Can you be a good person in Jakarta?

Can you be a good person in Jakarta?

JAKARTA (JP): We were traveling on the congested Jl. Gatot
Subroto moving toward Semanggi. Cars, trucks and buses were
streaming out from the Cawang-Grogol toll road through the Komdak
ramp. As usual, most of them would force their way to the left as
they inched ahead before they could turn left toward Kebayoran. A
new Kijang on our right was flashing its left turning signal.
"Just yield, Pak. Let him pass," I said to Pak. Sukarna, the
elderly driver that I hire for just a couple of days every week.
He did as I suggested. Unfortunately, all the cars behind that
Kijang followed it in bumper-to-bumper fashion. We were stuck.
The guy behind us was blasting his horn.

This is a regular unpleasant situation that we get into --
because Pak. Sukarna listens to me. The other day, I told him to
yield to a Baleno on our left that seemed to be struggling to
change lanes. I was thinking that the poor driver wanted to turn
right at the intersection ahead and nobody had given him way, so
why not help him. Once it got into our lane in front of us,
however, this Baleno moved so leisurely that both Pak. Sukarna
and I instantly realized that we had, once again, been very
stupid.

If stories like this are nothing new on Jakarta's roads, I can
tell you of countless others that do not necessarily take place
in traffic. For example, as a Muslim, I pay my zakat and fitrah
(alms) every year. Even that basic routine duty produces a story
of its own. A couple of years ago I went to a nearby mosque the
night before Idul Fitri to fulfill this obligation.

I was asked to write down my name and address in the book that
they provided, and I did. It was unnecessary, of course, as God
already has my name and address in His Database. But the
ramification of my trust was substantial. A few months later,
someone from the mosque visited me at home and asked for a
donation. You know where he got my name and address.

About a year ago, on a hot afternoon, I walked to a warung
near my house to buy a bottle of Coke. I bumped into our hansip
(neighborhood security guard). As I had not given him any money
that month, I put into his hand the amount that I regularly gave
him.

Nothing special about it, as I did it simply because he was a
responsible hansip with a very low monthly salary. My concern was
that if he should decide to quit and find a better-paying job,
the whole neighborhood would have difficulty recruiting a
replacement. So, you see, my contribution was not purely an act
of kindness. In fact, I was doing it more for a practical reason.

But a scavenger happened to see me giving Pak. hansip the
money. He followed me all the way to the warung, trying to make
me see that he had not had any food since morning. Soon I said to
myself, "Heck, why not share some of what God has given me with
this guy. Rp 5,000 won't hurt." And I gave him Rp 5,000. That
turned out to be a mistake, because after that day he would
appear at my porch out of nowhere the moment I took my car out of
the carport. He would stand there, asking for my "contribution".

And then one evening about a month ago I went with my family
to have our favorite chicken satay along the sidewalk of Jl.
Sabang, Central Jakarta. We had barely finished placing our order
when a sick woman shoved her open palm right under my nose and
begged me for money. She was no stranger to us, as we encounter
her every time we are there. I knew she would not leave me alone
unless I gave her what she wanted, so I put Rp 1,000 in her hand.

"Lima ribu," she said in sobs. She insisted that I should give
her Rp 5,000. In that instant I got so mad that I snatched the Rp
1,000 back from her hand, stood up and walked away.

My peril that evening did not stop there. Just after the sick
woman finally left to hunt for another victim, a man came up to
me, trying to sell a ring. I told him politely I did not need a
ring. He then asked me for money. "Seribu saja," he said. I told
him I did not have any money. I still tried to be polite, because
just a few minutes earlier I had lost control of myself and was
so rude to a really sick beggar. I tried to persuade him that, as
he was an able-bodied person, he should not be asking a stranger
for money.

As you might have guessed, politeness would not work in a
situation like this. Despite my soft words and constant smile,
this guy left me at last with a menacing glint in his eyes,
calling me names and threatening to kill me the next time he saw
me. My family vowed to skip Jl. Sabang and its chicken satay
delight until we could get these incidents out of our minds.

If you have lived in Jakarta long enough, you, too, may have
come to the realization that it is not easy to be a good person
in this big and tough city. No, I am not talking about becoming
an angel or a saint. I am just talking about making things a
little easier for others, in the hope that they or other people
will also help make our life easier down the road. The resulting
experience, as it has turned out time and again, can be rocky.

Simply following our impulse for giving, for sharing and even
for trying to do what we believe to be the right things may, in
fact, puts us in an uncomfortable -- if not dangerous --
situation. We may believe in the beauty of giving and sharing,
but, not infrequently, the simple act of giving and sharing may
be taken by others as the signing of a contract for a long-term
obligation.

In a savage place like Jakarta, one has to be extremely wise
to be able to see what one's good deeds will entail.
Unfortunately, most of us, including myself, are just ordinary
people living ordinary lives.

-- Zatni Arbi