Kanis Dursin, Mekarsari (West Kalimantan) – More than seven years after settling down in Mekarsari, Kuburaya district in West Kalimantan, sisters Nurjati, 36, and Marlena, 35, say they hold no more grudges against Malays and Dayaks who drove them out their town of Paloh in Sambas district at the height of the 1999-2000 ethnic conflict.
The Madurese women do admit, however, to being too scared to return to their village, even for a short visit, as no one dares to guarantee their safety.
"Every time we want to visit Paloh, our relatives and friends tell us to be careful as if we are going to war and that creates uneasiness and fear within ourselves," said Nurjati, adding that the nearest town to Paloh she had visited since fleeing the district in 1999 was Pemangkat, located some 100 kilometers south of Sambas, while Paloh was located around 120 kilometers north of the district capital Sambas.
Sambas, a resource-rich district along Indonesia's border with Malaysia, witnessed in 1999 and 2000 one of the country's deadliest conflicts between Dayak and Malay communities on one hand and Madurese on the other, killing almost 200 people by an official count, and displacing tens of thousands of Madurese. By the year 2000, Madurese refugees in West Kalimantan exceeded 50,000, staying in mostly government establishments around and in the provincial capital Pontianak, located some 280 kilometers south of Sambas.
West Kalimantan, a province of four million people, has recorded at least 13 ethnic conflicts since 1933, when Madurese workers revolted against their Buginese employers in Ketapang, according to sociologist Muhammad Sobri, who helped found the Center for Research and Inter Religious Dialog (CRID) in 2006, a nongovernmental organization that aims at promoting mutual understanding among religious believers in the province.
While most of the violence pitted indigenous Dayaks against immigrant Madurese, bloody clashes have also occurred between Chinese and Malays, and Dayaks against Chinese and/or Malays. The 1999-2000 conflicts saw Malays, Chinese and Dayak communities ganging up against Madurese. From December 1996 to January 1997, Bengkayang and Sanggau Ledo, also in Sambas district, witnessed extremely violent communal conflicts between Dayaks and Madurese.
Triggers of those conflicts are often trivial, but most experts believe that economic disparity, cultural misunderstanding and politics may be behind major ethnic violence in West Kalimantan. The 1997 Bengkayang and Sanggau Ledo conflicts, for example, were followed by the creation of a new district that includes the two subdistricts, while the violence in 1999-2000 resulted in Senkawang being a new district separated from Sambas.
"West Kalimantan is very pluralistic, but why has the government done nothing to manage the differences," said Muhammad, who, together with fellow CRID activists, has since 2006 organized regular dialogues and discussions aimed at tearing down walls of suspicion and misunderstanding among religious believers. It has also organized conferences on pluralism, multicultural and multireligious education, and dialogue as a means to achieve peace.
"Interactions and cultural dialogs have to be cultivated," said Muhammad, criticizing the government for dealing with the triggers of the conflicts only by relocating the Madurese.
Before moving to Mekarsari in early 2002, Nurjati and Marlena stayed at state-owned Tanjung Pura University in Pontianak, where they lived on government dole-outs and generosity of individual donors. Other refugees of the 1999-2000 conflicts had been relocated to Satuan Pemukiman I, Satuan Pemukiman 2, Satuan Pemukian 3, Sungai Asam, all in Kuburaya district, some 30 kilometers outside Pontianak.
In the absence of government initiatives to reconcile the warring groups, several nongovernmental organizations have helped victims of violence maintain communications with the hope of uniting the warring groups. The Yayasan Swadaya Dian Katulistiwa (YSDK), for example, has since 2005 organized monthly meetings involving Madurese and Dayak communities.
"We have a monthly meeting where nongovernmental activists tell us not to take revenge against Malays and Dayaks, and our religious leaders also say the same thing," said Marlena, who has found a teaching job at a local state senior high school, where children of Malay, Chinese, Dayak and Madurese ethnic groups mingle without problems.
"We want to look forward and think of creating a peaceful condition for our children," the mother of one added.
As part of the peace building process, dozens of Malay and Dayak people, including several village heads and Sambas councilors, visited Mekarsari in early 2007, where they stayed with Madurese families for several nights to tear down the wall of suspicion and hatred.
Months later, Nurjati, Marlena and several others made a reciprocal visit to Pemangkat, some 100 kilometers south of Sambas, where they met with dozens of Malays and Dayaks.
"The meetings were cordial. They told us that they missed us so much, but they never invited us to return," Nurjati said.
"They told us that personally they were ready to accept us back, but were too scared of people in other villages and that they could not guarantee their safety if we force our way into Paloh," Marlena said.
According to Heriwonoto, 27, an activist of the Center for Borneo Studies, in Pontianak, it was not easy to promote reconciliation in the province as warring groups lived in the exclusive groups.
"Dayak people think they own West Kalimantan and Madurse, Malays and Chinese are only immigrants," he said.
The center's young activists have sought to quell violence in the province by working directly with people in conflict with each other, Heriwonoto said, citing the example of Chinese and Malay neighbors who had abused each other and destroyed property. "Our young activists immediately went there and told them not to take the law into their own hands," Heriwonoto said.
While the reconciliation moves at a snail's pace, Nurjati still dreams that one day she and fellow Madurese will be able to visit their village.
"I don't want to stay there anymore, but I don't know if my children would be happy to stay here forever. Besides, I want to pray at my father's grave," she said.