How a British former fashion executive is working to end hunger in Bali
- Founder of charity Yayasan Solemen Indonesia, Robert Epstone’s mission is to find sustainable solutions to ending poverty in Bali
- Unable to travel to Kuala Lumpur for a lung biopsy, the Briton is looking to the future with hope
Generous beginnings: I was born in 1948 into a middle-class Jewish family in Leeds, in the UK. My mother was a concert pianist and organised fundraising concerts in the city. My father was a successful manufacturer who used all his wealth to buy a huge tract of land in Leeds where he built various sports centres and facilities for the public that are still there today; it’s known as the Prince Philip Playing Fields.
When my dad died, Prince Philip sent a handwritten letter to my mother saying what a great guy he was.
An eye for design: I studied textile management and design at the University of Leeds and after graduating I went to New York and San Francisco. People often mistook me for (Led Zeppelin lead singer) Robert Plant. When I returned home a few years later I joined a manufacturing company making uniforms for British Airways.
In 1975, I became the youngest ever member of the British Clothing Export Council and spent 30 years designing in England, France and Italy, and exporting high-end fashion to Asia, including my own Robert Epstone menswear label to Marui department stores in Japan. In 2000, I moved to Shanghai and became part of the opening up of China’s retail and apparel sector. It had the same feeling as Japan in the 1980s. Everything was there for the taking and I had no real competitors.
I made millions of dollars for friends like Vivienne Westwood and the Marui group but I never made any real money for myself because I rarely signed contracts
Easy come, easy go: I made millions of dollars for friends like Vivienne Westwood and the Marui group but I never made any real money for myself because I rarely signed contracts. My biggest blunder took place in the mid-80s, when I set up a deal with Richard Branson. I called him out of the blue and when his assistant offered to take a message, I told him it was urgent and that if Mr Branson didn’t return my call in five minutes, his job would be on the line. I read somewhere you can use this trick to meet just about anyone.
A few minutes later, Branson called back. I said, “I want to introduce you to a friend who is the equivalent of you in Japan.” He said, “With all due respect, I own the world’s fourth-largest airline and I am very well catered for in Japan.” I responded, “I would not have imagined you would be so arrogant to say something like that. I am appalled.”
He apologised and offered to meet my friend, the managing director of Marui department stores. I set up a meeting. Within a few minutes, they’d agreed to launch Virgin Records outlets at Marui stores across Japan. The deal was worth US$70 million and when news got out, the values of the shares of both companies skyrocketed.
Afterwards, my friend and I went to the pub to celebrate and he said, “Let’s write a contract on a napkin because I want to give you a 10 per cent finder’s fee.” I said, “Don’t worry about it, I trust you, a handshake is good enough.” But a few months later, when I tried to collect, I learned my friend had been booted out of the company. I spoke to his replacement and he said, “No contract, no money.”
The move to Indonesia: In 2008, I came to Bali for the first time to attend a friend’s wedding. I fell in love with the place straight away. The pollution in Shanghai had got really bad by then – we barely ever saw the sun – but in Bali, it was always sunny and everything was so green and beautiful.
I decided I would move to the island, ostensibly to retire. But that idea flew out the window the first time I saw the poverty. I joined the local Rotary Club and they asked me if I would take on a project: building wells in Sumba. I got to the village of Tanarara and was shocked to learn 90 per cent of people there had no access to running water and had to walk 5km to the nearest river, which was contaminated.
I didn’t speak their language and had no idea how to dig wells, so I joined forces with a German charity called ProAir. The plan was to build 20 in five months but things kept on getting delayed because our cement and other building materials kept disappearing. Then I would see all these structures popping up all over Sumba and I asked the villagers, “What are you doing? I am doing this without payment and you are stealing from me.”
So I had to apply for more funding, then the monsoon season came and instead of taking five months, it took 15. I also had a big row with the Rotary Club. They said I had to employ an engineer to find the water tables and I refused. I found them with the help of locals using water-divining twigs. On every single occasion we found water to the centimetre.
Breaking chains: At our charity, Solemen, we do many things but most of all we focus on helping the mentally disabled. We feed 2,400 of them every day and provide free medical care to thousands more. We’re also committed to helping end the practice of pasung – “stocks” – when a family chains a son or daughter suffering from schizophrenia or other mental illnesses to a wall.
The practice was banned in 1977 but we think there are still 1,000 pasung victims in Bali. The families have no idea what they are doing is wrong and they have no choice because there are no facilities to help them. One pasung victim broke free and killed his father. Another thought his mother was a snake and attacked her. We have freed 42 pasung victims in Bali, got them jobs and back into society.
The Covid-19 effect: Our funding used to come from donations from tourists in Bali and hotels and beach clubs. We used to make about US$50,000 a year selling Solemen teddy bears at these venues. But when the pandemic hit in March and tourists were banned, 80 per cent of our income disappeared. Fortunately, our biggest sponsor, Finns Beach Club, had paid until October.
We came up with the idea of placing food-drop boxes in supermarkets to gather donations. When I approached the biggest chain in Bali, they said, “Sorry, we’re too busy.” Next, I tried an independent supermarket and before I’d finished my pitch, the manager agreed. It’s been an enormous success: we got the food we needed and their sales went up because people were buying two of the same thing.
We’re also setting up aquaponics kits in Balinese homes. Each kit costs about US$40 and has three bins that can grow fruit or vegetables using water and the droppings of catfish that swim inside the bins. It requires no capital to operate, just kitchen scraps, and each kit can feed a family of four. It is a circuit breaker for hunger on the island because it means we no longer have to provide sacks of rice. We plan to deliver 1,000 kits over the next few months.
As long as you have hope and compassion and you don’t give up, you can survive
New hope: One day in August, I started shivering and my nails turned blue. It had to be Covid-19, I thought. I’m 71 years old, in one of the highest risk groups. The test came back clear but a scan revealed I have a tumour in one of my lungs. It could be cancer but the only way to find out is a biopsy – if the surgeon is even a few millimetres off he can puncture my lung and that would be the end of me. The hospital in Bali doesn’t have the manpower. So my insurance company decided to send me to Kuala Lumpur.
That is easier said than done during the pandemic, and now the situation has been further complicated by a bacterial infection in my leg called cellulitis. I can’t travel until it clears up. At times like these I think of the Solemen tag line: HOPE. More people recover from serious illness if they have hope. It’s a medical fact. As long as you have hope and compassion and you don’t give up, you can survive.
