Author Sarah Crockett Intern from Australia

I recently spent three days and two nights in Hargorejo, a village in Kulon Progo, Yogyakarta, as part of a community visit organised through my internship at Mitra Wacana. I stayed with Ibu Lusi and her family—an experience that allowed me to experience daily life in a rural Indonesian village and to see the central role women play in sustaining their communities.

Days started early, often around 5am, which was an adjustment for me! After waking the village was already busy, with roosters crowing and neighbours already sweeping their yards or preparing food. One morning, I followed Ibu Lusi to the local market, where people were warm, curious, and eager to chat—especially when they saw I was clearly not from around there. It was a friendly, light-hearted environment, and people were constantly joking and laughing with one another. The whole trip had a relaxed and communal energy that made me feel genuinely welcome.

One of the key moments during my stay was attending a parenting class run by Mitra Wacana for local mothers. Ibu Lusi collaborated with Mitra Wacana to organise the event and acted as a sort of liaison to the community. It was informal and lively, with women attending with their children and learning together. The session covered everything from child development to the role of parents, all in a casual setting where babies crawled on the floor and conversations flowed naturally. It was another example of how community knowledge can be built and shared.

As an intern at Mitra Wacana, I was able to see firsthand how the organisation builds trust and connection at the grassroots level—particularly with women. Their programs, like the parenting class, don’t just deliver information—they create space for dialogue, leadership, and mutual learning. Being part of this work gave me a deeper understanding of how community development operates in practice, and how important it is to adapt to local knowledge and context. I saw how relationships—not just resources—are central to sustainable change, and how working from within the community, rather than outside it, leads to long-term impact.

Ibu Lusi teaches at a local kindergarten, and I joined her and the children on a field trip to visit a nearby royal grave site. After the excursion, we shared lunch on mats and chatted in the shade. Back at home, I helped feed the goats and ducks, joined in with cooking, and played badminton with neighbours. One evening, the power went out, but Ibu Lusi didn’t miss a beat—we cooked by candlelight, and within moments, everything was sorted. She has this calm, capable presence that makes it clear she can handle just about anything.

She’s also involved in a community garden where herbs and vegetables are grown and shared. The community works together to raise catfish, which are eaten by locals or sold at the market, giving residents of the village, particularly women, another source of income. Everyone seemed to know her, everywhere we went she was calling out ‘hello’ and we were often invited in for a drink and a chat. We also visited a neighbour who had recently given birth, bringing food and a small gift of money—a quiet, routine act of care.

I was regularly encouraged to istirahat (rest)—something that doesn’t come naturally in fast-paced, individualistic environments like Australia, where productivity often takes priority over connection. In Hargorejo, rest isn’t a luxury—it’s just part of the rhythm of life. People take breaks, nap together, share food, drop in on each other, and help without needing to be asked. One afternoon, I lay down with the family on a mat inside the house, doors open to the breeze, and joined them in resting. No schedule, no urgency—just a quiet part of the day.

Although I was a guest and clearly a foreigner, I felt at ease. My Indonesian language skills helped me take part in conversations and follow along with what was happening around me. People appreciated the effort, and it allowed me to participate more fully in everyday life. Although there were many times I could not fully understand, people were willing to make the effort to talk and engage with me, and there were many moments where verbal language was not needed to communicate ideas and thoughts.

Since then, I’ve already been invited back, and just yesterday I returned to see the kids graduate from kindergarten. After the ceremony, we took a boat ride along the beach and relaxed in the shade on the sand.

The whole experience was a reminder that there’s real value in slowness, community interdependence, and informal care networks. In contrast to the more individual-driven structures I’m used to in Australia, life in Hargorejo feels less rushed, more collaborative, and deeply relational. There’s something to learn here—not just about rural Indonesia, but about different ways of living well. It doesn’t mean everything is perfect, but it does show that community strength doesn’t only come from institutions or programs. Sometimes, it comes from the way people show up for each other, every day, without needing to be asked.