|
Hope Amongst Despair
A school for the children of sex workers in Indonesia's second largest city
offers some promise
By PHIL ZABRISKIE
 |
 |
|
JOHN STANMEYER/VII FOR TIME
|
This school in Kremil, Surabaya, caters mainly for the children of sex workers
|
Past parlors dimly lit by red light bulbs and fronted by slow-eyed prostitutes
making eyes and offers, there is a green building with a telephone center on one
side and, on the other, a rack stuffed with pairs of small shoes.
This place is deep within the Kremil neighborhood of Surabaya, Indonesia's
second largest city. Kremil is one of many red-light districts in the town, one
of the oldest in fact, dating back to the Japanese occupation of World War II.
Women arrive here desperate for work, or they are imported into the area from
nearby towns by men convinced that indoctrinating yet more women into the sex
industry is an acceptable way to spend one's life. The lucky ones stay in the
business only briefly. But there aren't many lucky ones. People fall through the
cracks here, and right now the cracks -- in Surabaya and all across the country
-- are gaping.
Then there are the children. Prostitutes get pregnant. It happens. And children
are born of bought-and-paid-for sex. Pimps, claiming to be uncles or cousins,
often become surrogates for these kids. Believe it or not, some of them are
advocates of solid religious training, so they go looking for a teacher.
 |
 |
MORE STORIES
Disunited Nations
Once a patchwork of sultanates and kingdoms, this teeming region now struggles to tame its multiple—and often conflicting—identities
|
 |
|
|
|
That's when they might come to the green building. This is where Khoirum
Syu'aib, 40, is trying to weave at least a few strands of a safety net. He runs
the Diniyah School, a religious study program for neighborhood kids, funded
mostly by the phone center. Round about 8 p.m., the second of the evening's two-
hour sessions is in progress, this one for 9- to 12-year-olds. Wearing a white
Koko (the gorilla) shirt and a blue sarong, and a white songkok (headgear),
Syu'aib steps out to greet some unannounced visitors. Dark eyed with high
cheekbones, he looks younger than his age, almost boyish aside from a thin
mustache and the wisps of hair on his chin. He offers the visitors some water,
then steps gracefully up a spiral staircase, emerging into the middle of a large
rectangular room with chalkboards at either end. The voices of boys and girls
reciting the Koran in unison echo off the linoleum, overwhelming the hum of a
lazy fan.
Khoirum estimates that 70% of these smartly dressed students are children of sex
workers. That wasn't his father's express intent when he opened the school in
1982, but that's the reality. From the balcony, Khoirum can point to several
brothels. He thinks the number of sex workers in the neighborhood has dropped in
the last 20 years, though he's concerned it's rising again in the wake of the
1997 economic crisis. He has a weekly Koran reading for women who've gotten out
of the business -- pimps usually attend Thursday nights -- but some of them are
again selling themselves.
Khoirum discusses this with an almost disturbing detachment. You'd think all the
years spent watching lives decay faster than Surabaya's crumbling old facades
would generate some anger. But he says his job is not to judge; it is to teach,
and to love. Committing a sin, he says, does not disqualify the sinner from the
house of God. If they want to return, they will be welcomed. Among his most
gratifying moments, he says, is when he walks down the streets and a prostitute
calls out an Islamic greeting from her perch at the brothel's door. "In my work,
prostitution is considered a sin," he says, "but sociologically, it must be
acknowledged. One must be realistic." Besides, he adds, the sin of the parent,
theologically speaking, is not visited upon the child.
In class, following their teachers lead, sounding out the words of Islam's holy
text, the children look and sound perfect. Their faces glow, their eyes dance
with curiosity and energy. The questions usually come in the teenage years: Who
is my mother? Why am I here? And the answers have derailed more than a few
promising students. Khoirum says fewer are getting into drugs these days, but
finding out your mother is a prostitute is never easy to accept. Depression,
loss of esteem, fighting, petty and more serious crime -- it's a slippery slope.
Khoirum has a kind face, a gentle smile. He speaks soothingly, in a way that
must be comforting for a child. His serenity might also stem from a realization
that there's little he can do beyond his doors. The sex business is entrenched
and readily accepted in this town. He'd love to see attitudes change, but that
seems unlikely. So he focuses on the children, doing what he can to keep them
safe within these walls.
|
|
|
China
Photographer Fritz Hoffmann finds a country on the move
Indonesia
John Stanmeyer explores the jostling peoples, religions and cultures that define the country
India
The grandeur of Cochin and Calicut has long disappeared
Middle East
The cities that were once the center of the world now hover at its remotest margins -- but a few traces of their glory days linger on
Africa
In the 15th century, Zheng He's fleet went to Africa seeking exotic treasures. The Chinese still do
|
|
CHINA: In the Wake of the Admiral
SOUTHEAST ASIA: Disunited Nations
INDIA: Misplaced Majesty
THE MIDDLE EAST: Arabian Twilight
