‘Tuan!’ the child called with muffled voice. Billowing, ugly black clouds of fumes spilling from an adjacent bus’ broken exhaust caused her to cough, and she tapped impatiently on the passenger door window with even more vigor, painfully conscious of the motorbikes that maneuvered their way between these near-stagnated rows of city traffic. Injury went with the territory; her scarred limbs carrying fresh scabs over old wounds, evidence of frequent encounters. A Suzuki squeezed past, the motorbike’s burning exhaust within touch of her legs, extended rear-vision mirrors grazing her skinny shoulders scoring the flesh painfully and she wheeled, her eyes filled with venom as she spat, hitting the unsuspecting rider square on the back. Then she turned her attention to the car’s obviously wealthy occupant.
****
Amused, Stewart Campbell observed the child’s antics with ambivalence, tempted to lower the window and drop a hundred Rupiah into her tiny hands. The driver, sensing the Tuan’s mood, eased the Mercedes forward to discourage the girl but, ignoring the danger, she remained clinging to the door handle, undeterred. Swayed by her persistence, Campbell activated the electric windows creating an opening through which he held a crisp, newly printed one thousand Rupiah note, the money snatched from his well-manicured fingers as several discolored packets of gum appeared in an outstretched hand.
‘Terima kasih,’ he heard the scrawny peddler thank him as the window closed, the expatriate simply nodding as the sedan moved forward, his thoughts returning to the day ahead. Campbell glanced at his white gold, Patek Philippe watch and exhaled heavily, in obvious annoyance with the traffic congestion. He leaned back against the leather-upholstered seats and, with closed eyes, gently rubbed his temples. An earlier headache, legacy from the previous evening’s overindulgences, threatened to revisit and he recalled the Saint Andrew’s black-tie ball, thankful now he had resisted following the diehards to the Chieftain’s home, for the traditional follow-on breakfast.
Campbell ’s mind roamed, occasionally glancing at familiar landmarks as the Mercedes crawled towards the congested, outer roundabout. The driver jockeyed for position amongst the other vehicles, skillfully avoiding a converted, smog-belching private minibus that had cut dangerously across their path, near spilling its load of standing passengers whilst they clung precariously to the overcrowded Toyota’s rusty frame.
As the city’s skyline became more visible through the smog, the impressive number of construction cranes evidencing Indonesia’s apparent never-ending growth momentarily distracted Campbell, and he recalled how significantly the capital had mushroomed since his arrival, ten years before. A tight smile creased his face as he was also reminded of how little he had known, back then, about this sprawling, Moslem-dominated, fractious archipelago of two hundred million, and how much more there was to learn.
Although his professional background had given him some prior knowledge with respect to the republic’s vast mineral, oil and gas wealth, Campbell quickly learned that the nation’s real wealth lay in its diversity, and the depth of culture so apparent within the republic’s multi-faceted society.
During his first years in-country, he had been contracted by Baron Mining, a North-American-based mining conglomerate, to conduct onsite geological field surveys throughout the republic. Campbell had trudged across areas in Indonesia never before visited by Europeans, slept amongst isolated villagers of West Papua and squatted around evening fires in Borneo’s cloud-cloaked, highland communities – often listening to elders boast of not-so-distant times, when they were still feared for their headhunting, or cannibalistic practices.
Stewart Campbell’s love affair with the island nation and its people had not been immediate – his initial reaction, when witness to the poverty-stricken peoples of the more neglected provinces in Eastern Indonesia, had cast its own, negative spell. Before completing his first year in-country, he had already decided not to extend his time in Indonesia. The corruption and tyranny of the Suharto regime, the debasement of many of the minority groups within the Republic, and the incredible environmental impact the former general’s vested interest groups had throughout the islands convinced the American geologist that Indonesia could not survive under such corrupt and immoral practices. As the time for his departure approached, Campbell’s position had mellowed, his attitude with respect to the ‘Indonesian Way’ tempered by exposure and opportunity. Before he realized how it happened, Stewart Campbell had become inextricably enmeshed in the gold and diamond potential of Kalimantan, as Indonesia’s territories in southern Borneo were known.
In 1982, and in response to President Suharto’s directive to accelerate the transmigration process that annually deposited tens of thousands of Javanese and Madurese families in outlying and difficult-to-control provinces, the Indonesian Department of Mines announced revised, new-generation operating contracts for foreign mining investment in all Kalimantan provinces. Campbell, who was virtually in the process of packing to leave and return to his parents’ home in Washington State, was immediately galvanized into action. The enormity of such a push into Indonesian Borneo was a geologist’s dream come true. Without hesitation, he cancelled his flight and went about securing documentation that would enable him to remain in the country legally. Campbell then approached the Indonesian Institute of Mines in Bandung and offered his services on the basis that they provided him with the necessary permits, the quid pro quo being that he would make himself available as an unpaid, consulting geologist for a few hours each month. The Bandung director agreed, and the American established his offices in Jakarta the following week.
Stewart Campbell could not have made his move at a more appropriate time. Indonesia’s reputation as a viable, resource-rich destination for international, general exploration companies exploded onto the world mining stage with Freeport’s staggering copper and gold discoveries, in Irian Jaya. Jakarta’s hotels were overrun with waves of Canadian, American and Australian-based carpetbaggers touting offers to ignorant concession holders, often securing valuable mining rights from unwitting, indigenous owners in exchange for worthless paper scrip issued by nickel-and-dime, foreign, publicly listed companies. Although there were many genuine foreign operators prospecting areas throughout the archipelago, their numbers were heavily peppered with ‘Second Board’ entrepreneurs whose capital base could barely cover the costs of their overseas visits, let alone support any commitment to mine viable projects. Word spread across the nation to isolated communities in Sulawesi, Irian, Kalimantan, and Sumatra, from Sabang to Merauke and a flood of hopeful, provincial concession holders poured into the capital in eager search of foreign partners. Most held simple, thumbprint-signed documentation issued only at village level asserting their claim over small, traditional plots whilst others, working in conjunction with local officials, carried letters from higher up the food chain, often signed by provincial governors.
At the time, Campbell had been vociferous in his concerns with the gold-rush mentality and the central government’s ambitious agenda to attract foreign miners at almost any cost. His condemnation of the system that stripped traditional owners of their rights by transferring these through a maze of middlemen, corrupt government officials and influential military groups only to be surrendered to foreign brokers, made Stewart Campbell unpopular amongst his expatriate peers. Not-so-disguised threats filtered down through the Mines Department suggesting that his appointment to the Institute should be revoked. The Director immediately instructed Campbell to refrain from making further statements and the American agreed, acknowledging that his tenure and legal residency were dependent on the institute’s goodwill.
Thereafter, he observed in dismay as large tracts of land were resumed for direct investment leaving traditional owners sidelined with little, if any, compensation. Tens of thousands of square kilometers were contracted to foreign miners,