She loved D.C.

By Sirikit Syah

She was all I had wanted to be. Pretty, charming, smart and pleasing. The first time I met her, I was jealous. She had been interning with CNN's Washington, D.C. bureau for five months, and it was my first day.

She was in the second period of her three-month internship. I heard people in the newsroom talk about her in a good way. After joining the news crew in the first period, she worked on Larry King Live as an assistant to the producers. Kate, our internship coordinator, hinted that they might offer her a permanent job at the end of her second period.

It was the 10th anniversary of Larry King Live, and the team was extremely busy with very special guests they wanted to put on screen. They included president Bill Clinton, vice president Al Gore, Barbara Streisand, Marlon Brando and other big names. One of Sari's jobs was making first contact with the guests-to-be. I approached her desk one day and told her I wanted to meet Larry King.

"It is impossible to meet Larry here. He's always on the move," she said.

"Could you tell me when Mr. King will be here?"

"Sure. We broadcast live on Wednesdays at 9 p.m. But I can't guarantee you'll talk to Larry that way. As an intern, you cannot act like a fan. Besides, the producers always prohibit unnecessary people from entering the green room, let alone the studio."

"Are you saying there's no chance at all for me? My internship is only two weeks long and this is already my second week. I don't have too much time left."

"Don't worry, I'll tell you where you can meet him and perhaps talk to him. That is if you are lucky. Almost everyday, when he's in the city, he eats lunch at Duke Zeibert's, on the corner of L Street and Connecticut Avenue."

"Thanks," I said, and started to leave.

"Hey, is that all?"

"Yes."

"You are new here, aren't you?"

"Yes, why?"

"You know, we're the only Indonesians around here. Wouldn't you like to have lunch with me some time?"

"Sounds like a good idea."

"What about tomorrow?"

"Not on a working day, please. What about Saturday?"

"Fine with me."

"Alright. We'll meet at Union Station, in front of the post office, Saturday, 10 a.m. I'll take you to the Smithsonian Museum before eating lunch."

"Thanks again. Bye."

"Bye. Take care."

I never expected she would be so friendly.

I used my lunch break that day to hunt for Mr. King. The restaurant that Sari told me about was perfectly located in the center of northwest Washington, inside a modern glass building. Time magazine's Washington bureau was upstairs, the Wall Street Journal, ABC News, The Washington Post, CBS and National Public Radio were within walking distance. The White House and Capitol Hill were only a short cab ride away. Once I was inside, I knew why Mr. King favored this restaurant. Prominent lawyers, well- known journalists and editors, even political figures and lobbyists, were all over the place. I heard them talking about the who's who of Washington, D.C., the what's up and what's next in the city. Very stimulating atmosphere.

I saw powerful and influential people at each table, including The Washington Post's chairwoman Katherine Graham, who was having lunch with one of her sons. But I failed to see the man I was hunting for.

Disappointed, I left Duke at 2 p.m. after having a bowl of soup and a plate of salad. Sari told me later that Larry had flown to an eastern European country to interview a national leader.

On Saturday, I began to get to know Sari better. We roamed the almost empty streets of Washington D.C. and told each other about ourselves.

"People say that Washington D.C. was designed by the same architect of Paris. That's why they have a similar look. The unusual wide roads, for instance," Sari explained to me like a guide.

"Tell me about your job," I asked her.

"We invite celebrities and important political figures on to the show. Barbara Streisand is the one I dislike most."

"Why? She is the most talented human being on earth."

"Quite true. But wait until you work with her. She's extremely difficult."

"What about Clinton and Al Gore?"

"They're nice."

I looked at her, and I still felt a little jealousy. The girl was only 26 and she had a very bright future. She was dark- skinned, slim and taller than average Indonesian women, and had long black hair. I found out that she was one of the victims of the banning of three Indonesian magazines in 1994. She was working at one of the magazines for only six months when the magazine was banned.

"I was at the peak of my enjoyment working as a journalist when that happened. I didn't know what to do. I came to this country, entered a journalistic college in Maryland, and ended up here, assisting the most popular TV talk show in the world." She couldn't hide her pride and joy.

"Are you planning to come back?"

"Certainly. I want to contribute something to the more democratic Indonesian press. By the way, do you know anybody who would hire me as a TV news producer?"

I hadn't told her that I was a news manager at a private TV station in Indonesia. I kept it in mind to recruit her as soon as I returned to Indonesia.

"Do you still have hope after what happened in 1994?" I asked her.

"I am optimistic. That could be the beginning of a new system or a new era. I understand that my colleagues have difficulties back home. I read recently that some of them are prohibited from working as journalists. What has become of them?"

"They become news researchers. Don't worry. It's not that bad. Journalist are researchers, aren't they? So, actually they are still doing their jobs."

Sari expressed her love for Washington D.C. She had been to Boston, Los Angeles, Atlanta and New York, but preferred D.C.

"I love the museums here, the low buildings, the wide and almost empty streets. In D.C., there are only about 400,000 people, more than half of them African-American, and most of the citizens are government officers, politicians and lobbyists. Isn't that cute?"

Sari mentioned the word Washington D.C. and told the story of it with passion.

"If I had to choose, I would choose to live here."

"I heard they're going to offer you a permanent job at the bureau."

"I heard so too. I hope so. But it's not that easy. I am a minority, remember?"

"You could be the first Indonesian on American TV."

"Sound tempting. I really love this place, but I have to go home first."

We enjoyed the museums and compared them to museums in New York City. Sari also talked about the cultural events she attended at the Kennedy Center. She had been to Broadway and Lincoln Center in New York and spent all her money on theater and musical performances. By the end of the day, we were both exhausted. We sat on the stairs of one of the museums. The museum displayed breathtaking sculptures. Outside the building, in the greenery, abstract sculptures were also displayed nicely, in accordance with the natural surroundings. I understood why Sari loved D.C. This place was very inspiring.

We separated when the sun went down and the sky got darker. I was heading to Maryland, where I lived with a nice family. She lived in an apartment in the city. "Not a very classy place. Rather low class area. You wouldn't want to be there by yourself," she said.

"Then why you?"

"I want to live near the real people of D.C. I am writing a book."

I couldn't say anything more.

On Monday morning, I got off the train at Union Station. I sat in the subway underground area for a while, reading newspapers that I took from one of the waste baskets. The headline was about Scott O'Gready, the "All-American hero" in Bosnia who would be welcomed by President Clinton in a luncheon at the White House. But my eyes caught a small bit of crime news about a brutal rape and murder. The victim's name scared me. It couldn't have been Sari, my friend. I threw down the paper and ran out of the station. Turning right on First Street, I didn't stop running until I reached the CNN building.

A car with a crew was waiting next to the office for the reporter. Cameraman Tony was inside. He got out of the car and approached me. He read the question in my eyes, and sadly nodded.

"Yes, it was our Sari. I am sorry. We are all sorry."

I screamed and ran into the building. I saw Lyn, one of the reporters.

"I'm going to cover the story. You'd better stay and calm down," she said and hurried towards the car. I forgot what happened after that.

The next day, along with some Indonesian friends and help from the Indonesian embassy, I managed to send Sari's body home. I learned the story then. Sari was followed by a gang of three men the night after her date with me. The men forced their way into her apartment, brutally raped her and then killed her. It was Saturday night. Nobody knew nor found her body until the next day, when a neighbor passed her room and saw something unusual. He opened the door and found that she had been dead for hours.

Sari had so many friends, Indonesian and others, in D.C. It was clear that she was loved by many people. She was a pleasant woman. I was terribly sad. No democratic press for her, no TV producing job, no book about the people of D.C. She never said anything about the capital's high crime rate. She loved D.C. until she died. She was a victim once again. First she lost the job she loved in Indonesia, now she lost her life.

Sirikit Syah is chairwoman of the Surabaya Art Council and a lecturer at Dr. Soetomo University in Surabaya.