Ware sellers struggle to survive

Ware sellers struggle to survive

By Ida Indawati Khouw

JAKARTA (JP): Despite the stiff competition in a modernized
society, Sarijem and Warjem are trying to make a living as door-
to-door vendors of traditional household goods.

This mother and daughter-in-law team are not satisfied with
their meager daily income of between Rp 1,000 (28 U.S. cents) and
Rp 3,000 -- or sometimes nothing -- but it is the only work they
know.

The two women sell wicker baskets and other traditional goods
which are rarely used nowadays. People prefer modern utensils
which retail at supermarkets for about the same price as the
handmade alternatives.

Sarijem, who is aged in her 50s, and 26-year-old Warjem, know
the difficulties they face but believe they lack the necessary
skills to change their current work.

"It's getting harder and harder to earn money from selling
these goods," Sarijem said.

Their customers are mainly owners of food stalls and Padang
restaurants, which still use traditional products to prepare
meals.

The women carry the goods on their back -- using a long piece
of cloth to harness rice baskets and steamers, cooking oil
filters and brooms -- and pile them into a high, gravity-defying
stack. The weight of the load can reach 30 kilograms, Sarijem
said.

They haul their wares for hours at a time, covering long
distances and sometimes braving the heat of the day to make ends
meet.

"What we think about every day is just how to get enough food
to fill our stomachs. We try not to be tempted into buying
clothes, good sandals or fancy things worn by rich people," they
said.

The women, who live in a rented room in Pejompongan, start
their daily rounds before 7 a.m. Their morning journey, with four
other vendors selling the same products, takes them along the
small alleys near Pejompongan and Palmerah market in Central
Jakarta. Sometimes they stop at Kebayoran Lama market in South
Jakarta.

"Oh ... I only sold one rice basket and two rice spoons
today," Warjem said, fanning herself with the cloth from her
harness.

"It's better than yesterday when we did not earn a single
cent," the woman's mother-in-law said as the couple sheltered at
a mosque on Jl. Gelora, Central Jakarta, to avoid the heat.

They sell a rice basket for Rp 1,700 and the rice ladle for Rp
1,600. The profit from each item ranges from Rp 50 to Rp 500,
they said.

Several years ago, Sarijem's income could reach Rp 5,000 or Rp
6,000 a day, she recalled.

It is increasingly difficult to earn money by selling
traditional goods nowadays and many of their friends quit the
business and went back to their hometown in Tegal Gubug near
Cirebon, West Java.

Sarijem said friends invited her to start selling the goods
more than 10 years ago when successive droughts made life
difficult for the people in her town. Her daughter-in-law joined
her three months ago.

With an income of only Rp 2,000 a day, they have to be "smart"
to manage their finances, going without breakfast and sometimes
resisting the urge for lunch, the women said. A Rp 500 dinner,
consisting of rice, tempeh and vegetables, is enough.

Despite their small income, living in Jakarta is better than
life in the West Java town during the dry season, they said.

"At least we can still save some of our money and give it to
our family who live in the town," Sarijem said.

Sarijem has two children from her first husband and another
three from the second. Warjem is married to Sarijem's son from
her first husband, who fled because he could not face the
hardships.

Their husbands and children are living in the town and
cultivating other people's land.

Once every two or three months, the women go back home "to
meet our family, of course", Sarijem said.

Part of their savings go toward bus tickets, which cost
between Rp 5,000 and Rp 6,000 each.

"What I want is ... to buy a bus so that we do not need to pay
every time we want to go home," Sarijem joked.

For Warjem, buying toys and food for her two sons whenever she
returns home is a satisfying reward for her labor.

But life goes on and so does the women's daily search for
money.

Sarijem and Warjem once again launch into the "song" they sing
along the streets and alleys of the city in a bid to draw in
customers: "Madam ... buy our wares ... Madaaam ..."