On local 'standards' or rather their absence

On local 'standards' or rather their absence

JAKARTA (JP): To survive in beautiful Indonesia, there are a
number of grim realities you have to watch out for. Being able to
comprehend the standards, rules and social mores -- or lack
thereof -- of some of the people is one of them.

You are confronted with this feature the very moment you
arrive in Indonesia and grab a taxi from the airport to your
hotel.

For the same price you can get either the very best or the
very worst service.

You might be lucky and meet a friendly cabby. He salutes you
courteously in English and puts your luggage into the trunk of
the taxi. The taxi is clean, cool, with a complementary local
newspaper waiting for you on the back seat. The taxi drives off,
humming smoothly down the road, not a gasket out of place. The
driver switches the argometer on and asks you where you want to
go. He finds the shortest way to take you to your destination. He
informs you on what is available in the city. This conversation
isn't in Oxford-English but he gets his message across. When you
reach your hotel, he charges you the standard fee for the ride,
returns the exact change and leaves you with a smile, even though
you didn't have enough change to tip him.

For the same price you might get a ride to hell.

A rattling taxi with a loose rear wheel squeals up to the curb
and stops. You decide to take your chances and hop in. After all,
how bad can it be? The driver doesn't help you because his door
won't open. It's been welded to the frame for reasons he will not
divulge.

As you sit down your haunches are impaled on a mass of rusty
coils and springs sticking out of the torn upholstery and you
instinctively scream like a schoolgirl and lurch forward,
slamming your face against the door.

Marquis die Sadie, pass by.

The unshaven and smelly driver greets you with incoherent
grumbling.

Alas, your journey to hell has begun.

As the taxi rattles off, bouncing up and down like an out-of-
whack automaton, you're now wondering what part of the vehicle
will drop off first.

The AC isn't working. The driver asks you where you want to go
and you tell him -- over and over and over again. There is no
reaction from the driver, however. Only a vague nod. You assume
he understands you. Only then do you realize that the meter is
on. The question is, for how long has it been on? At the very
worst, he isn't using the argometer.

It is only now, when you are in the middle of nowhere that he
informs you of the enormous fee you will have to pay him.
Depending on your disposition, you either turn red with fury or
turn white with panic. Thus, you settle for the standard
Manhattan-Kennedy Airport fee. You are caught in the journey to
hell Part Two. Your backside is beginning to boil because the
seat is resting over the overheated gearbox. The way it grinds
and wheezes, you know that the gearbox's teeth were pawned off on
the tooth fairy many, many moons ago.

Eventually, you find yourself in a slum area far from your
intended destination. No, you tell him, this isn't it. The driver
nods and off you go again. Another hour passes, then the cab
stops and the driver looks back at you and grins . . . This is
not the place where you wanted to be. Apparently there are
various streets and hotels with the same names but in completely
different areas. Journey to hell Part Three.

You have already paid for three toll roads. Then the taxi runs
out of gas. It is getting dark. You start asking strangers for
help.

When you finally reach your destination the fare is about the
same as you would have paid in Geneva. Meanwhile, the taxi driver
insists on a bigger tip because of all the work involved in
getting you safely to your destination.

The same is true in daily life. You may be lucky and find a
secretary who is smart and well-educated. She will anticipate
your needs and have your papers ready by the time you arrive at
the office in the morning. She will not complain when you ask her
to work overtime because the accounts have to be closed.

But you might also be unlucky and not find the "obligatory"
business partner. The one that you finally end up with is a
highly recommended retired army man. His age and seniority should
guarantee the influence he claims to have. You pay him a fee
accordingly. But his connections appear to be in the wrong line
of business altogether. An honest mistake? Your partner tells you
he needs money for transportation, cigarettes and so on.

Weeks and months pass. You have had the pleasure of copping
meals for most of his family but you're getting nowhere.
Miscommunication and misunderstandings have to be ironed out.
Your visa and the temporary permits on which you started your
business soon expire and the extensions are difficult to obtain.

If by some meager chance you get a deal or license, your
partner's share of the pie increases dramatically and it makes
you wonder why you came to this country in the first place.

In the West there are set standards. Taxis and taxi drivers
must meet a number of minimum requirements. If they fail to do so
they do not get licenses. In Indonesia there are still too many
unscrupulous and incapable people running "professional services"
and trades protected by government licenses. Too often people buy
or pay bribes for these licenses or positions.

Companies do get the ISO2000, and reputable schools and
companies do provide top quality goods and services, but they are
still too much the exception. Let us hope that the "reformasi
spirit" will help eradicate these bad habits.

-- Philippe Lyssens