The Jakarta flood<\/p>\n
Korrie Layun Rampan<\/p>\n
He had been whistling all afternoon; several of the other
\nriverbank slum dwellers wondered why Bejo was suddenly in such a
\ngood mood. He had earlier been too sulky to talk with his
\nneighbors.<\/p>\n
\"Got a lot of orders, kang (older brother)?\" asked a woman.
\n\"Be sure to share them with us, OK?\"<\/p>\n
Bejo only smiled. Actually, he was tired of living on the
\nriverbank. The putrid smell of the stagnant water filled with
\nsludge and rotten carcasses that filled the cracks of makeshift
\nhomes was hard to bear. But that occasional disgust was gradually
\ndulled by exhaustion and hunger. His struggle for survival was
\ngreater than any fight against the stench and filth.<\/p>\n
The sleazy, crammed neighborhood was not a proper place to
\ndwell in, but he simply had no choice. At first he was driven off
\nfrom his shanty under the bridge because it was a drug
\ntrafficking area. Later he had to leave the gate of a traditional
\nmarket due to its planned conversion into a modern mall.<\/p>\n
Then he was forced to abandon the edge of a garbage dump as
\nthe site was controlled by a property magnate. After more than a
\ndozen evictions, he settled at his riverside abode.<\/p>\n
It was all thanks to Gimin's help.<\/p>\n
Bejo would never forget Gimin, for he would have been burned
\nby the fire if he had failed to rescue him.<\/p>\n
A fire had raced through the slum area and he had been fast
\nasleep under a burning ceiling until Gimin dragged him out. He
\nwas still groggy from weariness after a day's scavenging as he
\nstumbled out on the searing soil.<\/p>\n
Hundreds of houses were razed to the ground that night. The
\nrumors were true -- the disaster was due to arson. Inevitably,
\nthe location was fenced several days later and hardly a year
\npassed before highrise structures were already erected as a
\ncommercial center.<\/p>\n
He was indebted to Gimin, who took him to the riverbank after
\nthe fire seven years earlier. He had toiled in Jakarta for 10
\nyears following the flooding of his village for a reservoir
\nproject.<\/p>\n
With little education, Bejo managed to survive by doing casual
\nwork. He knew how to farm, but there was no more land in Jakarta
\nthat needed cultivation. Through Parjo, he got to know Gimin.
\nAmid Jakarta's tough and squalid atmosphere he could still find a
\nman as kind as Parjo, who gave him food or a bag of rice now and
\nthen. He thus settled on the bank with a deep sense of
\nbrotherhood.<\/p>\n
The riverside community was growing bigger, with new settlers
\noutnumbering those leaving the area. Every day sounded and
\nsmelled the same at the site: dangdut music blared from cracked
\nradio and TV sets, children's and men's shouting and scolding,
\nthe cries of hungry babies, stinking muck and ribald laughter. It
\nwas hard to distinguish the kids from the stray animals passing
\nback and forth along dirty paths and foul ditches. Occupants,
\nanimals and their surroundings mixed together.<\/p>\n
Bejo looked at the sky, which was almost always overcast in
\nJakarta due to the high pollution. But the moist air brought by
\nthe wind made the area fresher.<\/p>\n
He was mumbling about Tholib for a moment. The identity card
\nhe ordered was not yet ready while Gimin had warned him to
\nprepare for a hasty exit.<\/p>\n
\"Tholib asked for twenty-five thousand rupiah,\" he said as he
\nglanced at Gimin. \"It was only twenty last year.\"<\/p>\n
\"But have you given him the money?\"<\/p>\n
\"I had to borrow some more from Parjo. I had only twenty.\"<\/p>\n
Without an identity card nothing could be settled. As a slum
\noccupant, Parjo had only obtained a seasonal card. He had no
\nplace to return home, in fact. His village, too, had become a
\nreservoir. In Jakarta, like the other illegal residents, he was
\nalways suspect, a potential criminal.<\/p>\n
\"The identity card costs keep rising,\" he said again as he
\nlooked at Gimin, who was an experienced settler in the capital,
\nbold enough to get married with two children. He was capable of
\nsupporting his family by relying on casual work.<\/p>\n
\"The cost of living is soaring as well,\" remarked Gimin
\nnonchalantly, \"let alone the illegal fees.\"<\/p>\n
Though fake, such a card would serve to certify its holder's
\nlegal status and Bejo would thus be free to pursue a better
\nlivelihood.<\/p>\n
\"But isn't the ship sailing next week?\" Bejo asked Gimin with
\na curious look.<\/p>\n
\"It's already scheduled,\" Gimin assured. \"Now all that's left
\nis your identity card, for a safe journey.\"<\/p>\n
\"Tholib promised it would be ready tomorrow,\" he said.<\/p>\n
Gimin was indeed his savior. The latest offer was like he had
\nstumbled upon a pile of gold.. One of Gimin's former fellow
\nvillagers -- after leaving the riverbank for five years -- told
\nhim about making a better living in Kalimantan by growing
\nsecondary crops.<\/p>\n
\"Through hard work here,\" scrawled Yono from the interior of
\nKuaro, Tanah Grogot, in his letter to Gimin, \"we will earn more
\nthan we imagine, with clear prospects. We'll be reaping rewards
\nfor our old age.\"<\/p>\n
Gimim showed the letter to Bejo and Parjo, as well as the
\nother scavengers who had gathered. Most of them responded
\nscornfully.<\/p>\n
\"Dreaming of working as farmers? We're working our fingers to
\nthe bone collecting trash right now, so never think about cutting
\ndown forests to open up the land,\" said one.<\/p>\n
Bejo, however, could trust Gimin and Yono. It was Yono who
\nfirst asked him to join but he had no money to board a ship.<\/p>\n
\"Take Kambuna or Kerinci at Tanjung Priok,\" Yono wrote.
\n\"You'll be in Banjarmasin after two and a half days of sailing.
\nGo by bus to Tanah Grogot. I'll meet you in Kuaro.\"<\/p>\n
Bejo felt if he was already in Kuaro.<\/p>\n
\"I've prepared land for five to 10 families,\" continued Yono.
\n\"Soybeans or green peas can be grown as starting capital before
\nrubber or coffee.\"<\/p>\n
Bejo was heartened.<\/p>\n
\"The rubber I planted nearly five years ago will have a
\nharvest next year. There's around five thousand trees.\"<\/p>\n
His eyes focused on the letter. His friend couldn't be lying.
\nMoreover, the letter was addressed to Gimin, who also came from
\nYono's village in Ambarawa.<\/p>\n
To Bejo, Yono was already a wealthy businessman. He was
\nimagining the amount of money from the rubber harvest.<\/p>\n
\"A waterfall stream can be channeled through plastic tubes for
\nirrigation and fish breeding. In Tanah Grogot and Balikpapan,
\ngold fish is highly commercial.\"<\/p>\n
He was thrilled. After being poor in his village until he was
\n17, plus another 10 years of adventure in Jakarta, he would
\nchange his fate by joining Yono.<\/p>\n
Gimin was seen as a thoughtful chap. Why didn't Gimin try his
\nluck with his family instead of telling him, Parjo and the others
\nto do so?<\/p>\n
Bejo had been very busy for a week. He had been selling all
\nhis belongings except cooking utensils, a mattress and pillow.<\/p>\n
\"Just save your money in a bank,\" Yono had added. \"Don't bring
\nalong cash, you can collect it in Balikpapan. We don't need much
\nmoney here. If any, you'd better buy top-range chickens...\"<\/p>\n
Bejo's head swam with great, dizzying thoughts.<\/p>\n
With almost all his personal property sold as capital, he
\nignored the lure of ads or the sweet words of young women eyeing
\nhis money. Local people knew him as a diligent worker who was
\ncareful with his earnings.<\/p>\n
He was whistling again in the dark evening.<\/p>\n
After a tiring day's selling, he looked forward to visiting a
\nbank when his identity card was ready the next morning and, as
\nYono had advised, buying his ticket, with some money left for the
\nKuaro bus fare and food expenses.<\/p>\n
As he calculated, the amount he had earned for seven years
\nfrom scavenging and casual work was enough for the trip, the
\npurchase of chickens and crop seedlings as well as several
\nmonths' costs until harvest time. Yono would certainly be ready
\nto lend him some to cover any shortage.<\/p>\n
His whistling competed against the bellowing dangdut singers
\nin the riverside neighborhood. He put his bundle of money under
\nhis stained mattress, on which he lay with his pillow. Gimin,
\nParjo and two others would accompany him to the bank to deposit
\nhis money for further use in Kuaro.<\/p>\n
Bejo was sound asleep. In his dream, he was sailing aboard
\nKambuna across the Java Sea to the Makassar Strait before
\nreaching Balikpapan. The sea was so tranquil that he wished to
\nimmediately leap onto the beach of Kuaro where Yono lived. Huge
\nwaves suddenly swirled, rocking the ship and pouring water over
\nhim. He was soaked.<\/p>\n
He woke up in a shock.<\/p>\n
Water was everywhere. He turned out to be floating on his
\nmattress. \"Flood! Flood! Flood!\" The slum people were screaming
\nalong with the roaring sound of roaring water.<\/p>\n
He groped for his bundle, but it was gone with the flowing
\nwater. His hut was carried away by the flash flood!<\/p>\n
Once again, he desperately groped under the mattress, only to
\nfind water soaking the mattress.<\/p>\n
His pack, and the money, had all vanished.<\/p>\n
Where were Gimin and Parjo?<\/p>\n
The strong current dragged his mattress further. He was about
\nto sink, remembering that he was unable to swim.<\/p>\n
Where were Gimin and Parjo? He had no strength to shout out
\nloud. His mattress was gradually sinking.<\/p>\n
Water was everywhere under the city street lights. Its roar
\ncame like the sound of cavorting devils in hell.<\/p>\n
He recalled a glimpse of the reservoir water flooding the
\nentire land in his village, sweeping away everything he owned.<\/p>\n
And the water this time? He felt he was sinking further,
\ndragged by the whirling current downward...<\/p>\n
-- Translated by Aris Prawira<\/p>", "url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/the-jakarta-flood-1447893297", "image": "" }, "sponsor": "Okusi Associates", "sponsor_url": "https:\/\/okusiassociates.com" }