Waste, contrast and acceptance

Walking along the riverside while waiting for my tyre to be fixed was an interesting cultural experience.


Near the café, the river banks seem quite clean and clear - surprisingly so, for a river downstream of a large Indonesian city.  But just fifty or so metres further along the banks tell a different story.

A low hanging branch, stripped of its foliage presumably by recent flooding, is draped in plastic bags, while in the background a sizeable deposit of other refuse, mostly plastic, gathers together at the base of another tree. Evidently, when the rain falls heavily, all the plastic discarded by the city's population is flushed through the drains and then into the rivers and eventually the ocean. If what I see here is only that which is caught on its seaward journey, my mind boggles thinking about just how much more must be spewing into the ocean after every downpour. It's seriously depressing.

I can't pretend Australia is perfect, of course - far from it. But the plastic waste here is beyond anything I've seen at home. I can't help but recall my childhood, and how at school we were exposed to initiatives like 'Keep Australia Beautiful and their 'Tidy Towns' program. These initiatives certainly left me and I'm sure most of my school buddies with an awareness of the impact of our own trash disposal, a sense of responsibility around our choices, and pride in keeping things clean. Australia is pretty much unspoilt compared to Indonesia, so I have to assume these programs are working.  I don't think such programs exist here - or if they do, they are ineffective. The waste along the river bank; the kids drinking cordial out of plastic bags and tossing the empties on the ground; the fact that everything you buy is wrapped in at least one layer of plastic and whether you need a plastic bag to carry it is not even a question, it is assumed. Plastic here is in plague-like proportions, yet people here don't seem to notice or care. They just accept it as a part of life, and carry on.

Among the mess I saw plenty of evidence of life carrying on. A family of bebek (ducks) plods their way through the refuse, while in the background a woman squats in the river, relieving herself. And I can't help but wonder - how many other people upstream have done the same thing today? At least the fish can eat the human waste, but it was only a couple of weeks ago I saw a man hauling from this river a net full of fish - which I can only assume will end up in someone's stomach.

Of course none of this would be particularly confronting to anyone who has visited this or any other developing country. I'm sure this is actually mild compared to India or China. I mean, it's just a single person taking a dump in the river, not hundreds! But that's the shocking part for me. The number of people in the world who can afford the luxury of disposing more thoughtfully of their waste, human or otherwise, is vastly outnumbered by people who can't*. It leaves me feeling despondent. For all our efforts at home (and all around the world), if more densely populated places like Indonesia don't make radical changes, and soon, there's really not much hope.

* (I assume - if you know evidence to the contrary please share in comments)

It's not that Indonesia is devoid of people who care. In fact, the place seems a magnet to westerners who are sustainability conscious. The ACICIS program which brings my wife and thus me here features a strong representation of vegans, vegetarians, yoga enthusiasts, animal rights campaigners and environmental crusaders (none of which are negatives in my eyes, though I wouldn't apply any of those labels to myself). Perhaps the opportunity to make a difference - the desperate need for help - is why they are here. Indonesia makes an excellent launchpad for those motivated to pursue careers in this field. Actually, it would be interesting to find out just how big a part eco-tourism plays in Indonesia's overall tourism industry.

The thing is, as someone not actively engaged in sustainability projects here but who has visited three times prior in five years, I can't see much evidence of positive change. Jogja's population seems to have grown much over this time. More restaurants, more shops, more noise, more rubbish and especially more traffic on the roads. Exponential growth. I know of initiatives to encourage sustainable practices, but these seem to be isolated pockets that are dwarfed by the growth I see. Things are getting worse, not better, and these initiatives need some serious increase in profile if they are going to make any real difference.

Take Earth Hour as an example. I find the idea a little tokenistic - turning off the electricity for a single hour each year, whoop-de-doo - but it does at least raise awareness about sustainability. Our family certainly make it a thing at our house. There are a few (notably foreigner-operated) businesses here that participate, like restaurants who turn out the lights for the evening. And by "a few", I mean literally about three that we saw. Very few Indonesians know about it, or if they do they don't care. When we suggested doing Earth Hour at our place to some of the Indonesian locals, hoping to encourage guests in the homestay bungalows to also join in, the response was "what's that?"  Worse, our explanation was met with utter indifference: "Why would you want to do that?"

All this makes me feel rather sad, but to avoid getting depressed I've resolved to accept it as best I can, and try to find beauty wherever I can. And it's there, almost everywhere you look.

This huge, tangled growth of bamboo and whatever the other tree is stands proud against the river, in beautifully chaotic patterns. This photo can't attest to its impressive scale.

And this abandoned pottery, seemingly intact but long ago discarded, had an almost Ancient Grecian-ruin or lost Incan temple feel to it.

When I ran out of riverside path I looped back through the village atop the river bank. What struck me most was the contrast between poverty and wealth, derelict and new.

Surrounded by houses, this run-down, overgrown property (complete with confused goat) sits across the road from this rather modern design.

And on one side of the road, the damage (presumably) from the 2006 earthquake is still only partially repaired, while on the other, a practically brand new mansion.

How long would it take back home before your tax money had such a clearly dangerous broken pavement over a drain on the road repaired?

Indonesia may be dirty and at times challenging, but in an odd way seeing all this is strangely satisfying: the social structure of community-over-individual set against such clear difference in wealth and opportunity; the shiny new house with a pristine driveway that abruptly stops where it joins a road in disrepair; the huge, glossy shopfront of a furniture export business two doors down from a workshop owned by a man who clearly hasn't bought new clothes in years; the stall selling bbq-meat-on-a-stick for only marginally more than the cost of parking at the fancy restaurant next door; the fifty people waiting at a red light who don't bat an eyelid when someone sails past and through the intersection... There's just an acceptance of difference here, of inequality, of life's unfairness, and of people's freedom to do what they want. And perhaps that's partly why they throw their rubbish on the ground; mess is just a part of life, and if someone wants to throw trash on the ground who's going to tell them not to?

It's fascinating. This place is fascinating.