Jakarta today is a tale of two cities

JAKARTA (JP): What difference can two months make to a vibrant city like Jakarta?

In one sense, none at all. To a casual visitor on his first visit to this great city, everything seems normal. Five-star hotels are still charging their US$100-plus rates, though haggling may get some discounts. Nearby shopping malls are still crowded, especially on weekends. The notorious Jakarta traffic jams persist, as does their corollary, the three-in-one restriction. Jakartans are still polite, and are patient in answering stupid questions.

What then has changed?

When I returned close to six weeks after those eventful days of mid-May, all was normal on the surface. Immigration queues were still long, and baggage collection was crowded. On the way home, I quizzed our driver. His response was typically circular. No problem at all, he said, the house is safe, so are the other servants. Prices of rice, cooking oil and sugar, I queried, not willing to give up. Yes, they are higher, he admitted, and his landlord had raised rents. Perhaps I could help. I certainly could and did.

What about the government, I persisted, as only an ill- mannered foreigner would. Circles turned elliptical. Yes, there have been changes, and there will be more changes. Thirty-some years of control on free speech, superimposed on traditional Javanese restraint, was not so easy to break.

The next few days on the road and at the shops were more revealing. While I waited for my cell phone to be mended at the service center, a gaggle of young girls trooped in, perhaps just out of school. Each had a cell phone, and while one was getting hers fixed the rest were excitedly waving their hands and rolling their eyes into theirs. Talk time did not seem an issue to them, perhaps not to their parents, too.

Krismon certainly does not seem to have dampened cell phone usage.

In normal times, my wife has to drag me to Pasaraya. The variety of goods and the number of floors do not motivate my lazy feet. However, my earlier trips to other wholesalers were disappointing in locating the sound system that I was looking for. Glodok having turned to ashes, I was told it was Pasaraya or nothing.

My guru on sound systems who had reached there a few minutes earlier called up to warn me to park outside as it took him half an hour to negotiate the mall entrance. By this time, the car was already in the loop, too late to get out. I got out and walked, leaving the driver to negotiate the mess of snarled traffic.

The electronic goods floor was a sight to see. It was packed with shoppers, many returning for more goodies. Demonstration models were being picked up at full price. The patient young men and women at the stalls kept muttering, "maaf, stok habis" (sorry, out of stock) without losing their cool.

The scene could have been a recycled version of Barbarians at the Gate. People were milling about with hungry gleams in their eyes as if there would be no tomorrow. Obviously, prices had not been revised after the rupiah dived to new lows and in foreign currency terms were one third cheaper. What did not make sense was that 90 percent of the shoppers were middle-class Indonesians.

After quite some listening, poking and cajoling, we left with two thirds of a sound system at less than one half its international price. To locate the remaining one third, we spent a fruitless two hours at other locations, and promised ourselves to try Mangga Dua at some future date. The bargain, however, tasted bitter.

On my way back in the night, Kemang was still brightly lit, and cars were double-parked in front of the eateries, none of them cheap. The manager at one of the fashionable restaurants confirmed that I would still need reservations even on weekdays, and was happy to give me his visiting card.

Over lunch at a friend's, we listened as the couple recounted the scene they watched on that fateful Thursday evening from a high-rise window.

Home going office staff straggling along Jl. Jend. Sudirman, with armed police keeping a watchful eye, and sometimes chatting with the crowd. A sudden change in mood, and the crowds fleeing, with sounds of gunshot following them. The dash to the airport the next morning after making sure that the roads were safe. How polite and helpful the airport staff was in dealing with the terrified foreigners fleeing the city.

Before the rumors of August riots, most who fled the city, including the ethnic Chinese, were coming back. For many it is home, and there is no place else to go. For others, it is still the place they know best, with the people they like best, and they hope it will still work out.

In spite of everything, all its problems, and all its pains, for some, at least, Jakarta is still smiling.

-- Ram S. Ramanathan