Borneo Pulp

by John Francis Kinsella

The Forestry Centre at Bogor was located opposite the main entrance of the Botanical Gardens. Sir Stamford Raffles had founded the gardens; at the time he was the British Governor of The Dutch East Indies, during the Napoleonic wars, when the British had taken temporary custody of all Dutch possessions in Asia after Napoleon had occupied Amsterdam.

  The entrance was through a huge old coach door, and under an imposingly high archway, on the corner of the colonial style building that faced the gardens. A group of sleepy guards and janitors were seated against the wall, as messengers idled smoking their Kretek cigarettes, waiting to be dispatched with urgent or important documents, which could not be trusted to a slow and inefficient postal service.

  The grey walls were flaking and dirty, and had last seen fresh paint so long ago it would have been difficult to remember exactly when. It was one of the classical bastions of the Indonesian civil service. There were no sharply dressed officials, in freshly laundered tropical safari suit uniforms as in Jakarta; there was little movement apart from the lethargic flies.

  In the courtyard beyond were the offices of the different sections. Jean Marcillac had been there once before, some years previously. He was not confident that they would get the data they needed, which in theory should be found in what were called green books.

  They enquired for Wolfgang Kubler, with whom they had an appointment. It suited Wolfgang to meet them there; he lived nearby in a suburb of Bogor, in the mountains where the air was fresh compared to the oppressive climate on the coast, avoiding the daily struggle through the dense traffic down to Jakarta which lay on the coastal plain sixty kilometres below.

  Kubler had two offices, one in Bogor, where in reality he was simply lodged in the Forestry Centre for his personal convenience, and his official base, in the magnificent new polished granite building of the Ministry of Forests in Jakarta.

  They were shown through a succession of louvered swing doors to a collection of offices, which were sparse and dusty, in spite of the humidity, which was high although it was an improvement compared to Jakarta.

  The short sleeved Indonesians, seated before their tea mugs and disorderly piles of dog eared papers, gave them curious glances, but were not really interested; they saw quite a few Belandas in the centre looking for information on the forestry concessions.

  Wolfgang Kubler was seated in a worn but comfortable looking arm chair, under an old ceiling fan that rotated slowly dispersing in swirling patterns the blue smoke that rose from his cigarette. The lighting was dim, the air hot and heavy, the whole building had the somnolent air of the rather forgotten government service it was.

  The windows were not glazed, but made from open wooden slats, like Venetian blinds, they looked onto an open corridor, a functional veranda, that ran around a large courtyard, where the red earth looked tired and worn, a few large aggressive birds, that resembled crows, pecked at the ground under an ancient multi-trunked ficus, whose massive branches shaded the courtyard from the sun.

  ‘There’s as many as eight hundred species per hectare!’ Kubler said looking over his thick rimless glasses; he was the cartoonist’s image of a myopic Japanese.

  In spite of his name, Kubler, he was an Indonesian. One of the stories that speculated on his origins said that his grandfather was a German submarine commander, who had run aground off the coast of Java, towards the end of World War I. He had chosen to remain in Indonesia, having had enough of war, and later married a local girl. They had several children, the youngest of whom was Wolfgang, who unfortunately for some strange reason looked more Japanese than Indonesian.

  Maybe it had been a Japanese submarine, Ennis thought idly as Kubler peered at him.

  ‘Of the eight hundred species, only a handful or so have any commercial value,’ said Wolfgang.

  He went on, explaining that the majority of species were little known; even the most experienced specialists at the National Forestry Centre in Bogor could not identify them. It was only with the help of the local Dayaks and by an elaborate comparison of colloquial, commercial, and botanical names made up by long forgotten botanists, could many species be identified.

  There were just a handful of foreign botanists and researchers who were versed in the arcane details of the flora of the vast unknown rainforests of Borneo.

  When those few commercially valuable trees had been extracted from a block of forest, the loggers would move on, like a predatory horde, wreaking a path of destruction through the forest, which until that instant, had been undisturbed since the moving of continents.

  ‘The clearings in the forest recover naturally you know. The sunlight encourages the growth of what are called pioneer species, enabling dominant trees to establish themselves, then in about fifty years the forest is more or less back to its natural state,’ Wolfgang explained in an offhanded and unconvincing manner, his head thrust back, as he appeared to try to focus them through his thick lens.

  ‘How many concessions are there today, in Central Kalimantan?’ questioned Ennis.

  ‘Well…approximately two hundred concessions, that’s to say areas that have been allocated by the Ministry of Forests to logging companies for twenty five year periods.’

  ‘That’s a long time!’

  ‘Yes, but not all of them are operated, some of them are already logged over, that means the commercial species have been removed.’

  ‘What about the dacrydium we want to use for our project? In which concessions are they found?’

  He laughed and fidgeted, ‘I don’t know, no detailed survey has ever been carried out, we only know from the reports of our inspectors and controllers that groves of dacrydium exist in the dry areas of the forest. Small quantities were logged for the Martarpura paper mill when it was in production.’

  ‘And the other species?’

  ‘Let me see…there’s agathis and araucaria. Agathis is a very valuable wood today, it’s relatively rare. Only the waste, branches and tops could be used for paper pulp.’

  ‘Who would harvest the wood for the paper pulp mill ...the concessionaires?’

  ‘No,’ he hesitated. ‘No, the concessionaires are equipped with heavy machines designed for commercial wood, you know very big logs. Your project needs lighter equipment for more intensive logging. You’d need to set up a separate organisation for that purpose.’

  A picture of the forestry operations necessary to supply the pulp mill with wood was slowly taking form in his mind. He realised that the forest survey, planned for the project feasibility study, would be a determinant factor in convincing Indopap’s investors of the projects viability.

  If the wood was not available in the necessary quantities and at the right price there would be no project.

  ‘Can we see the green books?’ asked Ennis.

  ‘Why not!’ said Kubler, making a sign to an assistant, who appeared to be on the verge of falling asleep. He jumped up bowing forward, his appearance had been deceptive, in spite of his apparent weariness, he was at the ready for the slightest sign from Wolf.

  Some minutes later the assistant returned with a stack of green books. Ennis was surprised that the books were in fact green, or at least the covers were. They were made up of cheap old-fashioned paper, printed by Roneo.

  Kubler handed over one of the books to Ennis, who flicked through the pages. It appeared to consist of lists of the trees recorded in a given concession.

  Kubler confirmed that the green books on the table covered one concession. There were similar books for every logging concession in the country. Each one being an inventory of the standing timber at the date it had been prepared. In the case of Barito’s proposed pulpwood harvesting area in Central Kalimantan, he explained that there were about one hundred concessions.

  The lists gave the Indonesian colloquial names of the trees, the botanical names, and various other data on the mensuration of the trees. They were catalogues, inventories of the trees standing in given concessions at some past moment in time.

  Glanc
ing at the dates, he saw that the books had been printed about ten years previously. It was evident there was little chance that the export quality timber would still be the same. Marcillac asked for the green books for the other concessions, which were slowly and laboriously produced by Wolfgang’s assistant - when they were available. They quickly concluded that the rest of the other data had about the same value. The books and the data they contained were obsolete!

  They found very little reference to the dacrydium that they were looking for. The so-called specialists gave them a blank look when they tried questioning them on the subject. It appeared that the experts had rarely, if ever, visited Kalimantan.

  Marcillac then inquired about survey maps and aerial photographs, but maps were unavailable, at least detailed maps. Those produced by Kubler’s staff, were not much better than those that could be bought on any street corner bookshop in Jakarta, or, found on the wall of any elementary school classroom. There were simply no survey maps available.

  Kubler hopefully suggested that they obtain Landsat photographs from the USA, or from SPOT in France. However, they apologetically explained to him that the resolution of the satellite photographs would be much too low for the purpose of the inventory.

  After long and insistent questioning on the aerial survey data, and wading through stacks of large dusty manila envelopes, they finally came across some surprisingly good high-resolution photographs and detailed survey maps. They covered an area near Bandjarmasin where the mill was to be built.

  The officials were not willing to part with them. Wolfgang shrugged, he had no authority in the Forestry Centre and was unable to persuade them to hand over the photographs or the plans, he told Ennis they would have to speak to their director who was regretfully absent.

  They left disappointed, Marcillac smugly whispered out of earshot of Wolfgang, ‘I told you so.’

  Their only possible consolation was that they could make a quick visit to the botanical garden, where there were informed they could see first hand, specimens of the trees they were looking for, which they were beginning to doubt existed. First, however, they lunched in a small restaurant with Wolfgang, the speciality, a spicy lamb stew. The restaurant was set up on a pavement that bordered the noisy, dusty, main road that rose steeply towards the town centre. The stew was flavoured with a good dose of thick diesel fumes from the buses and trucks that wound their way around the becaks.

  Wolfgang left at them the main entrance of the gardens; he excused himself explaining that he had some other matters to attend to in the forestry centre.

  In the vast botanical gardens, a wizened guide led them to the agathis and dacrydium. The agathis was impressive, a huge tree that towered to a height of sixty metres, with small leathery oval shaped leaves, not unlike olive leaves and small dark green cones. The dacrydium was much smaller, with typical long monkey pine needle covered fingers. They gathered leaves and cones that had fallen from both trees and posed for photographs, so that they could produce the evidence back in Paris.

  They then returned to bid goodbye to Kubler to thank him for his assistance before heading towards Puncak to meet Touzan. In his office Wolfgang casually announced to Ennis that it would cost them two thousand dollars.

  ‘What would cost two thousand dollars?’

  ‘The aerial photos.’

  ‘Two thousand dollars! That’s robbery, in any case the Forestry Departments our partner!’ said Ennis laughing with surprise, in fact he was not really surprised at all, it was a typical rip-off.

  ‘If you want the photos it will cost you two thousand dollars.’ repeated Wolf with a slightly embarrassed smile.

  Christ! Ennis thought to himself half amused, screwed again! ‘Okay, when?’ he finally said. After all two thousand dollars was a drop in the ocean compared to what they were spending.

  There was no other way; at least the photos and maps were of very high quality. They were part of a survey that the Australian Airforce had carried out fifteen years previously under an aid program for Indonesia. There had not been a great deal of changes since that time, in any case they could not hope to obtain such good photographs without a mass of red tape.

  The only detailed maps and photos of Kalimantan Tengah available would have been from the army. Wolfgang had told them regretfully for security reasons these were restricted. The army always invoked security, since Kalimantan remained a sensitive area, a hangover from the sixties.

  Their next stop was Dr. Philippe Touzan’s office, ten kilometres outside Bogor. It lay on a gently sloping hillside, facing the tea plantations for which the area was famous.

  The temperature was just right for tea, and for the residents of Jakarta who had the means to own a weekend home in the hills, to get away from the heat and pollution of the city. Many scientific institutes had their centres there, which suited the needs of their cosseted expatriate staff.

  Large butterflies danced amongst the flowers and banana trees in the tranquillity of the spacious gardens that surrounded the centres low modern buildings.

  The walls of Touzan’s office were lined with reference books on the scientific subjects related to tropical forests. The office was bright with the sunlight that shone through a large panoramic window overlooking the gardens. Touzan was bearded, smoking a pipe and comfortably seated in an expensive leather armchair.

  The object of their visit was to seek his advice on the natural habitat of dacrydium trees and their life cycle. Little was known about the tree outside of botanical circles, apart from gardening specialists, to whom it simply was known as a tree suited to ornamental gardening. Its natural habitat was almost unknown, and any scientific knowledge of its reproduction and life cycle was practically zero.

  Touzan, who was renowned for his work on the natural architecture of tropical trees, listened to them as he puffed on his pipe. He had a doubtful silent gaze, as Ennis explained Papcon’s project. It took a considerable amount of persuasive effort to draw him out.

  What did he know of the trees’ habitat? How could they determine the quantity of exploitable wood standing in the forest? How did its reproduction occur? What kind of fibre structure did it have?

  After some reflection and some apparent inner conflict, he started to talk.

  ‘Let me see,’ he paused, ‘if I have understood you correctly, you want to take out some one million cubic meters a year of this wood from Central Kalimantan! Have you considered the consequences this could have on the ecological balance of the forest?’

  Jesus! Thought Ennis, this is another conservationist; we’ll have to be very careful here.

  ‘Yes that’s correct,’ he hesitated, ‘but before we start we need the advice of specialists such as you, to guide us and avoid any costly mistakes, on the industrial or environmental aspects. In any case, our plan includes an environmental impact study.’ He added hopefully.

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard that before, that’s what all of the logging companies say. They’ll carry out reforestation! They won’t damage the forest when they take out the so-called commercial wood! It’s total fantasy.’

  There was a pause, whilst Ennis considered his next argument. It was not necessary.

  ‘Look, I’m personally against this kind of blindfold development, but that is my scientists conscience speaking. I’m here working for the Government of Indonesia, in their pay, and I cannot go against their policies for national development. Nevertheless, I do warn you against the type of exploitation that’s destroyed eighty percent of the forests in the Philippines, and done a great deal of damage in this country, especially the deforestation for transmigration-that’s just one example.’

  They waited.

  ‘Marcillac’s organisation is certainly one of the most experienced for your investigations. I have to admit that they’re very serious people,’ he nodded grudgingly towards Marcillac.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Marcillac, surprised, but pleased. He had been uncomfortable having his own arguments thrown at him.

/>   The following morning, they arrived early at one of the many Hutan Industri’s offices. It was situated on a wide avenue, Jalan Selemba Raya, in a run down and overcrowded building, about half a kilometre down from the Ministry of Agriculture, on the opposite side of the avenue, across a dense, slow moving stream of chaotic traffic.

  Kubler had the photographs. Ennis handed over the two thousand dollars. He hoped that Wolfgang would enjoy his cut, which he would no doubt invest in his light plane. His pastime was flying and for a lowly paid civil servant he was better equipped than many professional pilots in his country.

  Ennis was relieved to have some more detailed data. It was sure that the civil engineers and designers back in Paris would be pleased to have something more tangible. The same could not be said for Marcillac. His problems were still unresolved. How to cover four million hectares and identify the dacrydium groves?

  ANTOINE BRODZSKI