Proud leader: Valentinus Sutrisnanto, the community unit head of Kampung Tridi in Malang, East Java.

Trains heading west out of Malang Station slip through a dense forest of rickety houses.  Rail companies usually clear land flanking the line.  Not here.

If the train car windows are open, passengers can snatch fruit off of breakfast tables.  They can also check out clotheslines. Safe behind tinted windows, passengers squint into bedrooms and kitchens while the occupants only notice moving metal.  It is rude, but it gives outsiders a chance to observe kampung life.

Now voyeurs do not need to travel. Instead of furtive guilt-laden glances, they can see and be seen, strangers and locals discovering their similarities.

“It’s no problem, we don’t care,” said Valentinus Sutrisnanto as a tour group passes his home’s open doorway. 

“We smile and they smile back.  We talk. I hear most are happy to wander around and look at our murals. They certainly take many selfies.”

And leave money.  Although the entrance fee is Rp 3,000 (21 US cents), the number of visitors to Kampung Kesatrian, also known as Kampung Tridi (Three Dimension), jumps into the thousands on public holidays according to gatekeeper Habibah. 

“People come from Russia, the Netherlands, Germany and Australia,” the 26-year-old Habibah said. 

“They hear about us from Facebook and the Lonely Planet guidebook.” 

Instead of tickets, Habibah gives tourists keychains with heart charms as souvenirs.

Many among the 240 families squashed higgledy-piggledy between the rail and the Brantas River have set up cafes and food stalls.  Visitors climbing the narrow stairs and traversing the streets can buy refreshments, then rest on the steps and seats.

If that was all it was, just a cramped urban village that let people pay to peer, then this story should end now.

However, the tale is bigger and more colorful. 

Every building, rooftop, wall and sometimes even the sidewalks have been painted in pastels, green and yellow, pink and orange.

On these backgrounds are murals of pop stars, Disney characters, international landmarks such as the Eiffel Tower and wayang kulit puppets, jumping out of frames to create a 3D effect. 

Leaping lions are a favorite because this village is also the hub of Arema Malang soccer club fans.

Before retiring, Valentinus Sutrisnanto, now 64, was a station official. In 2011, he became the head of the community unit (RW) in the village.

The 240 families must feel he does a fine job because he has been reelected three times. 

Sutrisnanto is a Catholic and his wife Anita Albertina a Protestant, while almost all the other thousand residents are Muslims.

People may remember when former Jakarta governor Basuki “Ahok” Tjahaja Purnama was imprisoned for blasphemy.  Half a million placard-wavers packed Jakarta’s National Monument (Monas) in early December 2016.

“That hasn’t been the situation here,” said Sutrisnanto.

“We’ve had no conflict.” 

While he was talking to The Jakarta Post, a neighbor in Islamic garb stopped for a chat, seemingly unconcerned that he was facing a cross and flanked by pictures of Jesus; also present was a lady sweeping the floor ahead of a service to be held in the RW head’s living room.

The only major problem in the village, according to Sutrisnanto, is trash. 

“We’ve told everyone to use trash cans but garbage still gets into the Brantas River. We never see stuff thrown in there during the day,” he said.

“This concerns me; I know foreigners who otherwise like our village do not like seeing plastic on the riverbank.”

To underline his point, a young Dutch couple wouldn’t get off the steps leading to the water. 

“We don’t see this in Europe,” they said staring at putrid black blobs.

Nor will they encounter anything quite like Kampung Tridi in their homeland or other Western countries. 

The initiative would not get past the first stage of planning because nothing would meet health and safety regulations, while public-risk insurance premiums would be steeper than the railway embankment.

Motorbikes share space with pedestrians. Some lanes are just one-person wide. Steps are
uneven.

The paint, supplied free by a manufacturer, covers blemishes so visitors aren’t repelled — unless they look closely. 

Away from the river everything is clean — which was not the situation a few years ago when tourists feared to tread.

“The kampung was filthy,” said Sutrisnanto. 

“We had petty crime, thieves, beggars, drunks and drugs.  The police were often called.  Now we don’t even have security guards.”

He claims the turnaround happened when locals decided they wanted a better environment. 

The key was not to seek advice from social workers or to carry out feasibility studies but to return to the traditional Java principles of gotong royong (mutual cooperation) and musyawarah (consultation and consent).

Meetings were held weekly. Jobs were found for the unemployed so they felt belonged.  No government department has gotten involved.

“We did everything ourselves,” said Sutrisnanto, stopping to chat with a mixed group — two German women and a cluster of Jakarta moms.

“The money from ticket sales is used for maintenance and to help widows, single mothers and the poor,”

“We distribute sembako [nine basic commodities] to households twice a year.  All our income and spending is audited and made public.”

“As you can see, it’s been a success.  The secret is constant communication, talking to people face-to-face, listening to their complaints, advocating for them, explaining what’s happening and why.”

— Photos by Erlinawati Graham.

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