Sun, 20 Apr 1997

Time etches changes on urban landscape of Jakarta

By Richard Watson

JAKARTA (JP): Early in the 1970s, the capital was still spelled as Djakarta. It was widely reported by the international press that Indonesia was a country in a state of anarchy with most services broken down. Djakarta had only the Hotel Indonesia, surrounded by slums, the grandiose Asian Games Stadium and a lot of Soviet style monuments.

As a stereotype, it had some element of truth in the same way that London could be stereotyped as a city of royal palaces, guardsmen in red uniforms and beaver hats, Madame Tussauds, Soho and Harrods, the main food being fish and chips.

As a new arrival in 1970, the first thing that struck me on the buses and bemo (motorized three-wheeled vehicle) was the interest of the locals in who I was. The questions were personal, the English a tribute to earlier teaching programs..."Hullo mister, I'm your friend... Are you married?...Why aren't you married... are you heartbroken ..."

The next surprise was the wide availability of excellent food at the warung (food stalls) and restaurants at a fraction of the price it would be in Britain. Nasi goreng istimewa (special fried rice) was Rp 150, rumah makan Padang (Padang food outlet) were everywhere selling substantial meals for Rp 200, while the upmarket Chinese restaurants worked out at Rp 700 per person. Transport was cheap, the fare on the yellow Dodge buses being Rp 10 irrespective of distance -- it went up to Rp 15, and bemo were taking over from the fleets of becak (pedicab) which blocked the roads; even the forecourt to the Hotel Indonesia was packed with them. Pasar Baru, Cikini market and Blok M were the markets foreigners shopped at. There were still men on the streets offering to exchange money, a throwback to the Sukarno inflation but they were a vanishing species because their rates were no better than those offered by the banks.

Even then changes were afoot. Air conditioning was replacing the overhead fans in restaurants such as The Golden Room, Menteng, and nightclubs were opening by the month, causing a lot of criticism in the press. Large scale reconstruction was starting and before I left, the steel skeleton of a building at the bottom of Jl. Imam Bonjol was being completed. Foreign cars were flooding in, French, German, American, Australian and Italian. Even then it was clear that Japanese vehicles were in the ascendant, with thousands of motorbikes, cars and trucks on the roads.

Life for most Indonesians was difficult. A Teachers' Training Institute lecturer was paid Rp 2,500 a month. While many of them, including myself, took on private tuition, many could not. One colleague with whom I worked on a textbook project over the December holiday of 1970/1971 told me that in Central Java a middle class father would threaten a rebellious daughter with marrying her off to a schoolteacher, whose pay was so low.

How the army of becak drivers lived was a mystery as they made a living with fares of Rp 20 and Rp 25.

In Menteng one Saturday afternoon my driver started to talk to me about Marxist philosophy and revolution; he gave no indication of what he had once been -- it was only five years since the coup. When I described the encounter to a journalist friend he told me that becak drivers were the only group of workers in Jakarta who were not registered and it was possible that my driver was on the run from the authorities for his political activities. Another alternative was that he was a university lecturer earning a few extra rupiah to eke out his salary.

Soldiers were everywhere, most of them ill-trained conscripts, but all with weapons. As I remember the crack troops were the Diponegoro battalion and the force that wore helmets with a white band on them. Even so, Jakarta was an exciting place to live in where the city never slept. When I left with my wife Sasti in 1971 to resume a teaching career in England I had no idea when I would return.

It was to be another 12 years.

My first glimpse of Jakarta from the KLM 747 on a July afternoon in 1983 indicated the scale of the changes -- when I left in 1971 there had been perhaps half a dozen skyscrapers. Now they dominated the central area and as the jet circled to land at Halim I saw housing complexes stretching for miles toward Bekasi.

On the ground the first impressions were that not much had changed. The luggage unloading elevator was rusak (broken) so there was a lot of scrambling for suitcases. I had fishing rods and tackle with me and the young woman at customs was making a fuss -- she had cut her finger on some fish hooks she insisted on inspecting -- and I was only saved more hassle by one of her colleagues saying "Go and catch Jaws mister".

My family and nephew were waiting, and on the drive to Grogol just before dusk it was clear that many changes had come about, with better road systems and the absence of traffic choking becak. With the loan of a car we spent the holiday touring -- Bandung, Yogyakarta, Malang, Bali, Surabaya, Semarang and everywhere we were met with hospitality and everywhere seemed to be more prosperous than in 1971. Motorbikes had replaced push bikes and western-American imports, among them Kentucky Fried Chicken were now part of the landscape.

Recently I had the chance to visit Indonesia again. It was 5:30 p.m. Jakarta time, 10:15 a.m. UK time and I had been traveling for 20.5 hours. As a historian I was glad that the new airport was named after Sukarno and Hatta and was impressed.

It was to a Jakarta I had never known that we sped down the toll road. Neon signs advertised the economic strength of the Western Pacific Rim and the presence of the multinationals. There was a thunderstorm followed by a tropical downpour, then we were turning into the housing complex, home of my brother- and sister- in-law. In the dusk were the barrows of the hawkers and the small food stalls. This was a part of the Indonesia I still recognized and it was from a satay hawker that we purchased our first meal in Jakarta. It was reassuring to know some things have not changed and as a visitor my only hope is that the street sellers can make a living wage in Jakarta and have their small share of the economic boom that is going on.