'Tis the season of getting swindled

This time of year is when it seems all the bad guys, and some gals, crawl out of the woodwork looking to make a fast rupiah. I had thought I could rely on my own sense of judgment, but I was wrong.

At the end of November, on my last day in Jakarta before I returned to my second homeland of Australia, I wanted to buy some books recommended to me. My host's driver, who had become my source and guide, suggested we go to Cempaka Putih, where he told me there was a good bookstore.

We started early, and arrived at the Cempaka Putih shopping center when many stalls still had their barricades up. As the bookstore would not open for another 20 minutes, I strolled to one of the few shops open for business, the supermarket.

As I was looking around among a handful of people, mostly employees of the supermarket, a well-dressed man approached me and asked in a polite manner where Harco was. Equally politely I replied that I was not a local, so had no idea where it was.

"Oh," he laughed good humoredly, "where are you from?"

"Australia," I said truthfully. The man explained that he was from Brunei, and had some goods to trade in Harco, at which point he produced a handsome business-card printed in gold ink. "H. Sharif Alqadri", said the card, beneath the name being his position as Chief Stewarder of Goo Joo Hin Pte Ltd MV Ozam Power.

Seeing another man milling around nearby, I said to Mr. Alqadri that maybe the gentleman could help him. The man came over to find out what the problem was, I explained what our Mr. Alqadri wanted, and was going to move away.

Alqadri, however, asked me to stick around, because he had difficulty making himself understood in his English sprinkled with Malay. The new gentleman, who claimed to be a Mr. Budi Hermawan, then explained that Harco was in Mangga Dua, a fair distance from where we were. After telling Budi that he had some video units or something of that sort to sell, Budi said he could buy them, being a businessman himself.

At this point, Budi produced his equally impressive business- card, showing he was a representative of a dealer for a Japanese auto brand.

Alqadri asked my assistance to interpret for them. I looked at my watch. Time to go to the bookstore, but I felt I should help when needed. So we went to sit at the deserted coffee-shop inside the supermarket.

Budi was going to buy Alqadri's goods, which he had stowed on his ship. Then he asked how he could go to Semarang and return in the afternoon. We made him see the difficulty of his plan. He told us that he had several watches to deliver to a gentleman in Semarang. Budi asked politely if he could have a look. After throwing a cautious look around Alqadri pulled out a small pouch from his pocket.

Budi opened it. He gasped, took out his lighter and with Alqadri's permission, tested the diamonds around the watch face. They passed the test. Budi whispered to me that it was a genuine Rolex.

Budi then asked if he could buy the watches. Alqadri said they were not for sale. Then Budi asked if he could have at least one. Alqadri named an exorbitant price. Budi happened to have a fraction of the price, and persuaded Alqadri to give the watch to him at that price, seeing that he was going to buy all his video units. Alqadri reluctantly agreed.

Then Budi asked if I could have one too. I vehemently refused, but Budi whispered that he would actually buy it. Since Alqadri refused to sell another watch to him, maybe he would sell one to me. I protested that it was dishonest. Alqadri mysteriously understood our conversation and said that he would agree to sell one to me.

I began to feel uneasy. As I got up to excuse myself, Alqadri put his arm around me and while appearing polite, pressed his hand behind my neck. With Budi walking in front of us, they led me to the underground parking lot. The place was almost deserted except for one guard, who didn't seem to notice anything.

I remember thinking the only way to get out of this situation unharmed was to play along. When I was "ushered" into a car with tinted windows, I quickly made a note that Budi didn't lock the doors. I was relieved of all my cash. Miraculously, Budi believed I was a journalist, and persuaded Alqadri not to take my cell phone. He did ask for my jewelry, but Budi stopped him.

I intuitively knew then that I would get away unharmed, which I did.

Even now I still shudder at the thought of what could have happened to me. I learned not to overrate my sense of judgment.

-- Dewi Anggraeni