I know Bahasa, really I do
I know Bahasa, really I do
I can still vividly recall the words of a friend -- "Edwin, you
will enjoy living here because Bahasa Indonesia is so easy" --
told to me back in 1980.
Since then my proud declaration of "I know Bahasa" -- meaning
that I can speak the local lingo and get by in it quite nicely,
thank you -- has been my constant hang up and, occasionally,
downfall in making my way around.
We left Indonesia in 1997 and are now back on a short visit.
My wife, knowing all too well my language limitations, does her
best to shield me from having to actually use it.
However, I had to attend alone a memorial service for a
departed friend in the Sikh temple in Pasar Baru, Central
Jakarta.
My wife gingerly asked, "Shall I give directions to the
driver?"
Now, that's patronizing for you.
"Oh, dear, you don't give up, do you? Knowing Bahasa is like
knowing how to swim; however long ago it was when you learned it,
you still know how to do it when you jump into the water. I shall
do just that. Thanks, anyway."
In the car I dozed off and woke up when my driver,Pak Agus,
said triumphantly "We're here, sir".
To my shock, we were in front of All Saints Church in Central
Jakarta, nowhere near Pasar Baru. In a flash I realized that I
had used gereja (church) in my briefing to Agus, symbolically to
make it clear that the Sikh temple was my destination.
Doubts surfaced in my mind: Was my trustworthy Bahasa really
on the blink, or was Agus playing games?
After eventually reaching the temple and paying my condolences
to the family, I was homeward bound by 6 p.m., presuming it would
be smooth sailing. But the car crawled along and Agus fidgeted in
his seat.
"Cepat-cepat (quickly)," I said crisply.
"We can't sir, it's three-in-one."
We needed to find one more passenger to comply with the
traffic regulation. Just then, as Agus almost stopped, squinting
and peering intently to his left, there was a gentle tap on his
window.
Agus brightened and told me, "Sir, there's a jockey".
The jockey slid into the car, looking like a pro on the prowl.
I began rehearsing my little Indonesian exchange for him for
the end of the journey. So, when the time came, I asked the
jockey, "Harga mana?"
There was palpable confusion, and I knew that I had made some
sort of Bahasa blunder. While I was rehearsing my speech, "harga
berapa? (What's the fare?)" cropped up again and again in my
mind, but I somehow blurted out the equivalent of "Where's the
fare?"
With my Indonesian skills laid bare for all to hear, the
jockey must have realized he had a sitting duck right before his
eyes.
Cockily, he replied, "Rp 50,000".
How nice, I thought. The jockey and I were on the same
wavelength about the fare. Probably, he had enjoyed the free BMW
ride and his fee was just icing on the cake for him.
With alacrity, I took out the fiver nestling in my pocket,
giving it to Agus to give to him.
But no "'makasih" (thank you) was forthcoming.
Instead the silence in the car was, as they say, deafening.
"He said Rp 50,000, not Rp 5,000, sir," Agus said.
I was shocked, took back the note from Agus and replaced it
with Rp 20,000. The jockey was unmoved. He was insisting on his
pound of flesh, a ransom of a crisp Rp 50,000 note.
I got very angry, and in my state of agitation I was not even
aware that my "I know Bahasa" had suddenly taken leave of me. In
rapid-fire English, I told Agus, "Go to Jl. Ragunan Raya. We will
settle his fare over there."
English unnerved the jockey for English has power, no matter
who speaks it. The jockey, less bull-headed than Shylock, grabbed
a wad of money offered by Agus, jumped out and melted into the
darkness.
On reaching home, as I was about to get out of the car, Agus
said he had paid the jockey Rp 30,000 instead of the Rp 50,000 he
demanded. He now asked for his Rp 10,000, which I grumpily paid.
I was sure I had been robbed. Whether by one or two people was
immaterial. But I had no regrets. Rp 30,000 was a small price for
an engaging and enjoyable evening when I got to show my "I know
Bahasa" skills one more time -- and learn a language lesson.
-- G.S. Edwin