How much for an Indonesian finger?

How much for an Indonesian finger?

JAKARTA (JP): It was a case of mistaken identity, and incisive
insensitivity.

A Franco-Indian man -- let's call him Bart -- was riding his
Vespa to the hospital (ironically, for a medical check-up) when
he crashed into a car. A painful crawl in the flower bed and one
less finger later, Bart lay on a hospital bed watching his finger
being taped back to his left hand. The doctor's stern orders? No
arm activity for at least a month -- effectively ruling out all
writing and typing, which is how Bart earns his living -- and
estimated surgery in Singapore costs of US$10,000. Accident-prone
but cash-strapped Bart scratched his head for a solution.

His accomplice in the mishap -- let's call him Mr. Burns --
initially wanted to help. An expiate employee at a major French
telecommunications firm, the man whose car left Bart in bandages
offered to pay the hospital bills. Mr. Burns felt guilty, until
he discovered guilt is expensive.

The next day, Bart tried to reconfirm with Mr. Burns their
arrangements for medical payment. This time, Mr. Burns, and Mr.
Burns' superiors, were less charitable to the Asian-featured
Bart.

The Burns camp said: "We've discussed this further, and we are
offering Rp 100,000. According to our sources, that's the going
rate for an Indonesian finger".

A friend commented: "Bart's lucky he doesn't have an Indian
passport instead of E.U. residency papers -- he would have gotten
only Rp 50,000!"

Dumbfounded and missing the use of his hand, Bart then called
for the assistance of the European Community's diplomatic
community, which counts his family as a member. Bart also tried
to get the police to help. But filing a report at the police
station is not free, and Bart's guardian Homer had to pay the
protectors-of-the-people Rp 20,000 for "administrative costs".

Now Bart is recuperating under the supervision of the U.K.'s
National Health Service. Mr. Burns conceded to pay for the ailing
Frenchman's plane ticket. But what if the fingerless man lived in
Lembang instead of London -- is a return fare for an air-
conditioned bus, plus the local rate for a missing limb, enough
compensation? If an Indonesian finger only costs Rp 100,000, are
there special discounts for whole hands, arms, and legs? With
these prices, an Indonesian life costs even less than a tax-free
Timor.

And who's arguing? Well-meaning friends warn me, pedestrian
enemy number one, to watch out for motorcyclists and pedestrians
trying to injure themselves with your vehicle for hefty
compensation, or should it be called reward for skillful self-
mutilation? Perhaps it was with these horror stories in mind that
Mr. Burns offered his cheap peace-offering. Why value Indonesians
when they don't value themselves?

Certainly the industrial sector does not value other
Indonesians, or at least their labor force. The unrecognized
Indonesian Prosperous Labor Union points out that workers'
compensation here is far from adequate. The cost of a limb lost
in a factory accident, for example, is approximately two months
pay -- in minimum wage terms, that's Rp 300,000. Rarely does
compensation exceed Rp 1 million, or enough to get the finger,
hand, or arm, working again. In a country with a vast population
of able-bodied workers, life is cheap, and body parts cheaper.

An Indonesian's health is cheap, but you still have to pay,
especially if you can. Mr. Burns may be determined not to feel
guilty, but the wealthy, and the not-so-wealthy, don't mind
feeling guilt, even when they're not directly guilty.

The have-nots are counting on, and counting the payment of,
this middle-class guilt. Along the streets of Jakarta lie more
and more beggars proudly exposing their bloody wounds for all the
philanthropists to see. At many intersections, one can see the
privileged fidgeting in their air-conditioned cars as the beggars
inch closer on their mangled legs with their outstretched hands
and forlorn faces. A coin here, a banknote there, and the car
speeds off again as fast as their now-placated guilt.

But the charity is not without skepticism, although few will
admit their suspicions. The game of beggary is a curious one, as
we essentially pay them to take their misery away from our
"happy" lives. And some people won't play the game.

Once while waiting for the red light to change, my friends and
I were confronted by a beggar crouched by our car with open sores
on his legs. One friend reached for his pocket, I tried not to
look, and another said: "I'm not giving money to some guy who
hurt himself rather than get a proper job". None of us of course
knew the beggar's real story. But our presumptions lay not far
from the true source of unease: the tragedy of recognizing just
how cheap an Indonesian life can be.

-- Comer Well