Negotiating Alms

Coming down the bridge from Tubun a woman on a crutch with a stump cut below the knee, thin and withered. Two or three paces were needed for the impressions. The refuse bin roadside was her object; she was carrying one of the white plastic gunnies and readying to lift the lid. In the pockets the memory was clear: Rp100Ks left and in the right only Rp50Ks and two or three 10s. There could be no hesitation, the woman could not be ignored. Of course she was not begging; she was quite unaware of the tall white panama tracking close behind. Once the woman was overtaken the lavender Rp10K was presented. She may have already opened the lid of the bin with one hand and caught mid-movement. In the deadly blaze at the fireworks factory in Tangerang, West Jakarta, by last count forty-eight women had lost their lives. Cheap, unregulated and underage factory hands toiling for Rp40K per day. At the time of meeting at the airport Ni had still not heard the report; in the days following she had watched numerous TV features on the story. A program called The Lawyers Club had raked over the event at length, an entire episode devoted with unpolished performers for the most part from the second generation of the profession here. There was a good deal of raw feeling, awkwardness and stumbling for words, even head-scratching from the compere at one point. The stumpy picker on the bridge could not earn half the rate of the cheap factory class here. Every morning one emerged from behind the walls of three star Kalisma the testing immediately outside the gate awaited. Touting of course needed to be carefully avoided. There were few hard looks and often greetings and smiles. It was the size of the denominations here that confused; every so often one needed to remind oneself two thousand rupiah was twenty cents Australian.