A Journey Against Defeat: Narratives of Women's Rejection of Poverty

AGAINST DEFEAT
Narratives of Women’s Rejection of Poverty
A JOURNEY

THE NATIONAL LIBRARY
Catalogue in publishing
ISBN 978-602-8384-80-3
1. Gender 2. Impoverishment 3. Law enforcement
I TITLE
+xx, 257 pages, photo galleries, index
21 x 27 cm, hardcover
© INSISTPress, Rumah Kitab & AIPJ-AusAID
First printing, April 2014
Cover design: Armin Hari & Beta Pettawaranie
Compugraphics: Rumah Pakem
Marcoes-Natsir, Lies & Anne Lockley (2014),
A Journey Against Defeat: Narratives of Women’s Rejection of Poverty.
Yogyakarta: INSISTPress.
n Data and text contributors: Anis Hidayah, Evelyn Suleeman,
Hasriadi Ary, Imelda Bachtiar, Ishak Salim, Mayadina, Mia Siscawati,
Mutti Anggitta, Nani Zulminarni, Nanda Amelia, Ninik Rahayu,
Nurhady Sirimorok, Nursyida Syam, Nurul Saadah,
Nurul Widyaningrum, Reza Idria, Saleh Abdullah,
Syarifah Rahmatillah, Vincent Sangu.
n Chief photographer: Armin Hari n Photo contributors: Beta Pettawaranie,
Boris Adivarrahman, Ewin Laudjeng, M. Anshar, Saleh Abdullah,
Zulfan Djawon Muhammad. n Photo repro: INSISTPress, FIRD.
n Data processing: Fredian Tonny, Raisa Sugiri, Boris Adivarrahman.
n Text consolidaton & proofreading: Anwar Jimpe Rahman, Ismed Natsir,
Markaban Anwar.
n English translation: Edward Thornton, Abmi Handayani.
n Chief editor: Roem Topatimasang.
n INSISTPress
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LIES MARCOES-NATSIR & ANNE LOCKLEY
AGAINST DEFEAT
Narratives of Women’s Rejection of Poverty
A JOURNEY
April 2014
Australia Indonesia
Partnership for Justice
Photographer ARMIN HARI | Editor ROEM TOPATIMASANG

This important and beautiful book comes out
at a time when we, as a sovereign nation
upholding the values of humanity, must face a
bitter and heart breaking reality. The Indonesian
Demographic and Health Survey (2012), made
publicly available at the end of last year, found
that the number of women who died during
childbirth has increased, rather than decreased,
since 2007.
As it turns out, the rapid pace of Indonesia’s
economic growth and our government’s high-
profile involvement in the global effort to reach
the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs),
along with the various national programs on
maternal care and poverty reduction, have not
had any impact on poor women who are at the
most vulnerable point in their lives: giving birth
to a child.
According to the Indonesian government targets
regarding the MDGs, the country’s Maternal
Mortality Rate (MMR) is supposed to be reduced
to 102 maternal deaths per 100,000 live births by
2015. In fact, in 2012, this number rose to 359,
an increase from 2007 when the MMR was 228
deaths per 100,000 live births. This large number
of women who lost their lives during childbirth
is equivalent to the situation 19 years ago, in
1995. In this case it is not progress that we have
achieved, but regression.
FOREWORD
The Mandate
of the Constitution
Kamala Chandrakirana
Women’s Rights and
Human Rights Activist
viii | A JOURNEY AGAINST DEFEAT: Narratives of Women’s Rejection of Poverty

This book shows using words and pictures, how
complex the issue of poverty is for women. Without
an understanding of the complexity and distinctiveness
of women’s experiences and vulnerabilities, government
efforts to overcome poverty cannot succeed in raising the
dignity of the poorest and most marginalised women citizens
of Indonesia. The increase in Indonesia’s MMR is evidence of
such complexity and distinctiveness. Women’s experiences falling
into and living in poverty are not the same as men’s. The reality
of unequal power relations between men and women exists and impacts all
aspects of a person’s life, from cradle to grave. Structural injustices which
persist with the support of laws and regulations have their own distinct
impacts on women because gender-based discrimination and violence
shapes the contours of women’s day-to-day lives. It is clear that this is not
merely a technical problem of accurate targeting by government programs.
It is a strategic issue of women’s effective participation in all aspects and
stages of national development, at each level of decision making.
The Indonesian Constitution states that each citizen has the right to
livelihood suitable to the standards of humanity (Article 27); the right to
be free from discriminatory acts on any grounds (Article 28I); the right
to a sense of security and protection from the threat of fear (Article 28G);
and the right to affirmative action and special measures in order to access
equal opportunities and benefits for equality and justice (Article 28H).
Implementation of these legal guarantees for every individual citizen is
an integral part of freeing women from poverty and impoverishment.
The improvement or revocation of laws and regulations, at national and
local levels, which are discriminatory and contradictory to our country’s
constitutional guarantees is also an integral part of establishing the
opportunity for Indonesia’s poor women to enjoy ‘a livelihood suitable for
FOREWORD: The Mandate of the Constitution | ix

x | A JOURNEY AGAINST DEFEAT: Narratives of Women’s Rejection of Poverty
the standards of humanity.’ For this, mechanisms for the substantive
review of laws and policies, by executive, legislative and judicial bodies
as well as by independent quasi-state bodies such as the National
Commission on Violence Against Women (KOMNAS Perempuan), need
to improve their responsiveness and effectiveness for poor women.
Regardless of whether or not there are adequate and effective
mechanisms to ensure women’s active participation in the Government’s
efforts towards people’s welfare, Indonesian women have never stayed
quiet or passive in the face of injustice and poverty around them. The
stories of women’s struggles in this book are merely fragments from a
wealth of experiences by diverse women around the archipelago which
have yet to be counted, documented or even been in the line of vision.
This book is testimony to the strength and resilience of Indonesia’s
poor women who speak out and take action, alone and with their peers,
through organising and movement building in the effort to grow into
an influential social force. Indeed, this is an expression of women’s
sovereignty as citizens of the Indonesia nation and state.
The higher a tree grows, the stronger the winds which reach it.
The rise of women leaders - in formal political arenas as well as in
communities - also brings about unavoidable opposition and resistance.
Political support and legal protection for poor women who speak out,
take action and build movements are the responsibility of all parties,
in government and civil society, who are committed to the nation’s
promise of welfare and humanity for all without exception. The
struggles of poor and marginalised women to improve their lives and
regain their dignity as equal citizens can only be achieved in a

sustainable way if the logic of their struggle can reach and be integrated
into macro policies in the fields of economy, labor, land, agriculture,
forest, trade, international relations, defense, etc. The locus of poor
women’s struggles is not limited to the field of social welfare, as it is often
assumed.
My hope is that this book can become a tool to open dialogues about
women’s experiences of poverty and impoverishment in Indonesia and
how to deal with them in effective and sustainable ways. The exchange of
views and collective effort to find solutions which are truly meaningful
for poor women are a matter of urgency for the future of our nation.
We have to be able to rise from the painful and shameful failure and
backsliding experienced by poor women who have lost their lives while
giving birth. Let us open ways, by using all the social, economic, political
and legal capacities available, to engage in open and critical dialogue
in a democratic process - from the small kampungs where poor women
conduct their lives and struggles to the big buildings in metropolitan
cities where national policy makers carry out their duty to fulfil the
guarantees of the Indonesian Constitution for all citizens, men and
women equally.
Jakarta, 25 March 2014.

FOREWORD
The Mandate of the Constitution | viii - xi
n Kamala Chandrakirana
CONTENT | xiv - xv
LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS | xvi - xix
xiv | A JOURNEY AGAINST DEFEAT: Narratives of Women’s Rejection of Poverty
CONTENT
PART ONE
Gender, Girls and Poor Families
1 A Lullaby for the Children | 20
n GALLERY 1: Children, Gender Construction & Work | 26 - 31
2 Growing-up Unequal | 37
n GALLERY 2: Multiple Roles, Overlapping Demands | 57 - 67
FOREWORD
The Journey of Compiling This Book | 1
INTRODUCTION
A Journey Against Defeat | 12
PART TWO
The Long Road to Opportunity
3 The Four Issues of Kartini’s Struggle | 71
GALLERY 1
GALLERY 2

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS
AIPJ Australia-Indonesia Partnership for Justice
APIK Asosiasi Perempuan Indonesia untuk Keadilan - Association of Indonesian Women for
Justice
ASEAN Association of South East Asian Nations
AusAID Australian Agency for International Development
BADILAG Badan Peradilan Agama - Religious Court Agency
BAPPEDA Badan Perencanaan Pembangunan Daerah - Regional Development Planning Board
BAPPENAS Badan Perencanaan Pembangunan Nasional - National Development Planning Board
BKKBN Badan Koordinasi Keluarga Berencana Nasional - National Coordination Board of Family
Planning
BOS Bantuan Operasional Sekolah - School Operational Assistance
BP3AKB Badan Pemberdayaan Perempuan, Perlindungan Anak & Keluarga Berencana - Agency for
Women Empowerment, Children Protection and Family Planning
BPS Badan Pusat Statistik - Central Agency of Statistics
BSUIA Bale Syura Ureung Inong Aceh - General Assembly of Acehnese Women
CEDAW Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women
DPR-RI Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat Republik Indonesia - the National Parliament
DPRD Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat Daerah - the Provincial/District Parliament
FIRD Flores Institute for Resource Development
FITRA Forum Indonesia untuk Transparansi Anggaran - Indonesian Forum for Transparency of
Public Expenditure
GAM Gerakan Aceh Merdeka - Free Aceh Movement
GAP Gender Analysis Pathway
GERWANI Gerakan Wanita Indonesia - Indonesian Women’s Movement
GRB Gender Responsive Budget
GTZ Gesselschaft für Technische Zusammenarbeit - German Agency for Technical Cooperation
HTI Hizbut Tahrir Indonesia - hardcore of Islamic puritanism movement in Indonesia
IAIN Institut Agama Islam Negeri - State University for Islamic Studies
IALDF Indonesia Australia Legal Development Facility
ICCPR International Convention on Civil & Political Rights
IDEA Institute for Development and Economic Analysis
IIQ Institut Ilmu al-Qur’an - Institute for Qur’anic Studies
ILO International Labor Organization
INSIST Indonesian Society for Social Transformation
IPB Institut Pertanian Bogor - Bogor Institute of Agriculture
JAMKESMAS Jaminan Kesehatan Masyarakat - Community Health Insurance
JKP3 Jaringan Kerja PROLEGNAS Pro Perempuan - Network of National Legislation Program
Pro Women
JPIC-SVD Justice, Peace, and Integrity of Creation - Societas Verbi Divini (part of Catholic
Archdiocese of Ende, Flores Island)
xvi | A JOURNEY AGAINST DEFEAT: Narratives of Women’s Rejection of Poverty

KKG Keadilan dan Kesetaraan Gender - Gender Justice and Equality
KKPK Koalisi Keadilan dan Pengungkapan Kebenaran - Coalition for Justice and Revelation of
Truth
KOMNAS Komisi Nasional - National Commission
KPAI Komite Perlindungan Anak Indonesia - Committee for Protection of Indonesian Children
KPK Komisi Pemberantasan Korupsi - Corruption Eradication Commission
KRAN Koalisi Rakyat Advokasi Tambang - People’s Coalition for Advocating Mining Issues
KUHP Kitab Undang-undang Hukum Pidana - Books of Penal Code
LBH Lembaga Bantuan Hukum - Legal Aid Institute
LIPS Lembaga Informasi Perburuhan Sedane - Sedane Institute of Labour Information
LPPSP Lembaga Pengkajian & Pengembangan Sumberdaya Pembangunan - Institute for Study
and Improvement of Development Resources
MDGs Millenium Development Goals
MISPI Mitra Sejati Perempuan Indonesia - True Partner of Indonesian Women
MIUMI Majelis Intelektual & Ulama Muda Indonesia - Council of Young Indonesian Ulama and
Intellectuals (intellectual wing of Hizbut Tahrir Indonesia)
MK Mahkamah Konstitusi - Constitutional Court
MMR Maternal Mortality Rate
MUI Majelis Ulama Indonesia - Council of Indonesian Ulama
NAD Nanggroe Aceh Darussalam - other official name of Aceh Province as a special region
NII Negara Islam Indonesia - Islamic State of Indonesia (an Islamic fundamentalist
movement)
NTB Nusa Tenggara Barat - West Nusa Tenggara Province
NTT Nusa Tenggara Timur - East Nusa Tenggara Province
NU Nahdhatul Ulama - largest mass-based organization of traditional (sunni) Muslims in
Indonesia
P2TP2A Pusat Pelayanan Terpadu untuk Pemberdayaan Perempuan dan Anak - Integrated Service
Center for the Empowerment of Women and Children
PATTIRO Pusat Informasi dan Telaah Regional - Center for Regional Information and Analysis
PAUD Pendidikan Anak Usia Dini - Early Childhood Education
PERDA Peraturan Daerah - Provincial or District Regulation
PEKKA Pemberdayaan Perempuan Kepala Keluarga - Empowerment of Women Heads of Family
PIR Perkebunan Inti Rakyat - Smallholders Plantation Scheme
PJTKI Penyedia Jasa Tenaga Kerja Indonesia - Agency for Supplying Indonesian Migrant
Workers
PNPM Program Nasional Pemberdayaan Masyarakat - National Program for Community
Empowerment
PNS Pegawai Negeri Sipil - civil servant
POSYANDU Pos Pelayanan Terpadu - Integrated Service Post (for children and maternal health
services at village level)
PPLS Pendataan Program Perlindungan Sosial - Data for Social Protection Program
PROLEGNAS Program Legislasi Nasional - National Legislation Program
LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS | xvii

PSHK Pusat Studi Hukum dan Kebijakan - Centre for Legal & Policy Studies
PSW Pusat Studi Wanita - Center for Women’s Studies
PUSKAPA Pusat Kajian Perlindungan Anak - Center for Studies on Children Protection
PUSKESMAS Pusat Kesehatan Masyarakat - Community Health Center (at village or sub-district level)
RTRW Rencana Tata Ruang Wilayah - Regional Geo-spatial Plan
RUU Rancangan Undang-undang - Draft of National Law
SAKERNAS Survei Angkatan Kerja Nasional - National Labour Force Survey
SAPDA Sentra Advokasi Perempuan Difabel dan Anak - Centre for Advocacy of Difabel Women
and Children
SD Sekolah Dasar - Elementary School
SEMBAKO Sembilan Bahan Pokok - nine items of basic or daily needs of family (rice, meat, fishes,
vegetables, spices, salt, sugar, cooking oil, and fuel)
SKPD Satuan Kerja Pemerintah Daerah - Sectoral Working Unit of Provincial/District
Government
SMP Sekolah Menengah Pertama - Junior High School
SPP Simpan Pinjam [untuk] Perempuan - Saving and Loan Scheme for Women
SPKBK Sistem Pemantauan Kemiskinan Berbasis Komunitas - Community Based Poverty
Monitoring System
SPKS Serikat Petani Kelapa Sawit - Palm Oil Farmers Union
SRHR Sexual Reproductive Health Rights
STKIP Sekolah Tinggi Keguruan & Ilmu Pendidikan - Educational Sciences and Teacher College
SUSENAS Survei Sosial Ekonomi Nasional - National Economic and Social Survey
TKI Tenaga Kerja Indonesia - Indonesian [Male] Migrant Workers
TKW Tenaga Kerja Wanita - Indonesian Women Migrant Workers
TNP2K Tim Nasional Percepatan Penanggulangan Kemiskinan - National Team for the
Acceleration of Poverty Reduction
TNS Teon, Nila, Serua - a sub-district in Seram Island, Central Maluku, relocated settlement
of people from three volcanic small islands in the middle of Banda Sea since 1988
UNDP United Nations Development Program
UNESCO United Nations Education, Science and Cultural Organization
UNFPA United Nations Population Fund
UNICEF United Nations Children Fund
UNRISD United Nations Research Institute for Social Development
UPC Urban Poor Consortium
USAID United States Agency for International Development
WALHI Wahana Lingkungan Hidup Indonesia - Indonesian Environmental Forum (Indonesian
Friends of the Earth)
WCC Women’s Crisis Centre
YKP Yayasan Kesehatan Perempuan - Women’s Health Foundation
xviii | A JOURNEY AGAINST DEFEAT: Narratives of Women’s Rejection of Poverty

This book is a narrative with photographics depicting the
efforts of poor women who refuse to simply accept their
poverty. This is a tireless struggle, though the word ‘poor’
pursues them virtually throughout their lives – from one morning
to the next, from birth to old age.
At first, the book was going to describe impoverishment in Aceh
in the context of the conflict, the aftermath of the tsunami, and
the application of the Acehnese model of Islamic law (shari’a). I
worked in Aceh for many years, so I had the opportunity to listen
to the voices of Acehnese women, which rose higher whenever
they talked about the conflict, sexual violence, and policies
that unilaterally regulate how women should behave. But in a
discussion with Diani Sediawati --Director for Analysis of Laws
and Regulations in the National Development Planning Agency
(Badan Perencanaan Pembangunan Nasional - BAPPENAS) and
Co-Chair of the Board of the Australia-Indonesia Partnership
for Justice (AIPJ) - produced some important notes on the
need to map impoverishment, gender, and justice in a more
comprehensive way. The idea that we settled on was to conduct
research on gender, poverty and law enforcement. And as a result,
law enforcement issues in Aceh were no longer a specific study in
this book.
The narrative comes from our nine-month journey to eight
regions of the archipelago. I, the research team, and our
photographer, Armin Hari, stayed in each region, either together
or separately, for several weeks to explore the issues of poverty
and translate them into images and stories.
FOREWORD
The Journey of Compiling This Book
FOREWORD: The Journey of Compiling This Book | 1

The journey started in March 2013 on
the east coast of Samudra Pasai in Aceh.
Crossing the Sunda Strait, we traversed the
island of Java from Banten to Madura, then
continued to the eastern part of Indonesia
(see map). Throughout this journey, we
observed impoverishment as a process
associated with women’s loss of control over
land and a variety of economic resources, as
well as their loss of autonomy, which began
at the start of the era of ‘development’. We
noted the shift in women’s work from the
2 | A JOURNEY AGAINST DEFEAT: Narratives of Women’s Rejection of Poverty
500 km
N
Banda Aceh
Pasai
Aceh Besar
Jakarta
Serang
Sukabumi
Garut
Cianjur
Bandung
Pontianak
Bengkayang
Wonosari
Surabaya
Denpasar Mataram
Martap
Pangandaran
Kuningan
Madiun
Jember
Tabanan
Kubu Raya
Cirebon
Kampar
Jambi
LhoksukonTakengon
Bener Meuriah
INDIAN OCEAN
SOUTH CHINA SEA
JAVA SEA
Pasa

agriculture sector to the world of industry,
and then to some being trapped in the
informal sector or in other work with no
name in the big cities. They perform all
kinds of odd jobs, overlapping in ways
that are often difficult to define. And their
economic difficulties are only the most
obvious aspect of the many other problems
that make them lose their right to a decent,
dignified life.
In the east, our journey started in Bali,
with the shift in the use of land to the
Jeneponto
Ende
Noelbaki
pura
Makassar
Palu
Kulawi
Kendari
Muna
Ambon Haruku
Waipia
Main sites of research
Maumere Adonara
Sites of additional photographs
Mappi
Merauke
Polewali
Lembata
Kei
Wakatobi
Toraja
Sinjai
Palue Alor
Donggala
Gorontalo
THE MAP OF JOURNEY
PACIFIC OCEAN
BANDA SEA
ARAFURA SEA
SULAWESI SEA
Banggai
Minahasa
Jayapura
Gowa
angkayu

tourism industry and its extraordinarily
harsh, almost limitless consequences.
In West Nusa Tenggara (Nusa Tenggara
Barat - NTB) and East Nusa Tenggara
(Nusa Tenggara Timur - NTT), as well
as the practice of underage marriage,
we noted the powerful socioeconomic
changes caused by the emergence of a
generation of migrant workers. In Maluku,
as in Lombok, Flores, Timor, Madura, and
Aceh, we saw impoverishment caused by
conflict and disasters. We then travelled
through the interior of West and South
Kalimantan. We traced impoverishment
through the industrialisation of the forest
and the conversion of land into vast palm
oil plantations; we saw this in South and
Southeast Sulawesi and in Aceh as well.
For the purpose of gathering their stories,
we observed women, listened to their
experiences, and witnessed them facing
the process of impoverishment and the
ways they tried to escape this trap. We
did not simply ‘interview’ them; we lived
among them with empathy and patience
to understand their feelings that would
not otherwise be seen or heard. Although
research is our world, and taking pictures
that speak for themselves is the realm of
our photographer, it was not easy to achieve
this closeness. Changing our status from
‘outsiders’ to ‘insiders’ who were recognised
and accepted required specific expertise. Our
capital was our empathy and our willingness
to listen and to foster a certainty that the
information we were noting would not go to
waste.
During the journey, we were often
astounded, constantly shaking our heads,
unable to believe our eyes. We were amazed
how women laughed at the bitterness of their
lives. When they told us how their village
was attacked and burned and then how they
had to live as refugees, the women from a
conflict zone in Waipia, Central Maluku,
rolled with laughter as they told about how
their menfolk turned into cry-babies when
they had to flee; or they giggled as they
revealed the secrets of life in the barracks,
often in whispers:
Eee... how could I not get pregnant? Every
time the electricity went off, my husband
would kick my legs and invite me to go
to the public toilets with him. Sometimes
there would be someone there, so we had to
pretend to be washing clothes in the dark of
night, but as soon as they left, we’d hurry in
without locking the door!
In contrast, in Palu, Central Sulawesi, the
voice of sixty-seven year old Ibu Siha was
still trembling as she told the story of her
arrest forty-five years earlier when she was
assumed to be involved with GERWANI
(Gerakan Wanita Indonesia - a women’s
movement affiliated with the Indonesian
Communist Party). In thorough detail, as if
it had just happened yesterday, she recalled
the long days that made her spend half of
her life without the freedom to engage in
normal activities, even long after she was
‘released’. Her eyes welled up with tears as
she remembered the events in the barracks,
“Every day we had to find ways to avoid
being dragged from the barracks and into
the forest, like other women who returned

1
Ibu ‘Siha’, Interview, Palu, 28 September 2013.
2
Nani Zulminarni (National Coordinator,
PEKKA), personal communication with the author
(email), 25 June 2013.
with nothing left but their names.”1
These are
the kinds of stories this book hopes to tell.
Stories that are born from the experiences of
women who deserve to live a decent life just
like other citizens of this country.
***
This project was made possible thanks
to the Australia-Indonesia Partnership
for Justice (AIPJ), whose Board approved
funding support, and INSIST (Indonesian
Society for Social Transformation) --a
national network of NGOs and publishing
house based in Yogyakarta-- which willingly
served as a partner. Nani Zulminarni,
National Coordinator of the organisation
Empowerment of Women Heads of
Households (Pemberdayaan Kepala Keluarga
- PEKKA) provided a way for me to meet
with Nicola Colbran, AIPJ’s director when
this project was being initiated. Nani gave
me input on how this book should be
written:
Hey sis… I’ve read hundreds of books to
understand about poverty and gender,
and every time I read one, I wonder about
the PEKKA women in the villages: would
they be able to understand it? It’s not that
they’re unintelligent, but those books are too
complicated to understand. I want this book
to be read not only by activists and policy
makers, but also by those who are affected by
those policies.2
Since Nicola Colbran left AIPJ, her
replacement, Craig Ewers, has been a
discussion partner, and has given us the
confidence that we do in fact have adequate
knowledge to carry out this project. For
the technical aspects, Hilda Suherman,
Endang Suyatin, Junardi Nurlete and other
AIPJ staff members have been partners
who have always helped us graciously. In
terms of substance, I have been helped
tremendously by the work of Anne Lockley,
an AIPJ gender consultant who previously
conducted studies on gender and poverty
with the National Team for Accelerating
Poverty Reduction (Tim Nasional Percepatan
Penanggulangan Kemiskinan - TNP2K).
While the views expressed in this book are
the authors’, AIPJ has committed to bringing
the voices of justice seekers forward to guide
programming and ensure the Partnership
delivers benefits for women who are poor.
On the issue of legal services for poor
women and the issues handled by the
district courts and religious courts, our
primary resource was Mr. Wahyu Widiana,
former Director General of the Religious
Courts Agency (Badan Peradilan Agama
- BADILAG) of Supreme Court of the
Republic of Indonesia and now an advisor
to AIPJ. We also interviewed the heads
of district courts in Aceh, Bali, Cianjur,
Cibinong, Garut, and Maluku to explore
services which increased access for the
poor, as well as the heads of administrative
regions, such as regents and district heads,
and the heads of civil registry offices in
several locations who were engaged in joint
activities with the religious court judges for
integrated birth certificate services.
All who contributed their stories to this book

were aware of its objective. However, where
necessary for privacy and safety, names have
been changed. More than 100 women and
men were sources of information, at varying
levels of intensity. We involved a number
of local researchers, such as the PEKKA
network, Aisyiyah cadres, community
organisers, and local activists or university
researchers. Their involvement was critical
because of their broad knowledge about local
conditions, traditions, social and customary
institutions, local culture, and hidden
conflicts that lead to impoverishment.
For certain topics, we invited writers who
we feel have competence in their respective
fields: Reza Idria from State University of
Islamic Studies (Universitas Islam Negeri -
UIN) Ar-Raniry in Banda Aceh who wrote
about current political situation in Aceh and
its impact on poor women; Evelyn Suleeman
from the University of Indonesia shared
her understanding of statistical data on
women heads of households; Mayadina from
Indonesian Forum for Budget Transparency
(Forum Indonesia untuk Transparansi
Anggaran - FITRA) on budgeting issues;
Nurul Widyaningrum from Akatiga Center
for Social Analysis described the situation
of women in the informal sector; Mia
Siscawati from the Center for Anthropology
Studies at the University of Indonesia wrote
on the resistance of women in the oil palm
plantations; and Saleh Abdullah of INSIST
on impoverishment due to issues of religious
fundamentalism. Some of their articles are
presented in full; others we reprocessed, with
their permission, to fit into the overall flow
of the narration.
We also invited a number of activists to
contribute articles relating their experience
or knowledge about the institutions where
they operate, such as Nani Zulminarni on
PEKKA; Ninik Rahayu on the National
Commission on Violence against Women
(Komisi Nasional - KOMNAS Perempuan);
Syarifah Rahmatillah of MISPI (Mitra
Sejati Perempuan Indonesia - True Partner
of Indonesian Women) on the regulations
on empowerment of poor women in Aceh;
Nurul Saadah from the Advocacy Centre
for Difable Women and Children (Sentra
Advokasi Perempuan Difabel dan Anak
- SAPDA) on women with disabilities;
Imelda Bachtiar on violence against women
policies; Vincent Sangu from the Flores
Institute for Resources and Development
(FIRD) on women and the environment;
and Nursyida Syam from Women’s Reading
Club (Klub Baca Perempuan) Lombok on
the empowerment of the children of women
migrant workers.
In addition, a number of experts were
involved from the outset to provide feedback
on the raw manuscript and while we were
still in the field, such as activist Myra
Diarsi, Professor Saparinah Sadli, researcher
Nurul Agustina, Ita Fatia Nadia from UN
Women, senior Kompas journalist Maria
Hartiningsih, literary activist Zubaidah
Djohar, and legal researcher Bivitri Susanti.
Our biggest challenge however was not
in the field, but rather how the truth of
women’s experiences could be voiced.
Qualitative studies are often perceived
as merely anecdotal, from which overall
truth cannot be drawn. Therefore, as noted
ARMINHARI

by Kamala Chandrakirana – a women’s
and human rights activist and one of the
founders of PEKKA – qualitative data must
be used to bring the quantitative data on
women’s poverty to life.3
In other words,
without providing meaning qualitatively,
quantitative data are simply mute numbers.
In Bogor, where I live, the work of processing
and interpreting quantitative poverty
data was assisted by researchers from the
Human Ecology Faculty, Department of
Science, Communication and Community
Development of Bogor Institute of
Agriculture (Institut Pertanian Bogor -
IPB), especially Fredian Tonny. In the
field, we were assisted by researchers with
deep experience in ethnographic methods,
such as Ishak Salim, Hasriadi Ary, Nanda
Amelia, Nurhady Sirimorok, Mutti Anggitta
and as well as several assistants, such as
Billah Yuhadian, Boris Adivarrahman and
Raisa Sugiri. For financial matters, we had
Fransiska Weki Bheri and the administrative
staff from Rumah Kita Bersama and INSIST’s
Secretariate in Yogyakarta.
The manuscript in Indonesian was read and
critiqued by a number of experts. But Anwar
Jimpe Rachman and Ismed Natsir has been
our diligent editor who has patiently dealt
with the many drafts and revisions. For the
English version, I am greatly indebted to
Edward Thornton, and Anne Lockley, who
agreed to be my co-writer. Anne has served
as an editor who is not just patient but also
agreed to be hard-hearted in trimming down
narratives that wanted to include every
possible detail. She showed extraordinary
patience, since the manuscript in Indonesian
was not always easy to translate.
The final draft of the manuscript was then
reviewed again and processed into a book by
Roem Topatimasang from INSIST.
***
3
Chandrakirana, Kamala, ‘Keynote speech,
PEKKA Third National Forum.’ Grand Cempaka
Hotel, Jakarta, 26 November 2013.
Excerpts from the journey of compiling this book: Lies Marcoes at the initial planning
workshop in Yogyakarta (LEFT); interviewing local resource persons in Aceh (CENTER); and
landed in Palue Island, NTT (RIGHT).

The book consists of five parts, divided into
fifteen chapters.
Part One starts with an introduction that
explains the what and why of the book, after
which the reader is invited to understand
the gender constructs that give rise to
impoverishment.
The next several chapters of Part Two follow
the stages of the life cycle. In each we have
inserted examples of good practices from the
field.
In Part Three we show the forms of gender-
based discrimination in the productive
years in different sectors. It continues by
examining poverty in old age.
Part Four portrays various efforts to break
through the obstacles, such as law and justice
efforts and policy change.
The narrative is concluded with the reflective
final notes in Part Five.
Thus, we show a variety of extraordinary,
persistent efforts by women who experience
systematic impoverishment. For us, this

perseverance proves that they do have the
awareness to resist this gender injustice – in
their own ways, with their own power, they
resist defeat. This book depicts the variety
of women’s efforts: falling down and getting
up again, trying to find a way out, with an
almost unimaginable resilience. The book
shows how women reject, resist, and conquer
their impoverishment. Some survive; some
give up, but rarely easily. Many women
are crushed by poverty, but quite a few do
find escape routes, through building their
capacity, organising, joining movements and
networks. These efforts may be driven by
instinct, a natural mechanism for survival,
or by a critical awareness that creates their
action – their ‘agency’.
***
We hope that this book will serve as a
reference for policy makers to see the
extraordinary struggles of women from all
corners of the country. Through this book,
policy makers can see how gender inequality
operates and, with the power in their hands,
how they can affect change. If this can
happen, the unnecessary poverty of millions
of people can be overcome.
Ultimately, this book needs to be understood
as a ‘journey of the heart.’ The narratives tell
about a country that could not possibly exist
without the presence of women who refuse
to be bowed down by poverty.v
BETAPETTAWARANIE

Hayat is twenty-five years old. She married young,
to a former Free Aceh Movement (Gerakan Aceh
Merdeka - GAM) combatant from a nearby village.
In 2009, when she was pregnant with her second child, Hayat
took her husband to the hospital, where he died, diagnosed
with AIDS. Through Hayat, the virus has been transmitted
to her children. The local people learned about the diagnosis
from the health officers who dealt with her husband’s remains.
Hayat and her children now live with the stigma. The older
child, for example, was almost not allowed to start primary
school because the school was worried that the other pupils’
parents would object to their having a classmate with HIV.4
Although she looks healthy, Hayat is frail, with tuberculosis of
the lungs. She is unable to earn a living because she has to care
for her children. She survives thanks to her father, who farms
a small plot of land. They live in Hayat’s house – a wooden
house with an earth floor – given to her by her foster mother.
4
According to information from the NAD (Nanggroe Aceh Darussalam)
Support Group (25 July 2013), following advocacy and lobbying by the
Aceh AIDS Mitigation Committee and the NAD Support Group as well
as extensive media coverage, Hayat’s older daughter has now started
primary school.
INTRODUCTION
A Journey Against Defeat

lives in a prosperous rice-farming region
in the interior of Aceh. Her parents used to
own enough land to live comfortably from
farming. But year by year, the area of their
farm shrank. When Hayat was very young,
she was adopted by some childless relatives.
She later inherited a house and some land
from her late adoptive mother, who had no
children of her own, but the men from that
family sued in court to regain the property.
Hayat had no legal power other than the
testimony of neighbours that she had
lovingly cared for her adoptive mother. She
also missed the opportunity for schooling,
because their home was in the heart of the
conflict zone. Her stepmother didn’t allow
her to go far from the house, or to meet
her prospective husband until the day they
married. She was eighteen at the time,
mature enough to evaluate a prospective
husband. From the marriage, she received a
dowry of fifteen grams of gold jewellery, and
a deadly virus.
INTRODUCTION: A Journey Against Defeat | 13
After it was battered by the tsunami, peace
came to Aceh, but not to Hayat’s family. Her
mother mostly just sat and stared into space
after her home was burned down during the
conflict. Her father often flew into rages.
Unlike Hayat, who only finished junior high,
her younger sister Rima graduated from high
school, as did their brother Nurdin. But they
have to make their living by farming. Rima
has to care for her mother, who has also
contracted tuberculosis. Like Hayat, Rima
and her mother also bear the stigma of HIV.
When they go out, Rima and her mother
prefer to ford the river rather than cross the
village bridge; they can’t stand the suspicious
stares of their neighbours. Nurdin feels
rejected by the community, often slamming
the door in front of Hayat.
Hayat’s fate might not have been quite so
bad if she had not contracted HIV, although
the Acehnese conflict alone was enough to
make many women like her lose access to
resources and fall deeper into poverty. Hayat

Hayat has not accepted her fate. Through her
acquaintance with the Aceh HIV support group,
she is now a member of the People Living with
HIV and AIDS network, and she knows the
HIV specialist doctors in Aceh. Her knowledge
about HIV and AIDS has given her the strength
and courage to admit openly that she and her
two children are living with the virus, despite
the heavy stigma involved. When the school
was trying to refuse admission to her daughter,
Hayat resisted by explaining the process of how
HIV is transmitted, giving the example of her
younger sister who is still negative. She says that
it’s pointless for Aceh to try to hide from reality,
because the number of people living with HIV
and AIDS continues to rise.5
Financially, Hayat has no alternative but carry
on with what she has. When she needs money,
she pawns her fruit and coconuts in turn
and then redeems them after the harvest. If
necessary, she sells the fruit in advance, when
it is still green on the tree. She says there’s no
point in crying about the situation. She has to
think about her children and help them survive.
Hayat’s story is a map in miniature of the
problems of impoverished women. They have
been conditioned in a situation without choices.
5
Yuslindarwati, activist of NAD Support Group,
interview, Banda Aceh, 5 April 2013.
Hayat’s story is just one of the dozens of
women’s experiences documented in this
book, and of the millions throughout
this country. These stories are witnesses
to how various institutions, values,
practices and social situations work to
create impoverishment through gender
discrimination.
Hayat’s daughter can go to school now,
but she doesn’t have any friends. Iva
playing by herself below the house
inherited from her step-grandmother.

BORISADIVARRAHMAN
A journey to explore the meaning
and experience of women’s
impoverishment
In this book, the words poor and poverty
represent social facts that can be seen and
measured by studying the phenomena,
data and information that are available.
In contrast, impoverishment is the social
and political process that creates situations
leading to poverty. Poverty can happen
to, and be experienced by, anyone, while
impoverishment is caused by the political
choices made by decision makers – their
vision and policies about the economy,
development, management of resources and

how they are distributed.6
Poverty is often measured using only
economic factors – such as productivity,
access to capital, business management
and consumption. Such an approach
ignores other factors that affect women’s
ability to prosper, such as their low social
status, gender bias in development, limited
opportunities for employment and income,
cultural factors and values, violence, and
violations of the law. Therefore, to address
poverty, economic empowerment alone will
not suffice. Economic empowerment must
be linked to social and legal empowerment
that is sensitive to the imbalanced relations
between men and women, to the reality
of social inequality, and the differences in
people’s abilities.
This book deliberately uses the term
impoverishment. Our exploration shows
that for many women, the values, social
processes, institutions and discriminatory
practices that systematically marginalise
them and exclude them from economic,
social and political resources, are what
makes them poorer. Our most striking
observation from our travels across
Indonesia for this project was that the
impoverishment of women often occurs
in parallel with the growth of the national
economy.
The experience of impoverishment differs
for men and women, but men’s experience
7
Razavi, Shahra (1998), ‘Gendered Poverty and
Social Change: An Issues Paper,’ Discussion Paper
No 94. UNRISD, p.ii.
is often more recognised and acknowledged
because of their status as ‘head of the
household’ and ‘main breadwinner’. It is
often assumed that helping poor men will
automatically also help their families – their
wives and children, without considering that
the needs of men are not always the same
as those of women, or that not all women
are financially supported by men. Women
experience different effects because they
already experience discrimination based on
their sex, gender roles or marital status, and
their social class. In fact, poor women are
squeezed from two sides: because they are
poor, and because they are women.
In the language of development, all of
these problems are known by the term
‘gender injustice’. And to address these
problems, experts use an analytical tool and
development work tool: gender analysis.
Gender analysis enables us to expose
the social constructs that lie behind the
impoverishment of males and females. As
was expressed by Shahra Razavi more than
a decade ago, we begin “...from the position
that the gender analysis of poverty is not
so much about whether women suffer
more from poverty than men, but rather
about how gender differentiates the social
processes leading to poverty, and the escape
routes out of destitution.”7
The term ‘gender’ has been known in
Indonesia for over a quarter of a century. It
must be mentioned that the term does not
refer to women. Rather, it relates to women6
Thanks to Professor Soedradjad Djiwandono
who explained the meanings of poverty and
impoverishment epistemologically. The distinction
between the two has guided me in understanding
the issues of each.

8
The Draft Law (bill) on Gender Justice and
Equality was an initiative of the National
Parliament (Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat Republik
Indonesia - DPR-RI) as an effort to increase the
government’s responsibility to eliminate the gap
between men and women. The bill encountered
widespread rejection, including from Majelis
Intelektual dan Ulama Muda Indonesia (MIUMI
- the Indonesian Council of Young Intellectuals
and Ulama), the intellectual wing of Hizbut
Tahrir Indonesia (HTI) and members of some
mass organisations. The bill entered the DPR-
RI in August 2011 and the deliberations remain
ongoing.
in the context of their social relationships
and power relations. For the purposes of this
book, gender is defined as our – people’s
– ideas about the different characteristics,
roles, values and opportunities of men and
women that are created by, and create, their
social environment.
We have recently observed an emergent
rejection of anything using the name gender.
For example, the draft Law on Gender
Equality and Justice (Rancangan Undang-
undang Keadilan & Kesetaraan Gender
- RUU KKG), intended to serve as a legal
basis for implementing development that is
fair for women, as well as to men, remains
contested.8
Opponents of the Law argue
that gender justice is not just an imported
ideology, but a threat to the structure of the
family and disruptive to family values. They
espouse the view that imbalanced gender
relations are normal, that inequality is the
law of harmony – some are weak, some are
strong. Further, they fear the challenge to
the sources of values perpetuating inequality
in religion and culture, and insist that male
dominance is a law of nature, or the will of
God.9
Within this context, we designed our
research to focus on women’s experiences
and knowledge; to understand how
prevailing views and structures look and feel
from women’s perspectives. We undertook
participatory research, always with a gender
lens, across the life cycle of women. Our
data was collected using the ‘women-speak’
approach, an approach long known in
feminist research. It allows women’s voices to
be heard and to serve as the main source of
information. Through in-depth interviews,
listening to women’s stories, and empathising
with their life experiences, ‘women-speak’
aims to avoid the bias from the ‘authoritative
holders of the truth’, usually men, who
have always been the central sources of
information.
Of course, this does not mean that we have
ignored men as a source of information.
‘Women-speak’ is based on a conviction
that women’s own experiences are valid as
truth, and so we examine other information
from women’s perspectives, and not the
reverse.10
v
9
Several members of the drafting team who
rejected the bill came from universities such as
IPB or were graduates of universities in the Middle
East. Those in the parliament who reject the idea
of gender equality regularly use their arguments.
10
Regarding feminist research methods, see
Reinharz, Shulami (2005), Metode-Metode Feminis
dalam Penelitian Sosial (Feminist Methods in
Social Research). Jakarta: Women’s Research
Institute.

BETAPETTAWARANIE
BETAPETTAWARANIE

Gender,
Girls and
Poor Families
PART ONE

A Lullaby
for the Children1
Sonya is only four years old, but unlike most other
toddlers, she and her younger brother are helping their
mother, Irene, carry water. Irene just giggles when
she’s asked about Sonya’s birth certificate. The question is
unimaginable; even about food for today, she has no answer.
Along with hundreds of other refugees from East Timor, Irene
has been living at the refugee complex at Noelbaki Terminal,
Kupang, for fourteen years.11
No one knows how much longer
they’ll be there. Irene just thinks day to day about taking care
of her three children while her husband does odd jobs at the
terminal.
Today the water pump near Irene’s house – or rather hut – isn’t
working. This has happened regularly the whole time they’ve
been living there. The agency that is supposed to deal with
11
From 1976 to 1999, East Timor (now the Republic of Timor Leste)
was the 27th province of the Republic of Indonesia, but tension and
violence continued in the region. With United Nations approval,
East Timor held a referendum on 30 August 1999. A majority of East
Timor’s residents voted to secede from Indonesia. Following the
referendum, there was a wave of physical and sexual violence until
UN peacekeeping troops arrived in September 1999. Pro-integration
residents fled to Indonesian territory. Since that time, thousands of
refugees – mostly women and children – have been living in barracks
in Noelbaki, Naibonat, and Tupukan, Kupang. Some are now living in
permanent housing, but others are still living in poor conditions in
refugee camps.

Anita da Costa, an East
Timorese refugee in her hut
at the refugee complex in
Noelbaki, Kupang, NTT.
the refugees never comes by anymore. Whenever public
facilities are out of order, the refugees have to fix them
themselves. Two young men have been going around
trying to collect funds for the repairs, but no one can
afford to contribute.
In order to have money for food, several women sell
vegetables in Noelbaki Market. One of them is Anita da
Costa, a mother of two. Once every two days, she buys up
a ready-to-pick crop of water spinach or nappa cabbage
ARMINHARI
PART ONE: Gender, Girls and Poor Families | 21

for 100,000 rupiah or more. Irene and
another neighbour help Anita. They work
all afternoon and into the night. The next
day, before dawn, they take the vegetables
to the market. If they sell everything, Anita
earns a profit of 25,000 to 30,000 rupiah.
Irene and her friend will get 5,000 to 10,000
rupiah each. That is what they live on each
day. Their husbands’ income, if there is any,
gets spent on cigarettes and moke – locally
produced alcohol.
This is why whenever the water pump breaks
down, they have to wait several days until
enough donations have been collected,
especially if spare parts are needed. So
today, Irene, with the help of Sonya and her
little brother David, is carrying water from
another well further away. Sonya has to make
several trips, because David can only carry
the empty jerry cans because he’s only two.
***
Sonya – an East Timorese refugee girl at the Noelbaki refugee camp, Kupang. When the water pump
is out of order, she helps her mother carry water from a source further away.

Salsabila quickly changes out of her red and
white school uniform. She is still sweaty
from the walk home.
From their rocky yard, her grandmother
shouts at her to quickly eat and wash the
dishes. Salsa lives with her grandmother in
Gegutu hamlet, Sayang-Sayang village, West
Lombok. Today Grandma needs more stones
split than usual.
Salsa is nine years old and in the third grade.
Her mother is a migrant worker, and has
not come home after two years working in
Kuwait. Salsa’s parents divorced long ago.
Her father is also a migrant worker, said
to be working in Malaysia. So Salsa and
her older brother are cared for by their
grandmother, the stone splitter.
“Just helping out, rather than playing,” Salsa’s
grandmother replies when asked about
her granddaughter helping to split stones.
But Salsa’s hands are already calloused.
Obviously, this is not playing around, and
Salsabilla helping her grandmother split rock with a
hammer as long as her arm.

not just for a day or two. For splitting the
stones, they receive 2,000 rupiah per large
tub. Each day, they can split up to ten or
twelve tubs. When there is an urgent need,
as on this day, grandma has to split up to
fifteen tubs of stones, with Salsa’s help.
***
The stories of Sonya and Salsa are everyday
stories. All around us, it’s easy to find girls
like them. Stories such as these show us the
different impacts that poverty has on boys
and on girls, and how gender constructs start
from childhood. In poor families, it is not
just the adults who work. Boys and girls are
given different duties and authority, and this
is normal, since in every culture, children
are raised in line with society’s expectations,
ARMINHARI
including the expectation that they will be
children who are devoted to their parents. In
many cultures, working to help the parents
is seen not as a burden, but as much better
than playing. And in fact, for children of
poor families, it is difficult to distinguish
play from work.
***
Nabila is the oldest child of Malik and
Atikah. They live in Namo village, Kulawi,
in Central Sulawesi. Nabila is thirteen now,
but still in the fifth grade. It’s not that she
isn’t clever, but she has missed some grades.
When other children her age started primary
school, Nabila had to take care of her twin
sisters, Aisyah and Aminah.
Nabila’s brother Husein, one year younger
than her, started school when he was six.
But Atikah needed Nabila to help with
the housework. Only with this help could
Atikah go to the cacao plantation or help her
husband gather rattan from the forest. Once
the twins were old enough to be left alone,
Nabila was able to start school.
But when she started the third grade, her
mother got pregnant again and Nabila had to
take a break from school. Even now that her
younger siblings are fairly self-reliant, Nabila
continues to take over her mother’s work, so
she often has to miss classes.
The family is very poor. They probably
wouldn’t eat if Malik and Atikah missed
even just one day’s work. Every day, they go
into the forest to gather rattan, firewood to
sell and pandan leaves for weaving mats, or
work cutting grass. Like their neighbours,
they have a small plot of cacao trees, but in
Indira is only four. She studies in a pre-school in
Nagrak, Cisarua, Sukabumi, West Java. According
to her parents, Indira has been invited to the
vegetable garden to ‘play’ while watching her
younger sister or helping to pick tomatoes.
ARMINHARI

the past few years, the cacao crops have been unreliable,
so when there is no harvest, it’s not just their family
that is affected, but the whole village. And when there’s
no harvest, there’s no extra work for day labourers like
Malik and Atikah. Given this situation, Nabila has to
help the family so her mother can go into the forest.
So it’s not surprising that she is still in primary school,
while her age-mates are already in junior high.
While her mother works in the
plantation, Nabila has been running
the house and caring for her twin
sisters, Aisyah and Aminah, since
they were babies.

ARMINHARI
ARMINHARI
BOYS & GIRLS BOTH WORK
Boys and girls in poor families often have to help earn
money. “For Mum,” they say, to explain how the money is
used. And for this same reason, parents in poor families
often allow their children not to go to school, or force them
to quit school.
GALLERY 1 Children, Gender Construction & Work

ARMINHARI
ARMINHARIBETAPETTAWARANIE
GIRLS HELP THEIR MOTHERS, SO DO BOYS
The work that boys do to help their parents - herding
livestock, gathering firewood, and carrying water -
can usually also be done by girls. But washing dishes,
doing laundry, and caring for children are seen as
suitable only for girls.

BETAPETTAWARANIE
ARMINHARIARMINHARI
WORK FOR GIRLS
AND THE PROCESS OF SOCIALISING GENDER ROLES
Female responsibility for running the household is internalised
through play related to housework starting in early childhood.
In contrast, the role of males as breadwinners is not usually
related to their play, except to build constructs of masculinity
through games such as ‘playing war’.

violence against children: bad living
conditions, unequal power relations
between the parents, a wife’s economic
dependence on her husband, and
the collective neglect of children
from poor families. These factors
also decrease the likelihood of early
detection of abuse.14
Sexual violence against girls in poor
families is often associated with the
‘cultural’ obligations imposed on
them.
They are expected to give in or to
serve their parents in different ways
from what is expected of boys. Being
forced into marriage at an early age
or even being deliberately sold into
prostitution – these things only
happen to girls, though boys from
poor families also have to help earn a
living in very harsh ways.
It’s worse for girls with disabilities.
The organisation Rifka Annisa in
Yogyakarta notes that since 2003,
court cases of sexual violence against
girls with disabilities have increased
from two cases in 2004, to four in
2008 and then eight in 2011.15
This is
also noted by institutions that work12
The National Child Protection Commission
(Komisi Perlindungan Anak Indonesia - KPAI)
suggests that the lack of space in poor families’
homes contributes to incest. In many cases, incest
occurs when the wife is working outside the
home or as a migrant worker. Through subjection
of the daughter, or by creating a feeling of guilt
because her mother has left the family to work, the
daughter is asked to sacrifice herself by servicing
her father’s sexual needs. (Badriyah Fayumi, KPAI,
interview. Jakarta, 17 June 2013).
13
Lies Marantika, Yayasan Humanum, interview.
Ambon, 12 July 2013.
14
Pusat Studi Wanita Universitas Indonesia
(2013), ‘Kekerasan Seksual di Lembaga
Pendidikan di Wilayah Depok’ (Sexual
Violence in Educational Institutions in
the Depok Area). Jakarta: PSW UI. Field
report document.
15
Data from Rifka Annisa 2011, Director
of Rifka Annisa, interview, Yogyakarta, 12
September 2013.
BETAPETTAWARANIEARMINHARI
The practices of exploitation and
discrimination may start here. Though they
all experience poverty, from an early age
girls typically bear greater burdens than their
brothers. And in the most extreme cases
such as incest, girls replace their mothers in
fulfilling the sexual needs of their fathers.12
Since the conflict, we’ve opened this Safe
House here (Ambon). Many wives have
been victims of violence by their husbands
who have lost their jobs. Girls are victims of
sexual violence by their fathers or stepfathers.
Often the mother knows about it, but in a
refugee camp situation she is powerless to
do anything about it; the burden of making
a living is too great to bear alone. The
daughter is often asked to keep quiet, or even
threatened by her mother not to speak up.
And the girl obeys, because she has no one
else in the refugee camp but her mother. This
kind of situation makes the assistance process
at the Safe House very difficult. The daughter
and the mother may ‘conspire’ to cover up the
cruelty of the father or stepfather, even when
the child is showing clear signs of mental
distress.13
Although this phenomenon occurs in
all social strata, in poor families the
conditions are more conducive to sexual

ARMINHARI
Girls from poor families in refugee barracks
such as in (ABOVE), or in dense slums such as
in (BELOW) are most vulnerable to violence and
sexual crimes, even by those closest to them
(family and relatives).
16
Yayasan SAPDA has handled several cases
of students at special needs schools who have
experienced sexual violence by teachers or
dormitory caretakers. SAPDA has compiled a
guide for handling such cases. (Nurul Saadah of
SAPDA, interview, 9 April 2013).
17
Yeni Rosa Damayanti, interview, 18 February
2013. Ms. Damayanti has handled case of sexual
violence involving girls with mental illness who
were kept in restraints.
specifically with people with disabilities,
such as SAPDA,16
and most violence never
gets reported to courts.
One of the most difficult issues in
preventing violence against children with
disabilities is the lack of awareness of
the law. For this reason, reports of such
violence are often ignored, even by the
children’s own families. In some cases, the
children are blamed, or their families for
failing to protect them. And in some cases,
girls with mental illness are seen as sexually
deviant, so when they experience sexual
violence, the act is not considered a crime
and the perpetrator is not investigated.17

Mila in Court
Majid, Mila’s father, originally worked
in a sawmill. After his land was
expropriated for the expansion of oil palm
plantations in East Aceh, the sawmill shut
down and Majid was unemployed. He might
have worked in the oil palm plantation, but
the plantation wanted new, sturdier workers.
Majid, a man of frail build, accepted his fate.
Then there was another unexpected tragedy:
Mila’s mother Marliyah was paralysed on
one side after the birth of her youngest
ZULFAND.MUHAMMAD
child. She had suffered from anaemia and malnutrition during her pregnancy. Rather
than dealing with the problem, Mila’s father just took off and is now driving a becak in
Medan. Marliyah was left alone with her children: two boys and one girl.
Since she was partly paralysed, Marliyah could only work for her mother or her sister,
earning just one serving of food. To reduce the burden, she put Mila in the care of her
older sister. But because the sister also had several dependents, she then passed Mila on
to a childless couple who she thought would be suitable as Mila’s foster parents. Marliyah
wanted her children to be able to go to school and have enough to eat. They only wanted
Mila, because boys could not be relied on to take care of the house. Mila was only six at
the time.
As was revealed in the court hearings, Mila started to experience sexual violence when
she was just seven years old. The acts were only disclosed in late 2012, shortly after Mila
had her first menstrual period. When the trial took place, Mila was twelve. Before five
men in black robes - the panel of judges, the defence attorney and the prosecutor – Mila
told in the local language about what she had seen, heard and felt from the indecent
treatment by her stepfather.v
The poverty experienced by children is
often ‘solved’ in simple, ad hoc ways such
as placing them with relatives, neighbours
or other families. While many of these do
provide suitable care and education, as if
for their own children, such arrangements
are also often used as a form of concealed
slavery. Foster children are treated as unpaid
servants and not given an education. The
case of Mila in Aceh illustrates this problem.

19
Judge D.S. Dewi, interview. Cibinong, 3 July
2013. For more, see Dewi, D.S. and Syukur F.A
(2011), Mediasi Penal: Penerapan Restorative
Justice di Pengadilan Anak Indonesia (Penal
Mediation: Application of Restorative Justice in
Children’s Courts in Indonesia). Jakarta: Indie
Publishing.
of the child, whether they are the accused or
the victim, rather than applying retributive
punishment.19
For girls who have experienced sexual
violence, the priority is to protect them from
repeated trauma. A sensitive approach needs
to go beyond their status as children. In a
society that considers sexuality an aspect
of honour, these girls bear a tremendous
burden. In the various localities where she
has served, Judge Dewi tries to provide
child-friendly court facilities such as a child-
friendly courtroom, a child-friendly waiting
room, a mediation room, and teleconference
facilities so that the child and the accused do
not have to meet in person.
It is also important that if a court does not
have special judges dedicated to children’s
cases, regular judges are instructed to
avoid using any language, gestures or wear
costumes that would intimidate children or
make them feel guilty or dirty. To this end,
it is most effective to appoint a panel of
judges who understand the particular issues
surrounding sexual violence against children.
Above all, according to Judge Dewi, it is
also essential to approach the child’s parents
so that they do not make his or her mental
state even worse through actions intended
to smooth over the situation. For example,
18
In the records of cases involving children in
the Cibinong Court in 2013, there were nine
cases with children as perpetrators and 31 with
children as victims, 28 of which were cases of
sexual violence against girls, with adult men as
perpetrators in 25 cases, and boys as perpetrators
against girls in three cases.
Sexual violence and exploitation are just
a few examples of how girls are more
vulnerable than boys in poverty.
This situation can only be understood with
appropriate analytical tools that expose
inequality between males and females, boys
and girls, and the vulnerability that this
causes. And it is not impossible to do this. A
number of legal institutions have undertaken
such efforts.
Judge D.S. Dewi - Deputy Presiding Judge of
the Cibinong District Court, West Java - has
long been concerned with children’s issues.
She described the efforts by legal institutions
to be more sensitive toward children facing
the law. She notes that in several locations
where she has worked – Bale Endah in
Bandung, Stabat in North Sumatra – the
numbers of boys and girls facing legal
cases has been rising. Apart from theft and
physical violence, the most prominent cases
are sexual violence, whether perpetrated by
adults or child-to-child.18
Judge Dewi, and leading legal figures such
as Supreme Court Justice Bismar Siregar,
Supreme Court Justice Mariani and other
pioneers in children’s courts, consider
that in cases involving children it is far
more appropriate to apply an approach of
restorative justice that improves the situation

Judge Dewi at the Cibinong District Court deciding
a case granting a child’s birth certificate, before
the issuance of Supreme Court Circular 6/2013
on determination of status of children for birth
certificates, which no longer requires a court decision.
ARMINHARI
she rejects efforts by families to urge
the (adult) perpetrator of sexual
violence to marry the child as an out-
of-court settlement. Such a solution,
she says, is only concerned with the
interests of the adults, and ignores
the suffering of the child. For girls
with special needs, Judge Dewi places
the obligation on the state to provide
experts who understand the issues
without prejudice, and avoid depriving
the child of their fundamental human
rights, because of their disability.
With a legal system sensitive to the
needs of boy and girl children and
law enforcers who are also sensitive
to gender issues, a degree of justice
for girls like Mila can be achieved.
But law enforcement does not exist
in a vacuum. In a society that still
prioritises boys, achieving a social
system that is fair toward girls is an
equally important struggle. Through
this struggle, the fate of girls like
Sonya, Salsa and Nabila can changed.
If only Indonesia had more leaders
like Judge Dewi, more sensitive toward
gender injustice in development,
children and women would be
protected in court and society, they
would be protected from unnecessary
impoverishment.v
ARMINHARI

Growing-up
Unequal2
In many of the poor families we visited, daughters are
considered important, but sons are where the family pins
its hope. Differential treatment of boys and girls is inherent
in various elements of culture: fables, legends, folktales, social
practices, inheritance traditions, and in the market and politics.
Ibu Lilis, a Sundanese woman who works as a tea processing
forewoman at the Goalpara plantation in Sukabumi, West Java,
explained it symbolically: “Lalaki mah panjang lengkahna pikeun
jaga nulung ka indung” (Males have longer steps to help their
mothers). Girls, she feels, have ‘short steps’, tied down by their
children, their families, their households, or their home villages.
Yet neither of Ibu Lilis’s sons is actually able to help her; both
are far away. Wahyu is working as a primary school teacher in
Jambi, and her youngest child, Acep, drives a minibus in another
city. Even now that she is retired and worn by age, only her
eldest daughter, Enik is there to help.
Before Lilis retired, Enik worked as a housewife, but she was
very busy with two children to take care of. Enik also helps Lilis
run her household, cooks for her father, gathers firewood, and
takes care of her nephew, Wahyu’s son, who stays with Lilis.
Every day Enik takes Wahyu’s son to and from kindergarten.

Women workers at the Goalpara
tea plantation, Sukabumi, West
Java picking and weighing the
crop. They work in the plantation
all day, going home as evening
approaches.
When the tea plants are producing buds and the tea
processing runs into the night, Enik takes over all of Lilis’s
household duties, with no help from her two brothers.
Just as in well-off families, in poor families the perceptions
about children are not always static. The idea of the
superiority of boys is often normative, but this normative
assumption can become reality when it is established in
tradition, practiced through religious and other beliefs, and
moves into ideals. Mak Itoh, an itinerant food vendor in
Cukulur, Serang, Banten,20
explains:

ARMINHARI
“If the child is a boy, the gift to the
traditional midwife is different, and the
payment is also higher. The gift to the
midwife is complete, with chicken or at least
eggs, not just tofu, tempe (soybean cake),
srundeng (fried grated coconut pulp) and
steamed vegetables. If it’s a boy, the midwife
says the massage has to be harder, and
assisting the birth takes more energy.”
Such higher ‘value’ for boys applies not
just in traditional medical practices, but
also in health care. In the negeri (village) of
Waru, Teon Nila Serua sub-district, Central
Maluku, for example, the fee for giving birth
to a boy is 200,000 to 300,000 rupiah higher
than for a girl. The midwife justifies this
by saying that more medicine is needed to
induce the birth of a boy, though she also
admits there is no link between the difficulty
20
Since Multatuli published Max Havelaar in
1860, poverty has continued to haunt the people
of Banten. Most of the population of 10.6 million
(5.4 million males and 5.9 million females)
live below the poverty line. Central Agency of
Statistics (Badan Pusat Statistik - BPS) data
indicate that the poor population of Banten in
March 2013 was 656,243 – an increase of 7,989
from the previous quarter. One obvious clearest
poverty indicator is the high Maternal Mortality
Rate – the highest on the island of Java. Becoming
a migrant worker is the likeliest work option for
women from Banten, due to their low educational
level. The shift in land use from agriculture to
industry has eliminated job opportunities for
uneducated farmers and farm workers. Factories
also employ many women, at the lowest wages.
In gender terms, this situation has caused a
deterioration of the socioeconomic conditions of
women, in a province led by a female governor,
Ratu Atut Chosiah – who, at the time this book
was written, was under investigation by the
Corruption Eradication Commission (Komisi
Pemberantasan Korupsi - KPK) for cases of
suspected corruption and abuse of authority.
21
From a focus group discussion with women
organised by Yayasan Pasuri - a local based NGO
member of Baileo Maluku Network - in Waru
Village, TNS Subdistrict, Central Maluku, 9 July
2013.
of the delivery and the sex of the baby.21
The most logical reason for this favouring
of boys, is that they are expected to later
become the protectors of their families, or
to provide a livelihood and keep the family
from falling further into poverty. Changing
labour patterns and less certainty of male
employment has not automatically altered
this prioritisation of sons. The rituals and
traditions ensuring the superiority of sons
are maintained.
In Sundanese and Javanese Muslim
traditions, sons receive special treatment
starting with the kekahan or thanksgiving
ceremony for their birth - two goats are
slaughtered for a boy, just one for a girl. A
boy undergoes a gusaran ritual before being
circumcised. The stages in this ritual, such as
ibak (bathing), dangdos (dressing), diparas
Mak Itoh in her kitchen.
ARMINHARI

(shaving), and saweran (the boy being showered
with turmeric, rice, candy, and small change)
contain symbols that confirm the masculinity of
boys. In some areas of West Java, the gusaran is
also performed for daughters, with the stages of
the ritual confirming the femininity of girls.
In poor families, the birth of a son is considered
a blessing only for a reason that would seem
very simple to most people: bringing home the
cooked food parcels known as ‘berkat’ from a
selamatan – the congratulatory ceremony only
done for boys:
Gusaran ritual in a vegetable growing
region of Lembang, Bandung, led by a
female paraji (midwife). Even in a simple
ceremony, gender constructions on how
a boy should behave are perpetuated.
During the ritual, the paraji conveys
advice through a song in Sundanese that
stresses how the boy must later become
a noble hero.

ARMINHARI
It’s great to have sons; you can go to a
selamatan and bring home berkat. We can eat
berkat for seven evenings when a neighbour
has a selamatan. And here, people have
selamatan almost every day, especially in the
months of Rejeb, Mulud, and Haji. I couldn’t
get any berkat because all my children are
girls. I’m a widow and don’t have any sons-
in-law yet. Here, women aren’t invited to the
selamatan. So it’s just too bad for us women:
we don’t get a share of the berkat.22
Every mother in a poor family relies on
the help and shared responsibility of her
daughters, particularly in difficult times.
In some of the regions we visited, we saw a
clear shift in the value of daughters in poor
families. Many parents now recognise the
opening of work opportunities for daughters.
However elements in the community such
as tradition, religion, even governmental
regulations, reinforce the preference for
sons.
After the Volcano:
Children on Palue Island
In certain regions, such as Palue island,
Sikka Regency, Flores, girls are considered
less important than boys.
Surprisingly, this view was expressed by
people on an island where most of the
22
Katipah (odd-jobs worker), interview.
Samparwadi, Serang, 5 April 2013. Rejeb, Mulud,
and Haji are months of the Islamic (Hijriyah)
calendar considered important for conducting
religious rituals.
residents are women. The island could well
be described as an ‘island of angels’ – an
island of women with lips stained red from
chewing betel. These women are diligent,
hard workers. They laugh out loud when
they say that their men are lazy – all they
do is drink moke (a local alcoholic beverage
distilled from sugar palm).
Many of the men from the island go and
seek work elsewhere. The fishermen living
along the coast go to sea for months at a
time, seeking fish as far away as Manggarai
or even Papua, and return with the western
monsoon. Men from the mountains go to
work in Malaysia, passing through Batam or
Nunukan in East Kalimantan.
They don’t like to be called ‘migrant
workers,’ because they never use the
services of labour supply agencies to work
abroad. They work in sawmills and oil palm
plantations. Some women accompany their
husbands who work abroad, but they don’t
undertake paid work themselves. Instead,
they care for their husbands, or operate
kitchens for single male workers. The women
who stay in the villages work as farmers and
weavers.
Natural disasters such as the eruption of
Rokatenda volcano on Palue island have a
negative impact on children, equally bad for
both boys and girls. When they are living
in refuges, girls become helpers for their
mothers in starting a new life. Children have
to adapt to new environments, new friends,
and new schools.

Hermin Emanuella with teacher Karmadina Bhure, and pupils of Elementary
School (Sekolah Dasar - SD) Awamaleh Nitunglea who are studying at SD
Inpres Sinde Kabor, Maumere, Sikka Regency (INSERT). In Nitunglea village on
the island of Palue, Hermin used to live with her mother, Maria Rakka Lebih.
Her father, Emanuel Woro, was working in Malaysia.
When Mount Rokatenda erupted, Hermin, her mother and her grandmother
fled to Maumere. Back in the village, Hermin studied in the first grade.
According to Hermin’s teacher Karmadina Bhure, who was also her teacher
in the village, they had been studying for three months when the disaster
interrupted the learning process at the two primary schools in the path of
the volcanic mudflow.
Karmadina was the first civil servant who fled to Maumere; she was placed
at a primary school, Inpres Sinde Kabor, to which Hermin and twenty of her
classmates have also now been sent. But Hermin refuses to go to school,
saying she’s no good at the national language. As Karmadina tells it, Hermin
said, “I’m scared to go to school – the boys there will hit me, because I can’t
speak Indonesian.”

dusun dati, the sago forest, coconut fields,
and clove gardens – and the proceeds are
used by the family…
My daughter had not finished university
when she got married. Her husband took her
away to Jakarta. I told her husband that my
obligation was not finished, so I brought her
back to Ambon, and I paid for her studies. I
took care of her children until she graduated
and was working. Daughters need a good
education so they can be self-sufficient. Sons
have been given more advantages by the
social environment, by tradition.23
As a result of the conflict, both boys and
girls missed the opportunity for schooling.
But the conflict placed girls in a very
difficult situation. Men’s jobs had been
destroyed by the conflict; they were drawn
into the field of battle and abandoned their
families. Women had to meet the family’s
day-to-day needs. In the refuges, girls fell
into a trap of domestic work even more
The Ambon Conflict:
Girls Still Out of School
On the island of Haruku, Central Maluku, as
in the islands of Maluku generally, boys and
girls are of relatively equal status. Many in
the independence movement from Maluku
were highly educated, and since colonial
times people such as Kristina Marta Tiahahu
have promoted education for girls.
However, in local inheritance traditions,
sons receive special treatment. Therefore
girls are often encouraged to pursue more
advanced education. Eli Kissya, a Kewang
(ranger or forest caretaker), environmental
figure, and laurate of the 1986 Kalpataru
National Award, explains the reasons:
Since 1823, the traditional lands have been
registered and recorded. There are two types
of land: dusun pusaka, which is inherited
land for both sons and daughters, and dusun
dati, inherited land specifically for sons. Girls
are given a higher education so that they can
protect their brothers, while the brothers
have to manage the traditional land – the
ARMINHARI
23
Eli Kissya, interview, Haruku island, 11 July
2013.
Eli Kissya leading a traditional
meeting of Kewang Haruku
for the annual Buka Sasi
Lompa ritual at midnight on
23 November 2013. Two of
the five women permanent
members of the Haruku
Customary Council took part
in the decision, though it was
the middle of the night.

ARMINHARI
24
Nus Ukru (Coordinator of Baileo Maluku, a
local NGOs network), interview. Ambon, 6 July
2013..
25
Lies Marantika, Yayasan Humanum, interview.
Ambon, 7 July 2013.
26
Ibu Helena, interview. Ambon, 26 October 2013.
A girl in a refuge camp - Vitas Barito Warehouse,
Passo Village, Baguala Bay, Ambon Town. After
more than ten years of conflict in 1999-2002, they
are still there...
for good masseuses. My mother encouraged
me to work doing massage in a hotel because
they were understaffed. Eventually, I learned
how to do it and became sought after. I’ve
continued working as a masseuse to pay the
children’s school fees, buy food, buy water,
and pay the house rent.
Our oldest is working now, but our daughter
quit school in junior high. Now she stays at
home and takes care of my elderly mother.
My husband is still looking for work; since
the conflict in the city of Ambon ended,
more and more people have been coming in
from outside the area. They’re all young, and
my husband is old now.26
burdensome than when they were at home
because of the lack of infrastructure or
supplementary labour from the nuclear
family. This burden was even greater if the
family included elders, small children, or
people with special needs.24
For both boys and girls who have lost
their mothers, education may simply
be abandoned.25
Where fathers did not
immediately find new work, the mothers
had to continue supporting the family.
During the conflict, for many women this
work was just filling in while their husbands
were away in the ‘field’. Now, many women
have to work permanently as their husbands
are still unemployed, because the war has
ended. In this situation, many girls pick up
the household duties for their mothers, as
was the experience of Ibu Helena and her
daughter:
During the conflict, my husband was forced
out of his job. He had worked in a seafood
processing company. I had no job because
I’m just a housewife. We have two children, a
boy and a girl. School fees were higher, they
had to change public transport several times,
and we had to buy drinking water. At that
time, water was ridiculously expensive. A
tank transported from Negeri Halong to our
village in Galala could be two or three times
as much as it is now. Currently, it’s 159,000
rupiah a tank.
During the conflict, there were a lot of troops
visiting from Jakarta, and they were looking

if they are unmarried, or have no sons.28
A
mother, particularly if she is old and comes
from a poor family, depends greatly on her
sons. Traditionally, the relationship between
a mother and her daughters is looser than
that with the neighbours. Upon marriage,
a daughter will leave her mother and join
her new husband’s family. Therefore, the
relationship that has to be created and
fostered is the one between a mother-in-law
and her daughters-in-law – a relationship
that is always quite complex. The position of
women, whether as daughters or daughters-
in-law, is equally difficult because they lose
so many aspects of their independence.
Ni Luh Darmiati, usually called Niki, at
thirty-five is the youngest child of sixty-four
year old Meme Dami, one of the hundreds of
masseuses on Kuta Beach. Niki also works on
the beach, giving manicures and pedicures.
She has three older brothers. Meme Dami’s
house is in Blok Plaza, just a few hundred
meters from the beach.
When she married, Niki moved to her in-
laws’ house in Karangasem. But since it was
too far to travel, Niki moved back to Kuta
so she could continue working. She rents a
room attached to her mother’s house because
after marriage, she is no longer entitled to
live with her parents. Every morning Niki
and her mother go out together to earn their
living at Kuta Beach; as evening approaches,
they both return to the same house, but with
27
The population of Bali is around two million, of
whom roughly five percent are newcomers from
outside Bali. Most indigenous Balinese work in the
tourism which as a deviation from the traditional
agriculture base has given rise to a range of
problems.
Daughters in Bali and Lombok:
No Inheritance, No Priority
Whether rich or poor, for families in Bali,
the presence of a son is what the family
hopes for.27
It’s no wonder that a mother will
not want to practice birth control, even if she
has four daughters, until she has a son. In
April 2013, local newspapers reported that
a man had killed himself because his fourth
child turned out to be a girl.
In Balinese tradition, sons are purusa,
inheritors, and the family and the clan
descend strictly through the male line, as
does the home.
If there is no son, a family is considered not
to have descendants, and there is no one
to represent it in meetings of the banjar
(customary unit of settlement at village
level) or the traditional ceremonies that lie
at the very heart of Balinese life. Having
sons is so important that in Tabanan regency
there is a traditional mechanism to address
the problem of a shortage of sons through
adoption of a man from outside the family
as a sentana. This means that a man joins his
wife’s family, and she is designated by her
father’s family as the purusa.
Of course, in Balinese tradition, girls also
have some value. Once they are grown up,
they will be called pradana. But women
are not seen as having full pradana status
28
For more, see Mantra, Gayatri (2011),
‘Kekerasan Ideologi Patriarki pada Perempuan
Bali (Violence of the Patriarchal Ideology against
Balinese Women), Bali Sruti, the Voice of Women
in Bali, 5 June 2011.

29
Ni Luh Darmiati (Niki), interview. Kuta Beach,
Bali, 1 June 2013.
30
Heru Utomo Yayasan Kertapraja, quoted by
Merdeka.com, 21 October 2013.
ARMINHARI
The lives of agrarian communities in Bali in a
mural at the Aston International Hotel, Kuta,
Denpasar, Bali. Women’s work is celebrated in art
works for the tourism industry, but in daily life
they work extremely hard for very little reward.
different status because Niki is a boarder.29
The tourism industry has changed the face of
Bali into a twenty-four hour entertainment
venue. The saddest excess of the tourism
industry is the emergence of sex workers,
including many who are underage. They
come from regions of East Java, giving rise
to the expression ‘Bali with a Banyuwangi
flavour’. Yayasan Kertapraja, a foundation
working in the area of HIV, has recorded
many cases of trafficking and prostitution of
children brought from East Java, Kalimantan,
West Java, and the poorer regions of North
Bali. Both girls and boys are vulnerable to
being forced into prostitution. They are
all at risk of infection with communicable
diseases, and for girls the additional risk of
an unwanted pregnancy.30
Lombok also has a culture in which
preference is given to sons. Most people in
Lombok are from the Sasak ethnic group,
and are Muslims of either mainstream
or local varieties. The centre of religious
authority lies with the Tuan Guru, who has
status similar to a Kyai in Java. There are
also a number of local traditional ethnic
groups such as the Sasak Bayan in Lombok
Utara and the Sasak Kopang in Narmada and
Lingsar, who follow ‘Islam Watu Telu’ and
have a very strong agrarian culture centred
on males. In most agrarian cultures, girls
and boys tend not to have equal status.
As in Balinese tradition, in the native
Sasak culture, the family home is passed
on to the son. The assumption is that every
married woman will follow her husband.
In reality, Sasak women are hard workers
who have to be able to support themselves
and their children without depending on
their husbands. Many men leave to seek
work elsewhere, or have lost their main
livelihood as farmers because the land has
been sold to go on the hajj to Mecca or to

goods that can be carried on the head), while
a man receives a sepelembah (symbolised
by two baskets on a carrying pole). In the
Sasak language, this division of inheritance
is referred to as ‘sepelembah sepersonan,’ or
one part compared with two parts.32
This is
no different from the Javanese or Sundanese
custom of dividing the inheritance
into sepikul (two parts) for males and
seek work elsewhere. PEKKA’s Community
Based Poverty Monitoring System
(Sistem Pemantauan Kemiskinan Berbasis
Masyarakat - SPKBK)31
found that villages
in Lombok had higher than average rates of
female-family heads. In one village visited it
was almost 30 percent.
There is another Sasak tradition that
adapts the teachings of Islam with regard
to inheritance, whereby a woman receives
a sepersonan (symbolised by a basket of
32
Rajagukguk, Erman (2007), ‘Pluralisme Hukum
Waris: Studi Kasus Hak Waris di Pulau Lombok,
Nusa Tenggara Barat’ (Pluralism of Inheritance
Law: Case Study of Inheritance Rights in Lombok
Island, West Nusa Tenggara), available at http://
www.ermanhukum.com/Makalah%20ER%20pdf/
Pluralisme%20Hukum%20Waris%20Lombok.pdf
31
The Community-Based Poverty Monitoring
System (SPKBK) is a census survey, developed
and implemented in partnership with the SMERU
research institute in 2012. See also Chapter 5.

33
Rajagukguk, ibid, p. 5.
34
Halimah (PEKKA cadre), interview. Gemel
Village, Jonggat, Lombok Tengah, 7 Juli 2013.
35
KOMNAS Perempuan (2008), ‘Laporan
Pemantauan: Perempuan dan Anak Ahmadiyah,
Korban Diskriminasi Berlapis.’ (Human Rights
Monitoring Report: Women and Children
of Ahmadiyah, Victims of Multilayers
Dicsrimination). Jakarta: KOMNAS Perempuan.
36
Saparinah Sadli, interview. 15 September 2013.
37
Basyiruddin Aziz (a candidate Ahmadiyah
muballigh from Garut, West Java, assisting
Ahmadiyah residents in the refugee camp),
interview. Mataram, Lombok, 9 July 2013.
Nisa & Bapu Acun:
Forced into Poverty
Her name is Nisa, twenty-one years
old. She suffers from paralysis
and intellectual impairment. Seven
years ago, before her family was evicted
from its village in East Lombok and
then from Central Lombok, Nisa could
still walk. She was able to eat and go out
of the house by herself. But since the
attacks on the Ahmadiyah community
have usually had quite high educational
aspirations for their daughters, more so than
those of their neighbours. However, after
the conflict in Lombok, the Ahmadiyah’s
access to education for their daughters
was impeded. Since they were expelled
from their home villages and began living
in refugee camps seven years ago, many
parents can only prioritise schooling for
their sons. In this worrisome situation, they
need muballigh (male preachers) who can
reinforce their resolve. They pool their funds
to send their sons to study in other cities.
Meanwhile, their daughters are forced to
leave school and their parents try to find
husbands for them from among Ahmadiyah
in other cities.36,37
segendongan (one part) for females.
However, there are still many who follow the
same custom as in Bali, whereby daughters
receive no inheritance at all. After marriage a
woman is deemed to have left and joined her
husband’s family. In lieu of an inheritance,
rich parents may provide their daughter
with a gift to establish the household, in the
form of a set of gold jewellery, as complete
as possible.33
Unfortunately, women do not
have full control over this property they
bring into the marriage:
True, the jewellery from the parents belongs
to the woman, but after she is married it is as
if it’s the wife’s part of the common property.
When money is needed for childbirth or
school fees, what woman would be willing to
hold on to her jewellery if her husband can’t
afford to pay? Or say the husband wants to go
work in Malaysia but lacks the capital to go,
so he borrows his wife’s jewellery, promising
to pay it back later – and then he never comes
back. So the jewellery gets used up not for
her own needs, but for the family.34
Poverty always interferes with children’s
access to education, particularly in times of
conflict. A study by KOMNAS Perempuan35
on the impact of violence on religious
minority groups notes the poor access to
education for girls who are conflict victims.
Followers of the Ahmadiyah branch of Islam ARMINHARI

ARMINHARI
38
Ahmadiyah is a form of Islam, often referred to pejoratively as a sect. In Indonesia, Lahore Ahmadiyah
was officially established as a legal entity in 1930, and Qadiyan Ahmadiyah was established in 1959.
Thirty-two Ahmadiyah households, comprising 117 persons, have been staying at Asrama Transito,
Mataram since 4 February 2006. At the former Praya Mataram public hospital there are another nine
families, mostly women and children. Since that time, the Ahmadiyah have been refugees within their
own country. The central government, represented by the Minister of Religious Affairs, the Minister of
Home Affairs, and the Attorney General, signed a Joint Decree (Surat Keputusan Bersama -SKB) No.
3/2008 on ‘Warning and Order to Followers, Members and/or Officials of Jemaah Ahmadiyah Indonesia.’
The warning contained in the decree served as a source of legitimisation for the public to conduct attacks
against, and to discriminate and intimidate Ahmadiyah followers. In certain regions where Ahmadiyah
followers live, such as Banten, Bekasi, Garut, Tasikmalaya, Lombok and Sumbawa, the consequence of
their expulsion has been their sudden total impoverishment.
in Lombok,38
Nisa’s family has had to flee from place to place. Since that time, Nisa’s abilities have
steadily declined. There are no adequate facilities to assist her to move around; they do not have
a wheelchair.
Every day Nisa just lies on a couch by the window, watching the clouds pass by. She cries when
she hears thunder or is hungry or in pain. She also cries if her mother doesn’t say goodbye before
going out to sell things all day long. Nisa’s older sisters, Nurul and Faizah, take turns caring for
her – carrying her to the bathroom or feeding her. Yet Nurul herself has just had a baby.
Apart from Nisa, their grandmother (Bapu) Acun (below right) is also in the room which is
partitioned off with a brown sheet. Acun is half blind and very frail. She can still eat by herself,
but needs her grandchildren’s help to go to the bathroom. She realises she is a burden on them, so
she prefers to mostly stay in her tiny room with a sheet for a wall.v

aristocrats, because no men can afford to
pay a suitable belis for them.39
Although they
are of noble status, they can be trapped in
poverty by the many expensive traditional
ceremonies. If an aristocratic family falls into
poverty, the first ones to be affected by the
disaster are the daughters: they become poor,
they cannot marry because their belis is so
extraordinarily high, and, as men have the
important position in the family and control
any property such as houses and land, the
women are left without an inheritance as
well.
The costly belis tradition has encouraged
the practice of raising a family without
officially marrying.40
Paying the belis is the
first stage in the process of a traditionally
recognised marriage. After the traditional
wedding, couples should have a consecration
ceremony in church, and then register the
marriage with the civil registry. If they skip
the traditional wedding, then automatically
the next stages – the church wedding
and civil registry – are also neglected. In
other cases, people only do the traditional
ceremony, but do not register the marriage.
Without a marriage certificate from the state,
couples cannot arrange birth certificates for
their children.
Daughters in NTT:
Preserving Customs,
Incurring Debts
In the Ende and Sikka cultures, as is
common throughout NTT, the value of a
daughter is related to the traditional dowry,
or belis. The belis can be quite high – tens
or even hundreds of millions of rupiah. The
belis provided by the groom’s family includes
ivory, antique gold, horses, cattle or buffalo,
coconuts and bananas, all in substantial
quantities. From the bride’s side, the gifts
given in response can be quite expensive
as well. As well as horses and cattle, they
have to provide enough traditional woven
cloth (ikat) for all the male members of the
groom’s family.
In the understanding of the traditional
cultures in NTT, the purpose of this practice
is to provide ‘worth’ for the daughter and her
extended family. Among the local aristocrats,
belis also functions to maintain their social
status. But for the poor, belis traps them in
debt to loan sharks or credit banks, at very
high interest.
The practice of borrowing money is
widely recognised as one of the roots of
impoverishment everywhere, and Eastern
Indonesia is no exception. But it seems
that neither the church nor cultural experts
have found a way to deal with the custom
of belis. Many women never get married,
because no prospective husband can afford
to pay the belis. Such women are somewhat
insultingly called du’a deri gete (literally, ‘big
women sitting’, that is, old maids). Many of
the du’a deri gete are from the ranks of the
39
Maya Say (labour activist), interview, Maumere,
28 May 2013.
40
This statement was issued by district court and
religious court judges in a focus group discussion
on legal identity held by University of Indonesia
Centre for Child Protection Studies (Pusat
Kajian Perlindungan Anak Universitas Indonesia -
PUSKAPA UI) and the Supreme Court, conducted
in Kupang, 14 May 2013.

41
Nani Zulminarni (National Coordinator,
PEKKA), interview. 9 August 2013.
According to PEKKA research, on Adonara
island, Larantuka, NTT, seventy-two percent
of village residents lack at least one of the
important legal identity documents such as a
marriage certificate or a birth certificate.41
Faced with a similar situation in Bali,
Tabanan Regency government agencies
worked together to implement mass issuance
of more than 2000 birth certificates through
one-stop, mobile services.
To celebrate the 519th anniversary of the City of Tabanan in November 2012, the Tabanan
Regency Government set a target of serving 2,000 citizens to obtain birth certificates – an
undertaking for which it has received an award from the Indonesian Museum of Records.
Mobilised by the Bupati (Regent) of Tabanan, Ni Putu Eka Wiryastuti, this activity was made
possible through the full support of other elements of government: the District Court, the Civil
Registry Office, and the district and village administrations. From our conversation with the
Presiding Judge of the Tabanan District Court, I Dewa Putu Yusmai Hardika, the Head of the
Tabanan Regency Civil Registry Office, Nyoman Gede Gunawan, and the Regent, in July 2013,
we noted this action as an extraordinary effort to fulfil residents’ rights.
BEST PRACTICE
Issuance of birth certificates through mobile and free-of-charge sessions
Ni Putu Eka - the first woman regent
in Bali - said that her program for mass
confirmation of birth certificates was
not just meant to fulfil a campaign
promise. She realised that many people
in Bali, particularly the economically
disadvantaged, did not have a birth
certificate, and that birth certificates
are essential documents for fulfilling
a number of rights, starting with the
right to a legal identity. She expressed
great appreciation to the Tabanan
District Court and the Civil RegistryNi Putu Eka Wiryastuti, the Regent of Tabanan, Bali.
ARMINHARI

A Journey Against Defeat: Narratives of Women's Rejection of Poverty

A Journey Against Defeat: Narratives of Women's Rejection of Poverty

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