KUALA LUMPUR, March 26 — It took Dwi Suslamanto three days by car to reach the small, rusting ferry that would take him across the Kapuas River on Borneo island. His destination is another five hours up a dirt road to the border town of Badau.

This is a road trip with a difference, because Suslamanto is bringing 5 billion rupiah (RM1,415,491) in unused cash.

The Indonesian central bank chief for West Kalimantan province is taking crisp, new currency to one of the world’s most remote borders, which snakes 2,020km through highland jungles, dividing the Malaysian and Indonesian parts of an island bigger than Texas.

He’s here to prevent an invasion from his Southeast Asian neighbour — not of battalions, but banknotes.

The Malaysian town of Lubok Antu is only 15 minutes by motorbike from Badau and locals have become used to crossing the border to buy goods and paying on both sides with Malaysian ringgit.

“It takes a lot of effort to get here, but here we are,” Suslamanto says, donning green rubber boots for the road to keep his Oxford shoes clean for meetings with governors and bank chiefs.

“Indonesians living near the borders often feel neglected and that’s a threat to our border when they feel that our neighbours care more than we do.”

Thirteen years ago, it cost Indonesia territory.

In a dispute over two islands, the International Court of Justice ruled in favor of Malaysia, on the grounds that it exercised more authority over them and supplied the inhabitants with currency.

Crumpled Notes

“Never again,” says Suslamanto, a lightly-built man wearing half-rimmed glasses and a red polo shirt. At each town along his route, he asks local officials the same question: how much cash do you need? He swaps torn and stained paper money with new notes.

Keeping Indonesia supplied with cash isn’t easy. There are almost 1,000 inhabited islands in an archipelago that would stretch from New York to Alaska. Some, like Indonesia’s parts of Borneo and New Guinea, are vast and only just beginning to get basic infrastructure in their interiors.

The road from the provincial capital of Pontianak that brought Suslamanto’s two-SUV convoy (the rear one with the money and armed police) alternates between asphalt and dirt with potholes and subsidence from traffic and monsoon rains. Part of the reason for his trip is to see if the route is strong enough to take the bank’s armored vans, which would bring future supplies of rupiah.

President Joko Widodo, who took office in 2014, pledged to prioritize building more roads and utilities in 50 regions that border neighbouring countries, partly to appease discontent over a lack of public spending outside Java, the most populated island.

Imported Power

Badau is a case in point. Its electricity is supplied by Sarawak Energy Bhd, the Malaysian utility that gets part of its power from the Batang Ai dam over the border in Sarawak.

Convenience stores in the Indonesian town stock Malaysian- made snacks and canned drinks as well as blue-green cylinders of liquefied petroleum gas packed by Malaysia’s state oil company, Petroliam Nasional Bhd.

Some shopkeepers and business owners still accept both Malaysian ringgit and Indonesian rupiah, said A.M. Nasir, the town’s regent.

One of them is restaurant owner Hartati, who travels across the border to Lubok Antu every week for supplies.

“The meat is fresh and the vegetables too, and I don’t have to spend hours driving to Semitau,” the town by the ferry on the Kapuas River, said Hartati, wearing a bright yellow hijab. Her customers pay in either currency and she can calculate the exchange rate instantly in her head.

“If I could get cheaper and better supplies from Indonesia, of course I would buy in rupiah.”

Spoiled Food

Perishable food brought from Semitau tends to spoil during the five-hour trip and vegetables can cost up to twice as much as those from Lubok Antu, said Hartati, who only uses one name.

“There’s a saying: in Indonesia, prices are fixed but in Malaysia, prices are negotiable,” said Suslamanto. 

“Malaysia can offer better prices because of easier transport and better infrastructure.”

The Malaysian and Indonesian languages are mutually intelligible, allowing people from Badau to find employment in Lubok Antu. That trend has eased recently as plantation companies moved in, clearing the rainforest and planting tracts of oil palms, the source of the world’s most-used vegetable oil.

Most of Badau’s 6,000 people now work in the plantations, Regent Nasir said.

“When many people worked at Malaysian firms and were paid in ringgit, it was worse,” he said, gesturing a hand weighed by gemstone rings at the expanse of palm trees covering the hills around Badau.

“Now, the plantations serve as living walls protecting our borders as the people can remain on Indonesian soil to find work, and they’re paid in rupiah.”

Oil Gusher

It also means demand for Suslamanto’s banknotes is going to surge once the trees mature and yield a large harvest in about two years’ time, Nasir said. Oil palms take about four years to become commercially productive.

At the top of Badau’s main street — a thin strip of asphalt with dirt borders dividing a rag-tag of one- and two- story concrete buildings — a single billboard proclaims: “Indonesia is my country. Rupiah is my currency. Let’s love the rupiah!”

In 2011 the government passed a law criminalizing the use of foreign currencies for transactions on Indonesian soil, with offenders facing up to a year in prison. The West Kalimantan police and Bank Indonesia signed an agreement on Feb. 25 to ensure cooperation in enforcing the law, Suslamanto said.

A major step in being able to enforce the law is Suslamanto’s car full of cash. Before he came, the Indonesian notes in circulation were insufficient and largely unpleasant to use.

Damp and Smelly

“Old paper money gets damp, dirty and very smelly,” said Stepanus, who runs a store selling motorbike tires and spare parts on the main street.

He said he has occasionally given change in ringgit as he’s embarrassed by his rupiah notes.

“I feel very ashamed handing out old rupiah bills to my customers, but somehow the ringgit paper stays clean.”

Malaysia’s low-denomination banknotes are made of polymer, while Indonesia still prints most of its money on paper.

Borneo’s relatively slow development has meant that cash is still king.

The island was divided by a colonial treaty in 1842 that marked the British-controlled area to the north, which became Malaysian, and the Dutch-held territory to the south, which later formed part of Indonesia.

Sandwiched between the two was the Sultanate of Brunei, which opted not to join Malaysia on independence, and a region of Sarawak given by the Sultan to Englishman James Brooke for helping quell an insurgency.

Known as White Rajahs, Brooke’s family ruled like kings until the early 20^th century in what is now the Malaysian state of Sarawak, over the border from Badau.

Headhunters

Until the late 20^th century, the border area was sparsely populated by Dayaks living in traditional longhouses that housed several families. They traveled by river and lived in largely self-sufficient ethnic communities, such as the famous Iban headhunters.

These days, they come to Semitau to count their money.

Once a year, the head of the local branch of a provincial bank, Sulaiman, invites his customers to a feast, with music, dancing and bundles of paper money on tables.

The Dayak travel up the winding Kapuas, Indonesia’s longest river, to the wooden dock in front of his house, next door to the building of Bank Pembangunan Daerah Kalimantan Barat, which is owned by the West Kalimantan government.

The money is displayed in two piles: accumulated savings and this year’s interest, allowing the depositors to literally watch their money grow. They also bring the year’s earnings from selling products such as pepper.

Dangdut Music

“They count the money as we eat, share stories and enjoy some Dangdut music,” Sulaiman said over the sound of drum beats and synthesizers that characterize the Bollywood-inspired musical genre. “Once they’re sure we haven’t lost their deposits, they add a few million rupiah and go home.”

Suslamanto’s arrival in Semitau is greeted with a similar feast, though this time it’s Bank Indonesia supplying the piles of money.

“The rupiah is part of our national identity,” Suslamanto said, laughing as he declines calls by Sulaiman’s family to join in the dancing. 

“It unites us.” — Bloomberg