Traveller's tales of meeting confused voters out and about

Andre Vltchek and Rossie Indira Contributors Denpasar

From the captain's bridge, Sumbawa Island was barely visible, blanketed by the heavy fog ahead. Behind us, Lombok had already disappeared. The only thing we could see clearly was a fleet of dolphins playing on both sides of the ferry.

"Look", said the captain, "Why don't you just tell us who should we vote for... We have really no idea ..."

That I couldn't do.

"Gus Dur", said one of the crew, apparently unaware that Abdurrahman Wahid was already out, declared "unfit" to run for the presidency due to his medical condition.

"We have really no idea of what each candidate stands for", explained a teenager in a sailor's uniform.

"What's his name?" I asked my wife. "It's a HER; it's a girl", she replied.

I took a closer look and agreed. I gave the young mariner a smile and tried to change the subject.

"What made you choose this profession? You probably really love the sea, don't you?"

She looked confused. "Actually, I hate the sea. I hate water".

Before leaving Lombok, we stopped for a coffee at a warung (street foodstall) in a god-forsaken village called Belanting in the northeast of the island. We sat at the homemade rustic wooden table, watching barefoot children playing in the corner. The coffee was strong, robust and honest.

"I have no political preferences", explained the owner. "As in almost all villages around here, the village head tells people who they should vote for. We never get to choose. It's not up to us to decide."

I wanted to ask how much the village head got paid for "choosing" the candidate for his people, but I changed my mind -- the warung's owner wouldn't probably know, anyway.

A month before the first round of the presidential elections, the Indonesian media happily reported Megawati's faux-pas in Mataram. "Lombok is in Eastern Nusa Tenggara", she said after some hesitation.

That was bad. On the other hand, confusion was mutual. While she couldn't locate the island geographically, most of the voters we talked to in the east of the country were unable to place any of the candidates on the political map.

Almost none of those we met had a clue what do the candidates stood for. The most common lament was, "there is no one representing the interests of common people".

In the port town of Labuanbajo, Flores, a natural healer named Monica said that she would vote "for the candidate who promotes religious tolerance". Unfortunately, she couldn't decide which one that was, if any.

Some women we approached said they would consult their husbands before going to the polls.

Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono seemed to be the favorite of many voters in the east, but when asked why, most of them simply responded that he was "strong and good looking"; these were probably the qualities that, according to them, would enable him to solve most of the urgent problems of this nation.

"I will vote for Susilo," promised the manager of Bajo Eco Lodge, the best hotel in Labuanbajo. "He is strong; he is a general and knows how to deal with terrorists."

He added, "I love your president, George Bush, because he is killing terrorists all over the world."

I quickly changed the direction of the conversation!

On several occasions, we tried to engage men and women in conversation about the country's past and the role of the military.

We tried to find out whether the voters in Lombok, Sumbawa and Flores were leaning towards the "left" or the "right", and whether they supported the country's present economic policy.

We asked whether they know that their country spent less than any other nation in the region on education and medical care. The voters-to-be in "the first direct democratic election in Indonesia" (a cliche that is now constantly repeated in the foreign media) had no idea what we were talking about.

Sitting on a wooden platform on the island of Rinca, overlooking several Komodo dragons, park ranger Martinus confessed that he would be voting for Megawati. "At least she brought some stability to this country."

Then, changing the subject, he pointed his finger at the carnivorous lizards below that were obviously scavenging for food (and were definitely "strong and good looking", at least from my humble point of view), and said, "You see, we depend on them. Our job is to protect them. Sometimes we talk to them, trying to establish some sort of relationship with them.

"But they never listen, they never even react. I don't think they care about us. They live in their own world."