Fat Budi the turd put one over in the fare out to Irwan’s kampung in South Jakarta. Three hundred thousand initially quoted; half-hearted challenge led to fifty reduction.
Two hour ride. Traffic. Benzene alone would cost him Rp100k, fat Budi the fuck lied. (The return cab totalled Rp75k.)
A few days before during an exploration of old Batavia near the port the prick had the damage from an accident he was responsible for voluntarily paid. (Two hundred thousand Rupiah split with another passenger—$AU25. Chinese Madame in a Toyota with Indo driver.)
An hour saw us arrived at Jagakarsa, outer south of the city. Trafficless toll-way. Narrow pot-holed streets. Hundreds upon hundreds of darting motor-cycles, riders angling up on the wrong side of the road.
Low-rise ramshackle buildings, screened stalls at that early hour. The one sight was the 7am Bogor train with the newscast image of passengers up on the roof under the cabling.
The Jagakarsa kampung was a kampung in name now only, an administrative relic. Irwan’s father had bought the house a number of years before from the proceeds of a modest motor spares business. Four or five room dwelling on 300sqm. With earnings from a few years on the international cruise ships and in partnership with an auditor brother, Irwan had bought two small neighbouring shops on the main drag, where a small cell-phone business was established. The auditor lived in Bandung; two other siblings with children in the house with Irwan and their parents. All smooth sailing until Irwan was widowed during his wife’s delivery.
Small traders along the road; the mosque where Irwan and family worshipped new and well-presented; a vegetable market. A short distance away a plantation of trees was difficult to identify initially. One looked for coconuts, despite the fact these were not the common type. Finally, the memory of the pisang at Mersing in Malaysia a year previous. (Bananas were out of season.)
Close by the market a roof on an impressive double storey house bore some kind of mounting high on the ridge. Clearly not a garuda—the mythic eagle-like totem in Java. Closer inspection showed an enlarged black and white crowing cock, a beauty.
We drank heavily sweetened teh in the sitting room that lacked a television (the box sat in the adjoining room). Delicious home-baked chocolate cake was served. Irwan had been implored, No feast please, no special reception. A short visit—a first in a Muslim home—merely to consolidate the friendship and visit a Javanese kampung. (One had vainly hoped for rice paddies, even in present-day Jakarta..)
Half through the visit a chap turned up on a motor-cycle needing to talk to Irwan. Some matter requiring attention. Irwan excused himself for five minutes. Enough time for the brief exploration—banana plantation, crowing cock, &etc. Unexpectedly at a news-stand a current edition of the Jak Post, not easy to find even in Tanah Abang.
Strolling in the shade casually, on the opposite side of the road there was Irwan’s mother, was it? Yes, footing back toward the house.
Helloes across the traffic. Hello. Hello. A couple of small white paper bags waved aloft.
Yes, yes. A little turn around the neighbourhood, back soon. Circling in the air with a finger.
The woman had no English and the Bahasa Malay learnt in Singapore was dicey in Java.
At home Irwan was waiting. Conversation resumed.
How to explain a writer’s life? Man traveling solo without family of any kind. No sign of the wealth like the cruise ship passengers that were Irwan’s index.
Feverish work Irwin; little dollaro you can believe what I say, my man.
Halting communication that was interrupted by the mother’s entry with another plate, carrying two small paper bags.
Please. Please.
Ah. But…
Hamburger and fries, Irwan announced.
Hamburger? And fries?…
Oh. Well. Thank you.
The mother had been picked in a trice, the very first moment. The way she angled her head, hunched her shoulders somehow and sought you out with reaching eyes. That outward flow like a river in flood was known. There was a definite type in any kampung the world over.
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