The people of these countries desire two things above all. First, as shown at the Bandung Conference this year, they want to be treated with the respect due to them as citizens of sovereign independent nations. Second, they insist that the great gap that separates their living standards from those of the Western nations be reduced.

It was with sympathy for these aspirations that the Volunteer Graduate Scheme was organised. It aims to give Australian university graduates, and other trained people an opportunity to associate with Indonesians on a basis of equality, thus helping to break down the artificial barriers between East and West. The Scheme also endeavours to assist the development of Indonesia in a small way by giving technical assistance where it is so urgently needed.

The Scheme is still only a small one—only 17 people have so far gone to Indonesia under it. Indeed the response will probably never be large, for volunteers come from the small groups who feel strongly enough against racial superiority ideas to demonstrate their attitude in a practical way. Volunteers have included teachers, engineers, doctors, a botanist, a librarian, and a pharmacist.

Frustration hazard

As a member of the scheme, I worked as a chemist for the Indonesian Government with the Ministry of Health and then with the Ministry of Economic Affairs. In my first position I discovered that frustration is one of the occupational hazards in Indonesia. Often the Government is not sufficiently well-organised to make the best use of the available staff, and contact with administration often calls for an abundance of patience. But eventually I obtained a position where I was being useful.

As an example of the kind of job waiting to be done I shall mention the work I was engaged in, in connection with the manufacture of dextrin, which is widely used as a glue for paper and a filler for medical tablets. Tapioca starch, the raw material for dextrin, is produced in abundance in Indonesia. The manufacturing process is one of the simplest in industrial chemistry. Yet much of the dextrin used in Indonesia has still to be imported, because the local factories lack the technique for producing the good quality material.

At the Chemical Research Institute, which is directed by an Indonesian, I assisted in the development of satisfactory apparatus and operating procedure for making dextrin on a small scale. It is hoped that this production can soon be expanded so that in the future Indonesia will not have to waste precious foreign exchange on importing this material.

Salary was enough

During my stay, I received the same salary as similarly qualified Indonesians, which meant that I was paid roughly the equivalent of £A8 a week—hardly a princely salary, but sufficient when you eat Indonesian food. I did not exactly thrive on the food—basically rice, with very little meat—but I suspect that was as much a matter of my taste and temperament as of the nutritional value of the food.

For accommodation I lived in one of the Civil Service hostels, or with Indonesian friends. Much of the time I was the only English-speaking person in the household, so I was forced to learn Indonesian quickly to make myself understood. Learning Indonesian is fun and hard work—and it brings a reward out of all proportion to the labour involved. Indonesians are surprised and delighted to find a Westerner who can speak their language, for few Europeans ever take the trouble to learn it properly.

The first reaction of Indonesians to the Scheme is one of surprise, and probably doubt. Most Europeans there receive large salaries and thus, are cut off from the Indonesian people, on whom they often look down to some extent. So it often takes Indonesians some time to believe that an Australian volunteer graduate actually lives under the same conditions as they do, and that he really prefers it that way.

"Europeans are rich"

Any claim that you have no money, however true, is invariably greeted with hollow laughter—for "all Europeans are rich." But when you have gained their confidence, Indonesians are delighted and sometimes quite overwhelming in their hospitality.

Indonesians are very friendly and polite, so that anyone who is willing to meet them half-way need have no fears for his reception. For example, when I was in Djakarta I played tennis on Saturday with a group of Indonesians who made me very welcome and always insisted on my having more than my fair share of games. When my holiday came around and I decided to visit the Minangkabau area in Sumatra, friends from that district quite deluged me with offers of hospitality with their families.

In all these social contacts there is the pleasant [unclear: feeling] what friendship with Indonesians has an added significance—that in a small way you are helping the causes of international understanding. On the other hand, however, it must be admitted that it is not always possible to escape the feeling of being perched uneasily between two world, and cut off to some extent from your own cultural background.

Vivid impressions

When I think about Indonesia, certain impressions stand out in my mind very clearly. I remember, for example, an early morning car drive through the beautiful West Java countryside. In the foreground the lush tropic greenery and the coconut palms were reflected in the mirror-like surface of the flooded ricefields, which climbed down the hill slopes step by step, while in the distance the blue volcanoes formed a magnificent backdrop.

I recall the irresistible appeal of Balinese dancing—the first vibrant chord of the gamelan orchestra, the entrance of the dancer with her eyes flashing and a fixed enigmatic smile on her lips, the peculiar fascination of the sudden changes of mood, and the incredible artistry of movement of hands and fingers.

Then I think of the hospitality I received in a little Sumatran village; I sat on the floor and ate rice with my hands, and then joined in the singing of the folk songs of the district to the tune of the guitar. But I also remember seeing the smoking ruins of a ten-acre Djakarta "kampong," after a fire had swept through frail bamboo and step houses leaving ten thousand people homeless. That is also Indonesia. And last, I think of the troops of smiling, bare-footed children trotting off to their shabby-looking schools, which now work three shifts a day in an effort to keep pace with the rapidly growing demand for education.

Land of opportunity

Some people see In Indonesia a land of great natural beauty, others prefer to see there only the unrest and instability of a young nation, but I like to think of it as a land of opportunity—opportunity not only for the Indonesians themselves but also for her more fortunate neighbour, Australia. Australians have now a great chance to befriend and assist this young nation, culturally centuries old, but sadly lacking trained personnel and technical knowledge. That is why I hope to return to Indonesia soon.