High anxiety: At the ready for everyday disasters

Aida Greenbury, Contributor, Jakarta

I think that some of the residents of this city are fond of disasters. In other words, it's like an ulcer on your skin; when it's there, you are annoyed by it and wish that it'd just disappear.

But when it's not around, you miss it, probing every inch of your skin, dying to scratch it, missing the enjoyable itch.

I know all kinds of gritty creatures who have lived in this city all their life. Many of them are my friends.

One day I was in my car with my friends from work. I noticed that ever since the devastating riot in 1998 in Jakarta, my friends tend to comment on everything that they think is not really right according to their standards. As we inched along on a traffic jammed street, they commented on why the street was so crowded.

The theories ran from demonstrations, riots, a fire or a similar disaster, but they failed to mention that heavy traffic is a daily occurence on the street.

When we passed a quite street, they wondered again. The street is too quiet -- it's eerie -- something must be up, they said in chorus.

After everybody had their say, my car was quiet once again; you could hear the drops of sweat falling from one of the occupant's worried forehead. Meanwhile, I just wanted to scream: Does life have to be so exciting every day?

I had a lunch date with the very same group of friends another day. When I picked them up at the lobby of their office, I saw that one of them was missing.

"Where's Susan?" I asked.

Julie explained that Susan had to go to her bank to empty her bank account. She needed to take all of her hot cash and other valuable items from her deposit box and bring them home. Why, I asked.

Calmly, as if she was talking about the weather, Julie explained that Susan had to do it because her cousin's neighbour had heard on the radio that an ex-army officer warned people to get ready for possible riots during the upcoming election campaign.

This guy apparently also had said that people are urged to protect their houses with weapons or even hire security guards or police officers.

Was I the only person in this city who was so ignorant not knowing about this, or was Julie merely pulling my leg, I wondered.

Julie ended her explanation by saying that Susan had to bury her treasure underground, behind her washing machine, right below the clothes line, but, oh, that is a secret. (I an see the headlines: "Indonesian thieves dig for gold with shovels.")

For my own sanity, I wish that they would step back a bit, calm down and let things proceed on their own merry way. They are my friends, and I hate the way their jitters grates on me when we meet up.

But that wish is not about to come true this year.

We recently went to have lunch at a mall food court. We sat there in silence, trying to be cheerful while crunching the tasteless leaves from our dressing-less salad bowls. They were too scared to eat food with chicken or beef in it because of the bird flu and mad cow outbreaks. And they could not order their favorite Thousand Island dressing with the salad because they said it contained eggs.

Last week, after they heard the news about dengue fever and flooding, one of them rang me.

"We're not going to work today," she said. "We had to go to the hypermart to buy lots of things."

She rattled off a list of sprays, incense, lotions, dry food, even (I kid you not) a rubber dinghy. Kerosene lamps, candles and matches were also on the shopping list, for the inevitable blackouts.

"Do you think I should get a generator, too?" she mused, by now sounding positively excited.

Of course, I could not have lunch with them that day, and Susan for one was busy digging up her yard to retrieve the cash to buy the necessary goods. Well, I guess I should be thankful that, come what may, they are ready.