Being Rich

By Sunaryono Basuki Ks

Badrun never protested to his parents for giving him that name. His father told him that it was the name given to him by his grandfather. No reason was given, but he had to be named Badrun.

Badrun's father had once told him that he himself took his mother in his becak (pedicab) to get help from a village midwife. So, he was born not in a hospital, not even in a small clinic, but at an uneducated, but experienced, village midwife's house.

His father later frequently took little Badrun and his mother on the same becak to go around Jakarta. His mother always smiled along the way and Badrun's father greeted everybody and told them, "Look at my boy. Isn't he cute and healthy?"

Badrun's father lived happily as a becak driver and he passed on this happiness to Badrun. That was the reason why Badrun never protested being born a becak driver's son.

When Badrun himself started working as a becak driver, the pedicab business was gloomy. The young Badrun frequently had to race along Jl. Gunung Sahari Raya and quickly turn left into the narrower Jl. Gunung Sahari II, or into other small streets, to avoid being chased by city security officers, popularly called Tibum, riding on their motorcycles.

His happy face turned pale when he heard somebody shouted, "Tibuuuummmmmmm!"

Without delay, Badrun pedaled his becak faster and faster, as if he were participating in a race.

Entering his rented house -- if one could call it a house -- Badrun kept smiling when his mother greeted him.

"How's life today? Any luck?"

"Alhamdullillah, Mak," then he handed over some bank notes to her, enough to buy one liter of rice.

"Well, was there another Tibum operation?" his mother asked. Badrun nodded.

"When your father was young, there weren't any Tibum. Life was peaceful then. Your could go as far as Tanah Abang, as long as you had enough energy to do it. But the traffic wasn't so busy then. Your father once went as far as Kebayoran Baru. There was an official of the Ministry of Education from out of town who asked your father to take him there."

Badrun smiled listening to his mother's story. He imagined his father must have been a strong becak driver, driving such a long distance. Returning home to the Kabel area in Cempaka Putih, it would have been night already and his mother would have gone to bed.

Nowadays when he had to go to Kebayoran Baru on a city bus he always felt tired and bored, trapped in the traffic jam.

Kebayoran Baru had always been there and the distance from Cempaka Putih never increased. But, why did he feel that it was a very long distance today? The distance that his father once covered with his becak carrying one or perhaps two passengers.

"Do you think you'd better find another job?" his mother asked.

"What job? Working as a carpenter? A brick-layer? A coolie? No, Mak. I was born a becak driver."

"Talk to your father," she said.

His father could not give him any advice. His colleagues told him that they would give him a new job as a bajaj (three-wheeled motorized vehicle) driver .

"So, who will give us a bajaj?"

"I heard Haji Salim will sell all his becak to another town and he will buy some bajaj."

"Do you think we can work as bajaj drivers?"

"That's up to Haji Salim."

Badrun had a little hope, but several days later, Haji Salim's becak were seized by Tibum officers. They said they would dump the becak into the Jakarta Bay.

"They will become artificial reefs for fish to breed so that the fishermen will have a good harvest. You can see on TV that the president sometimes fishes there."

"Do you think we should become fishermen?"

"Fishermen? We are only used to buying fish from the mongers who operate in small streets."

They said that Haji Salim was suffering from serious distress after his becak were seized and had lost his appetite for a new business. Badrun felt moved hearing that. He had also lost his job, but unlike Haji Salim he had nothing left. At night, he slept in the shelter of the neighborhood security post. He was ashamed to sleep at home because he had no money to give his mother. When he could no longer withstand the hunger he returned home.

"Have a meal," mother told him. We still have some rice, vegetables and chili sauce."

Sitting in the kitchen with a plate of rice in his hand, Badrun realized how lucky he was after starving for some days. He saw his mother did not look sad.

"That's our fate. Pray to God, His generosity comes unexpectedly and without limit," said the woman.

When Badrun returned home one day, he told his mother, "I've received God's mercy, Mak. I'm now a bemo driver."

"Thank God," his mother said smiling.

"Here's some money for you to buy rice. Where's father?" Badrun handed her some bank notes.

"He's gone to the mosque. Leave him in peace there."

"If he were a civil servant, it would be time for him to retire."

"And it's time for you to have a wife," his mother said. Badrun did not react.

Months later, when he felt settled as a bemo driver, he married the woman next door. After their first baby was born, Badrun felt that his happiness poured from heaven.

However, the bliss did not last long. He heard that Jakarta would also order all bemo to find another place to operate.

"So, what do you want to do now?" his wife asked him.

"Thank God. I've saved some money. I'll buy a bicycle and I'll offer it as a taxi where no other means of public transportation operate. When I can save more money. I will buy a motorbike by installments. So, I can operate it as a taxi."

On the dining table, Badrun had a plate of rice, one slice of tempeh and chili sauce.

"We're still rich, aren't we? We still have something to eat," Badrun said to his wife with a smile. She found it difficult to accept the truth.

Glossary:

Alhamdullillah: Arabic for Thank God

Mak: Indonesian for Mama

Bemo: Three-wheeled van for public transportation