Cum Ahmawati, 47, is not a woman who easily gives up. Wati’s life and the hanjeli are now inseparable, both wishing to keep illuminating those who are struggling to go on.
By
CORNELIUS HELMY/MACHRADIN WAHYUDI RITONGA, Abdullah Fikri and Tatang M Sinaga
·7 minutes read
Cum Ahmawati, 47, is not a woman who easily gives up. The resident of Waluran village, Waluran district, Sukabumi regency, West Java, was once a migrant worker who experienced domestic violence. However, she has been awakened and now explores the potential of her village through hanjeli or adlay plants.
On Thursday, Aug. 5, the sun was blazing in Waluran, 300 kilometers from Jakarta. The heat was burning the skin. Yet “Wati”, as Cum Ahmawati is commonly called, seemed unaffected by the condition. The guide chief coordinator in the Hanjeli Tourist Village in Waluran didn’t budge. She was answering some questions about hanjeli (Coix lacryma-jobi) asked by participants of the hybrid summer program from the Faculty of Geological Engineering, Padjadjaran University. Thirteen foreign students from China, Japan and Malaysia joined the program.
“How many seeds are there in every hole?” asked a participant.
“We usually put five seeds in every hole,” said Wati, explaining the residents’ practice of dropping five seeds into one planting hole.
“What is that?” asked another participant who was curious about the small cutter held by Wati.
“This is part of the harvesting method. It’s called ani-ani, a small blade to cut hanjeli. But we also have big knives called golok (machete) to chop hanjeli after reaping,” said Wati, describing the tools of hanjeli harvesting. Wati’s foreign language command stunned her program attendant from Indonesia.
“You speak fluent English. I’m less eloquent. Where did you learn it from, Bu?” the peer was prompted to ask.
“I’ve long been a ‘telkom’ employee. It wasn’t a telecommunications firm, but rather it had to do with ketel and baskom,” said Wati. In Sundanese, ketel is a cooking pan while baskom is a basin normally used for boiling water.
Such utensils were used when she worked as a household assistant in other countries. For 16 years she had traveled back and forth between Indonesia and several countries like Saudi Arabia, Hong Kong, Oman, Malaysia and Bahrain. Due to minimum information, she visited some countries without official procedures.
I was in limbo there. In order to survive, I seeked jobs by knocking from door to door.
Like many other Indonesian migrant workers, foreign employment was not Wati’s aspiration. She went abroad due to poverty and the limited choice of jobs in the country. Wati said her adventure began after finishing junior high school in 1995.
After moving from one country to another, Wati reached Bahrain in 2012. At first, Wati enjoyed her job as the household assistant of a government official. But it did not last long. Conflict had an impact on the family of her employer. She was not paid for several months before being asked to leave without any employment guarantees.
“I was in limbo there. In order to survive, I seeked jobs by knocking from door to door,” she said. This choice, she added, was very risky.
Full of risks
According to Wati, female workers without spouses are prone to be victims of violence. The proposal to marry a migrant worker originating from Bangladesh was accepted for the sake of job security. Still, the situation was not simple. Employment was difficult to secure. Moreover, many raids were carried out on foreign workers without documents.
Wati had wanted to ask for the help of major sponsors from Indonesia, but she dropped the plan. “As I was seven months pregnant, I decided to return to Indonesia. I surrendered myself and was detained in the local immigration office to be deported. After a month’s detention, I was sent back to Indonesia in 2016,” she said.
Back in her home country, the trials of her life didn’t end. Her fetus was diagnosed as abnormal. She was asked to undergo a cesarean section, costing over ten million rupiah. “A friend suggested that I go to Jampang, Sukabumi. There was a midwife capable of helping delivery without surgery,” she recalled.
In Jampang she stayed with a local resident. She received money from her Bangladeshi husband every month of Rp 4 to 5 million for the cost of the delivery and caring for her child.
I decided to take care of the children myself.
Her hope for a normal birth was fulfilled. But she was advised by people around her that she should be married to a local resident for the purpose of avoiding malicious gossip.
“The decision turned out to be a mistake,” she said. Her husband was not as kind as he had been before the marriage. “I decided to take care of the children myself,” said Wati, who after the separation, had one more child from her latest marriage.
Living on her own was not as easy as she thought, and going abroad again certainly was not a wise option. Wati already had four children. Her youngest child was one with special needs. “I wanted to forget my past, so I moved to Waluran. Job opportunities could also be found there in a gold mine,” she said.
Until 2017, the job of breaking stones deriving from an illegal gold mine was commonly done by the women of Waluran.
Life is a mystery. Unexpectedly, Waluran saved the life of Wati. The story began when Wati was joking in English with other fellow stone breakers.
Her speech was heard by Asep Hidayat Mustofa, 34, a local resident. Asep was also a former Indonesian migrant worker. Returning to his native village, he had the dream of empowering residents by planting hanjeli. From then on Asep has learned about the nutritious plant that had thus far been neglected by the local people. He longed to build a tourist village based on hanjeli, a food commodity that was then underestimated.
“Coincidentally, I needed the assistance of a resident who spoke foreign languages. Besides English, Wati can speak Arabic and Cantonese,” he said. Wati accepted Asep’s offer to promote the Hanjeli Tourist Village.
From Asep’s explanations and the books she reads, Wati understands that hanjeli has the potential to be more than just a hedge for residents’ houses. Asep made the right choice. Wati’s mastery of English serves as a key. She is promoting nutritious hanjeli and its derivative products long before government officials, nongovernmental organizations and the arrival of foreign tourists.
“I was trembling in the beginning. But after doing it for a while, I started to feel comfortable and got used to it. The positive responses from many people makes me even more self-confident,” said Wati.
The Asep-Wati duet is successful. Many residents cooperate, with several parties being arranged. Domestic and foreign tourist arrivals are increasing. Aside from the economic benefits gained from hanjeli, Wati said that what she has been doing is far more enjoyable.
Hanjeli can halt the pace of urbanization and it is a reason not to have to work overseas. Because of the business of hanjeli culinary, homestay and handicrafts, the thought of taking a risky job in an illegal gold mine has also been abandoned.
“We process the glutinous substance and the shell from the hanjeli into porridge, rengginang (sweet cookies) and cakes, while stone-type hanjeli is for making handicrafts necklaces, bracelets and strings of beads,” Wati said.
“I am a reflection of the stone-type hanjeli which are used to craft strings of beads. The character of its seeds is hard like me. From the stone hanjeli I’ve learned that there is always a way for those who are struggling,” she added.
In the future, Wati affirmed, she will continue to explore the hanjeli with its countless potential for further development. The hanjeli characteristic is shared by her and many other residents, from their marginalized beginning to their empowerment today. Wati’s life and the hanjeli are now inseparable, both wishing to keep illuminating those who are struggling to go on.
Cum Ahmawati
Born:Kendal, 14 April 1975
Education: Muhammadiyah Junior High School Ciamis (1989)