Kampung Sait

We dropped by Kampung Sait on our way down. The group was pretty keen on seeing the place for ourselves and comparing the old village to Muk Ayung, especially after hearing so much about it last night.

Sait feels much more compact than Muk Ayung did. The houses are built at various ground levels and very close to one another, making the village feel quite dense. 

A kampung chicken: free-range and organic!

Kibik, one of the ladies who had cooked our meals yesterday, explained that previously neighbours used to make it a point to build their houses on the same level as the next house so that people could just walk down the row to get from one end to the other. Now, though, people don't really bother as much anymore, so the houses are connected by steps, which are really just logs with footholds hacked into them with a machete.

Kibik herself. I love how the kampung ladies tie their sarongs, by the way. I did learn on the trip how to do it like that, but couldn't quite get the hang of it although I asked about 3 times. After that I was too shy to ask again, haha.

The village seems crowded at a glance, but the many abandoned homes give Sait a rather dilapidated air. Many families now have two houses, one in each village, and stay alternate weeks in each kampung to jaga rumah (watch over the house). The new house is often smaller than the old one, perhaps because of the amount of time and resources building a new house demands. Those with young children prefer to stay in Sait most of the time, because it is closer to the primary school by half an hour. 

Us, against a backdrop of bamboo porches and morning laundry

All of the people we had spoken to last night felt strongly about their land rights and about rightfully retaining their plot of land to pass down the generations. This morning life got a little interesting. We bumped into a man who gave us a little lecture about how the government always took care of its people and how the Muk Ayung folk misunderstand the situation. He had come out of his house to chat as we walked by, and he carried himself with the dignified manner of a man used to positions of relative authority. He also spoke clear English.

Are you moving to Muk Ayung as well? I asked.
"No, of course not. I'm comfortable here, my house and family are here, why should I move?" Ah.

A bit of small talk about who we are, where everyone came from. One of us decided to bring up the division between the people migrating to Muk Ayung, and those who had chosen to remain in the old village until alternative housing in Semadang is completed.

"Those people don't get it. They are rash, and they are acting upon their emotions... not at all forward-thinking! I rightfully refused to follow them. No one is stealing their land: we were informed long ago that the land was to be designated for the project." And so on, until Liza said we really had to go. 

Later on someone surmised that he probably:

1. isn't a farmer, hence doesn't feel as strong an attachment to his land. His kids are also unlikely to become farmers themselves, thus retaining his ancestral land is secondary to having a secure livelihood;
2. is a teacher or a civil servant (from his spoken English and his demeanour) so his interests are probably covered. 

In any case, it was revealing to see the other side of the story. The battle isn't just between the defenders and the system, but also between them and their own people.