Fire in East Kalimantan: a panoply of practices, views, and [discouraging] effects (1). (Research Notes).
Colfer, Carol J. Pierce
Introduction and Study Sites
In 1997-98, East Kalimantan was hit by the most severe El Nino of
the 20th century. The area burned was estimated at 5.2 million ha in
that province alone (Hoffman 1999). Although this catastrophe spawned
numerous projects and studies, few of these were field-based. (3) The
study reported here, based on field research conducted in July and
August 1999, attempts to document what happened from the perspectives of
selected stakeholders. (4) It represents a starting point for our
improved understanding of proximate causes (as supported by Vayda 1999),
in the hopes, ultimately, of identifying some underlying causes.
To deal effectively with fire in the future, a better understanding
of both proximate and underlying causes of these fires is essential.
Nepstad et al. 1999 and others (including Indonesian officials) identify
three things needed for a fire: fuel, dry climatic conditions and a
source of ignition. Many researchers have identified aspects of the
social and institutional realities that contribute to fire, such as land
disputes, unclear tenure, land clearing for plantations, conflicting
laws and regulations, etc. (e.g., Potter and Lee 1998; Bompard and
Guizol 1999; Vayda 1999; Bowen et al. 2000; Suyanto 2000a,b). In this
paper, an inductive approach has been used, identifying the factors
perceived locally to be important in contributing to the ignition and
spread of fire locally, in specific fire events.
The impact on the people residing in communities affected by fires
has also been assessed.
My previous research experience among the Uma' Jalan Kenyah,
(5) and consequent level of trust, prompted me to focus on their views.
Efforts were made throughout to supplement their perceptions with those
of other stakeholders in the areas visited. Beginning in Lg. Apui, (6)
we follow the migration routes of Kenyah communities living in the
fire-affected regions, and address the roles of other important actors
in the area.
Long (Lg.) Apui has been selected as an important starting point
for several reasons:
* Given the sensitive nature of research on causes of fires, I
reasoned that my long-term connection with these people and resulting
rapport with them might provide unique insights.
* Long-term data on land use in the area is available (Golfer with
Dudley 1993; Golfer et al. 1997; LEAP 1980; Massing 1980; Mayer 1989,
1996; Sakuntaladewi and Amblani 1989; Moniaga 1990; Sardjono 1997); and
the management system of the Uma' Jalan Kenyah represents that of
many swidden systems in Borneo.
* Significant changes in land use and forest cover have occurred
since monitoring first began in the late 1970s (cf. Golfer et al. 1997;
Golfer and Salim 1998; Brookfield et al. 1995).
* The combination of concessionaires, plantations, and small-scale
agriculture represents a common pattern in Kalimantan.
* Lg. Apui has spawned several other villages, all within the
fire-affected areas of East Kalimantan, which form potentially
informative comparisons:
* A satellite village called Lepo' Umit, up the Telen River
(along the I'ut River and a parallel logging road) which is now
intimately connected with the logging concession s Village Guidance
(Bina Desa) activities, providing a potentially important divergence in
experience (within the same ethnic group and natural resource management
history).
* A daughter village in the Lg. Tutung Transmigration Location,
where other Lg. Apui residents moved after the 1983 fires and drought.
Here, again, there is significant interaction between the Kenyah and
other ethnic groups, as well as other major actors (concessions (HPH),
industrial timber plantations (HTI), and an oil palm plantation).
* A daughter village called Lalut Bala (initially settled after the
1983 fires), two to four hours from Samarinda (in the ex-ITCI base camp
(7)), where marketing of agricultural produce is more feasible, where
competition for land is more pronounced, and where inter-ethnic
interaction is more common.
* A daughter village, Lepo' Mading, about two hours from
Samarinda, where the people had developed an agroforestry system
including rice and pepper, fruits and coconuts, supplemented by
handicraft production and periodic wage labor, before the fires.
The focus on the Kenyah experience of the fires is intended to
contribute, ultimately, to the identification of important underlying
causes (cf. Gonner 1999; Mayer 1989, 1996; Sakuntaladewi and Amblani
1989; Gellert 1998; Vayda 1999) and to the evolution of relevant
typologies. This study has included use of surveys, interviews, and
participant observation. The planned use of GPS (8) to identify
locations and land use histories of unburned areas proved impossible:
everything, except the villages themselves, had burned.
Lg. Apui, our point of departure, is an Uma' Jalan Kenyah
community, initially settled in 1962. In the early 1970s, it, along with
neighboring Payau (a Kutai village) and nearby Lg. Nyeng (an Uma'
Kulit Kenyah village), was declared a "resettlement village"
by the Indonesian government, and for five years received a variety of
inputs (housing construction materials, guidance in "settled
agriculture," agricultural inputs and implements, etc.). This
occurred not long after an El Nino in 1972, followed by a second
disastrous year in which rats decimated the people's rice fields
(as in 1998-99). By 1979, however, Lg. Apui was prospering, and had
grown to more than 1,000 inhabitants.
At that time, virtually all families were living by means of
swidden cultivation, making upland rice fields a bit larger than the
average size in other communities in that river system (Massing 1980).
They were cutting the vast majority of their fields from primary forest,
arguing that such lands were more fertile (Golfer with Dudley 1993).
Their interest in laying claim to land, new access to markets for rice,
and new availability of consumer goods, capital investments, education,
and medical services, were also undoubtedly factors in this prosperity.
The community was located in an area given as a concession to the
US-based Georgia Pacific Timber Company in 1972. Relations between the
community and the company were occasionally marred by conflicts, but Lg.
Apui was located in an area where the timber resources were not
particularly good, compared to other areas of the concession, and
compromises were usually possible.
Lg. Apui was badly affected by the 1983 El Nino, and many families
moved away, some to Lalut Bala or to Lepo' Mading, near Samarinda,
and some joined the Lg. Tutung transmigration site. This transmigration
project began in 1986, bringing thousands of people to an area just
north of Lg. Apui (Sakuntaladewi and Amblani 1989). About the same time,
Georgia Pacific decided their concession was no longer profitable enough
and sold it to P. T. Satu, a company with significant political problems
due to its ownership by one of Soeharto's cronies. By the
mid-1980s, Lg. Apui had shrunk to about 500 people. In 1990, P.T. Satu
became one of the first companies to develop "TI Trans" South
of Lg. Apui. (9) Four communities of transmigrants were brought into the
area to provide the labor needed to develop the industrial timber
plantation that the government was encouraging. Lg. Apui's total
population, including Payau and Leo' Umit, is now 1,399 people
(village statistics, 1999).
The last two decades have brought increasing pressure on the rain
forest (lowland dipterocarp) in the area from timber concessions, from
transmigration, from plantation agriculture, and from local communities,
as well as sometimes devastating climatic fluctuations. The population
density has steadily risen due to in-migration, with local people
continuing to depend primarily on direct use of natural resources, and
inadequate attention to sustainability issues on the part of the
companies and the government. Policies relating to land tenure and use
rights have been contradictory and unclear, with power and economic
clout typically having greater influence than justice. The level of
conflict among stakeholders in the area has risen dramatically, with
local people often losing access to the resources on which they depend,
particularly when pitted against the many plantation development
schemes.
Enter the 1997 ENSO event.
Methods
The methods employed have been both quantitative and qualitative.
This research involved numerous in-depth individual and group interviews
with residents, with the intention of improving our understanding of the
causes, frequency/severity, and mechanisms for prevention and control of
the fifes. Specific comparisons of resource availability during previous
years (El Nino and otherwise) were made; and changes in coping
strategies between past and present disaster years were documented. The
histories of 20 specific fire events were recorded, including locations,
years burned, reported causes, crops planted and land use and tenure
patterns in the area, insofar as obtainable. Seven such histories were
recorded in Lg. Apui, three in Lepo' Umit, eight in Lg. Tutung, and
two in P. T. Akasia's HTI.
I was assisted in this research by Yustina Doq Jau and Yohanes
Ngerung, both residents of Lg. Apui; and Pesawat, the community leader
of Lepo' Umit, all of whom received guidance in interviewing.
Survey forms had been prepared in Bogor in Indonesian and Kenyah, and
the two new survey forms were pre-tested and revised with the help of
the field assistants. GPS readings were taken throughout the field
research period whenever practical. Before the formal studies began, I
explained the intent of the research in discussions with village leaders
and in various informal discussions with community members, and obtained
the agreement of the community members.
The Lg. Tutung component focused on the two settlements called UNIT
1 10-Lg. Tutung and UNIT 11 -Lg. Tutung. The short time available
required using an opportunity sample. The fact that some residents were
in the village and some not should not, given the usual Kenyah practice
of splitting residence between fields and the village, affect the
validity of the sample. Interviews were conducted in the Kenyah
language.
Calculating the exact proportion surveyed was not possible. In Lg.
Apui, official statistics use "KK" (or household head).
However, life occurs normally there in extended family situations, with
two to three official KK's living in the same house, cooking in the
same kitchen, and sharing the same rice fields. Our sample used the
house/kitchen/rice field as the unit of analysis for our land use
history (not reported here) and the comparative matrices on resources
and coping strategies. Table I provides the best population-related data
available, with the number of interviews conducted for the two
fire-related studies. The matrices were household based; whereas the
health and loss survey was directed at individuals.
The Lg. Apui and Lepo' Umit household estimates are based on
village statistics, reviewed and corrected by the field assistants. In
Lg. Tutung, our estimates are based on a count of households by a group
of Kenyah including the Neighborhood Leader (kepala dusun) with whom we
stayed in UNIT 10. Interviews were conducted during the day in the
fields where groups of Kenyah farmers were participating in senguyun, a
kind of group exchange labor, clearing rice fields in preparation for
burning. In the evening, the interviews continued at the settlement
areas, in people's homes.
The comparative matrix survey required respondents to compare the
availability of various forest products and various strategies for
coping with disaster during the following years: 1972-73, 1979-80,
1982-83, 1989-90 and 1997-98. The first, middle and last years were El
Niflo years. 1979-80 is the year I resided in the community; and 1989-90
is another representative year with a reasonable rice harvest. This
survey was conducted among people 40 years of age and older, since those
younger than 40 were unlikely to remember the first El Nifio of
interest.
Although the interviewers tried to interview half women and half
men, they had very little success interviewing women directly, though
women regularly contributed to the discussion. I suspect part of this
had to do with the assistants' unwillingness to press them, and
their own cultural biases. It also reinforces our previous perception
that a quick assessment of women's views is difficult (cf. Golfer
et at 1998).
The health and loss survey was intended to enhance our
understanding of what happened during the fires to people's health
and to estimate the amount of losses the people had endured from the
fires. In general, this survey was conducted along with the land use
history mentioned above, with any residents eligible as respondents. The
percentage of female respondents was considerably greater for the health
and loss survey.
I also conducted a number of informal and open-ended interviews
with various officials and company personnel (e.g. P. T. Satu and P. T.
Akasia in Batu Bulan; and county (kecamatan) offices, P. T. Sawit, P. T.
Dua in Lg. Tuning) about the causes and impacts of the fires in their
areas. The responses of these various parties to queries varied greatly
from apparently completely open and honest to extremely guarded, fearful
and unhelpful.
The final phase of this research involved brief field visits to
Lepo' Mading and Lalut Bala, both Kenyah villages a few hours from
Samarmnda. Here, open-ended interviews were conducted with as many
people as possible during the time available (one and two days,
respectively), and GPS readings with fire histories were taken. In Lalut
Balan, eight people were interviewed with the comparative matrices and
the health and loss survey forms.
Results
This section is divided into seven major sections, one for each
community or major stakeholder that shared their perceptions with me:
Lg. Apui, P.T. Sam (HPH), Lepo' Umit, Lg.Tutung, P. T. Akasia
(HTI), Lepo' Mading, and Lalut Bala. The order simply reflects the
order in which they were visited, beginning at Lg. Apui, interviewing
neighboring communities and stakeholders, and then moving back toward
Samarinda. The Lg. Apui data are the most extensive, and provide a
context from which to compare the other views.
A: LG. APUI
Fires and Fire Context
Lg. Apui is a village of shifting cultivators. Although swidden
cultivation remains their primary subsistence mode, most community
members have been experimenting with tree crops (rubber, cacao, coffee,
fruits). They are within P. T. Satu's concession and have been
consistently involved in P. T. Satu's Bina Desa (Village Guidance)
program. A significant number of local officials, teachers, and church
people have in the past received salaries from P. T. Satu. Relations are
not as good, perhaps, as those with Lepo' Umit, but there have not
been very serious conflicts. Local leaders have recently negotiated with
P. T. Satu to clarify the village boundaries of Lg. Apui and three other
neighboring communities. I saw good maps (based on those used by the
company), on which the proposed boundaries had been drawn. Local leaders
also knew about the Ministry of Forestry's plan for village
cooperatives for timber management. Lg. Nyeng had recently accepted an
offer of Rp. 17,500/cubic meter (from the reforestation funds or from
the royalties) as a recompense for the wood to be taken from the area
that is agreed to be theirs. (12) Lg. Apui leaders want more information
about how the wood taken is calculated before they agree to such a
figure.
In Lg. Apui, the fires were seen as coming from outside (see Table
2), from Lg. Tutung to the north, beginning in February. They could be
seen coming slowly, low in the forest most of the time, burning high
during the heat of the day and flying through the air during windy
periods. Because the rice harvest was a complete loss, due to the
drought, the people needed money. Part of the community went up the Mela
River to pan for gold, and part remained in the community to guard it.
March was a period of intense activity, with little food and even less
water. The Telen River, usually navigable by fairly large trading boats,
was about 50 cm high in the middle, during the worst period. The people
realized they couldn't save their fields (most of which are far
from the village, up the Telen and Payau Rivers), but they hoped to save
their village. They mobilized the entire community, including all the
men, women, and children, to cut a fire break through the forest around
the back of the village from one end to the o ther. After that was
accomplished, flying bits of burning debris continued to threaten the
village. One house caught fire briefly, but was seen in time and put
out. Another area behind the village (beyond the fire break) was
protected by spraying with water in pesticide sprayers and by shoveling
soil.
In Lg. Apui itself, there was little blame attached to any
individual or company. The fires were seen as coming primarily from the
direction of Lg. Tutung, as a sort of natural disaster, later
surrounding them. The idea that people might burn the forest in this way
to secure rights, or for cheap land clearing, was considered a bit
ridiculous. Local people recognize the value of forest resources and the
losses that accompany such burning. Another argument against purposeful burning by small farmers is the condition of lands burned in March, by
the time rice-planting season comes (at the beginning of the rainy season). The burned areas are full of debris and messy, viney or grassy regrowth that is very difficult to deal with and to weed. (13) Planting
upland (unirrigated) rice in March or April simply would not work.
Some Kenyah maintained that Kutai (from Payau) set one fire along
the Payau River, though no reasonable proof was forthcoming. The Kutai
practice of repeated burning of alang alang (Imperata cylindrica), to
encourage the growth of new shoots which draw deer, which are then
caught with jerat (a kind of trap), was mentioned repeatedly as a
possible cause of smaller fires that occurred after the larger fires
were thought to be controlled. A similar story is told in Lepo'
Umit, relating to some Kutai who were reportedly hunting for turtles and
lit some alang alang. These fires are thought to have been set because
of envy since their fields had burned and the remaining Kenyah ones had
not. I find this unlikely, myself, given their overall awareness of the
effects of the fire and also the danger to themselves and their
belongings from further burning.
The figures in Table 2 reflect summaries of responses to an
open-ended question, "What was the source of the fires in
1997-98?" People were free to answer as fully as they liked, and
each response was tabulated above.
In Lg. Apui, the attribution of fire causes to activities like
hunting, rattan collection, and cooking in the forest reflects the
greater involvement in and direct dependence upon the forest of most of
the population there, vis-a-vis the other sites.
The magnitude of the losses from the fires is both difficult to
imagine and difficult to measure. Amazingly, no loss of life or homes
was reported (though six field huts were destroyed). However, Care
Indonesia did a survey in November/December 1998 (Tuffs 1999), and found
a variety of indicators that nutritional levels were sub-standard. (14)
Table 3 summarizes the responses to our questions about losses. The
fact that people could provide the number of hectares of particular tree
species is indicative of an important change in their system in recent
years. In the past, they practiced a traditional agroforestry that
mimicked and/or made use primarily of natural regrowth, with minor
"fiddling" by humans (weeding around or protecting desired
species, periodically interplanting special plants or transplanting a
desired species, see Golfer et al. 1997). It was very difficult for them
to estimate the quantities of particular crops other than rice. With
"guidance" from P. T. Satu and the Lg. Tutung extension
personnel, they now include some more conventional (within the
scientific world) agroforestry, planting the seedlings provided by these
outside groups within specified areas after their rice crop. And they
know how many hectares of those crops they lost.
More difficult to estimate, and more important to Kenyah
subsistence, is the damage done to the surrounding forest. The confusion
about land tenure in the area makes it very difficult for the Kenyah to
know how to respond to a question like "How much of your own forest
burned?" In the past, the difficulty would have been in knowing the
size of a hectare (which remains a problem). Ownership was clear:
whoever had cleared the primary forest (or their offspring) owned the
area. But the government, the industrial timber plantations, the
transmigration authorities, the oil palm plantation, and the logging
companies do not reckon ownership in the same way. Now the problem is
determining which system of land ownership applies. People were able to
estimate easily the amount of their most recent rice field that burned.
But the secondary forest areas they listed (Table 4) did not include
vast areas that would be theirs by their traditional system, and are
typically available to them to use. Our earlier estimate of the land
needed in that area for sustainable agroforestry production and
maintenance of the peoples life style (Colfer with Dudley 1993) was
15-40 ha per family (roughly 2,000-5,300 ha, with our current population
estimate). Basically, it all burned.
Comparison of 1997 El Nino with Previous Ones (15)
The 1997 El Nino was unanimously considered the worst fire they had
ever seen, much worse than the 1983 fires (see Mayer 1989 for a
post-fire analysis) or the 1972 drought. Whereas in 1982-83 the Lg. Apui
area was evaluated as among the worst affected, with more than 50% crown
damage to trees (Wirawan 1987), the 1997-98 fires burned everything. The
German Integrated Forest Fire Management Project produced maps showing
Lg. Apui falling into the category of damage > 80%. There was nothing
left for the birds to eat. Animals were easy to hunt because they needed
water, and came to the river to drink. The fish were easy to catch
because they were concentrated in such small amounts of water. Whereas
in 1983 people had subsisted on cassava, this time much of the cassava
was burned as well. Forest foods like ferns, bamboo shoots, and various
kinds of leaves all burned. There was nothing to eat except the animals
and the fish, and the price of rice was astronomical (if available at
all). In 1983, many of the trees sti ll stood. The fire had burned the
underbrush and the small trees, but valuable ironwood and meranti remained. This time, there are very few living large trees left.
Lg. Apui appears to have depended even more heavily on gold panning
this time than during the previous crisis. One problem they recounted
with the 1982-83 gold panning was the continual immersion in water and
the resulting "rotting" of the skin (Golfer with Dudley 1993).
This time, they said there was so little water, they didn't have
that problem. (16) They had to dig holes, and let the water slowly seep
into the holes before they could pan.
Table 5 provides a summary of their perceptions of the availability
of various forest products, and, for contrast, of cash and rice. (17)
The lower the number, the more available the product remains (1= a great
deal, kado' ale'; 5, very little, kedi'ut ale').
There is a general trend for forest products to be less available, over
time, with rattan, bamboo, forest medicines, forest foods, and wood the
most dramatically absent recently. Cash seems to be slightly more common
now than in the past, though not strikingly so. The rice situation is
also deteriorating (confirmed by Colfer and Salim 1998).
The years in bold are El Nifio years.
We were interested to discover how people's survival
strategies had changed over the decades, when the rice crop failed. (18)
Table 6 (together with Tables 8 and 10) is presented at the end of the
paper in Appendix 1. The first seven columns represent people's
dependence on forest products as supplements in times of crisis. The
next two columns represent customary mechanisms for surviving disasters:
requesting help from family or others. The final two, HPH (timber
concession) and HTI (industrial timber plantation), were anticipated as
possibly increasingly important, but people on the average consider
these options as fairly unimportant (4) to not important at all (5). The
strong dependence on eating cassava, panning for gold, hunting pigs, and
fishing, are clear.
Fire Management Strategies, Risks, and Sanctions
Traditionally, the Kenyah have a variety of fire management
strategies (see Aspiannur et al. 1999, for a study of another Kenyah
sub-group). They make a fire break between the field they want to bum and any adjacent area they fear might catch fire. Traditionally, healthy
and normal living forest does not burn particularly easily in this
context. But a fruit orchard might. The firebreak is two depa (or two
tull outstretched arms' lengths) in width. Two of these breaks were
seen in Lg. Apui fields.
Burning strategies include attention to time of day, amount of
wind, condition of surrounding forest, slope, and dryness of slash in
the field. Fires burn hottest at midday, and a hot fire is desirable for
a good burn (which reduces weeding and increases ash fertilization). The
more wind, the more dangerous the fire. When winds are high, small fires
are started downwind, moving toward the wind. This allows for more
control, but also often results in a less complete burn. Fires started
upwind burn hot and move quickly when it is windy, potentially
endangering unintended areas downwind. The condition (humidity) of the
surrounding foliage also affects these decisions. Old growth is unlikely
to burn, whereas an area used the previous year for a rice field is very
susceptible to burning. Some said that fires move uphill more
quickly/easily than downhill. Naturally, the drier the slash has become,
the greater the fire danger and the greater the likelihood of a thorough
burn. There also comes a time when there's a significant danger
that rains may come and prevent a good burn altogether. The decision to
burn is a difficult and stressful one, involving both the individual
field owner and, normally, all the others with neighboring fields. The
few cases of fires escaping that we were able to elicit were in
situations where the adjacent owners had not been notified (and the
adjacent owners non-rice crops burned).
Care is taken that people can escape the fire once it gets going.
If a large cluster of rice fields (or ladang) is being burned, people
may start in the middle and work outwards, so as to avoid the danger of
trapping people in the middle.
Technically, there are sanctions against those who do not take
proper precautions regarding fire. In the old days, people could be
fined a knife or a gong. In more recent times, fines have taken the form
of cash. A person who burns someone else's fruit trees, for
instance, is supposed to have to pay Rp. 25,000-Rp. 50,000/tree. In
fact, in the only concrete examples that community members were able to
dredge up, the person burning inappropriately had to pay a total of Rp.
10,000 (see below), even though the neighbor's garden was
destroyed.
In fact, most people make their fields near their friends or
relatives, and people are aware of the dangers of fire. When burning to
clear rice fields, the whole group of people with adjacent rice fields
typically discusses when and how to burn. On the fairly rare occasions
when an adjacent rice field burns, it is likely to belong to someone who
has a close relationship to the person burning, a person who is unlikely
to want to harm or sever the relationship. In one case, one family
burned its field before its neighbor's field was ready. The fire
spread into the neighbor's not yet completely cleared/dried rice
field, resulting in a less than satisfactory burn for the neighbor. The
victim was angry, but not angry enough to pursue sanctions.
Only one man (A) had repeated problems with fire, and he had
succeeded in getting a fine levied against one person who burned his
garden of salak (snakefruit), bamboo, and fruits near the village. A
woman had cut down some of his jackfruit trees and burned them and then
the fire spread into the salak, bamboo and fruit garden. The woman had
not made any fire break, and she was fined Rp. 10,000.
In March 1982, A had 70 newly producing clove trees burned in a
frequently used area across the Telen River from Lg. Apui (one he
originally cleared from old growth in 1972 and planted first with rice).
The wind came up and blew the fire from where his neighbor was making a
cassava garden in an area that was full of alang alang. A saw the fire
from his house and wanted to put it out, but had no water. He tried
beating the fire with sticks, but it just kept flaming. He told his
neighbor that the government had set reimbursement prices for losses
like that, but the neighbor said to let the adat [customary law]
committee take care of it. Nothing ever happened. The area has been
alang alang from then to now [in fact, the area was alang alang in 1979,
as well].
On another occasion, a neighbor was burning to clear for his rice
field. He did not make a fire break between his land and A's garden
of sweet peppers, jackfruit, and rambutan, and the wind came up. A did
not learn of this until he found the place burned. Again, no fines were
levied or reimbursement required.
This man's experience was confirmed by other people who had
trouble thinking of other examples of "intentional" (sengaja)
burning. There were three examples of accusations of intentional burning
levied against the Kutai. Only one involved sanctions. The Kutai set
some alang alang afire in 1996, and the fire blew out of control into
the Lg. Apui cemetery. This resulted in an intra-community dispute,
resolved by the adat committee who required the Kutai to pay a fine of
Rp. 100,000.
B: BATU BULAN-P. T. SATU CONCESSION
Timber concessionaires have been important actors in Kalimantan for
a long time--at least since the 1970s. I interviewed groups of timber
company employees in Barn Bulan (two hours downriver, by outboard, from
Lg. Apui). As in Lg. Apui, huge areas of P. T. Satu's concession
burned. The estimates of officials are 70,000 ha, with three
particularly badly hit areas. Major parts of this concession burned in
1982-83 as well. The company appears to have tried hard to put out the
fires, mobilizing their heavy equipment, converting gasoline tankers to
water tankers, and making use of the workers (though their number had
been significantly reduced because of Indonesia's monetary crisis).
Many of the positive management actions they had undertaken or
planned were adversely affected. Nurseries burned, areas planted with
meranti and making good progress burned. Personnel reported utter dismay
and confusion, much like the people of Lg. Apui, about what to do now.
The uncertainty that accompanies Indonesia's current political
crisis (their owner, one of Soeharto's most famous cronies, is now
in jail) added to their confusion; and to their feelings of job
insecurity.
They reported feelings of fear and amazement as the fire blazed up
during the heat of the day or during windy periods, carrying burning
debris flying over their heads to land hither and yon. Both P. T. Satu
personnel and people in Barn Matahari told of staying up night and day
to guard against and fight fires that threatened their homes, and of
frightening experiences on roads at night as their cars were temporarily
trapped between falling, burning trees.
Although none of the staff members I spoke with was working in Barn
Bulan during the 1982-83 fire, they reported that the recent fires were
much worse, causing much more damage (both in terms of area and in terms
of intensity). As noted above, Wirawan (1987) reported >50% crown
damage in this area after the 1982-83 fires; whereas Hoffman (1999)
reports >80% this time.
While the fires were threatening, the timber personnel used
bulldozers to clear a swath around the villages of Batu Bulan and Batu
Matahari, immediately adjacent to their main local headquarters, and
kept tanker trucks filled and used (including delivering water to people
who had drums to place by the road, and providing transport for people
in the village of Lepo' Umit to go get water every other day). They
reported having to attach ten lengths of hose to a tanker truck to get
far enough away from the heat of the fire to work. The area around the
camp is almost completely alang alang, so the fire danger must have been
extremely high.
The primary risk, of course, from the company's point of view,
was probably financial loss. I was unable to elicit any estimate of
this, but of course the losses sustained are enormous, both in terms of
standing timber that is no more, and in terms of the various activities
they have undertaken to make the operation more sustainable (including
the losses to the Bina Desa Program, such as those reported in Lg. Apui
and Lepo' Umit).
One official mentioned the overall loss to be one that affected his
professional life, since he was there because he was a forester, and he
was a forester because he was interested in the forests. Now, the
forests are burned in this area. His compatriots seemed to share his
dismay.
The sanctions that have been applied to P. T. Satu do not seem to
be related to the fires, but rather to political problems related to
their owner. Local people are not blaming the company (except in a sort
of general way that logging dries out forests) for the fires; nor do
there appear to be sanctions within the company, which appears to be too
preoccupied with its other problems to be much concerned with this
issue.
C: LEPO' UMIT
Lepo' Umit's situation differs from that of Lg. Apui in
that it was essentially a locally initiated experiment in settled
agroforestry. The leader, B, wanted to lead a group of people in a new
way of farming that would protect the environment, confirm their rights
to the land, and yield a good income for them and their children. In
pursuing this dream, B worked closely, first with P. T. Satu, the
logging company that was expanding by developing industrial plantations
in the area, and later got additional help from the agricultural
extension agents in Lg. Tutung. Lepo' Umit people continue to do
swidden cultivation on a small scale, but their intent has been to
switch to rubber as their economic base, supplemented by a variety of
other crops (pepper, fruits, and possibly some industrial tree crops).
Their experience of the fires was much the same as that of the
people of Lg. Apui's. From their perspective, the fires came out of
the north (Lg. Tuning area), aided by wind and drought, burning
everything in their path. The leader was committed to their experiment,
and to all the effort the whole community had put into their endeavor.
The community arranged for the timber company to bring their heavy
equipment to the area and cut a clean swath through the forest to
protect the community's rubber trees. This was done to the north,
and another swath was cut to the south. Community members made heroic
efforts to guard their area, putting out fires that ventured in, working
night and day, dirty, hot, and short of water. For a brief time, the
fires seemed under control. Because their harvest had failed totally,
almost all of the community members followed their friends and families
from Lg. Apui to areas upriver (Mela and Telen rivers) to pan for
gold--against the appeals of B, who told them that the rubber trees were
their children, and would feed them when they were old if they remained
to take care of them. While they were gone, another fire started in a
patch of alang alang. Again, with heroic efforts and the help of the few
people who could be found, B tried to save the community's fields,
but the fire raced through too quickly and there were too few people to
fight it. Five field huts were burned, and almost all the rubber that
the community had so carefully tended.
The people blame the Kutai from nearby Labi Labi, whom they claim
were out hunting turtles (the equivalent for that ethnic group to the
Kenyab's search for gold, as a subsistence strategy during these
times of stress), and lit the fire. Some say it was purposeful (jealousy because Lepo' Umit's rubber gardens represented the one green
area), others say they were careless with cooking fires or cigarettes.
No one saw them, and I found no evidence that it was purposely set.
Although the suspicion was reported to the Kutai village head, no
further efforts were made to recover damages--partly from fear of
charges of slander.
Relations with the company continue to be good. The community is
grateful to the company for trying, with their heavy equipment, to
prevent the loss by fire, and the company also brought them water by
tanker periodically and took them to the one remaining source of water
(a dam that had been created by the construction of the logging road)
every other day. P. T. Satu has political problems, and the
company's situation now remains uncertain, which has resulted in
diminished help to the community. The entire concession burned, along
with all the sengon, meranti and about half of the acacia. The gamelina,
however, seems to have recovered nicely from the burn.
The company, through the Bina Desa Program, has consistently
provided assistance to this community, including helping with seedlings,
transport, extension, etc. According to B, the company has also accepted
some of his suggestions (such as planning to start an area of fruit
trees that included both fruits from afar and from the local
forests--Hutan Cadangan Pangan). B reports that the local company
officials are prepared to hand over rights to the plantation in the area
of Lepo' Umit, but he does not know if this will be approved at
higher levels (though he says he has good relations with the general
manager of Batu Bulan, in Samarinda). He has thought through what he
wants to ask for and the rationale, including plans for the future.
These include preservation of the burned old growth so that it can
regenerate; planting of gamelina since it has proven to be
fire-resistant, grows quickly, and is good quality wood for furniture;
and replanting of the community's rubber.
I did not discover any evidence or perception that the company was
responsible for any of the burning. Indeed, all parties with whom I have
spoken appear to be genuinely appalled at the damage and almost overcome
by the losses they have sustained.
This community had not been established at the time of the 1982-83
fires. The forest had been logged and partially burned (>50%, Wirawan
1987).
Table 7 provides Lepo' Umit people's average assessments
of the availability of forest products, as that has changed over time.
The people were still in Lg. Apui during the first three dates in the
table. The availability of cash and rice are also assessed, for
comparative purposes. Although the availability of wildlife and fish are
assessed as about the same as the Lg. Apui assessment (between
"average," 3, and "a lot," 2), they remember fewer
abundant times than do Lg. Apui residents. Rattan, bamboo, forest
medicines and foods, and wood are also seen as scarce now in Lepo'
Umit. Roughly the same pattern is also evident for cash and rice as in
Lg. Apui.
The years in bold are El Nino years.
Table 8 (in appendix) shows the changing coping strategies used by
people in Lepo' Umit in times of disaster. Eating cassava and
panning for gold were the primary coping strategies during the fires.
Hunting for pigs, fishing, and making wooden beams were also important.
The local communities are also very familiar with the use of fire
and methods for controlling the spread of fire (related to slope, wind
direction, time of day, dryness of fields, as well as clearing paths
between areas to be burned and areas to be preserved), as in Lg. Apui.
Traditionally, they have used fire as a tool, and know its uses and its
dangers. They also have traditionally held people responsible (fines)
for inadvertently burning other people's property. In Lepo'
Umit, a relatively new community, there has not been any formal
codification of traditional law, nor has there been a situation, other
than the 1997-98 fires, in which unintentional fires have occurred that
were considered significant enough to report, even within the village.
D: LG. TUTUNG
Lg. Tutung is a large transmigration area, originally settled in
1986 and 1987. The primary ethnic groups living there include people
from Java, from NTT, NTB, Lombok, and local Kenyah transmigrants from
Lg. Apui (primarily represented in this study), from Lg. Nyeng, from Lg.
Po'on, and from Lg. Cu'. These groups practice very different
kinds of farming and have responded quite differently to the
opportunities and constraints confronted in the transmigration program.
The Kenyah remain intimately involved in upland rice cultivation, while
experimenting with the tree crops mandated by the government program.
Every family interviewed had planted coconut, supplied by a peristatal
plantation on credit, in the late 1980s. Shortly after that crop began
bearing, a serious fire burned significant amounts of the coconut, and
the government (with the help of the World Bank and, I believe, the
plantation) made cacao seedlings available to the farmers. The farmers
planted the cacao among the remaining coconut, using the coconut as a
shade tree. The year prior to the burn, they had good yields and were
pleased with their ability to live on these tree crop yields. The fires
of 1997-98 demolished almost all the coconut and cacao, leaving the
people feeling helpless, dismayed, and quite uncertain about the future.
The people have titles to their quarter ha home gardens and Lahan I
(one ha, the first field they were given, intended for food crops).
Lahan 11 (2 ha) has been allotted but they do not have title to it, and
of course they do not have certificates for the areas of forest they
have cleared since moving to the area and discovering they could not
subsist on the food crops they were able to grow on their official plots
(cf. Colfer with Dudley 1993). Both Lahan I and II are covered with
alang alang, the clearing of which the Kenyah do not consider consistent
with their agroforestry system, the value of their labor, or their
personal work ethic. Along both sides of the road between UNIT 11 and
the area near P. T. Satu's rubber orchard, are areas that had been
planted with coconut and cacao, but that are now vast expanses of
grassland.
A group of 95 households in UNIT 11 arranged with P.T. Satu to use
some land adjacent to P. T. Satu's rubber seedling area (which did
not burn). P. T. Satu agreed to each household's getting 50 m along
the road (Lg. Tutung--Sengatta) and 1.5 km back from the road. The
leaders of two Kenyah farmer groups sent a letter to the Bupati
(Tenggarong) on 2 July requesting permission to use this area. Their
rationale includes several issues: 1) Their households have grown so
that their children now need land, something the transmigration program
will, they think, have to deal with for all the transmigrants
eventually, 2) They have a traditional agroforestry system that includes
hunting and other uses of the forest, so they need to be near forest (of
which there are remains nearby), 3) If they are away from other ethnic
groups and other agricultural systems, they will be better able to deal
with fire hazards. They remain interested in a combination of food and
tree crops. The area has been partially cleared and plante d with corn,
recently; and the clearing continues with the intention to plant rice in
September.
Although information on the agricultural practices of the other
groups is based on much briefer observation and knowledge, people from
NTT have cattle they manage as an important part of their system. The
Kenyah understanding of the system is that people from NTT burn alang
alang so that the young shoots are available to the cattle for fodder;
and the Kenyah consider these people to be careless with fire and
responsible for much of the damage.
The complaints of the Kenyah in UNIT 10-Lg. Tutung focused on
people from NTT, whereas those in UNIT 11 maligned the Javanese. I spoke
with one Javanese farmer who was burning alang alang. He had cut the
grass, let it dry, piled it up, and was burning it, prior to cultivating
the soil with a hoe (cangkul). His previous days' work was visible,
cultivated in front of the area being burned. He was standing there,
watching the fire, which he had made in the middle of the cleared area.
He expressed dismay at the farming practices of the other groups.
Although the Kenyah complained of the regular use of fire by the
other groups, they also reported clearing the alang alang under their
cacao trees with fire to protect them during the drought, the idea being
that cleared areas are less subject to wildfire.
Every day of the study, smoke was visible in the sky. At one point,
I saw three plumes in different places at once.
The earlier Table 2 demonstrates clearly the much higher internal
suspicion in the transmigration area, vis-a-vis a more remote local
community like Lg. Apui. Whereas in Lg. Apui, 78% basically saw the
fires as coming from outside, in Lg. Tutung, this percentage dropped
sharply (47% in UNIT 10 and 44% in UNIT 11). Indeed, no one responded
that the fires were accidental in either transmigration community.
Tables 3 and 4 (above) show the number of ha burned that belonged
to the 38 families surveyed in the two locations (UNIT 10-Lg. Tuning and
UNIT 11-Lg. Tuning). Coconuts, cacao, and bananas were the primary crops
grown by these people, and they represent important losses.
Interestingly, no mention was made of the oil palm plantation that
Sakuntaladewi and Amblani (1989) described as planted at the time of
their research (and providing employment for local people). At that
time, the intention was to distribute the land as part of Lahan II for
UNIT 11-Lg. Tuning when the trees began to bear.
As in Lg. Apui, the problem of land ownership is confusing. These
people, unable to subsist on their allotted plots, began opening forest
land (consistent with their previous customs) in 1988 (Golfer with
Dudley 1993). Sakuntaladewi and Amblani (1989) reported that some
transmigrants had also begun to practice shifting cultivation at the
time of their study. The people consider this land to be their own, but
they also recognize that outsiders do not agree with them. These
differences of opinion about land tenure account for some of the
prevailing antagonism that characterizes Lg. Tuning. The Kenyah do
acknowledge that, compared to the local indigenous communities like Bau
Barn, they must be considered "newcomers," now that they have
joined the transmigration program. None of this land, to which they lay
some claim, is included in Table 4--yet most or all of it burned.
There are three other major actors in this area besides the
communities:
* P. T. Dua, a logging company in whose concession all this
activity has taken place and which used to be in partnership with P. T.
Sumalindo;
* P. T. Tiga, which has a huge industrial timber plantation (HTI)
within P. T. Dua's concession area;
* P.T. Sawit, a large oil palm company, reportedly connected with
the Sinar Mas Group.
P. T. Dua has had their concession since 1979. (19) It now covers
73,124 ha and was recently closed and then renewed on a trial basis for
two years. Since 1979, its area has been reduced by the development of
the transmigration area in the 1980s, by the addition of the HTI in the
1990s, and by the formal acknowledgement of "enclaves"
arranged in cooperation with local communities (January 1999). P. T. Dua
personnel whom I interviewed were open, cooperative, and appeared to
have nothing to hide.
Large areas of the western part of P. T. Dua's concession
burned quite thoroughly, but these were the areas they had already
logged, by and large. The eastern area remains, they said, in reasonable
shape, and they are logging (at km. 60-from the base camp/log pond in
Long Pau).
There has been a serious conflict between the logging company, P.
T. Dua, and the oil palm plantation, P. T. Sawit. P. T. Sawit's
clearing activities within the P. T. Dua concession (covering 7,850 ha)
began in May 1997, without permission from either P. T. Dua or the
Forestry Ministry. They used three smaller companies to help them clear.
Legal action against P. T. Sawit was initiated by a committee involving
the police, P. T. Dua, local government officials and others, who
investigated charges that P. T. Sawit's clearing was responsible
for the fires that demolished the area. P. T. Dua served as a witness in
this legal action (which fell under the criminal laws). The conclusion
of the court was that there was insufficient evidence against P. T.
Sawit, but P. T. Sawit still had to pay the court costs and reimburse farmers who had planted sengon along one of the affected roads, as part
of a P. T. Dua regreening program. P. T. Dua personnel almost refused to
speak with me. My repeated explanations of the innoc ence of my
intention finally convinced them to talk to me, but the views expressed
were clearly "company policy," i.e., "the fires were the
result of the El Niflo."
P. T. Sawit has also had serious conflicts with an adjacent local
community, Bau Baru. In return for rights to use their land for oil
palm, the company was said to have made promises to the community. The
promises were reportedly not kept. The community of about 3,000 people
(Kayan) was reportedly united in their disapproval of the company's
action, and they went to the oil palm field and demonstrated, they went
to the office and demonstrated, and they went to the county leader
(camat) and demonstrated. A smaller number of people from Bau Baru also
reportedly went to the field one night, took wood that had been sawn
into smaller logs for their own use, using the company's tractors,
and then drove the tractors, one by one, into a nearby swamp, in
protest. The conflict appears to have been resolved by the
company's moving its border somewhat so that it impinges less on
local lands, and promising some other help.
The Kenyah community leader (kepala dusun) was involved in the
current resolution of this problem, but he himself distrusts P. T.
Sawit. He said that the field manager from P. T. Sawit approached him
some time ago, wanting to use three ha of his land, and promising that
he would be involved in a group of prioritized farmers. After the
company got the land and converted it, the kepala dusun has been unable
to contact the field manager. The kepala dusun believes he was tricked.
P. T. Tiga has a very large industrial timber plantation within the
previous P. T. Dua timber concession that was opened in 1992. The
species they have planted include sengon, albizia, gamelina, eucalyptus,
and a little teak and mahoni. No one I spoke with mentioned the HTI
until I saw it on the map that P. T. Dua gave me. It burned, along with
the rest of the area, but no one mentioned anyone setting fires, or
seemed to suspect the company of setting fires, given the obvious losses
they would sustain in their own company.
The Lg. Tutung area was logged in the 1970s and 80s, and burned
partially in 1982-83. Wirawan (1987) placed Lg. Tutung in the category
"up to 50% crown damage" to trees. The area had not yet been
converted into a transmigration location at the time of the 1982-83 El
Nifio, but it was partially burned during the shorter droughts of the
early 1990s. Again, nothing compares to the 1997-98 fires for damage
done.
Neither P.T. Tiga's HTI nor P. T. Sawit was operating during
the earlier serious drought. Unfortunately, I did not get to talk with
P. T. Tiga personnel, and no one mentioned the more recent droughts or
their impacts on the HTI.
P. T. Dua was operating in 1982-83 and said they sustained
significant damage, but again, nothing compared to 1997-98.
Table 9 shows local people's perceptions of changes in
resource availability over time. There is a fair amount of consistency
in the findings from the three survey locations in perceived resource
availability.
Table 10 shows the slightly more common use of wage labor as a
supplement to income in cases of disaster than in the other two villages
surveyed, though it is still not perceived as common. In 1999, however,
a number of people (having no rice, whatsoever) reluctantly went to work
for the oil palm plantation.
The Kenyah in Lg. Tutung use fire in the same way as in Lg. Apui,
with the same safeguards. However, they do not feel they can use their
adat laws regarding fire, because technically they are
"newcomers" like the other transmigrants. Their custom of
making rice fields together with close friends or relatives helped
cement joint responsibility for fire, and that is impossible insofar as
they use Lahan I or II for their rice fields (they do not, anymore).
Lahan I and II were passed out on the basis of a lottery, so the fields
of one ethnic group are interspersed with those of other ethnic groups.
Since the Kenyah have made rice fields in places other than Lahan I and
II consistently since the second year of their settlement in Lg. Tutung,
their sense of intra-group community (or "social glue")
continues to function. In fact, being surrounded by other ethnic groups
may in fact emphasize and strengthen their commitment to their own way
of life and to other members of their ethnic group.
It seems probable that the emphasis on keeping the area under the
tree crops clear goes along with a common agricultural requirement that
areas between the trees be regularly weeded and that the growth of
competing plants be minimized. This is incompatible with a system that
allows forest re-growth. It probably also results in a drier
environment. On the other hand, if the only regrowth under the trees is
alang alang, the practice of clearing that away may indeed prevent
fires, as local people maintained.
The geographical mixture of agricultural and agroforestry systems
and the people from the different ethnic groups that practice those
systems mean that one's neighbors may be involved in very different
pursuits. In this case (as in other mixed transmigration sites, cf.
Colfer et al. 1989), there is also considerable antagonism between the
ethnic groups and much suspicion that the other ethnic groups are
responsible for the fires, which do, indeed, bum regularly. I was told
that any time there is a week or so of no rain, fires begin to appear
(though most are controlled). The day before our arrival in Lg. Tutung,
the cassava garden behind the house of the kepala dusun was almost
burned by an uncontrolled alang alang fire directly behind the plot.
They said they did not know who set it, but were sure it was people from
NTT (Nusa Teenggara Timur).
There did not appear to be any sanctions associated with fire,
reportedly because of the difficulty in obtaining evidence about who
started it.
The differences in agricultural practices among the different
ethnic groups have already been mentioned. Within the Kenyah community,
there were people who were able to protect their fields longer than
others. The kepala dusun, for instance, carefully monitored his Lahan II
field of coconut/cacao, burning the alang alang that came up under it
regularly. He was able to protect it until May, when he believes a group
of people from NTT purposely set it afire.
He experienced an increase in theft of his crops during the
monetary crisis. On twelve separate occasions he caught thieves, four of
whom he took to the police who put them in jail for three months, and
eight of whom he only took to the village head (kep ala desa). The
latter eight thieves admitted their crime and apologized. No other
sanctions were applied. He heard from an ex-priest from NTT and from the
kepala dusun of the NTT community that these 12 men had made an
agreement to burn his field if it remained after the fires. He did not
pursue this legally, despite the fact that the kepala dusun offered to
serve as a witness, and he believes quite firmly that it is true. He
said, "What's the use? The crops are gone."
E: P. T. AKASIA INDUSTRIAL TIMBER PLANTATION (HTI)
Since the late 1980s, there has been significant interest in
industrial timber plantations by the Indonesian government and by
companies (cf. Gellert 1998). For that reason, and the generally adverse
effects of these plantations on local communities, I interviewed a
number of officials at P. T. Akasia, as well as talking with a few
transmigrants involved in the HTI scheme. About 90% of P. T.
Akasia's 53,000 ha HTI burned (48,000 ha). The company officials
stressed the efforts they had put forth to put out the fires and to
protect the four transmigration villages within their area (see below).
The plantation had acacia, albizia, and gamelina planted in the
early days of the plantation's existence (1984-1992). After that,
the emphasis was on meranti (Shorea leprasula and Shorea part ifolia),
planted in strips with shade trees (ulin, Eusideroxylon zwageri; kapur,
Dryobalanops beccarii; bengkirai, Shorea Iaevis; benggeris, and fruits).
During the early days, they used fire to clear land, but after 1992,
they report stopping using fire, after a directive from above.
There are four transmigration settlements in their area, initially
with 300 families each (UNIT 1 was settled in 1991, UNIT 2, in 1992,
UNIT 3, 1993, UNIT 4, 1994). These communities have seriously dwindled
in numbers. Estimates from local people in UNIT I are that there may be
200 families left. They estimated less than 100 households left in UNIT
2. The reasons given were economic ones, that they couldn't make a
reasonable living.
The people in UNIT 1 include Javanese and Kutai, with smaller
numbers of Banjars and Bugis. No inter-ethnic squabbling was reported
(the two Javanese women I spoke with emphasized differences in food
preferences only); and one of the two groups I spoke with was composed
of a Javanese, a Bugis, and a Kutai. Although it seems probable that
ethnic differences have some impact, it also seems likely that they are
less problematic than in Lg. Tutung.
This area burned partially in 1982-83, though the area was still
part of P. T. Satu's timber concession at that time. It burned
seriously, as mentioned above, in 1997-98 (about 90%). No serious
intervening fires were reported.
The company reported maintaining a fire control committee of 30
people (confirmed by a community member), using all the 1,000 employees
at one point or another in fire control. They reported having a variety
of fire control equipment (bulldozers, water tankers, mobile water
tanks, graders, motorcycles, fire towers, radio units, pickups and water
storage areas, and high pressure water pumps) that they used in trying
to control the fires. They also made 10 m wide strips around the areas
they were trying to protect, including villages. The company has an
agreement with the Department of Transmigration stating that they have
to supply year-round employment to the transmigrants in the four
settlements within their area. Because of this, they paid the
transmigrants to help protect the trees during the fires.
Despite all this, one articulate resident of UNIT 1 felt that one
of the two most important messages he wanted to convey was the
shortcomings of the company in terms of preparation for future fires.
The other was their laxity in supervising clearing of areas under trees
(weeding), particularly while the trees were young. He felt this laxity
contributed to serious fire danger, and compared badly with the
practices of P. T. Tiga (in another location, south from the one near
Lg. Tutung), which he reported took better care of their trees and had
less fire damage (confirmed by visual inspection).
Although the short time available (one day) did not permit much
depth, there appeared to be only a small amount of agriculture (other
than plantation) within the area. The transmigrants had 1/4 ha of land
reserved for their agricultural use, but it was reported to be 1.5
kilometers from the settlement. People had planted a number of tree
crops (mango, citrus, coffee, salak, bananas) and cassava on their land,
but it all burned. The area is now covered by alang alang, primarily. No
previous problems with fire (pre-1997-98) had been reported. People
burned small areas of land to make orchards, but these were reported to
be easily controlled.
Although the drought was a difficult time for everyone because of
the smoke, fear, financial losses in crops burned, the rise in prices
and unavailability of commodities, the people's dependence on the
company (required to provide for them) may have lessened the impact on
them, in comparison with local communities--though this is difficult to
confirm. The typical poverty of transmigrants previously on their home
island probably affects their interpretation of the severity of a
disaster like this, vis-a-vis the other people in the area.
No traditional fire control measures or sanctions were mentioned by
any parties I spoke with.
F: LEPO' MADING
This community is officially part of the larger village of
Lepo' Mading, which straddles the road from Samarinda to Bontang.
To get to their neighborhood, one passes through Lempake where there was
once a botanical garden (now burned) and a transmigration area, before
reaching the official village of Lepo' Mading. Once there, one must
negotiate a narrow, slippery, 3 km path (not passable by motorcycle
except in very dry weather) to reach the Kenyah community. The first
Kenyah community member arrived in 1982, with more following between
1984 and 1987, from Lg. Apui, Lg. Cu' and Data Do' (all
communities further inland). Initially, they came to be nearer to their
children who wanted to continue in school, spurred on also, in most
cases, by the trauma of the 1982-83 fires.
Again, the 1998 fires burned the entire surrounding area. Only the
houses and the areas immediately adjacent to the village were saved.
Even the usually swampy area they use for paddy rice burned. The worst
fires were from May to August 1998, and came from the direction of Ma.
Badak (near the coast, I believe). All respondents (perhaps 10 people)
felt that the fires were not purposely set, believing they probably
started from cigarettes thrown carelessly away.
The community's agroforestry system was initially based on a
rice-pepper combination. When the price of pepper fell drastically (from
Rp. 10,000/kg to Rp. 1,000/kg) they incorporated other crops, including
first rambutan and then coconut. They have also been more involved in
handicraft production and sale than other Kenyah communities. The women
make and sell beadwork; the men make carvings. Both are involved in
making rattan weavings for sale.
They have had rice crop failures for three consecutive years. In
1997, the drought hit them early, killing their 1996-97 rice crop as it
was about to bear fruit. Then the drought and fires killed the 1997-98
harvest; and this year, they, like the other communities, were attacked
by ulat (underground grubs), locusts, and rats. Now in this time of
crisis, besides their handicraft work, they estimated that 60% of the
strong men are away working for money in concessions and plantations,
some in Malaysia. Production of rattan weavings has been complicated by
the fact that the rattan is gone from the forest, and they must now buy
it, rather than collect it, for Rp. 17,000/kg (stripped). They estimated
that whereas before, the average pepper ownership was about 500
sticks/family, after the fires, people have about 10, on average. They
would like to replant them, but the cost of each stick has gone from Rp
100/stick to Rp. 500/stick. They are most interested in a plan for which
they registered in February, to convert the area to oil palm. They do
not know the details of the plan, but they think their land would remain
theirs, with the company providing the seedlings and paying them to work
in the fields. They would then share the profits (cf. Setiawati and
Gunawan 2000). They said the plan was for at least 4,000 ha of oil palm
in the area. They anticipate a system that includes paddy rice, fruits,
pepper, and oil palm.
There are no significant companies in the area yet with whom the
people interact. Their primary land-related conflict is with a huge
farmers' group that was sanctioned by a Decision Letter (SK) from
the governor in 1992. This group was given the rights to 21,000 ha of
land just north of them, some of which covers their own territory
(estimated at >1,000 ha). They complained to the camat and argued
that they had cleared the land (had forest fallows), and that it
belonged to them. The farmers' group was apparently organized by
Bugis from the city and included many people with no previous links to
this land. This group was also in conflict with local Bugis who felt the
land belonged to them, as well. The kepala adat (leader in charge of
traditions) of the Kenyah community served as a witness in a court case
against the large group, brought by local Bugis ("Bugis against
Bugis," he said). The case remains unresolved. The importance of
this case is also related to the facts that a) a new road is planned,
linking Tenggarong directly with Bontang (bypassing Samarinda) and b) a
new airport is under construction (stopped at the moment because of the
financial crisis). Both projects are near the area of dispute.
Only one man from this community had moved to Lepo' Mading by
the 1982-83 El Nifio. His estimate was that the 1997-98 fires were worse
because everything burned. Before, the area had all been forest and they
still had rice seed when the fires were over.
There is a recognition that this area is generally much drier than
the areas they were used to, with sandy soil. Indeed, all these Kenyah
transplanted communities have made this adjustment to some degree, since
Lg. Apui and Lg. Cu' are all in areas that have half the rainfall
(around 2,000 mm/year) of their earlier homeland in the Apo Kayan
(around 4,000 mm/year). They mentioned routinely making a fire break
around areas they want to burn, taking care with the wind, and, in
contrast to Lg. Apui, burning only in the morning or evening, when the
fire will be more controllable.
G: LALUT BALA
Lalut Bala is officially part of another village, about 2 hours by
motorized canoe up the Jembayan River. There is a road beginning near
the Mahakam River, at Tenggarong, but it was not passable without a
4-wheel drive vehicle.
As with the other sites, nearly everything except the village and
its immediate surroundings burned. The worst fires were from May-July
1998, coming in two waves following closely one upon the other. The
first wave burned the leaves off the trees, and those leaves provided
the fuel for the second wave. One person emphasized the fires going
along roads and where there was alang alang.
Lalut Bala, first settled by the Kenyah in 1986, was the site of P.
T. Empat's base camp when it was actively logging in that area. The
people are situated in a multi-ethnic environment, in that there are
many communities of Kutai, Banjars, Bugis, and Tunjung Dayaks nearby,
though their own village is composed only of Kenyah. The Kenyah are
relative newcomers to the area.
Their agroforestry system is again based on the same traditional
swidden system as in Lg. Apui, with a somewhat longer-term interest in
tree crops. This community has been experimenting with tree crops since
the late 1980s. Their primary losses, besides the forest area they
claim, were fruit trees, cacao, coffee, and coconut. Seven of the eight
families surveyed had lost tree crop orchards (estimates of 1-5 ha),
with only one reporting losing none. Everyone reported losing their
forest fallows. Six of the eight respondents also reported having lost
their field hut and everything in it (rattan baskets and mats, cooking
implements, rice stores). This is a much higher proportion than in the
other communities, and may be related to the distance they must travel
to their fields. They reported having to guard their village night and
day, throughout long periods, from flying, burning debris. The fires
also came after the rice harvest (which typically ends in April) so they
had little reason to monitor those fields regularly.
This community appears to be thriving, despite having lost their
yields for two years in a row. There is indeed a shortage of rice. But
there are also many more new houses, newly painted, newly expanded, with
expensive antennae for televisions, than there were in 1997. People are
buying the land around the village, which belongs to neighboring ethnic
groups who were there earlier, in anticipation of the growth they expect
to follow the road (now only occasionally passable) to their village.
The educational level appears to have risen substantially among the
young, and the community is currently funding its own school (grades
1-3). Older students can go to the school in Sentuk, the village of
which they are technically a part, and Tenggarong and Samarinda both
provide comparatively close advanced educational opportunities.
Interestingly, there was only a single example of ethnically based
suspicions related to fire. Indeed, most respondents (six out of the
eight formally questioned) emphasized the fires coming from outside,
from an unknown source. When pressed, people were willing to suggest
that it might have been the nearby P. T. Empat's industrial timber
plantation, either burning to clear land (as they were reported to do
regularly), or workers carelessly throwing cigarette butts around. One
person thought ala' (that is, any non-Kenyah) may have been getting
wood, and clear-cutting skid trails with fire. The level of suspicion
seemed markedly lower here than in any of the sites in the interior.
This is interesting, given the more regular interaction among ethnic
groups.
Relations with the company hit an all time low in January 1996,
when all the men in the community descended (with blowpipes in hand) on
the people sent to plant an area of the timber plantation that the
community considered its own. The HTI personnel backed off, and
relations have been good with the company ever since. The company's
Bina Desa Program has reportedly contributed Rp. 1.5 million to their
church, an estimated Rp. 4 million (some of it in materials) for their
village meeting hall, and two water tanks, in the last few years.
The people in Lalut Bala were still in Lg. Apui in 1982-83. Indeed,
they moved to Lalut Bala as a response to the disaster of 1982-83.
People emphasized that fire is not normally a problem for them.
They said they use the same techniques for fire control they used in Lg.
Apui. When asked about sanctions (and adat), they said there are none,
unless the person is caught (which has not happened). If a person were
caught setting a fire or letting the fire escape, that person would have
to reimburse the victim for his/her losses.
Health Impact
Although the environmental impacts of the fires have been dramatic,
there was perhaps more publicity at the time about the haze that
affected nearby countries (Gellert 1998). Little attention has been paid
to the impact of such haze on the fire sites themselves (with Harwell
1999 a notable exception). For that reason, I collected some
semi-systematic information on health impacts of the fires. My team and
I interviewed an opportunity sample of 98 individuals in Lg. Apui, UNIT
10-Lg. Tutung and UNIT 11-Lg. Tutung, asking what problems from smoke
they had during the fires. Table 11 provides the frequency distribution
of reported ailments.
Similar problems were mentioned in Lepo' Mading and Lalut
Bala.
The description provided by Harwell (1999) more clearly conveys the
kinds of impacts these statistics reflect:
"The era of smoke" (jaman asap) is the phrase the people
of Kalimantan use to describe the ten months that an impenetrable cloud
of thick yellow smog hung over the island during 1997-98. People fainted
and wheezed, coughing black phlegm, eyes burned and watered, soot accumulated in nostrils, ears and the corners of eyes. Some days the
visibility was less than 20 meters....Farmers returned from their
swidden fields early, since without watches and unable to judge the time
by the sun, they feared being caught far from home after nightfall.
Although the island sits astride the equator, there wasn't enough
sunshine to dry laundry or rice (for husking) or salt fish. Planes and
buses crashed, ships plowed into each other in the near zero visibility
smoke of the Malacca Straits and on the Barito River, killing hundreds.
For months, the sun rarely appeared, and when it did, it was like
something out of a vampire movie--a frightening blood-red ball that
disappeared behind the smog as quickly as it had come. Apocalypti c
imaginings were hard to resist (1999:20-2 1).
Besides the obvious problems of stinging eyes and respiratory
problems, people were particularly concerned about their water supplies.
People reported intestinal problems and worried about more serious
ailments they might suffer. Tuffs (1999) found this still to be a
problem in her November/December 1998 survey, where the point prevalence of diarrhea episodes in children under five was 71%. Drinking water for
72% of her respondents was from rivers, with 64% reporting disposing of
raw sewage in the river. This conveys something of the dependence of
local people on the rivers---whose water levels fell sharply or
disappeared during the drought. She also found high levels of upper
respiratory infections in the children surveyed (63%).
The psychological malaise is more difficult to describe, but is
obvious. In all the interior communities, and even with company
employees, I found serious dismay at the scale of the destruction. In
most cases, there was sadness over losses to the fires (crops, timber,
other forest products) and there was serious anxiety about the future.
In Lg. Apui, Care International had provided food for work beginning in
January 1999, but they were scheduled to stop immediately after this
research [subsequent discussions with Care/Samarinda confirmed that the
program continued into 2000]. No harvest was anticipated until January
(assuming the pest problems would evaporate). The timber company had no
idea what its future held either, being one of Bob Hasan's prime
companies, and having lost most of the timber in its concession to the
fires.
Moving to Lepo' Umit, we find all these emotions, compounded
by a sense of bitter disappointment, of broken dreams. The community had
considered itself a kind of experiment in a new agroforestry farming
system. Although they still have upland rice fields, they had grown to
hope for a "settled" way of life, more consistent with the
desires of the government and the companies, and with what they had come
to consider modernity. They were on the verge of reaping some of the
benefits of their seven or eight year long effort when the fires
demolished that dream.
In Lg. Tutung, the dismay, sadness and anxiety are mixed with anger
and a sense of injustice. They are angry about the burning practices of
their neighbors (both small and large scale) whom they hold partially
responsible for the fifes. Although they, too, have no rice harvests,
they were not included in the food-for-work program offered to Lg. Apui
by Care. And they feel that their history with the government and the
local companies has been one of broken promises (confirmed by local
officials).
The utter dismay was much less evident in the communities near to
Samarinda. Although they also sustained significant losses, they seem to
feel they have more alternatives.
Concluding Remarks
In trying to make some sense out of these experiences, I developed
ten propositions (explained in more detail in Golfer 2000), as a first
step in trying to develop a typology of causes of fires. I reproduce
them here to stimulate similar observations, additions (or subtractions)
based on others' findings.
The table below (12) provides scores for each study site along the
continua stipulated by the ten propositions. The higher the number, the
more accurate and intense the relevance of the proposition in that
context (1 = not too important; 3 = very important).
Although all of the areas visited in this study were affected by
the fires of 1997-98 in disastrous ways, the likelihood of fires
starting in a given village varies. The average scores listed in the
table serve as an index, showing the likelihood of fires starting in a
given village. It seems probable that this likelihood will increase as
we move from left to right in the table. (20) According to this
reasoning, fires would be most likely to start in Long Tutung (LT) and
least likely in Lepo' Umit (LU) and Lepo' Mading (LM), with
Long Apui (LA) nearly as unlikely a source of fire. More refined
attention to specific causes in specific locations should allow the
development of focused fire management strategies--if these propositions
prove relevant to other fire prone regions.
I would like to close with three observations: The first is to
emphasize the drastic nature of the change in East Kalimantan's
landscapes after the fires. Tall trees (except a few standing dead
hulks) are almost non-existent. Where forest once stood, viney growth
covers the forest remains; the areas of alang alang have increased
dramatically. Since my first encounter with Lg. Apui in 1979, for
instance, the landscape has changed from a beautiful and dense, humid tropical rain forest, full of valuable dipterocarp trees, a plethora of
non-timber forest products, and abundant wildlife, to what can only be
described as a degraded landscape, with little left of value.
The second pertains to the situation of local people. They are
disheartened and confused. Their system of shifting cultivation has been
under attack for years. They have therefore been experimenting with the
tree crop systems that the government and the companies have urged them
to adopt, putting large amounts of effort (both physical and
psychological) into learning new systems with all the changes in labor
allocation, values, subsistence patterns, and financial flows that such
changes imply. From six to ten years of work, often just on the eve of
real financial return, literally went up in smoke---along with the
forest that had been their "insurance" in difficult times. In
addition to this long-term concern, they had three years without rice
yields, first due to the drought, and these past two years, due to an
unprecedented plague of pests (rats, most consistently, but also
locusts, ulet (probably cutworm or armyworm), njau alang (probably brown
planthopper), and birds).
Additionally, the political confusion of the last two years,
combined with the agricultural failures mentioned above, have resulted
in an appalling level of uncontrolled timber extraction. Much of this
extraction is reportedly organized by the police, the military, and
other powerful people from the cities, though the "small fly"
do the actual cutting. The main rivers are full of rafts and pontoons
carrying wood, both legal and illegal, to market; the log ponds lining
the river are also full of logs. One passes small rivers that are no
longer navigable, their mouths choked with logs waiting to be rafted.
The urgency of controlling this extraction can hardly be
over-emphasized, since the last chance for the forest to recover is
dwindling by the day.
APPENDIX I
Table 6
Changes over Time in Kenyah Coping Strategies in Lg. Apui
(without Lepo' Umit or Payau)
Wooden
Cassava Rattan Gold Pan Pigs Fish Beams Shingles
1972-73 1.18 2.57 2.93 2.15 2.18 4.36 3.21
1979-80 2.61 3.11 3.50 2.29 2.18 3.46 3.54
1982-83 1.57 2.86 2.04 2.18 2.18 3.64 3.71
1989-90 2.93 3.46 3.07 2.18 2.21 3.50 3.71
1997-98 1.93 4.00 1.36 2.14 2.11 3.57 3.93
Request Request Logging Tree
(General) Family Company Plantation Other
1972-73 3.29 3.14 4.50 4.57 4.88
1979-80 3.86 4.18 4.57 4.68 4.80
1982-83 3.36 3.50 4.07 4.18 4.56
1989-90 3.75 4.04 3.93 4.43 4.35
1997-98 3.54 3.71 4.04 4.46 4.33
Table 8
Changes over Time in Kenyah Coping Strategies in Lepo' Umit(The first
three dates reflect experience in Lg. Apui)
Wooden
Cassava Rattan Gold Pan Pigs Fish Beams Shingles
1972-73 1.40 2.47 3.73 2.73 2.67 3.73 3.80
1979-80 2.00 3.60 3.53 3.00 3.07 4.13 4.27
1982-83 2.33 3.53 3.07 2.93 3.20 4.13 4.47
1989-90 2.47 4.13 3.53 3.00 3.60 4.00 4.07
1997-98 2.00 4.60 1.53 2.80 2.47 2.93 4.40
Request Request Logging Tree
(General) Family Company Plantation Other
1972-73 4.47 4.53 4.27 4.73 4.50
1979-80 4.60 4.67 4.20 4.67 4.93
1982-83 4.53 4.60 4.40 4.80 4.86
1989-90 4.40 4.67 4.53 4.87 4.57
1997-98 4.33 4.07 4.73 4.80 4.07
Table 10
Changes over Time in Kenyah Coping Strategies in Lg. Tutung (first three
years in Lg. Apul)
Wooden
Cassava Rattan Gold Pan Pigs Fish Beams Shingles
1972-73 1.00 2.74 4.05 2.05 2.05 3.66 3.58
1979-80 3.11 2.89 3.68 2.05 2.05 3.37 3.53
1982-83 1.53 2.95 1.95 2.05 2.05 3.42 3.53
1989-90 3.04 4.22 3.93 2.04 2.04 3.00 3.30
1997-98 2.30 4.48 1.52 2.04 2.04 3.67 3.85
Request Request Logging Tree
(General) Family Company Plantation Other
1972-73 2.42 2.42 4.42 4.42 4.50
1979-80 3.68 3.84 4.37 4.37 4.50
1982-83 2.79 2.95 4.37 4.21 4.50
1989-90 3.65 3.81 3.30 3.70 4.25
1997-98 3.07 2.93 3.44 4.22 4.25
Table 1
Number of Kenyah Households and Study Samples--Lg. Apui, Payau, Lepo'
Umit, UNIT 10--Lg. Tutung, UNIT 11-Lg. Tutung
No. Official Estimated of Comparative Health/Loss
Households Extended Matrices Interviews
Households
Lg. Apui 149 133 28 53
Payau 101 ? 6 3
Lepo' Umit 25 22 15 0
UNIT 10 (10) ? 21 30
Lg. Apui 35
Lg. Po'on 23
Lg. Cu' 6
Unit 11 (11) ? 8 8
Lg. Apui 7
Lg. Po'on ?
Lg. Cu' ?
Table 2
Perceived Causes of Fire
Lg. Apui, UNIT 10-Lg. Tutung, UNIT 11-Lg. Tutung
Fire form: Lg. Apui UNIT 10 UNIT 11
(n=58) (n=30) (n=9)
Elsewhere 78% 47% 44%
People 3% 17% 0%
Kutai 3% 0 0
Javanese 0 3% 33%
UNIT 10 (NTT) 0 17% 0%
HTI (timber 2% 0 0
plantation)
Company 0% 0 11%
Ratton coll. 5% 0 0
Hunting 3% 0 0
Cooking 2% 0 0
Cigarettes 9% 0 0
Grasslands 0 7% 0
Roads 0 30% 0
Accidental 5% 0 0
Purposeful 7% 13% 11%
Table 3
Number of Hectares Burned, by Corp in Lg. Apui, UNIT 10-Lg. Tutung and
UNIT 11-Lg. Tutung
Ha Burned Ha Burned Ha Burned
Crop: Lg. Apui Unit 10 Unit 11
(n=56) (n=30) (n=8)
Coconut 1 44 16
Cacao 8 16 4
Fruits 17 2 2
Rubber 17 0 0
Banana 6 10 1
Coffee 6 4 0
Rattan 4 0 0
Cassava 1 1 0
Pine 0 2 0
Bean 1 0 0
Sengon 1 0 0
Cloves 1 0 0
Durian 1 0 0
Vegetables 1 0 0
TOTAL 65 79 23
Table 4
Under-Estimate of Agroforestry Area Burned Lg. Apui, UNIT 10-Lg. Tutung
and UNIT 11-Lg. Tutung
Burned Burned Burned
Area Type Lg. Apui UNIT 10 UNIT 11
(n=56) (n=30) (n=8)
Rice field 120 34 20
Secondary forest 148 0 18
Table 5
Changes over Time in Access to Forest Products in Lg. Apui (without
Lepo' Unit or Payau)
wildlife fish rattan/ medicine food wood cash rice
bamboo
1972-73 2.00 1.68 2.50 2.79 2.79 2.18 3.79 4.11
1979-80 2.29 2.07 2.21 2.61 2.46 2.29 3.54 2.32
1982-83 2.50 2.29 3.21 3.29 3.39 2.79 3.64 3.96
1989-90 2.39 2.25 3.00 3.07 3.11 2.75 3.25 2.64
1997-98 2.86 2.64 4.25 4.14 4.15 4.04 3.46 4.50
Table 7
Changes over Time in Access to Forest Products in Lepo' Umit. (The first
three dates reflect experience in Lg Apui.)
wildlife fish rattan/ medicine food wood cash rice
bamboo
1972-73 2.53 2.80 2.60 3.07 2.87 3.07 3.07 4.47
1979-80 2.93 3.00 3.27 3.47 3.13 3.47 3.07 3.40
1982-83 2.80 3.27 3.67 3.93 3.67 3.67 3.40 3.73
1989-90 3.27 3.53 4.00 4.13 4.27 4.07 3.53 3.27
1997-98 2.80 2.40 4.73 4.87 4.93 4.20 3.07 4.53
Table 9
Changes over Time in Access to Forest Products, Lg. Tutung (UNIT 10 and
UNIT 11 combined) (first three years from Lg. Apui, last two from Lg.
Tutung).
wildlife fish rattan/ Medicine food wood cash rice
bamboo
1972-73 1.68 1.74 2.05 2.63 2.11 1.63 4.00 4.47
1979-80 2.05 2.00 2.42 2.63 2.32 1.95 3.63 2.11
1982-83 2.16 2.00 3.16 3.21 3.42 2.32 3.68 4.32
1989-90 2.14 2.32 3.93 3.61 3.54 3.11 3.43 2.43
1997-98 2.25 3.04 4.43 4.21 4.36 4.25 3.50 4.68
The years in bold are El Nifio years.
Table 11
Health Problems During Fire Lg. Apui, UNIT 10 and UNIT 11, Lg. tutung
Concern (n=98) Percent
Breathing difficulties 57%
Stinging eyes 56%
Flu 36%
Watery eyes 33%
General ill health 23%
Coughing 23%
Sore throat 14%
Cloudy vision 9%
Runny nose 6%
Hot air 4%
Mata Negelolo' 3%
Stomach trouble 3%
Unknown 3%
Fever 2%
Headache 2%
Fatigue 2%
Environment 1%
Chest pain 1%
Fear 1%
Worry 1%
Table 12
Scores on Factors Affecting Fire Danger in Research Sites
Villages
Propositions LU LM LA LB BB LT
1. Environment becoming drier (due to human 3 3 3 3 3 3
activity)
2. Actors unused to combating large scale 2 2 2 2 3 3
wildfire
3. Government acting in an uncoordinated 3 3 3 3 3 3
and corrupt fashion
4. Number of new, external actors 1 1 1 2 2 3
5. Diversity of value systems and natural 1 1 1 2 2 3
resource use patterns
6. Perceptions of inequity/injustice 2 1 2 2 2 3
[revenge]
7. Perceptions of insecurity of access to 2 2 2 2 2 3
resources [no stake]
8. Internal suspicion and lack of respect 1 1 2 1 2 3
among people [low social capital]
9. Unfulfilled subsistence needs linked to 1 2 1 2 2 3
uncontrollable uses of fire
10. Possibilities for financial gain from 1 1 1 1 1 3
potentially uncontrollable uses
of fire
AVERAGE SCORE 1.7 1.7 1.8 2 2.2 3
1 = low; 2 = medium, 3 = high
LU, Lg. Umit; LM, Lepo' Mading; LA, Lg. Apui; LB, Lalut Bala; BB, Batu
Bulan; LT, Lg. Tutung
(1.) This study was part of the CIFOR-ICRAF Fire Project, funded by
the United States Forest Service (CIFOR/ICRAF/UNESCO 1998; CIFOR/ICRAF
1999a,b). Its initial purpose was to gain a preliminary understanding of
the underlying causes of the fire events that have affected central East
Kalimantan (and other areas in Indonesia). Grateful appreciation goes to
the US Forest Service, to CIFOR, to my colleagues in the Fire Project,
and mostly to the people in East Kalimantan who welcomed me into their
lives again and shared what, in this case, were their sorrowful tales.
(3.) See Dennis (1999), or Applegate et al. forthcoming; or
Brookfield et al. (1995), for a more long-term perspective.
(4.) By "stakeholders," I refer, in the context of this
paper, to all of the parties who have an interest in the forest,
including local people, settlers, oil palm and timber and industrial
timber plantation companies.
(5.) My first contact with Lg. Apui was in 1979, when I spent a
year studying the community's interactions with the forest. I have
maintained my research interest in this community, conducting historical
studies of land use from initial settlement, studies of their
agroforestry system, gender issues, migration, etc. periodically since
then.
(6.) Pseudonyms are used throughout to protect the privacy of those
interviewed.
(7.) ITCI, International Timber Company of Indonesia, was once a
Weyerhauser timber concession; after the 1983 fires, the US-based
company withdrew, leaving predominantly Indonesian military ownership.
(8.) I.e., global positioning system; a hand-held device that links
its signals to satellites and tells the user his or her exact position
on earth.
(9.) HTI stands for Hutan Tanaman Industri, or Industrial Timber
Plantation. "HTI Trans" is one of these plantations that
incorporates transmigrant labor in its operation. It s a particular kind
of transmigration program that was very popular in the early 1990s.
(10.) These sub-categories (Lg. Apui; Lg. Po'on, and Lg.
Cu') refer to the place of origin of these local transmigrants.
(11.) "Sakuntaladewi and Amblani (1989) report 1,510
individuals from 357 households in UNIT 11--Lg. Tutung, in 1989 (about
2/3 in-migrants and 1/3 local).
(12.) The exchange rate at this time was roughly US$1 = Rp. 8,500.
(13.) Cf. Mayer (1989). Her study was partially designed to
evaluate the degree to which local people had taken advantage of the
"free" clearing of land provided by the 1982-83 fires to
expand agricultural areas (an idea I also considered reasonable at the
time). She found that they had not; and their statements that successful
planting is more difficult after a fire because of sharp increases in
pests and weeds were confirmed by visual observation as Lg. Apui's
inhabitants were struggling to clear their fields during this research
period (more than a year after the fires).
(14.) Only 57% of the children under 5 are not "wasted"
(weight for height); only 25% are not "stunted" (height for
age); and only 26% are not underweight (weight for age) (Tuffs 1999).
(15.) Analyses of the impacts of the 1982-83 fires are available
in, for example, Boer (1989); Mayer (1989); Sakuntaladewi and Amblani
(1989); Wirawan (1987); Woods (1987).
(16.) Whitmore (1990) reported that between July 1982 and April
1983, East Kalimantan received only 32% of its usual rainfall. I have no
comparable data on the more recent drought.
(17.) No statistical analyses have yet been produced, since this
report comes from the field.
(18.) Comparable, more specific year-by-year information is
available in Golfer and Agus 1998 for the years 1991-1997.
(19.) Sakuntaladewi and Amblani (1989) reported five active timber
concessions in the area (UNIT 11-Lg. Tuning) at the time of their
research (P.T. Gunung Gajah, P. T. Satu, OTP, Rimba Nusantara, and
Gruti).
(20.) Using an average score, as is done here, may not be
justified-since there has not yet been any attempt to weigh these
respective factors. But this kind of analysis does provide a rough and
ready means of assessing possible susceptibility to fire.
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