A LIVING EXAMPLE of GENUINE SOCIAL CONCERN

NGADIWIYONO:
"To help other people is to help ourselves"

It is a common and natural thing when affluent people help the poor or other people who are in desperation. This has happened along our human history. It is a different thing if the helpers are also in a relatively similar situation, especially in terms of economic prosperity, to the people they help. To some extent, general opinion may accuse those people of being 'strange', 'peculiar', or even 'mad'.

It was a man, namely Ngadiwiyono, who goes against that general opinion. One week after the strong earthquake devastated the Jogyakarta area, on May 26, 2006, this man took the initiative to help some of the victims. He is the Lurah (Head of Village) of Durensari in Bagelen Sub-district, Puworejo Regency, Central Java, about 60 kilometers from the disaster area. He started a meeting with his fellow villagers and presented his ideas. All villagers supported him spontaneously—they started organizing themselves. Since Durensari has abundant bamboo trees, and most of the villagers are skillful bamboo crafters, they agreed to help the victims, mainly with bamboo for construction materials, and their own labour as skillful house builders. Then, every weekend (Saturday and Sunday), a big group of Durensari people moved to the disaster areas in the Bantul and Klaten Districts, in a convoy of old trucks fully loaded with bamboos and carpentry tools. They also brought food and the women of the village to cook in the communal kitchen.

During the weeks after the quake, on the main roads of Jogyakarta and in the surrounding areas, it was a common sight to see hundreds of trucks and other kinds of vehicles fully loaded with people, work equipment, and construction materials. But, what the Durensari villagers did, became unique for certain reasons. Different to others, they were more organized and not sporadic. They decided to work regularly, every week, in 6 selected villages only: 5 in Bantul and 1 in the Klaten area. They selected the villages instinctively, not based on some rational criteria. They visited the villages, and when they felt spontaneously welcomed, trusted and made to feel comfortable by the locals there, they decided to work in that area. Up to now, months after the reconstruction period has finished, they still visit the villages just to observe its development, and more importantly, to build closer relations with the local villagers.

Six months after starting their humanitarian work, some members of the INSIST Volunteer Team, as part of their data collection and reporting activities, calculated the value of their contribution. They found that they had built 32 houses, 3 temporary schools, 1 simple library for village children, 1 granary, 1 small mosque, and 1 multipurpose community hall (see picture: community hall in Sanggrahan Village, Bantul; and some Durensari villagers building a house in Kranggan Village, Klaten). All of those contributions —including the value of their labour and operational expenses—was equivalent to USD20,000. The Durensari people were surprised when the INSIST Team presented the figures. They had no idea at all how much they had contributed. After seeing the figures, they just smiled and said that they didn’t care about the numbers, "We just wanted to help and we have done that, that’s all".

"Yeah, thats all", Ngadiwiyono confirmed the comments of his fellows. "We had no intention to calculate our contributions, but at least the presentation has reassured us about the value of our contribution, and most importantly, it has been proved that it benefited the people there".

He is certainly the leader of his villagers, an official Head of Village. But don’t imagine him in the usual image of many village leaders in Indonesia. Daily, this middle-aged, dark-skinned man is a real farmer. His main occupation and income source is from collecting coconut oil to produce traditional palm-sugar (see picture). Everyday, he walks around his village with bare shoulders and bare feet, climbing coconut trees and bringing them into an open kitchen in his backyard. His fellow villagers say that they very rarely see their chief using his official uniform. He does not frequently go to the Village Hall either. All of the clerical work is done there by the Carik (Secretary of the Village), a younger man with a higher formal education than he. In his vernacular house in traditional Javanese style, he also runs a small cattle station and animal husbandry.

"What we have done for the victims of the earthquake in Bantul and Klaten is totally based on our own natural instincts", he said in answer to a question about what the main reason was for his humanitarian actions. "There were no influences from other parties. I just remembered the simple words from my parents a long time ago, that we should help other people who are in a desperate situation, but not force ourselves to do something that we can not do. To help other people is actually to help ourselves. Now we help them, and next time, when we are in desperation too, it will be their turn to help us. This is natural. The numbers are not important, but our own intentions and compassion are". He emphasized the point of being compassionate and said "There is no meaning in expecting rewards from people who need help".

This simple statement really touches our hearts. See how this ordinary rural farmer—no matter about his formal position as Head of Village—has given meaningful humanitarian aid, which probably could not, and would not, be given by many people who are in a better economic condition and have higher educations. Herbert Marcuse, one proponent of the famous Frankfurt School, said that affluent people who have no concern for the poor and desperate people who surround them, are actually involved in a a shameful 'social pornography'. Ngadiwiyono, a small and skinny man from a humble village on the top slopes of the legendary Hills of Menoreh, who has never read Marcuse, simply shows us an example of a respectful deed to cover up the acute 'social shame' evident in our present social system.