Chili commotion clobbers country

Chili commotion clobbers country

JAKARTA (JP): Any one who thinks red chilies are just a spice
must have missed the media screaming about the soaring price of
the little things. It was the talk of the country last week.

I didn't know and had never bothered to ask the price of red
chilies before. All I cared was that the hot stuff was on the
table to spice my favorite dish.

My indifference turned into concern when the guys at the top
started talking about the price. I couldn't believe that a
kilogram of red chilies could set me back as much as Rp 14,000
(US$6).

Just like cement, the escalating price of red chilies soon
ignited controversy. Accusations were flung at distributors. They
were accused of stocking up in anticipation of the coming Idul
Fitri holiday. The distributors blamed the farmers for not
adjusting their harvests to meet increased demand during the
fasting month. The farmers then blamed the rain that caused the
floods that caused their crops to fail.

The head of the National Logistics Agency blamed them all, and
launched a market control program by dumping red chilies at low
prices and threatening to import chilies if the price stayed
high.

The market operation, according to television news, resulted
in a sharp price decline.

At the market, however, the price stayed high. Housewives have
full-out arguments with vendors, claiming they should get the
price announced on TV. But of course the vendors insist on
selling at their own price.

Vendors inevitably end the argument with: "Then buy it at the
TV station!"

The chili commotion struck my home. My wife, instead of going
to a supermarket, went to a traditional market at Kebayoran Lama
where she got a 60 percent discount on ground red chilies.

"The secret of buying red chilies at a reasonable price is
being at the right place at the right time," she bragged. "I went
to the market late in the afternoon. At this time, vendors are
ready to go home and they usually sell at a generous discount."

Things were great until I smelled something funny in the
kitchen.

"Just what are you cooking?" I demanded.

My wife, beginning to smell the same thing, explained that she
was cooking rendang (meat cooked in a special combination of
spices, mostly red chilies). The dish seemed to be the source of
the smell.

Further investigation unveiled that the ground red chilies my
wife had bought were mixed with grated carrot. The mixture looks
all right, but smells and tastes extraordinarily bad when heated.

"What happened to the right time and the right place?" I
joked.

My wife didn't answer. I knew she was still furious.

"Now, let's look at the bright side," I said. "If you hadn't
bought the chili and carrot mixture, we wouldn't have known what
carrot smells like when heated. Maybe we can invite RCTI to cover
the incident."

My joke was like a red rag in front of a bull.

"If you can't say something good, then don't say nothing," she
retorted, mimicking Eddie Murphy and completing the series of
cliches we had banally bandied about for the last ten minutes.

"I tried to save money by going through the hassle of the
market and what do I get? You and your stupid comments."

"My god, what did I say?"

"What haven't you said?" she snapped.

That shut me up. The argument could have become fatal.

I just can't stop thinking how something so simple can ferment
into a national problem. First the scarcity of cement, then
fertilizer, and now chili. What next?

Hopefully a scarcity of people who talk nonsense.

-- Carl Chairul