Employees count their losses from rampaging mobs

Employees count their losses from rampaging mobs

By Ati Nurbaiti

TANGERANG (JP): A lone bust of a mannequin guarded the
entrance to what remains of gutted Borobudur Plaza on Jl. Dewi
Sartika, Ciputat.

Barely a week ago, the male figure may have sported a chic
shirt and jeans. Now, it was draped in an old jeans jacket and
similarly jaded red-and-white flag. Although worse for wear, it
faced passersby, seemingly symbolizing the feelings of the
building's employees; they, too, wanted the best for their
country, but instead had become unwitting victims.

Underneath the mannequin was a yellow strip of cloth with
black letters in ink, saying: "You have burned our place down,
where are we supposed to work?"

"We put up the other banners, too, just to show our feelings,"
a worker at Borobudur Plaza said. A banner at a nearby razed
department store -- "bent like a candle," noted a passerby --
read, "Enjoy your loot and suffer in hell".

About 1,000 employees of the plaza and its tenants including
the Century Theater, Gunung Agung bookstore, California Fried
Chicken and Mitra supermarket suddenly found themselves staring
into an uncertain future when a mob set fire to the building.

The plaza and nearby Ramayana department store were only a few
of the buildings destroyed on the afternoon of Thursday, May 14,
in the Ciputat area bordering Jakarta and Tangerang.

In neighboring Pamulang, shops fared no better, although a few
hundred students from Serpong reportedly helped to safeguard
several buildings.

As in many emerging small towns, the department stores
incorporating food outlets and entertainment centers were set up
to meet the needs of a growing market. Borobudur was established
here in 1991.

"Some 10,000 packed Borobudur on weekends alone," said Raymond
Kulia, manager of the Borobudur Plaza, as he sat in the parking
lot with tenants and young employees. Not all would actually open
their wallets, particularly since the crisis, he said.

Movie tickets at these department stores were still Rp 2,500
to Rp 6,000, where one could see any movie of the month with
slightly less comfort than theaters in malls.

Residents were just beginning to enjoy the feeling of joining
the ranks of "modern" people; the new Ciputat market had clothes
stores but it was to these department stores that members of the
middle to low income groups went if there was money to spend.

Refuge

There were lights, blaring music, squeaky-clean floors
brimming with fashionable clothes and gadgets and, of course, the
wall-to-wall air-conditioning. It was a refuge from the filthy
surroundings and the notorious traffic of the area.

Once outside, youngsters would again happily dodge traffic,
smog and garbage, proudly toting plastic bags with the department
store logos. Never mind that these bags were often slim,
containing only one new blouse, pair of jeans or T-shirt.

Preteens -- known locally as Anak Baru Gede or ABG -- would
visit with just enough money to buy a McDonald's burger and ice
cream.

Nevertheless, it is the employees who feel the greatest loss.
They were breadwinners for their families, earning a few hundred
thousand each month. In their smart uniforms, neighbors could see
them leaving for work each day while many of their peers were
still jobless.

Raymond confirmed it had been difficult keeping business
during the crisis, even with the famed all-year discounts at such
department stores.

"People's buying power has been declining," he said.

He assured that the monthly wages of employees would continue
to be paid, at least for the first few months. But he was unsure
of the fate of other Borobudur outlets and employees had yet to
learn the management's decision on possible work transfers.

The Indonesian Retail Merchants Association reports estimated
losses of about Rp 600 billion from looting and arson -- and most
insurance policies do not cover the risks.

"Most of my employees are married, and most of them have to
pay their rent," Raymond said.

Titi, a newly married 22-year-old, said her job at the Gunung
Agung bookstore of the past four years was her first. She was
renting a place in a nearby housing complex. Her husband works in
Karawang, West Java, as a teacher, but with the competition for
jobs, Titi did not dare to try to live with her husband and look
for a job in that town.

Depending solely on her husband for the family income was out
of the question.

Luckily, perhaps, they do not have children to feed yet.

"Didn't you manage to get one the last time?" teased her
friend, a young father of a first-grade elementary student. The
others managed a laugh.

But then they returned to the horror stories about when they
first saw the ruins.

"I just cried ... How could they?" one woman said. Nothing
made sense to them. Main targets of rioters were stores believed
to be owned by ethnic Chinese tycoons, but no one bothered to
think of the employees.

With nowhere to go, employees, most of them women, listlessly
gathered around the ruins of where they used to work, and where
they occasionally got a free ticket to the movies.

Elsewhere, the same scene of milling employees was evident,
such as around the ruins of Hero supermarket on the first day
after the presidential succession. There was little reason to
celebrate in these parts.

"We just feel a bit safer now," a motorbike taxi driver said.
"Maybe things will pick up now President (B.J.) Habibie is in
charge."