hell on the outside, heaven on the inside
The durian and Jakarta. Soulmates. Perhaps one is a reincarnation of the other. Neither offers free entry, neither are for the meek or wary-hearted, both demand a determined mixture of action and patience. The durian, with its spiked exterior and its overpowering, pugnacious smell, has been purposefully fortified by evolution against outside incursions. But the durian is the Fort Knox of fruit for a reason – simply that which is most sought after is that which is most protected. Because beneath those barbed battlements lies a heart of highly prized, exotic gold – a custardy, mishmash of bittersweet taste and texture. It is not everyone’s bowl of fruit but for those prepared to go the distance, a lifetime love affair is the reward.
And Jakarta – the Big Durian? Difficult to see anything purposeful in the evolution of Jakarta but with its own arm’s length hardness – the ants’ nest mayhem of people, cars and people; the concoctions of fumes and smoke spiced with the odd whiff of kretek – the discouraging effects are the same. Now, the Big Durian is seldom a love-at-first-sight city, but does it have a heart of gold in there somewhere? Possibly not – but there certainly are some rich cosmopolitan veins running through its red-tiled vastness. Like the durian, tapping into Jakarta depends on individual tastes – some take to it like a duck to floodwaters; others bring their own defensive thorns and never completely unpack the cultural baggage they arrived with, carrying it around wherever they go. But the majority makes adjustments; learn their way around the thorns and immerse themselves in Jakarta’s own bittersweet enormity.
A cast of thousands? Nay, millions, but who knows how many exactly, whatever the official statistics may claim. Jabotabek, this immense metropolis of Jakarta, Bogor, Tangerang and Bekasi known as Greater Jakarta, is the epitome of “teeming”, that sinuous adjective so often applied to the Orient. Bustling and heaving by day, it scarcely misses a beat through the long watches of the night and the wee dark hours before dawn.
Why the Dutch chose to make their colonial capital in a huge malarial floodplain is no mystery. They were conceited enough to believe that they could create a New Amsterdam here and prettify it with canals. Mindless of the diseases lurking in is alluvial swamps and estuarine reed beds, the colonialists laid the basis of what we see today, this huge, restless hydra that continues to draw in fortune seekers from all over the 13,000-island archipelago and beyond.
Where once the now extinct Java tiger roamed and crocodiles were abundant and rhinos too; now is every form of dwelling from riverside hovel to super-luxury hotel. Once described by a British broadcaster James Mossman as having an “almost aggressive lack of character”, Jakarta is an often bewildering, certainly enigmatic city that defies easy definitions. No Pearl of the Orient nor Shangri-la, it nonetheless has what the writer Derek Bacon has called “its own wacky charm”.
The terminally jaundiced might think otherwise but Jakarta is a ceaselessly fascinating place. Giving the appearance of a never-to-be-completed construction site, that it works at all, is a matter of no small wonder. Yes, it can be exasperating in the extreme and you do not need to be a rocket scientist to see that; the bureaucratic system is everywhere toll-boothed to maximize gain – and pain if you’re not in the know. Yes, it often makes you long for the hills or the sea, but in truth neither the hills nor the sea are far way, and on a clear day you can see the West Java Highlands in the foreshortened distance, volcanoes that were known to early European sailors to this region as The Blue Mountains.
People of every paste and stripe live here; intellectuals, artists, entertainers, freebooters, crooks, rogues, politicians (perhaps the same thing), the indigent and the just plain honest plodders. The city simply pulses with life. Take a fresh view and you will find a whole wealth of things going on from the nightlife we celebrate in these pages through music groups to quiz evenings and international concerts (I write this a week after the lovely Mariah Carey gave a brief but expensive appearance at Senayan). Sports activities abound; tennis, squash, cricket, softball, soccer, yachting, rugby, mountain biking, you name it. Cuisines of all sorts are represented; Thai, Indian, Lebanese, Mexican, Greek, Chinese, again you name it, even British and American; in Tanah Abang there is an Acehnese restaurant reputed to serve a ‘certain substance’ with its dishes.
Of course, there are huge and displeasing disparities of wealth that even the blind man on a galloping horse would see. These will not go away in the short-term. Nor will the willful schemes of the super-rich to reclaim more land from the Java Sea to build yet more shopping malls, golf courses and condominium high-rise blocks. At the same time there are brave and resourceful Indonesians and expatriates struggling to make life better, to improve the lot of their fellow beings in the city; micro-credit unions, bookshop owners, green activists, café and restaurant owners with imagination
You are coming out of Soekano-Hatta International Airport with preconceived notions that your every step in this city will be dogged by cutpurses, footpads and ugly little criminal hobgoblins. Forget it. Whatever the stresses and strains may be in Jakarta, this is still a far safer place than, say, Manila, Mexico City or even Washington DC. Firearms, although not unknown, are still quite rare and the streets are not awash with thuggery, the much-despised preman element notwithstanding. Joe Public, the Man on the Clapped-Out Omnibus is more often than not a remarkably accommodating soul, despite the fact that he is the majority that lives at the pointy end of life. For Joe and his family it’s all one-day-at-a-time and they meet life, not head on, but with a placid shrug of the shoulders, a tidak apa apa and more often than not, a smile……………
The Big Smile
The smiles of Indonesia are so often spoken of that it’s become somewhat cliché to mention them. But the fact remains there are doubtless more smiles per square metre in Jakarta than any other place on the planet; despite most smilers not having a whole lot to smile about. For the expat, especially the Westerner, those smiles are both beguiling and baffling. Beguiling because they burst forth so freely, so frequently; leaving the beholder completely disarmed. Baffling because at times they appear, at what for us, are ‘inappropriate’ moments. Smiling is deep-rooted in the Indonesian culture and for them a smile may denote not only happiness but also anger, or confusion, embarrassment, even sadness. They may smile when telling you of a family member’s death or if a mistake has been made. Such smiles may just be a nervous reaction or they may be something akin to an old Japanese proverb – he who smiles rather than rages is always the stronger. Either way it leaves the outsider nonplussed.
But those everyday, multitude of smiles do work - they jump the language barrier and they leave us feeling a little better about ourselves and the chaotic environment we live in. Well, momentarily at least.
