Charging at Windmills in the Big Durian....

I never thought I'd hear myself say "I'm excited to go to Jakarta, but I was.  I made the long journey here last week because I wanted to eat some cold cuts and olives.  That and I also had to renew some of my research-related permits, which were going to lapse at the end of April.  I hadn't been out of Sungai Penuh for a few months, and so I figured it would be a nice opportunity to relax, visit friends, and do some shopping (1).  I figured that I'd be in town for about a week, but now, after almost two weeks, I can't believe that I actually thought it would be that easy.  It's been a trying adventure, though I did get offered a pretty bitchin' job (which I turned down to finish my research), but now it's almost over.

The Group W Bench

My first stop on this current journey was a certain government ministry responsible for supervising people like me.  To get my permit extended, they needed three documents: 1) a formal letter of request from me; 2) a progress report of my research; and 3) a letter of recommendation from my in-country sponsor, the national park where I'm doing my fieldwork.  I had all of these documents, so I figured the process would be pretty smooth.  I'd informed the ministry several times over the previous month that I was coming.  I walked in, sat down, and told the head of the department what I wanted.  "Why didn't you start this process earlier?", he castigated.

"Uh, sir, I've been sending you emails and leaving messages for the past month".

"Really?  This is the first I've heard of it", he said as he opened up his email client on his computer.  I noticed that he had 2510 unread emails.  Now in case you are just skimming this post, I'm going to say that again in the only way that describes what I was thinking at the time.

Dude had 2510 unread emails.

He searched using my name as a keyword and lo-and-behold all my emails came up, unread.  "Oh.  So I see you've been sending in the required reports.  Very good.  Let me see your documents...."  Pause.  Makes face.  "I'm sorry but this recommendation letter from the park can't be accepted."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because it's not addressed to the ministry and the subdirectorate.  Here in the 'To:' line.  It's blank.  We can't take it".

"Well let me see it.  I'll write in 'to the subdirectrorate at ministry..... I have a pen", I said.

"No you cannot do that it is against the rules.  You have to get another letter".  As it had taken me about 2 weeks to get the first letter (from people I see almost every day), I was slightly upset.  But I emailed and called the people at the park and asked them to fax over the same letter, only with the required salutation.  But they refused.  They said that a new letter would have to be drafted, but that couldn't be done because the new park director was currently out of town.  I would have to wait, but in this particular case time was of the essence because the subdirectorate at the ministry was having their monthly meeting in just a few days to review all the research proposals and extensions, and if I didn't get my letter in I would have to wait another month, during which time I couldn't officially do any work.  I spent several days going back and forth with the higher-ups at the park before I was able to swing a work around.  I finally got all my documents in, but it required a week and a half of fooling around.  And one of the lessons I've learned since I've been here was essential to my success; it's a trick I'll describe in the following paragraph, so if you are planning to do research in Indonesia I suggest you take notes.

As bad as the Indonesian bureaucracy seems, in every office there is at least one person that knows what they are doing and is willing and able to answer any and all questions promptly and correctly.  This person is very helpful; chances are he or she has done graduate work in Europe, Australia, or the US.  One of the most important skills you can develop as a researcher here is the ability to identify this person.  They are usually younger, which makes them lower-level workers.  Get this person's card and send them an email.  Chances are he/she will give you his/her cell number, and so you can text them with questions, which they are happy to answer.  I found this person in the ministry, and she was extremely helpful in facilitating my permit extension.  Without her I no doubt would have been stuck for a month.  These people are used to the system, and they know all the problems and work-arounds.  My new friend said she feels an obligation to help when she sees haggard and hungry field researchers staggering in from far-flung points across the archipelago, with their hats in hand and their flawlessly fluent Indonesian.  She told me that these people (like me) are half of the future of Indonesia-(insert country here) relations, the other half being the Indonesians studying abroad.  I couldn't agree more.

I Wanna Keeeeelllll!  I Wannna Keeeeelllll!

On one of the days I was fooling around waiting I decided I'd head out West Jakarta side to get a driver's license, since I'd been motoring around for about 8 months without one.  Next month I have to take a pretty extended road trip, so I figured better safe than sorry.  Besides, I've seen countless five-year-olds driving around here, so I figured how hard could it be, right?  So I walked in, sat down on the bench and played with the pencils (3,000rp/each) with the other folks while we waited for the test to begin.  When the results came back I failed, but I knew the outcome even before the exams were graded.  There were a bunch of questions about obscure driving laws, which I couldn't answer, but there were no questions about what do do if a goat jumps out in front of you when your doing 60 or about which water buffalo has the right-of-way on the jungle path, which I could've answered.  It seems to me that a driver's test in Indonesia ought to be a subjective endeavor anyways.  All my friends told me that the way you pass is to give 100,000 rupiah (about US$11) to one of the cops posted there, but the opportunity never presented itself.  I made my way back to Central Jakarta and drank about a half a dozen Ankers, wondering what to do with the day, and then it hit me: I'd go see a soccer match.

As it turns out, Jakarta's professional soccer team (nicknamed Jakmania) had a match scheduled at Gelora Bung Karno.  I'd long wanted to see Jakmania play, since the fans are famous for their rowdiness and hooliganism.  This seemed like the perfect day, because dealing with the Indonesian bureaucracy always puts me in the mood for some quality mayhem and sectarian violence.  So I made my way to the stadium, but it turns out there were about 3,000 people present, far fewer than the critical mass required for a riot.  I hung out for a while chatting with the riot police, but the heat (and the Ankers) got to me about halftime so I split.

Working the Bureaucracy

When my permit was finally approved I was able to spring into action.  All permits here are sequential, which means that you can't work on them simultaneously; you have to wait until one is done before moving onto the next one.  I went to the national police headquarters to get a renewal of my travelling permit, and the lady working the counter promptly told me that I wasn't going to be able to get it for some silly reason that is way too complex to relate here.  So I made a fateful decision: I leveled with her.

"Listen lady, I want to follow your rules, I really do.  But you're telling me I have to go to Jogjakarta (a flight away) to get a piece of paper, then go back to Sumatra to get another piece of paper, and then come back here.  I'm not Prince Rama.  And to tell you the truth over the past 8 months not one single person has asked to see this permit.  So from where I'm standing, it makes more sense just to ignore the national police and go back to work.  Does it make sense to you that I should have to do all that just to get a travelling permit?"

She looked at me for a minute and I instantly regretted attempting to lay down the law to the NATIONAL POLICE.  All the mother stabbers and father rapers behind me were glowing with laughter.  Finally she said "You know, you're right.  Let me go talk to my boss.  You wait here".

She came back about 10 minutes later and said "come back at 9am tomorrow and get your permit".  The next morning (Friday) I hired an ojek driver after a lengthy interview process involving a quiz testing knowledge of the locations of the various ministries I needed to visit (2).  We got to the police headquarters at 9am on the dot, picked up the letter, and zipped over to the interior ministry, where I submitted some more paperwork.  By this time my ojek driver was really demonstrating his skills, because we were making excellent time cutting through the Jakarta traffic like a hot knife through butter.  We hit the research and technology ministry, and then headed over to the forestry ministry where I needed to renew my permit to enter the national park as a researcher.  I got this one done just before Friday prayers and then we headed home so I could buy a ticket back to Sumatra.  There were a couple of key exchanges that really helped me get things done.

Me: "Wow those are some nice shoes."
Worker at ministry X: "You don't think they make my calves look fat?"
Me: "No I think they make you look sexy."
Worker:  "Wow thanks.  Here's you paper!"

Worker at ministry Y: "You're from Hawaii?  I watch Hawaii-Five-O on satellite.  Do you know the people on that show?"
Me:  "Of course I do!"

I got all of this done before noon, which I am certain breaks some sort of record.  Three ministries and the national police hq on a Friday.  It helped to anticipate every stumbling block; I had duplicates of my duplicates and a pocketful of tax stamps.  I had also pre-written a letter authorizing my good friend Agung (3) to pick up my forestry permit next week when it's ready.  Now it's Friday night and I'm ready to head back to the field.  It's been fun, Jakarta.

Notes

(1)  Some rotten bastard stole my nice jungle boots, which I need for work, from outside my "house".  There's no place to buy waterproof boots in my size on the entire island of Sumatra (that I'm aware of), so the trip to Jakarta would enable me to get a new pair.  A couple of people also asked me to pick up gore-tex jackets for them as well.

(2)  There were some other questions as well:  "Where are you from?"
"Madura, boss."
"Madura, eh?  Is it true what they say about the ladies of Madura?"
"It's true, boss."

(3)  Agung is a recurring character in this blog.  Until recently we lived together in Sungai Penuh, but he's recently been transferred to the hq of the Forestry Ministry in Jakarta.  Someone recognized his talent and ability, and now he's where he needs to be.