The sound of children can be heard coming from inside Busthanul Athfal, a small mosque in Tegal Randu village on Madura Island in East Java province. But as soon as Matruki enters the wooden structure, the dozens of children fall instantly silent, their gaze focused on the 59-year-old man.
Matruki sits cross-legged on the floor, with his grandchild on his lap, as the children sit around him in a semi-circle. “Have you all contemplated what you have done today?” he asks in Madurese.
The students, aged between 7 and 12, remain shyly quiet.
“We have to be able to reflect on what we have done. By doing so, we can know what we’ll do next,” said Matruki, who has been teaching since 1982.
His words break the ice. One by one, the students, mostly children of migrant workers in the village, located in Klakah district in Lumajang regency, East Java, speak up.
“We have to work together to become smarter,” said one of the students, Kiki.
The lesson was organized by Rakyat Merdeka, an alternative school in the village. At the school, everyone is a teacher, every place is a school. This phrase sums up the spirit of the school, which is to keep learning and to provide knowledge to everyone, everywhere.
Tegal Randu’s school is part of a network of similar schools established by the Rakyat Merdeka Institution, which was set up in 2005.
The mosque used to host only Koran recital lessons, led by Matruki. Then about two years ago, the institute enriched and upgraded the teaching process, providing alternative learning methods. Matruki supported the move.
The school’s presence has been like rain in the middle of the desert. Most of the children in the village were forced to end their formal education after elementary school, because their parents could not afford the fees.
Most of those in the village who can afford it prefer to continue their studies at Islamic boarding schools across Lumajang regency. Others give up on formal education and pursue religious knowledge, such as taking Koran recital lessons in mosques.
“We try to introduce general knowledge in ways that are easily understood,” a mentor, A. Santoso, told The Jakarta Post.
Social studies subjects are introduced through discussions on the surrounding community and its problems. Natural sciences are taught by going out into the fields and actually planting and looking after seeds, while Indonesian art and literature are introduced through dance, poetry readings and making masks and musical instruments.
The school also offers students the chance to learn about subjects they may be naturally curious about, such as computers or English.
“We want to teach them whatever they need. They can learn what they need to know here,” said Santoso.
There is one compulsory “subject”, self-reflection, which takes place before the students start their classes.
“We teach children to evaluate what they have done during the day,” said Matruki, who owns the mosque which hosts the school. “Self-evaluation will prevent students from making the same mistakes again.”
Lessons are concentrated in the mosque, a modest building where students attend classes from 2 to 5 p.m.
Unlike most mosques, the walls of Busthanul Athfal are decorated with educational posters, some offering the English names of fruits and human body parts, others giving the Javanese words for different objects.
Textbook-filled shelves sit in one corner, while a number is a pile of musical instruments. All of these items are available for free.
“It’s already a blessing if they come to the mosque regularly,” said Santoso.
With its location on the banks of Lake Klakah and near the slopes of Mount Lamongan, the mosque also is ideally placed to teach students about nature.
Students begin their activities by reflecting on themselves and their day, then they recite the Koran and enjoy art lessons. They stop for afternoon prayers and then are free to choose from a range of available activities and lessons, from computers to gardening.
There are around 40 students at the school, most children but also a few adults.
Student Sholeh thinks the lessons offered by Rakyat Merdeka are more “fulfilling” than those at regular schools.
“I know now that there is so much knowledge out there, not just what is taught at schools. Now I know the types of plants that grow in my village,” said Sholeh, 17, whose mother left home to work in Malaysia six years ago.
Sholeh is now honing his computer skills and dreams of getting a job where he can utilize these skills.
He also has another dream.
“I want to travel the world. Who knows, I can gain more knowledge along the way,” said Sholeh, in the same spirit as his school, where everyone is a teacher and every place is a school.
ID Nugroho, The Jakarta Post, Lumajang
May 16th, 2007
Madhura ampon kalonta e manca naghara/Buja tor tana kapor/Santre tor para keyae/Maasre sahajana baburughan…
Madura has gained world fame/Tho’ it abounds in only salt and lime/With its Muslim students and clerics/All its pursuits will come true…
The verse above, quoted from the work of Madura-born poet Ismail, was recited on the sidelines of a cultural congress on Madura, a major East Java island, which was held to hear the Madurese people’s aspirations for their future.
The Pamekasan poet’s dream virtually amounts to the hopes of the entire island population, as was revealed at the inaugural Congress on Madura Culture, held in Sumenep from March 9-11.
Initiated by intellectuals, artists and cultural experts of the “salt island”, the congress was prompted by concerns that the Madurese community had not risen above its lower-middle economic bracket, let alone its ethnic stereotypes.
“There are 13 million Madurese citizens in Indonesia, but only three million live on this island while the rest have spread all over the country. It’s a sad thing to note that life in this region has remained unchanged,” said Mien Ahmad Rifai, a Madurese researcher at the Indonesian Institute of Sciences (LIPI).
“The time has come for Madura to start growing and be developed by its own people,” added Said Abdullah, a Madurese member of the House of Representatives.
Their concerns found an outlet as the island’s thinkers came up with the idea of convening the congress under the auspices of the Said Abdullah Institute (SAI) — a center that focuses on women’s education and empowerment. With the support of a local non-governmental organization, Ngadek Sodek Parjuga, and two media, a total of 150 delegates from four regencies of Madura, Bangkalan, Sampang, Pamekasan and Sumenep, attended the congress.
National and international experts and observers of Madura were also invited as keynote speakers, including man of letters D. Zamawi Imron, LIPI researcher Mien Ahmad Rifai, Madura conflict researcher A. Latief Wijaya and Dutch anthropologist Huub de Jonge of Radboud University in Nijmegen, the Netherlands.
The community living on the 5,300 sq km island is inseparable from its lofty values that serve as guidelines of life in the region, said to have been inhabited for the first time some 4,000 years ago.
“The values of life are followed by locals as rules of their livelihood, but regrettably the knowledge is considered sacred and thus impossible to develop, not to mention innovate,” said Mien Rifai.
As time has passed by, the conservative character of this community has left it behind, prompting the stereotype of the rude, rowdy, irritable, hot-blooded and ill-mannered Madurese — and ensuing public avoidance, resistance and rejection.
“Worse still, ethnic Madurese are seen as lacking initiative, being rigid, unable to keep pace with progress, and so forth,” Rifai added.
These impressions are seemingly justified by the backward physical condition of the island compared with the other areas of East Java, although Madura is geographically closest to Indonesia’s second largest city, Surabaya. Rifai even likened the fate of the Madurese to Jewish, Chinese, Armenian and Kurdish minorities, whose presence has always aroused suspicion.
“The social environs where the four groups live won’t let them grow,” Rifai pointed out.
What actually lies behind the negative public image of the Madurese people is misunderstanding of their traditions and customs.
For example, regarding the assumption that the Madurese community is inclined to be “violent”, an analysis by Madura conflict researcher Dr. A. Latief Wijaya showed that the ethnic culture of the Madurese demands a strict or firm approach — rather than “violence”. This attitude is easily noticeable in their choice of colors and in their cuisine.
“If they choose red, it’s just plain red, and blue is blue, there’s no shade or hue. So is food — they like strong tastes,” said Latief.
In interaction, however, this firmness appears spontaneously, often combined with heightened expressiveness. But this is not without reason.
“The spontaneity and overreaction arise when Madurese people are degraded, or in their own words tada ajhina (their very existence is ignored),” he said.
In the middle of 2006, for example, a brawl broke out in Batu Marmar district, Pamekasan, in which long-bladed sickles, a typical Madurese weapon, were used. Triggered by a land dispute, seven people were killed and dozens of others injured in the clash. While the public assumed that the fighting had been prompted by the Madurese’s “belligerent” culture, in reality it stemmed from an ordinary financial spat.
Dutch anthropologist Dr. Huub de Jonge noted that the survival ability of the Madurese could be compared with Raas Island inhabitants in Bali. The endurance and close social bonds among the Raas dwellers have made them successful.
“The Raas community in Bali was once alienated and even forced out when Indonesia underwent economic crisis, but this group eventually survived and succeeded,” added de Jonge.
Latief also suggested that ethnic Madurese should be aware that their harsh reaction was not the behavior proscribed by the noble values of their ancestors. This awareness should be reflected in their determination to replace the current mind-set.
“The mind-set should be built into a framework of mutual appreciation and respect among Indonesians, unification in peace, order and welfare,” he proposed.
Nevertheless, this expected fundamental change cannot come from the local community, so other parties needed to give encouragement — notably the government through its continuous attempts to realize the transformation.
“Formal education is the answer, by which Madura’s cultural values can be inherited,” said Syukur Ghazali, a scholar at Malang State University.
The high and religious cultural values that pervade the ethnic soul of Madura are not destructive, nor do they conform to the negative stereotypes so far assumed by society at large. The question is, according to Ghazali, whether education in Indonesia is capable of carrying it out.
“The fact is that we still judge educational quality by the facilities offered rather than the achievements made,” he said.
Therefore, the school curriculum should be changed by the official inclusion of the Madurese language, with an aim to provide more opportunities for ethnic Madurese to interact formally in their native tongue.
“In religious education, ways should be sought to transform religious teachings into daily behavior instead of being a mere subject,” Ghazali added.
A Madurese community figure and head of Sumenep’s Pesantren Al Amien Islamic boarding school, Muhammad Idris Jauhari, said cultural and religious education could be undertaken effectively by further empowering the existing pesantren on the island.
The Islamic schools are to maintain local traditional values, called salaf, while accommodating modern values known as kholaf to achieve the goals of education.
Pesantren are also accessible to nearly all community members, most of which charge annual boarding and tuition at no higher than Rp 250,000.
A movement to nurture the love of Madurese traditional arts is another way of inculcating the islanders’ cultural values.
D. Zawawi Imron described the importance of being Madura-conscious by reading his poem at the opening of this congress: I dare to chase high waves/To embrace the moon and pluck the stars/In the spiritual arms of my ancestors, in the heavens I vow/Madura, I’m your blood.
The artistic values of Madura are also reflected in the movements of local dances such as Alalabang and Muang Sangkal. In Sumenep alone exist about 10 traditional dance groups with a total of 600 members.
“Through this means (dance) we provide guidance for the present generation to preserve Madurese culture,” head of Pottre Koneng Studio Edy Susanto told The Jakarta Post.
Dozens of youngsters between 6 and 18 years old were practicing traditional and modern dances guided by two assistant instructors in the studio on March 11, with their parents — mostly mothers — observing.
“I’m very happy my daughter is here taking dance lessons, as most of our family like traditional arts,” said Sri Hidayati, who was accompanying 6-year-old Nafilatul Muzawaroh.
This endeavor — to reintegrate Madurese culture and consciousness as a drive toward development — is far from simple and will not be achieved by one cultural congress, but this is a step in the right direction.
It is hoped that formal education, combined with the spirit of ancestral Madurese values will eventually create a community of “new” Madurese with a reinvigorated mind-set. And through this, the negative stereotypes that have long been laid at the feet of ethnic Madurese are to be eliminated toward realizing the poet Ismail’s dream of a successful Madura.
I.D. Nugroho, The Jakarta Post, Sumenep, Madura
May 16th, 2007