Putu Restiti and her little sister, Alit, have felt invisible most of their lives, hidden in a run-down shack because they were born with twisted limbs some believe were caused by evil spirits.
They were kept out of school and had no friends, but like children everywhere, they had powerful imaginations. After being given a Barbie doll, they started stitching tiny, intricate outfits for her from their mother’s sewing scraps, and in doing so, they created a new world for themselves.
Word of their beautiful and delicate designs spread. They were displayed for sale in Bali’s top tourist area and neighborhood kids started visiting, first to watch and then to request their own.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” 21-year-old Putu says to Alit after adding a final stitch to a traditional batik gown, pulling it over Barbie’s golden locks and then tightening a clasp around the iconic doll’s petite waist and high bust.
“Yes,” the pigtailed 11-year-old whispers. “So sexy.”
Indonesia’s resort island of Bali — with its white-sand beaches, five-star hotels and throbbing nightclubs — attracts millions of tourists every year. They include everyone from Paris Hilton (who gushed to fans during a recent visit that she had finally found “paradise”) to backpackers and surfers. And with her starring role in Eat, Pray, Love, Julia Roberts helped bring a different pilgrim to the “Island of the Gods”: spiritual seekers.
However, there is a dark side as well for children like Putu and Alit, neither of whom can stand or walk because of problems that occurred during breech births.
Unlike the rest of the sprawling archipelagic nation, which is predominantly Muslim, most Balinese are Hindu. Their unique form of the faith stresses worshiping of ancestors — and a belief that prosperity can only be achieved with the blessings of dead relatives.
Those with deformities are said to embody the “bad” spirits of those who have lived before. An embarrassment to families, some are locked away. In the most extreme cases, they’re abandoned, left to fend for themselves.
That’s what led to the search for Putu two years ago.
Sakti Soediro, a volunteer with a health foundation that helps disabled youths, was looking through a midwife’s files describing a breech birth nearly two decades ago in which the baby was born feet first and the mother nearly lost her life.
After the difficult delivery, the girl disappeared without a trace. She had never gone to school or visited health clinics or hospitals, so no records of her were on file anywhere.
“We were determined to find out what happened,” Soediro said, who looked for a month, first going door-to-door in villages dotting Bali’s stunning coasts, and then venturing deep into the island’s interior, where many still live in abject poverty.
After navigating a windy, dirt road that climbed the long-dormant Mount Batur volcano, she reached the rice-farming community of Songan.
There, in a concrete shack at the end of an alley, Jero Widiani, a seamstress abandoned by her husband years earlier, was struggling to raise five daughters on her own.
Three were healthy. Neighbors were not even aware of the two others.
Putu, the eldest, was sitting on the ground, her severely distorted legs folded beneath her as she sewed together scraps of material.
Alit, huddled beside her, was even worse off.