In the hills of East Java, Indonesia, the Wonocolo oil field continues to operate using traditional, small-scale methods that have persisted for over a century. Known locally as Teksas Wonocolo—nicknamed "Little Texas" by the regional government—the field covers roughly 120 acres and is notable for its shallow depth of about 1,600 feet, enabling crude oil extraction without heavy industrial equipment.
The field was first discovered in 1893 during a Dutch colonial-era water excavation. Despite being deemed commercially insignificant by major oil companies, it has remained active through successive oil market fluctuations. Local workers, many of whom have labored at Wonocolo for decades, rely on rudimentary setups, including makeshift wooden derricks and repurposed truck engines to pump oil from the ground. These community-operated wells are not officially registered with the Indonesian government, placing them outside formal safety regulations.
Sujiyanto, a 51-year-old worker, described the labor-intensive process: crude oil is drawn up in pumps controlled by jury-rigged engines and then collected manually by teams who scoop and transfer it into containers. A typical operation may yield around 200 liters—slightly over a barrel—before moving on to the next site. The oil is then sold mostly to Pertamina, Indonesia’s state-owned petroleum company.
Despite modest income levels, locals generally welcome rising oil prices, citing increased earnings. Still, the work is hazardous, with accidents documented—including a fatal incident involving a pulley five years prior. Environmental concerns have been raised by regional advocates, who highlight risks such as soil contamination, air pollution, and adverse health effects among workers. Pradipta Indra Ariono, director of WALHI East Java, an environmental NGO, emphasized that the persistence of this industry reflects limited employment opportunities in the region.
Approximately 800 wells span the villages of Wonocolo and Hargomulyo, with around 200 continuing production. Historically, wells yielded up to 38 barrels daily during peak periods in the 1990s, but depletion has reduced output considerably. Presently, extracting seven to eight barrels per week from a single well is typical, resulting in earnings of roughly $400 per month for those managing multiple wells.
Generational ties run deep in the community. Mujiyono, 70, recalled that before mechanization, manual labor by teams of up to 10 people operated the pumps. Others, like Sumanta, 64, have invested in revitalizing abandoned wells and now produce several hundred barrels weekly. Many remain optimistic about the potential for uncovering additional reserves by drilling deeper.
Recognizing the dwindling yields, local authorities launched the Petroleum Geoheritage Wonocolo initiative about a decade ago to promote tourism linked to the field’s history. Facilities such as an observation tower and a museum were established, but the project has seen limited success. While the museum remains open and draws some visitors, other amenities like the food hall have fallen into disuse, and the area around the wells remains overgrown.
As the Wonocolo field faces ongoing challenges of resource depletion and informal operations, it stands as a testament to the enduring role small-scale oil production plays in supporting local livelihoods in parts of Indonesia.