Are there places where people still live in Paradise?
SOL Magazine Issue # 1 September 2008.
What if I told you about a place full of wonder, located on one of the multiple Indonesian islands where, under the shade of equatorial forest, there lives a tribe which I will call the Baori*? These people, quite consciously and purposefully, make no use of technical progress as is common all around them and in the rest of modern civilization.
As a child, I would often explore the maps of the world by looking for mysterious islands that seemed to be inaccessible and faraway. In those parts of the world, surrounded by warm waves and generously blessed by the southern sun, I saw flowering lands of never-ending plenty. Delighted with their diversity and beauty, it seemed to me that they were holding the key to all the mysteries of the world.
To put into context what happened for me and my travel-companion when visiting this island, it may help to first describe other parts of Indonesia which we had visited as well. For instance, when our ferry approached the shores of Sumatra Island, I already knew that what I was about to see would be far different from my childhood dreams.
Landing in the port-town of Dumai and after passing through customs, there was no doubt we had arrived in a very different world. At the town entrance - narrow, with high rods on both sides dividing us from a crowd of extremely excited people - we were greeted by harsh yelling and shouting everywhere. What an oppressive environment, with those strong rods as the only protection from a violent-seeming mob. And rubbish everywhere, with stunted vegetation or none at all.
For two months, we traveled through Indonesia, mile after mile, sometimes walking, sometimes hitchhiking or ferrying the straits between the islands. We covered significant distances and it became clear that over most of the country, evergreen natural landscape had been replaced by ugly, man-made blocks of concrete. Most of the Indonesian villages through which we passed seemed dull and gloomy-looking. To make up for all this lack, almost everyone had an opportunity to watch the “beautiful life” by means of TV. Everywhere in the streets we were greeted loudly and intrusively: “Hello, Mister!!!” Others preferred to greet us from a distance. Others yet jumped up and shouted loudly right into our ears: “Hello, Mister!!” Oh, the jarring insults to our gentle souls.
The local climate allows for harvesting of a great variety of different crops all year long. But more often than not, instead of the numerous gifts of nature, one can find different products offered such as “Two minute noodle” packs and gasoline in old plastic Coca-Cola bottles.
One day, a young man approached us and asked us the common question: “Where are you going?” In Indonesia, we would hear this question what seemed to be a thousand times a day. But this time, for some reason, it did not trigger our wish to pretend we didn’t understand. It sounds strange now, but from the very beginning of our conversation, this man seemed to want us to visit this special island, describing it as a very beautiful place. At first, we did not pay special attention to his suggestions, but days later, having talked with our new friend at length, we understood that we definitely had to make that visit.
 This magical place is located
in the center of a small piece of equatorial forest which has remaining intact and unviolated. Interesting, first of all, is the fact that people living here did not trade in the gifts of Nature for a technocratic culture. They still appear quite certain that modern achievements such as automobiles, TV or mobile phones bring great harm to Man. At the time we visited, there were three such villages, located with comfortable distances between them, with their inhabitants following strict rules of having no modern technology in their households. They cultivate rice, grow vegetables and fruits, turning up no soil and preserving the integrity of the Eco-system. They weave their clothes from natural fiber and walk barefoot. They build wooden houses without nails using simple tools, and causing no harm to the natural landscape. They believe in One God, the Creator of their World, although we saw no traces of worship. The Baori believe that all of humanity originated from one man and one woman. They never changed their beliefs even under the pressures of certain religious propaganda. (For instance, in the past, they steadfastly refused to turn Muslim, even under such pressure.) There are no "virtual" money-exchanges on the territory where they live.
There are villages not far away from this place, and people living there belong to the same tribe but consider it acceptable to allow some of the novelties into their lives that our modern, so called “civilized” world, brings. Here, we could see people with mobile phones as well.
...But oh, what a relief it is to arrive in such a paradise. It feels the same way it does when a strong pain finally retreats with the help of effective pain-medication. At last, we have escaped “developed” Indonesia.
It is such a relief to have an earthy forest pathway under our feet and not asphalt blazing with heat. We breathe in vibrant air, instead of a mix of auto exhaust and dust. We actually hear the sounds instead of being “hammered” by habitual noises. Huge palm leaves and bamboo sprouts hang above our heads, together with other everlasting summer vegetation.
Time and again, the pathway leads us out of the jungle cover opening itself to the rays of the sun, but after our respite in the dense shade, nothing seems to be too hot. At our first stop we look at some structures we saw earlier, which seemed to be small houses. Masterfully built and well-proportioned, they are perfectly fit into the landscape. Later on we learn that they are used for rice storage. An old woman passes by wearing a beautiful broad-rimmed straw hat. Her movements are light and unhurried. She glances at us thoughtfully and for some reason, I feel as if I encountered a poetess.
Having had some rest, we proceed further and soon enter a small village. This village could be considered an interim version of the secret paradise we are hoping to enter soon, with modern Indonesia on the other extreme of that continuum. Here, according to instructions from our Indonesian friend, we have to find a person named Zhardu.
Local inhabitants show us the way to the house for which we received directions. But there is no-one inside. Apologetic and grateful to the owners of the home across the way, we take a seat on their porch and begin to wait, carefully noticing our surroundings. A woman is working nearby. With the help of a simple weaver’s loom, she quickly turns bundles of multicolored threads into variegated fabric. She tries to talk to us and I am amazed by the sound of her voice. It sounds like a whispering melody, relaxing, and no word less than “mellifluous” describes the experience. We do not know yet that all Baori women possess an incredibly pleasant, I would even say, charming voices. There are a few amazingly quiet children nearby who do not come up too closely and only glance at us very tactfully.
Time after time, people appear on the pathway curving along the side of the house. Men carry bundles of fruit from somewhere, mostly bananas and durians (the latter a very common fruit here) hanging from a stick balanced on their shoulders. Everything around us continues as usual. Not a hint of the attention we so excessively received in what now seems to be the outer world. Nobody greets us loudly, nobody calls for relatives and friends, no gawkers crowd around us producing uncomfortable commotion. Along our journey we had forgotten about silence and peace, and now it is very pleasant to have them back.
The host of the house next door introduces himself as Rupi and soon, invites us to come inside his dwelling. It looks as tidy inside as it is outside. And indeed, it would not have been easy to make for disorder. The spacious hall contains no furniture and only minimal essentials for household items. We make ourselves comfortable on a bamboo floor. Rapi treats us with coffee. Having unfolded a bundle of banana leaves, he pulls out a piece of brown sugar, which is, as we learn later, produced locally, and it tastes quite different from our refined sugar. Rain is starting to pour down outside – tropical showers are sudden and often very hard. But we discover that the roof, well-constructed out of palm leaves, is wonderfully water-proof.
Zhardu and his family arrive in the evening. It seems to me that he is somewhat guarded, but he is a generous host. He treats us with dinner and offers us to stay the night. The next morning, having left some of our equipment at Zhardu’s place, we step upon the earthy pathway which knows neither wheel nor pollution, barefoot, to honor the local tradition. It will take us to the land un-known.
The sloping pathway is laid out with stones, polished by countless bare feet. Here it is...the bamboo bridge that is marked on our hand-drawn map. Big trees, growing on both sides of the river are stretching their long branches towards each other. There, on the branches, hangs the bridge. Oh, what beauty! We stand still in awe and admiration. It symbolizes a definite boundary. On the other side of the river the territory begins where even photo cameras are not allowed. What will we encounter next?..
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To be continued SOL Issue # 2, January 2009
Notes: The name of the tribe and the island where it exists, as well as the names of its inhabitants have been changed for their protection and privacy.
Copyright © Strannik and
SOL Magazine, 2008 All rights reserved
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