A day with a crippled beggar

Nawi, 29, is a former leprosy patient, but the disease has left him crippled and with few fingers and toes. A former cigarette seller, he now ekes out a living begging on Jl. Panglima Polim in Blok M, South Jakarta. Born in Indramayu, West Java, an only child, he lives with his wife, Wati, in Tangerang, West Java. He spoke about his life to The Jakarta Post's William Furney.

"When I wake up, at about 2 p.m., I'm still tired. But I get off the floor where I sleep and then wash and pray. I have to go back to sleep then for another hour or so. When I get up I'll have something to eat, if there is anything. Usually just some rice. Wati doesn't work and just stays at home all day. We live in a petak (semipermanent house) which is just one small room where we sleep and eat. We don't have anything like a television, radio or even a refrigerator. I pay Rp 65,000 a month to the owner of the house. It's a lot of money for me and if I don't pay we'll be kicked out.

I'll often go to a nearby rehabilitation center to see friends who are there. They're lepers too and I give them some food and cigarettes. But the center is more like a jail.

I've been there three times myself. The police picked me up for begging on the street. It's a horrible place; there's not enough food or water to wash with. We have to wear handcuffs all the time, even in the rooms we stay in, which are like jail cells. We have to eat the food they give us through a hatch in the door, and with the cuffs on it's not easy to do. I tried to run away from the police the first time they nabbed me but I couldn't as my legs were too bad. I was meant to be in for three months, but I got out after two weeks because I gave an officer Rp 150,000. I had to borrow the money from friends. The two other times I was there I couldn't get any money so I had to stay for the full three months. Nowadays, I couldn't care if they put me in the center again; I guess it's my destiny.

I got leprosy when I was 9 years old. But I didn't know what it was. I just put some Jamu (traditional herbal medicine) on the sores. Later, it got worse and I went to the Sitanala leper hospital in Tangerang. I was there for three years. It was nice staying there, the food was good but I had to have money to pay the Rp 30,000 every month. The doctors were good.

It's just my father now that's alive. He lives outside Jakarta but he never comes to see me. He's afraid of me. I haven't seen him for nearly 10 years. If I go to the village, I'd have to stay indoors as people wouldn't want to come near me.

I met my wife in Tangerang; I used to see her hanging around on the streets. It took a while before we got together as she didn't have leprosy and she was afraid of me at first. We're married three years now but don't have any children. I guess it's because I'm not strong or healthy. Often I have to lie down and take medicine for infections and the pain.

Right now, it's my legs that hurt, and I have to bandage up my hands. Most of my finger and toes are gone. Sometimes, rats eat at my feet at night and I can't feel it. The feeling is all gone.

I'll leave the house at about 3 p.m. and go to Blok M. I get there by bus. I feel ashamed on the bus as the other passengers often move away from me.

I've been begging for about a year. Before this, I used to sell cigarettes, but as my condition got worse people stopped buying. They were afraid to come near and didn't want to buy cigarettes I'd handled. The first time I went begging was hard, but I've gotten used to it. I'm ashamed of course, but if I'm too ashamed I won't be able to eat. I usually get between Rp 18,000 to Rp 20,000 in one night. It's enough to pay the rent and buy food. I don't know how much longer I'll do it for, but there's no other way for me to get money.

Some days I can't go out onto the streets as I'm too ill. I have to stay at home and rest.

I think my life is so difficult and sometimes I can hardly stand it. To have leprosy is horrible. I need to die and I've thought about killing myself; I know it's a sin and I'd go to hell. I'd feel terrible about leaving Wati behind, but she'd find someone else. I love her but I really don't want to live anymore. I've forgotten what it would be like to be healthy and to have a normal life.

I usually don't have anything to eat when I'm begging. The pollution from the cars and buses don't make me feel too well anyway. Some people see me on the street and buy me a drink or something. There are a lot of people who feel pity for me and I'm grateful for them.

I'll stay on the street until there's no traffic left, just a few taxis driving around. That's usually about 2 a.m. Then I'll go to the bus station and wait until 4 a.m. for the bus home. I try to rest there but I have to be careful as there are many bad people around the station at that time of the morning. They'd easily rob what little I have so I can't afford to fall asleep.

I cry a lot, because of my situation. It makes me so sad and I feel worthless begging for money on the street.

When I get home, about 5:30 a.m., I'll have some hot tea and maybe some rice and tempeh. We don't have a bed, so I'll lie on the floor beside Wati and thoughts come flooding into my head. I'm thinking about food for tomorrow -- how I could possibly find some kind of different work.

I'm a religious man, and sometimes I think maybe this is all from Allah; I don't know. If I could come back again in another life, I'd just want to be healthy and have a decent job.

Just before I go asleep I stare at the floor and wonder what it's all about."