Passing ultimate test: Abduction by gunmen
TRI MUMPUNI
Indonesian social worker Tri Mumpuni faced what she called her “ultimate test” in 2008 when gunmen abducted her and her husband while they were scouting for a place to build a micro-hydropower plant in the jungles of Aceh.
The once-rebellious province was still reeling from the ravages of the 2004 tsunami, and the couple had sought to teach former separatist rebels the principles of small-scale hydropower technologies to boost the struggling local economy.
Mumpuni, one of the 2011 Ramon Magsaysay Award laureates, and her spouse, engineer Iskandar Kuntoadji, were searching for prospective project sites when they were surrounded by men brandishing AK-47s and large knives.
The gunmen, including some former rebels the couple had been training, blindfolded them, bound their hands, and demanded 2 billion rupiah (about $235,000) in exchange for their freedom.
Shaken, Mumpuni whispered to her husband: “Are you at peace?” He replied: “Yes.”
“When he said ‘yes,’ I was pleased,” she recalled, her eyes and hands animated as she narrated her ordeal.
“It was the ultimate test: Am I really committed to work for the poor?” said Mumpuni, who was given Asia’s highest honor for her efforts to bring electricity and other fruits of development to the rural parts of Indonesia.
“I hope I passed the test,” said the 47-year-old development worker. “For me, death is a destiny. It’s really something that only is in God’s hands. God gave me all the privilege in my life, meeting great people, meeting the poorest of the poor and even those people in the jungle.”
Mumpuni and her fellow laureates will each receive a medallion, certificate and cash prize in rites at the Cultural Center of the Philippines at 4:30 p.m. today. Named after the late Philippine President, the Ramon Magsaysay Award is considered Asia’s version of the Nobel Prize.
15-hour nightmare
With her head and neck veiled as is customary among Muslim women, Mumpuni recalled her 15-hour nightmare in an interview with the Inquirer. She said there were moments when she had despaired.
“At first, I was still having positive thoughts. Maybe this was just a joke, that they wanted to give us experience, to show what it’s like when they’re fighting with the military,” she said. “But when our eyes were covered, our hands were tied up, and [we spent] two hours in the car. I thought ‘this is serious.’ Oh my goodness!”
(At the time of the couple’s abduction, the separatist movement in Aceh had been dissolved following a peace treaty between the rebels and the Indonesian government in 2005.)
‘You’re crazy’
Upon her own suggestion, the kidnappers let Mumpuni go so she could collect the money to pay the ransom. “They said, ‘Remember, make sure to bring the money within 24 hours. Don’t tell the police or I’ll send your husband’s head,’” she said.
Mumpuni hurried to the town and frantically called her friends and family members for help to raise the money.
Eventually, she was able to “haggle” with the former rebels by phone to lower the ransom to a little over 500 million rupiah ($60,000).
A friend who was working in a bank helped her raise the amount. “My friend said, ‘You’re crazy. You’re doing all this work in those dangerous places. Look what happened,’” Mumpuni said.
“I was thinking, ‘my friend is right,’” she said, recounting how she had feared for her husband’s life as the clock ticked away.
Best kind of work
Hours later, when Kuntoadji was released upon payment of the ransom, Mumpuni said she realized: “No, my friend is wrong.”
“This is the life for us. We get injured. We risk our lives … But this makes me happy. It makes me happy in a different way. I really love this work. This is the best kind of work that we have to continue for a bright future,” she said.
Her ordeal also served as a sign to Mumpuni that her vocation was not over.
Born to a father who was an economist and a mother who was a social worker in Semarang, Central Java, Mumpuni grew up to be a little of both. She earned a degree in social economics and immersed herself in rural development work upon finishing her studies.
In 1980, she married Kuntoadji, who had helped form the short-lived Yayasan Mandiri, the first Indonesian nongovernment organization to promote hydropower technology for community development.
With his technical expertise and her entrepreneurial abilities, the young couple established in 1993 the People-Centered Business and Economic Institute, with the Indonesian acronym Ibeka (Institut Bisnis dan Ekonomi Kerakyatan) to develop micro-hydropower systems for impoverished rural communities.
The challenges were daunting. Mumpuni struggled with restrictive state regulations, complex financing requirements and the demands of social mobilization work.
Thus, she strove for a balance between working at the level of the highest government offices and reaching out to the poorest communities that would ultimately benefit from Ibeka’s causes.
Mumpuni’s group accomplished this through “a community-based development approach that goes beyond the technology to the socioeconomic empowerment of communities.”
Much to be done
Ibeka organized electric cooperatives, trained villagers in technical management and resource conservation, and gave other support to raise incomes.
Mumpuni also successfully lobbied for changes in state policy to allow independent micro-hydropower plants to sell electricity to the government’s national grid.
From its base in Subang, West Java, Ibeka has built 60 micro-hydropower plants with capacities ranging from five to 250 kilowatts. The plants now provide electricity to half a million people in rural Indonesia.
But Mumpuni said a lot more needs to be done: Some 20,000 villages remain without electricity, especially the remotest ones, including the forests of Bandung in Aceh, where she and her husband were captured three years ago.
“My husband taught them how to make a micro-hydro because he’s an expert on designing and the engineering side,” she said, referring to the time she spent training the former rebels.
“On my side, I cooked for them. I had discussions with them about how to empower rural communities,” she said.
Turbine or gun?
Mumpuni said she tried to convince the group that they were so blessed with the natural resources at their disposal, and to teach them how to tap energy from these using hydropower facilities.
“I told them that making a turbine and making a weapon is the same thing. Same material but different results. If you make a turbine, you will become a new hero in your villages, but if you make a weapon, what for?” she said.
Her experience with her abductors did not discourage her and her husband from pursuing their mission to uplift lives in impoverished places.
“It’s become a huge responsibility for us to be able to find a way to reach these people,” she said.
Mumpuni said she believed three things would help her achieve her purpose: patience, commitment and love for the cause.
“Sometimes, we don’t need much money. We just need to find people with good hearts. Big hearts will lead us to solve our problems,” she said.
