The Pigs of Bali

By Barrie | August 5th, 2007 | No Comments

One after the other, two scrawny, bronzed men pass in front of me, half-trotting in their rush. Between them, upended with hooves tied to the pole on the men’s shoulders, is a black pig.

The men wear only underwear and hats from woven palm leaves. With a splash they enter the sea, wading to almost chest-deep toward a boat rocking in waves just beyond the crashing surf.

Holding their pole aloft, they are relieved of their charge as calves start jumping into the sea. The boat is full of cows, which three men are coaxing or pushing overboard.

The two men in the surf take hold of the cows’ muzzle-rope and begin to guide them to shore.

This is a common sight in Sanur beach, where commerce thrives between Bali and the three populated islands cradled in its southeastern flank: Nusa Penida, Nusa Ceningan & Nusa Lembongan.

The dry islands don’t grow much but grass, perfect for the cows that are their main investment and source of income. In return they buy foodstuffs, including pigs, that thrive in the mainland.

The cows are reaching the shore as I splash through a nearby creek. Here I see another common sight with which I struggle to come to terms.

One of the scrawny boatmen, body still dripping wet, is standing in the creek, passing a wad of cash to an outstretched hand.

Looking back, I notice the hand belongs to a young man in brown police uniform. He hurries up the creekside steps to a man in a light-blue water police uniform leaning on a motorbike.

As I pass them, I see the man in brown splits the wad of cash between the two of them. The cash is then slipped into their trouser pockets.

There are no receipts: This is the norm. The boatman probably saved on paying the full official levy; the coastguard — if there is such an institution — denied an income.

A tax that could have gone toward providing a service to save lives at sea has gone to supplement the income of these two urban soldiers.

They probably consider the money their rightful entitlement for as long as they send up the right kickbacks.

As they overtake me, zooming on a motorbike along the beachside walkway, I realize that fiscal corruption in this country doesn’t irk me quite as much as motorbikes.

Wouldn’t you agree that it’s a lot more fun to jump in and out of boats with pigs and cows rather than zooming around, acting pompous and asking for handouts?

It’s 300 meters between their post to the farthest landing point, along a pleasant paved walkway shaded by broad-leafed trees, the trusty motorbike to the rescue, lest our men in uniform break into a sweat.

Most of you know how motorbikes have taken over city streets and alleyways. In lax rural Indonesia, it is also becoming common for primary schoolchildren to insist on a motorbike as a carrot for school attendance. This puts quite some pressure on family economies — not to mention our roads and global carbon dioxide levels — as every other Wayan, Made and Nyoman forgets the utility of their feet.

Call me deranged if you wish; you may be right. I’m burning with a fever at the moment.

I’m ambling away to save my sanity, avoiding the sound pollution from loudspeakers set up to blast the ears of the tens of thousands of kite enthusiasts swarming around my home.

Thanks to the near-total congestion of the roads leading in to the kite-playing area, groups of youths bearing kites have been reminded of the joys of walking the beach. It’s early morning, yet the hordes are still pouring in.

The Bali Kite Festival is an annual glitch in the matrix to our sedate life among the fields by the beach, so by now I should be used to the noise they generate and the rubbish they leave behind.

Plastic bags, bottles and various wrappers and packaging for food and drink litter the trampled rice and corn fields as if it were a war zone. Pemulung (scavengers) come to do their selective cleanup.

There’s hardly any smell of rotting food waste, however. For this I have to thank the stray dogs and that black pig’s extended family.

Pig farms consume most of Bali’s food waste, reducing what ends up decomposing as carbon dioxide, methane and ammonia. For their contribution to reducing global warming, pigs in Bali are quite the unsung eco-warriors.

If only the brown and blue variety could be as useful.

Kadek Krishna Adidharma is a Bali-based environmental engineer who works as a cultural liaison officer and is an interpreter.