What a Bunch of Old Ladies Can Do

I met Dr. Hanna at church my first week in Indonesia.   She was spry, with a great sense of humor and not slowing down a bit, even into her mid-70s.  She was a medical doctor and spent her career in service, most recently working for the World Health Organization before her retirement.  Dr. Hanna’s current passion is supporting abused women and children, equipping them with the education, knowledge, and resources the need to live a safe, full, and productive life.

Women in Indonesia can feel quite invisible.  In a country of 250 million people, one-third of women reported being abused.  The government survey from last fall indicated that most abuse affected urban and educated women – which to me sounds like the type of women more likely to report abuse, so my guess is that the number is actually much higher.  Abuse still has a stigma, not only around the abuse itself, but also for women who speak up about it.  There is a law prohibiting domestic violence, but has failed to change cultural mindsets.  The home is still considered the sole jurisdiction of the male head of the household.  Many women also fear speaking up about abuse, as women are still suspected as having invited or deserved abusive actions in some way.  Last year, there was a case of a female bookkeeper who reported unwanted sexual advances and conversations from her supervisor. She recorded his phone conversation as proof.  She was arrested and jailed.

Child abuse is also a rampant problem.  Child sexual abuse targets boys more often than girls, although again, the official statistics are just the cases that have been reported and the social stigma is a strong deterrent for many families.  It’s a challenging statistic to track, especially in more rural areas where children are often seen as nothing more than potential assets.  One in four girls are married off before the age of 18, with many being under the age of 16.  Some parents will sell their daughters in marriage to pay debts.  Indonesia is the eighth highest country for the number of child brides, with 3,500 underage marriages happening daily.

One gregarious man I met loved connecting with English speakers.  He had a great sense of humor and was a fascinating conversationalist, in nearly fluent self-taught English with a mixture of Singapore and British accents.  His childhood story belied his easygoing behavior, though.  His parents were of mixed faiths, his mother was a Christian and his father was Muslim.  His brother was raised in Islam, while he was raised by his grandparents in their Christian faith.  His grandparents passed away when he was 6 or 7 years old, so he returned to live with his parents.  His father constantly abused him for his faith, verbally, and then physically.  He was forced to hold bricks above his head for hours.  One time he was dragged behind the car.  He told these stories matter-of-factly, as though it was just to be expected.  His father held a high position in the military.  What could you do?  Who would you tell?

Dr. Hanna sits on the board of JaRI, which is an acronym translated into Network of Volunteers.  The organization began in the 90s amidst student demonstrations and crackdowns.  The organization formed to stop violence.  Once that immediate crisis faded, JaRI reoriented to other forms of violence, focusing their efforts on the often silent but persisting issues surrounding women and children.

JaRI has proactively worked to create resources for women and children in abusive situations.  They have set up a hotline to report violence and offer free legal assistance to those suffering from abuse.  They have a network of psychologists that work with women in recovery and will travel to places where established care isn’t readily available.  They act as a resource to connect women with ongoing support and assistance, ensuring they have a full line of experts ready to walk with them as long as they’re needed.

Prevention is a large focus for the organization, as well.  Dr. Hanna has been working on material for schools and has launched a training program for young children on Safe Touch, a topic that has been widely ignored for far too long.  They recently received a grant to create educational videos for schools so they can scale their training much more quickly.

As with any topics that involve humans, it’s easy to have solutions for statistics, but harder for specific stories.  One of my friends was working on a research project following underage domestic workers, a group of about a dozen girls she had gathered.  One girl in her study had dropped out of school because her family needed money.  She seemed well treated by the family she worked for but had been excited to start studying through a weekend program.  She had recently married a man who seemed kind and caring and would help her finally become financially stable, enabling her to focus on finishing her education.  A month or so after her marriage, she contacted my friend crying, because her new husband had hit her.  She wasn’t sure what she should do.  Every action had so many repercussions – nothing seemed simple.

JaRI had some incredible successes for a small and nimble organization.  Dr. Hanna and I met for several hours to talk about what the organization had accomplished so far, and what still needed to be done.  We came up with some strategies to increase their profile, strengthen communication, and recruit more volunteers to help.  She invited me to present the recommendations to the board.

The JaRI offices are in an old hospital building.   I would have been completely lost if Dr. Hanna hadn’t been leading the way through the twists, turns, courtyards, and stairs.  I met the small team that lead their efforts, an impressively credentialled group of doctors and psychologists, and the hotline lady – who had the kind, supportive, inviting personality that seemed just perfect for the job.  We talked for several hours over recommendations for future growth.  The current board president, a sharp, witty, doctor, seemed interested in the presentation, but a little bemused.  When I had finished, her first comment was, “We are a bunch of old ladies!  I don’t know if we can do all of this.”  I laughed.  “But look at all you’ve already done – you’re a pretty impressive bunch of old ladies!”  They all laughed too.

We focused on activating their fundraising support group, called “Friends of JaRI” to start looking for more volunteers.  They had a few university students helping out with social media.  One challenge with using stories to inform and raise the issue publicly was the sense that there would be more backlash against the stories than against the problem.  “The public isn’t ready yet.”  The social sentiment was that if you are a woman, you should be prepared to suffer.  While that was exactly the mindset they were trying to change, it would still take time.

They shared a story of a family in a village where they had recently worked who offered up a baby as a collateral for a loan.  “Did anyone call the police?”  No one was sure.  Everyone agreed that that wasn’t right, but the legal process for enforcing that was still fuzzy.  “The law is only for people who can’t evade it.”

The food came out and the conversation continued.  More was needed.  More was always needed.  More money.  More volunteers.  More profile.  More access.  But every big problem starts with people who work with what they have, where they are, doing what they can.  These women in their mid-70s were probably nearing the end of their volunteer time, but more would step in and continue the work.  The statistics speak to the very large need, overwhelming even.  But these ladies, grandmas who should be relaxing with knitting or something, knew it was too important to stop, because behind each statistic is a real person who needs help.