JP/Duncan Graham

When overseas donors meet the health care needs of Indonesians, does this free the government from its duty to provide for its citizens?

That’s one of the questions concerning Dr Maria Wi-dagdo, director of the Yakkum Rehabilitation Center just outside Yogyakarta.

Another is whether the government’s tiny contribution — less than 1 percent of the center’s running costs — indicates indifference to the needs of the people with disabilities and is even a reflection on the national character.

“Of course I want the government to take more responsibility, but I’m not critical,” Maria says. “They do their best and there are many good people. They just don’t have enough money in the social welfare budget.”

When reminded that there always seems to be enough money for politicians’ needs and comforts she sighs but refuses to be drawn. Her job means she has to be diplomatic, flexible — and tough. A tricky trifecta.

Fortunately, she’s well equipped to negotiate the labyrinths of Indonesian bureaucracy and the complex demands of aid agencies.

Although Yakkum is a faith-based organization (the name is an acronym for a Christian foundation) it doesn’t proselytize; the overall impression is that it’s a secular show. Most clients are Muslim and Maria (a Catholic) brushes aside suggestions of any discrimination in the provision of services.

“We care for people in need,” she says. “Their religion is immaterial.”

International donors include NGOs and government agencies in Germany, the US, Holland, Australia and New Zealand. Big donors attach conditions to their grants, with most wanting those helped to return to the community. Donors that insist on including Bible readings or services as part of the deal are turned down. “I want to show love, but not that way,” Maria says.

If part of the deal is fiscal accountability, then there is no problem: Administration costs account for 15 percent of the budget, Maria explains, and potential donors can scrutinize an audit of the agency conducted by an independent Australian accountant.

“I’ve lived in Australia so I know how people overseas are aware of Indonesia’s reputation as a corrupt country, and that affects their attitudes to donations,” she says.

Yakkum was started in 1982 by an inspirational and driven New Zealander, Colin McLennan. On a visit to Yogyakarta for a Boy Scout jamboree, he was distressed by the number of disabled and aimless children he saw roaming the streets.

“The sight shocked him because he’d never seen anything like this in NZ,” Maria says. “It really touched him and he became obsessed. He met another man of good heart, Pak Parjono, who was an amputee who’d been bitten by a snake.

“He became Yakkum’s first client and staff member. They made a formidable team and together they started collecting kids and helping in their rehabilitation, first as an outpost of Bethesda Hospital.”

Colin, who died in 2007 aged 73, raised money in New Zealand which he used to established a separate legal organization. His life is honored by a wall plaque at Yakkum that reads: “A New Zealander who cared and made a difference”.

From this small start Yakkum is now a major complex that has helped about 9,000 people to build skills and live independently. Yakkum’s prosthetics factory turns out limbs and adapts bicycles and motorbikes to give people with disabilities mobility. It also has a small factory employing 15 producing wooden toys and artwork. Some handicrafts are exported.

Following the 2006 Yogyakarta earthquake, Yakkum was turned into an emergency center treating hundreds of wounded. People suffering fractured limbs and spinal injuries filled every available space for about two months. At the time Maria was running the clinic with other doctors and nurses.

The skills they developed are now being put to use in earthquake-devastated Padang, where a team from Yakkum has set up an emergency unit. It’s also running a center on the island of Nias where thousands were killed or injured by the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami and an earthquake in March 2005.

Maria, 43, was born in Semarang in Central Java and graduated locally in medicine. She was the first in her family to attend university, pushed by her working-class parents who were determined their children should be well educated.

She later followed her engineer husband Sugianto Pudjohartono to Australia when he won a scholarship for higher study. Bored at home, she volunteered to assist at a hospital. Her dedication impressed and she was awarded a research grant.

Eventually she gained a doctorate in geriatric medicine — an accomplishment she plays down with a practiced one-liner: “It’s not the degree that counts — it’s the quality of the person.”
She still had a lot of learning to do back in Indonesia, particularly that “culture is stronger than religion”.

“Fear of Christianization is still a factor that makes some people reluctant to seek help,” she says. “The idea that the birth of a handicapped child is the result of a curse from God is still around, particularly in the villages.

“People feel ashamed and try to hide their children. We want them to be able to take their place in the community working to provide for their families because work brings independence and dignity.”
Despite their achievements, Maria knows it is a drop in the bucket.

“I just don’t know how many handicapped people are out there and unable to use our facilities.

You don’t see the polio victims that caught Colin’s eye years ago, but it’s clear that the majority miss out. Apart from accidents and injuries many suffer from cerebral palsy. ”

By the standards of other Indonesian medical facilities, Yakkum is reasonably well equipped. It has spacious grounds and a purpose-built factory, workshops and substantial living quarters, all developed on a block of vacant ground. Nevertheless, help is welcome.

“Overseas volunteers are welcome, but ideally these should be established professionals in areas like information technology, physiotherapy and administration,” she says.

“They need to be self-starters because it takes energy to maintain learners. We want people with good hearts — but not missionaries. Finding the right work for disabled people and matching their skills with employers’ needs is a difficult but necessary task.”

And changing the culture is the hardest part of all.

“There’s a 12-year-old Indonesian law that states companies must employ handicapped people — at least 1 percent of their workforce,” she says. “That’s not happening everywhere, so changing community attitudes is a great challenge.”

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