100 years ago in the Netherlands East-Indies, the main narcotic was opium. Used for either medical or recreational purposes, the substance was completely controlled by the colonial authorities through its 1893 legislation called the Opium Regie, or Opium Monopoly. Raw Indian opium was bought through an agent at the Calcutta auction with the British Government guaranteeing the quality of the product. This outsourcing was adopted as the cultivation of poppies was forbidden, for reason that in the wide expanse of the archipelago it was nearly impossible to control production. Moreover, it was questioned whether local cultivation would yield a product of reliable quality. The Government was thus the sole, monopolistic importer and processor of the raw opium, taking care of packaging and shipping for resale by leaseholders, too.

Like elsewhere in the world, the 19^th century was fairly tolerant of opium smoking; it was not perceived as a menace to health and society. In 1884 a Royal Commission in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, questioned a girl of good family and education why she smoked opium. Her answer was: Why do people commence to drink? Trouble, I suppose led me to smoke. I think it is better than drink. People who smoke opium do not kick up rows; they injure no one but themselves, and I do not think they injure themselves very much.

Back in the Netherlands East-Indies, research in the mental hospital at Lawang could not find any connection between mental illness, or heredity, and the smoking of opium. And experts opined that moderate use of opium did little harm to Asians. The Lawang researchers reported that: …the typical representation of the damages of opium are highly exaggerated.

The writers cite examples of coolies who took a certain amount of opium on a daily basis and were still able to perform heavy physical tasks. Singapore’s coal harbour coolies, for instance, reached old age and were known as strong and industrious workers even though they smoked 10 to 20 times more opium than Javanese labourers.

I don’t know whether the writers were enlightened freethinkers and much ahead of their time, or trying to justify their own habits, but their statements are certainly different from what one would expect to read in a 100-year-old encyclopaedia. However, the article also contains statements and references to studies that oppose the above opinions. The authors themselves, for instance, mention that unrestrained smoking [of opium] will eventually ravage the body. But that of course refers to unrestrained smoking, rather than taking a certain amount of opium.

The Opium Regie was tweaked and adjusted frequently as the Government faced the difficulty of predicting how much to import and distribute to the various lessees and opium den operators. If too little was bought in Calcutta, the lessees – assisted and supported by large powerful groups with commercial interests in the trade – would smuggle the quantities needed to offset the shortage into the country. And when too much was distributed, the lessees would (illegally) enlarge the sales area assigned to them.

In the 20^th century, the drive to eradicate opium-smoking gradually got stronger, and various methods to reach this objective were used. The number of regions where opium was allowed to be sold was reduced, as was the number of opium dens. In Java and Madura, for instance, the number of dens was reduced by 20 percent, or from 1,025 on 1 January 1905 to 823 12 years later. Great care was taken not to decrease their number too fast as this would undoubtedly lead to smuggling and illegal sales.

The dilemma the Government faced was immense. On the one hand the desire to curb opium-smoking was genuine. However, the revenue collected from opium was highly profitable. In 1916 revenue stood at 35,345,160 guilders, with operating costs (including raw materials, processing, packaging, shipping, cost of preventing smuggling, and pensions) at 6,933,646 guilders only, thus leaving a net profit of 28,411,514 guilders – the equivalent of about US$350,000,000 today.

It was the Second World War that brought an end to the Opium Regie and the profits.

It appears that the main reason for the lack of success of the anti-opium-smoking campaign was the profits derived from selling opium. Hence l’histoire se répète, as nowadays the big profits are still the main reasons that the war on drugs has been a failure. Only now, the profits are made illegally by large, well-organised criminal outfits who have the capital to easily buy their way around obstacles.

The ones getting caught (and executed) are typically the small-fry, the little mules, or at best some low-level organisers.

The heads of the large powerful groups with commercial interest in the trade are sitting back and enjoying their illicit profits.

An English language publication recently published an interesting Editorial Corruption Weakens Jokowi’s War on Drugs, in which it is stated that the core problem of Indonesia’s war on drugs is “…the corrupt officials, rotten penitentiary system and of course the judiciary system as a whole rather than just foreigners smuggling drugs into the country.”

It’s high time to try an alternative approach to curbing drug-use. Legalising drugs would knock the bottom out of the market and eliminate the immense profits. It would also eliminate the need for kick-backs and other corrupt practices. Rehabilitation of drug users, together with a clean-needle programme, rather than jailing, would also be a positive first step.

That, however, seems to be a distant dream as the new anti-drugs czar, Comr. Gen. Budi Waseso, wants to stop the rehabilitation services for drug users provided by his office (National Narcotics Agency, BNN). He also opined that, similar to the policy regarding illegal fishing in Indonesian waters, boats used for drug smuggling should be sunk, but with their crew!

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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?

____________________________________________________________________________________

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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