The Venice of Borneo


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April 19th 2007
Published: April 19th 2007
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Two days on the road are ahead of me. I am on my way to Banjarmasin, a town in southern Kalimantan. Because of its channels and waterways it is nicknamed the Venice of Borneo. My first leg go from Kumai to the inland rivertown of Palangkaraya, meaning “big and holy place”.
The view is is little inspiring. Most of the jungle has ben cut down, or even more vastefull-burned down. There are big areas where black logs still stand upright like fingers accusingly pointing to the sky. Frquently we meet trucks carrying logs to the many small roadside sawmills busy in cutting the branch that they sit on. Litterally. Then it is more uplifting to see tucks carrying rattanpalms. This is a crop unable to grow without jungle. They are climbing palms depending on larger trunks to hang in. Some of them can grow 150 meters long. We pass trough small and shappy hamlets consisting of grayish wooden houses without a trace of paint. The few people visible seems to long for a seat in the passing buses. The roads are gravel and dirt, the bus is followed by a big dustcloud. One gets thirsty only by looking at it. The roadstandard isn’t particulary good even in the dryseason. In the rainy season it must be difficult to negotiate. Maybe thats why buses and trucks are halfsized in this region. The most colourfull thing one see on this leg, actually is the tiny red and white tankwaggons belonging to the national oilcompany Pertamina. East of Sampit, both roads and buildings were more well kept, but still noting to hold your breath over.

Palangkaraya once was designated to be the provincial capital.It never actually went that way, sot today it is just another inlandtown. If it should me mentioned for something, it must be its grilled fish. Not far frommy lodging,a square is ringed in by warungs, the simple eateries found all over the country, serving charcoalbarbecued fish. She smell shroud the whole area, teasing my stomach. In the warungs, differnt types of riverfis are displayed. You choose witch one you want to eat, and it is barbecued for you. The fish is white and juicy, it almost melt on the tongue.With thefish you eat mountains of rice with soyasauce or sambal-that chilisauce that i can’t live without. The prices are pleasant. A meal including two of the bigger fishes sat me back well below two dollars. The fishwarungs are popular, they where filled to the burstingpoint the whole evening. Don’t be surprised if you have to wait for somewhere to sit. Often people combine shopping and eating, close by there is a market and a shoppingcenter open until late in the evening.

A great meal i also had in warung Kaganangan my first afternoon in Banjarmasin. My meal sat me back 80 000 rupiah, but it was almost a banquet: Two freshwatercrayfish, 3 kinds of grilled fish from the rivers, a bowl with fried fishfry, rice with sambal and fruit for the dessert. I was overfed, so was my guest sharing the meal-a broke and unxemployed guide i had picked up on the street-or was it opposite? We agreed on a rivertrip a little later-10 000 an hour minus his share of my warungbill. He walked away to get a boat-at least he said. When i walked down to the riverside half an hour later, i woundered if i would find a boat, or if there somewhere in Banjarmasin walked a well fed imposer laughing at the stupid westerner. The boat is there. My yacht is a fortyfeet, undecked and bigbellied wooden boat of not too high standard. The odours clearly reveal it don’t transport tourists most of the time, fishscales and pieces of lettuce float in the water in the bottom of the boat. The boat is powered by a caughing smokethrowing dieselengine with a nasty habit of stopping. Everytime that happened, the boatman ordered the guide to crank it back to life again, something he wasn’t too happy about. He is guide-not slave!
We followed the mainrivebed lined with wooden cargoboats witch doubble as the crews homes-some of them complete with women, children and drying laundry. We then crossed the river and headed into the channels lined with unpainted blackgreyish plankbuildings having seen their best days long ago-or even before they were buildt at all. The only thing shining up here are the small, whitepainted mosques with shining cuppolas. Like the livinghouses they are buildt on stilts. The toilets are worth mentioning. It is small buildings anchored in the midle of the river. You have to go in a boat before you can do your pooping. No plumbing here-everything goes straight into the river. Some of the toilets have a nasty lopsidedness, everytime a bigger vessel pass by they jump like a cork in high sea. It certainly is a scrubby area, but it definitely has character to it. And the people here are very cheerfull and smiling, curious and ready to pose in front of the bypassing camera. Actually, they demand a photo to be taken, something far beyond my filmcapacity. Instead i most of the time only set of the flash. Enough to satisfy. It is a steady flow of boats similar to the one i have chartered for the afternoon. Some go with cargo, others are watertaxies cramped with gesticulating passengers. In between the motorised boats, people in small canoes try to navigate themself to their destinations. It seems to be a hazardous undertaking. Here the strongest rule the water. This unappealing batingwater, witch infact is dilluted sewage-is filled with swimming and diving kids. This is their only playground, and they take advantage of it to the fullest. Some o them have made a sport out of boarding the passing boats and plunge into the water again. They are good divers-they simply have to if they want to stay alive. Nobody seems to give the swimmers the slightest thought, often the kids make a quick dive to avoid beeing run over. More than once i was sure i was witnessing an ugly accident, but every time the kid appeared safe and sound after the boat had passed. Especially risky are the areas around the low bridges-watch your head! Here boats tend to get an enginefailure or something stuck to their propellers. Resaulting in traficjam on the river.
This interresting water not only is the playground of the locals, it is also where they wash themselves, their clothing and dishes so living here can’t be only fun. But some boys definitely have found their heaven-when girls do their washing on the riverbanks, they love to be in a boat not too far away from the stageground. They just happen to be there-simply by acident...

Early next moring i am back. This time to visit Pasar Kuin, the floating market held where the Barito and Kuin rivers meet. I am surrounded by busy taxiboats heading back and forth filled with shoppers doing their daily foraging. This market has been a daily spectacle for at least four hundred years, to begin with it was tribespeople from the backcountry comming here to trade. The market itself is a floating island of boats of all sizes and shapes. In the centre are the tradingboats, circling around are the shoppers. If you want to penetrate the maze, you have to push your way between the boats.Watch your fingers, nobody do it for you! If your desired merchant is out of physical reach-scream. Scream what you want, get back an offer the same way. Send your money from hand to hand, and boat to boat and get your stuff back trough the same distributionchannel. The procedure is based on trust and apparently it works well. You can get the same things at Pasar Kuin as in any indonesian market-fruit and veggies. Fish and meat. Householdgoods. There are even a couple of well stocked departmentstores on keel. For the hungry ones-there are floating warungs hanging around at a safe distance from the chaotic maze of shoppers.

Along the banks of the mainrivers there are several large sawmills, and in the river there are continents of timber waiting to be cut up. This is the endingstation of the jungle. Over the last years more than two million hectars of virgin jungle has been totally cleared annually. The illegal part of it is conciderable. A writer from The Jakarta Post with his own eyes got to see timbersmuggling when he sat in a warung in Jagoi, Western Kalimantan. Timber was loaded onto a truck with malaysian licenceplates. The nervous warungowner said it is a daily sight there. Daily an estimated 50 000 cubicmeters of timber cross the border here. On the malaysian side of the border the timber gets the documents needed to be sold to the innocently waiting malaysian companies. This timber actually is an important part of the malaysian timberindustry too, and a coperative made up of businessmen and bureaucrats on both sides of the border run the show. Those people doesent seem to worry mutch about the five billion rupiah fine and the 15 years in prison the forestrylaw open up for. Wounder why...Indonesia now has come up with a list of certified timberexporters so countries like Japan and EU, the largest markets for this timber, can be sure that their imported timber is certified. But knowing about the dirt in the timbertrade-not beeing sceptical about that list isn’t easy. Probably there are almost impossible to be sure about tropical timbers true origin.

We pass Pulau Kembang, home to a monkeycolony in the middle of the river, and arrive at Basirih Village. This village has a setting on its own-on bamboerafts mored in the middle of the river. It is a mix of livinghouses and old fashioned countryside departmentstores selling a little of everything. Along both riverbanks not far away there are small villages complete with shops. One sould think those would cover the demand, but this floating community obviously is a world on its on. We have a little lunchbreak at the little roofed warungcanoe while watching the construction of a new raft. A communal teamwork carried out by the male inhabitants. At the shops, the women do the same here as onland. Gossip and shop. Childcare and laundry. The warung serve tea and kueh-small pastries witch is picked by the customer by a stick with a spike, and here it is dirt cheap.

Southeast of Banjarmasin is the village of Martapura, famous for its fridaymarket. To get there, take an ojek from downtown Banjarmasin to the KM-6 bemostation, and bemo the rest. The Martapuramarket is the largest and most lively market in the whole region, especially on fridays when the neighbouring mosque onstantly receive and spit out a flood of prayers witch shop at the same time. Whitedressed people carrying all imaginable designs of prayingmats over their shoulder fill the streets. That locals take praying seriously i clearly got demonstrated on the way here. In a village the mosque was totally full, so one lane of the road was filled with prayers bowing towards Mekka. This pious roadblock is situated right behind a sharp curve in the road, and the road is heavilly traficated. Still no harm happens, so this must be a frequent obstacle local drivers are aware of.
The market itself is a maze of streets and stalls. Getting a cosey stroll here is almost guaranteed. One smell at all the marketsmells-spice mixed with tropical fruit, fresh and dried fish, meat and the foodsmell from the busy warungs. Here is a caledoscop of people with features from all over the country-Java, Bali, malaysians, people looking like indians, negroide faces from the very eastern areas and of course dayaks-the indigenous people Kalimantan. Everybody is exremely friendly towards me. I tried to buy a selection of exotic tropical fruit that i never had encountered before. Bot after haveing paid the very pleasant price in one stall, the big, smiling lady gave me doubble up. Her colleagues followed up the trend. Soon i had more than i could possibly eat, so i shared it with some new local friends found at the market.

Just outside Cempaka, a little village not far from Martapura, you can experience a little taste of wild west. Here you find diamondclaims. My bemo dumped me in the middle of the village in the morning, just as the diamondminers walked to their claims. They are dressed in soilstained pands and shirts. Everyone carry a spade or a pickaxe over their shoulder, and everyones face were hidden under a sun and rainworn hat. Lot of tough stonefaces study me without a word. A simple selamat pagi-good morning-make many a face to crak into a sunshinesmile, while others remain untoutched. My secret wish of finding a guide is soon fullfilled. A claimowner on a ojek zigzag between rambling oxpulled carts with wooden wheels and walking miners in the packed dirtstreet. He offer me lift and a lookaround. But first he offer tea and oranges in a little warung at the entrance to the miningarea. I silently woundered what all this would cost, and soon was told. Here i am the guest, he offer. UNDERSTOOD!?

In the sunbaked miningarea with all those wooden constructions on the ground, i felt like i had gone back in time-to California during the goldrush. In the baking sun,miners were standing in waterfilled depressions with siltladen water up to their legs, waist, chest or even to their shoulders whole rotating their washingpans. In addition to diamonds and semiprecious stones, smaller amounts of gold is present in the soil.
On the next claim,the depressions were drained with constantly working pumps. The diamondhiding gravel is transported up to wooden platforms where it is flushed and meshed. It requires a well trained eye for this job. Many stones suitable for polishing look like ordinary gravel at this stage, and are easily missed if the washers mind is elsewhere. The checked, worthless material is thrown to the side, a gravelmountain reveal that huge amounts of soil must be sifted trough before something is found. Gravel and rocks are sold to constructionprojects giving the miners a small extraincome-sometimes their only income. But the soil definitely hide treasues. Yearly 35-45 000 carats are ug up here, but each of the many small claims in average only find one small diamond every third day.Their mainstaple is semiprecious stones witch is polished and sold. On rare occations, miners hit the bulls eye. In 1850 a 106 karat diamond saw the light of the day. The biggest diamond found so far was named Tri Sakti, measured 167,5 carat and were found in 1965. The lucky finders were promised big money, but they still fight for their revenue today, decades after it was excavated. The area is concidered rich enough for a Canadian company in Toronto to invest in the miningoperations. Gold and diamonds are present several places in Kalimantan. The name Kalimantan actually come from the malayan words kali, meaning river and intan meaning diamond. The diamondgravel found in Cempaka is found in deposits comming from the Muratusmountains further to the east. It doesen’t originate from the local bedrock itself.

The diggers get a small set sallary, on the tippinglevel. Enough for their workfood, that’s usually all. Their main income is a share of the claims revenue. About half the income is divided between the diggers. The rest of it goes to the landowner, the claimleader, the pumpoperator and in tax. The claims are operated by around ten persons, often they are related to eachother. The workers more or less circulate between some of the tasks. Both men and women are present, and women doesen’t get away from the heaviest task, carrying the soil from the depressions to the washingstation. This is actually their maintask.

The diggers are under certain rules based on traditonal superstition. During a workingday, all negative talk is strictly prohibited. Negative talk attract demons creating bad luck. Not so strictly enforced anymore is the ban of talking to the washer, it was believed it would scare the diamonds, making them hide away. Even today, women is forbidden to cross a diggingpit for the same reason. But i had no sutch restritions. Actually i was quite surprised over how eager they were to discuss their business and show me what they were doing. Their openness towards the neighbouring claims probably is another story, though.

When they find a virgin, as the newly discovered diamonds are called, the leader is sendt for. He is the only one with the right to sell and negotiate. Som of them have been advanced these days, marketing their finds on the internet. I found, written in a very funny english, an advertisement where a black diamond measuring 12,71 karat was for sale. 13000 US dollars. Pricenegotiations possible.
Four kinds of diamonds are present in the Cempakagravel. Yellow lowqualitystones, black diamonds,
with magical properties, pink and white diamonds. The local Amsterdam is Martapura where the buyers are standing by to buy diamonds for as little money as they possibly can manage. Therefore digers are more than eager to sell to visitors, and buying a couple of polished stones became my guide and entrancefee.


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