Author : Ainur Ropik, M. Si (Lecture at UIN Raden Fatah Palembang)
Introduction: The Hidden Garden Legacy
Along the banks of the Penukal River in Penukal Abab Lematang Ilir (PALI) Regency, South Sumatra, lies a unique agricultural practice called “Jongot” – ancestral gardens of the Musi people that transcend ordinary fruit cultivation. Today, Jongot has evolved into a stage for collective identity struggles, being performed, defended, and fought for amid the currents of modernization and extractive industrial expansion.
Though measuring only half to one hectare, Jongot contains extraordinary biodiversity. Various plants such as forest rambutan, forest durian, tampui, perian, langsat, kemang, and bacang grow side by side, creating a mini-ecosystem that serves as home to diverse wildlife. Jongot is not the result of clearing primary forest, but rather former shifting cultivation sites deliberately planted with various fruit trees and medicinal plants as a form of reforestation and erosion prevention.
Challenging Nature-Culture Dichotomies
Ecologically, Jongot challenges the conventional dichotomy between “nature” and “culture” that underlies most modern conservation policies. In the Musi people’s worldview, there is no rigid separation between human space and natural space; both are connected in dynamic relationships. Jongot exemplifies a “cultural forest” – an ecosystem whose biodiversity actually increases through long-term interaction between humans and ecological processes.
Each tree in Jongot has a history, often associated with specific ancestors who planted it. Through these trees, intergenerational relationships are woven into the physical landscape. Names, stories, and knowledge about the characteristics and uses of each plant are transmitted from one generation to the next, creating cultural continuity amid rapid social change.
Jongot management practices also reflect sophisticated understanding of ecological connectivity. The Musi people strategically position Jongot in specific areas, such as near springs or on erosion-prone hillsides. This placement is based on deep understanding of landscape hydrology and soil dynamics. Jongot serves dual functions: as a source of food and medicine while simultaneously acting as ecological infrastructure that protects water sources and prevents soil degradation.
Silent Resistance: When Traditional Gardens Challenge Political Development Power
Maintaining Jongot amid economic pressures and extractive industrial expansion is not merely an act of environmental conservation, but also a political statement. When dominant development discourse portrays traditional agricultural practices as “inefficient” or “backward,” Jongot’s existence becomes empirical refutation of such narratives. Through Jongot, the Musi people articulate collective identity closely linked to sustainable living and balanced relationships with nature.
The politics of recognition in Jongot’s context relates to ecological citizenship. Conventional citizenship concepts are often limited by nation-state frameworks and formal rights. However, in ecological citizenship, the focus shifts to relationships between humans and the natural environment and intergenerational responsibilities. Through Jongot management, the Musi people have practiced a form of ecological citizenship based on ethics of care and sustainability – long before this concept became popular in academic discourse.
Ironically, despite practicing substantial ecological citizenship, their rights as formal citizens – including rights to land and natural resources – are often not adequately recognized or protected. Recognition of ecological practices like Jongot should not be a “concession” from the state, but rather a correction of historical and structural injustices.
The politics of recognition also has important epistemic dimensions. Ecological knowledge in Jongot practices is often undervalued when confronted with formal scientific knowledge claimed to be more “objective” and “universal.” Fighting for recognition of Jongot means challenging knowledge hierarchies that have long marginalized local knowledge. Jongot revitalization is not only about biodiversity conservation, but also protection of knowledge diversity equally important for human civilization’s sustainability.
Amphibious Humans: A Philosophy of Living in Two Worlds
The concept of “amphibious humans” used by the Musi people to describe themselves is a metaphor rich in meaning. This term does not merely indicate adaptability to aquatic and terrestrial environments, but reflects a philosophy that views identity as fluid and relational, not static. In the Musi people’s case, “amphibious” identity is formed through daily interactions with river and land ecosystems, manifested in Jongot management practices.
The topography of PALI region, dominated by lowlands near rivers and hills in the interior, has shaped unique ecological adaptation patterns. During rainy seasons, many areas along the Penukal River are flooded, forcing communities to adapt to the rhythm of rising and falling waters. Rather than viewing floods as “disasters,” the Musi people integrate this phenomenon into their knowledge systems and cultural practices.
Jongot planting considers annual flood patterns. Fruit trees are selected and positioned based on their tolerance to water inundation, reflecting deep understanding of local hydrology and plant adaptation. This “amphibious” perspective is also reflected in flexible tenurial systems. Unlike static and exclusive land ownership concepts, the Musi tenurial system is dynamic and contextual. Rights to land or river areas are not absolute, but related to function and use.
Jongot holds special status as a form of ownership that transcends generations. Fruit trees function as territorial markers that legitimize land claims. However, this legitimacy is not merely about “ownership” in the modern sense, but about “kinship relationships” with landscapes inherited from ancestors.
The “amphibious” identity reminds us that humans are not entities separate from non-human environments, but are formed through networks of relations with various entities – water, soil, plants, and animals. Jongot, in this perspective, is not merely an “object” to be owned, but an “actor” that participates in forming the Musi people’s collective identity. This relationship is reciprocal: as the Musi people shape landscapes through Jongot management, landscapes also shape their identity and way of life.
Unequal Struggle: When People’s Gardens Face Extractive Giants
The ecological political history of South Sumatra is inseparable from extractive industry expansion, particularly plantations and mining, since the colonial era. The discovery of petroleum in Talang Akar (1921) and Pendopo (1928) by the Dutch became a turning point that transformed ecological and social landscapes. Jongot, as small-scale agroforestry practice oriented toward subsistence, became increasingly marginalized in landscapes dominated by monoculture plantations and extractive infrastructure.
The expansion of rubber and oil palm plantations not only physically took over land, but also distorted social relations and cultural values related to traditional land management. The loss of Jongot is not merely land use change, but part of a major transformation that converts land from a social-cultural entity into a fully traded commodity.
Spatial politics becomes the main arena of contestation in the struggle to maintain Jongot. Space is not a neutral entity, but a social product shaped by power relations. In PALI region, conflict occurs between “imagined space” by the state and corporations – which view land as resources to be exploited – and “lived space” by the Musi people – which view land as home, identity, and ancestral heritage.
Participatory mapping conducted by several Musi communities represents efforts to articulate this “lived space” and give it formal legitimacy. Despite being de facto controlled and managed by the Musi people for centuries, most Jongot lack formal legal status recognizing indigenous people’s rights over them. The absence of formal recognition makes Jongot vulnerable to takeover, both by the state and private actors.
Paradoxically, the Benakat-Semangus protected area covering 259,801 hectares receives formal legal status, while Jongot – which serves as buffer for that protected area – receives no similar recognition.
Stage of Identity Negotiation: When Old and Young Reinterpret Ancestral Heritage
Jongot has become a primary arena where the Musi people’s collective identity is negotiated, both internally and in relationships with external actors. Internally, there exists a spectrum of diverse attitudes and practices – from those maintaining “traditional” forms to those adapting them with commercial plants or new management practices. This diversity reflects identity as an ongoing process, not a fixed entity.
Contestation over Jongot’s meaning becomes more complex when confronting external discourses that romanticize or oversimplify indigenous people’s practices. Global conservation discourse often portrays indigenous peoples as natural “forest guardians” – a view that ignores the complexity of their motivations and practices. On the other hand, conventional development discourse often sees practices like Jongot as markers of “backwardness” that must be replaced by “modern” agricultural systems.
Both views tend to be essentialist and ignore how the Musi people actively negotiate identity in responding to social, economic, and ecological changes. Identity negotiation also occurs within intergenerational relationships. Older generations who grew up when Jongot was still integral to subsistence systems tend to view it in cultural and spiritual frameworks. They remember every tree and the stories behind them, as well as ritual practices related to harvest cycles.
Younger generations – who grew up in market economies and global media exposure – may have ambiguous relationships with Jongot. For them, Jongot might be viewed as potential “economic assets,” sources of cultural identity, or even obstacles to their “modern” aspirations.
New Paths in Conservation: Indigenous Gardens Teaching the World About Ecological Justice
The Jongot story teaches that conservation efforts cannot be separated from the politics of identity recognition. Conservation approaches that focus solely on biodiversity protection without considering social-cultural dimensions often end in failure or conflict. A holistic perspective is needed – one that recognizes ecological practices like Jongot are not merely land management techniques, but material expressions of ways of life and collective identity.
True recognition must be accompanied by redistribution of material resources and political representation. In Jongot’s context, formal recognition of Musi agroforestry practices must be accompanied by economic support that enables their sustainability and substantial community involvement in decision-making. Without redistribution and representation, formal recognition risks becoming merely symbolic gestures without significant material impact.
Jongot revitalization offers opportunities to rethink relationships between conservation, development, and social justice holistically. The Jongot experience shows that integrating both is possible through practices rooted in local knowledge and values. Rather than imposing universal development models, approaches that facilitate communities in developing their own visions and development paths based on their specific histories, ecologies, and aspirations are more promising.
Conclusion: Lessons for Global Sustainability
In the context of deepening ecological crisis, lessons from Jongot become increasingly relevant. Amid global searches for more sustainable alternative development models, traditional agroforestry practices like Jongot offer valuable inspiration and insights. Jongot’s value lies in the relational philosophy underlying it – understanding that humans are not entities separate from nature, but integral parts of interconnected networks of life.
This relational perspective, which the Musi people have lived for centuries, may be their most valuable contribution to global discourse on sustainability and ecological justice. The Jongot story reminds us that true conservation must be grounded in recognition of cultural diversity and indigenous rights, while sustainable development must emerge from communities themselves rather than being imposed from outside.
In an era where environmental degradation and social inequality are increasingly interconnected, Jongot offers a model of how ecological stewardship and cultural preservation can go hand in hand. It demonstrates that the path to sustainability lies not in the separation of humans from nature, but in the recognition and support of practices that have successfully maintained this integration for generations.