Traffic-watch — Jakarta

Minor flesh wound returning after lunch with the newspaper from the malls. Certainly finding the Jakarta Post in Tanah Abang you can forget. As previously disclosed, only yesterday's paper available around noon here. Possibly it was not a morning edition.
         Slight graze was not from a collision with a bike or car. Rather one of the lads wheeling goods on a trolley. Scores and scores of these young men around the textile market transporting large, tightly sealed bundles to and fro; some on trolleys, others shoulders and heads. The African head-carrying is fairly common here, men as well as women. In the tight lanes and alleys it affords easier passage for one thing. Chaps with wide baggage on their trolley often get caught unable to move. Two hundred porters in a crowded space would not be an exaggeration. It might be three hundred. Some wear the green or orange tees of their particular trading house. All wear the common slip-on sandals. A sudden move engaging a tiny Primary Schooler in uniform with sweat-matted hair caused the glancing blow, the chap calling out having his load shaken.
         Up on the slope on Jalan KS Tubun—a hero from history, Irwan at the hotel desk informed—a couple of carters working in tandem raised a gulp in the throat. The old chap, early-aged fifties, coming downhill with the heavy pile wheeled behind was taking the brunt of the load, digging his heels in, sandals slipping, jerkily pacing. It could only have been the son behind, young lad still mid-teens following and striving to keep the trolley upright. At the same time and as part of that function, trying to restrain the headlong careering. A couple of expertly tied ropes had left the lad loops on either side. One of these in each hand like reins on a steer, the boy attempting to save dad in front. Tugging and grimacing as his mount was getting away from him. An impossible mission. How was he to brake the speed when his feet were flying beneath him. The faces of dad and the boy caught in the instant of passing: strain, sweat, anguish. There was no help for it. Half-way down the steep descent they were met.
         A shower was needed immediately on return. An hour's stroll into town. Sit first at Starbucks, then lunch at Gado Gado within Thamrin tower, before facing the mid-day traffic back. The Saturday had not lessened it any. Only a matter of time one would think before a more serious accident. No health insurance; that ran out fourteen months ago. It is difficult trading the old rooster out behind the bathroom at Kalisma for Frankie in the mall singing of love and champagne.
         Reading the remainder of the paper in the room later saw the traffic problem in the immediate neighbourhood given page 9 treatment: Traffic Chaos. Tanah Abang traffic to be addressed.
         The area around the textile market seems to be one of the most significant bottle-necks in the famously grid-locked city, on-street parking identified as one of the chief factors. Rates currently stand at Rp 4,000 ($US 40cents) per hour for vehicles and half for motor-bikes.