Jakarta - Five days later

Jakarta is a city of extremes.  As indeed is the country of Indonesia.

The extreme nature of the country and the city has been an overriding feature of my time here. It is through this lens, five days after Jakarta has again experienced a terrorist bombing by those who wish to enforce their view of the world and how we should live, I began to reflect on the impact it has had on the city and myself.

With its geographical spread from the western tip of Aceh in Sumatra, across to the Eastern boundary of West Guinea, the country is as wide as Australia and has some 18000 islands to its claim with as many dialects, ethnicities and customs.  None of its islands are the same.  The tourism driven hedonistic, good time location of Bali, equally matched by the availability of all acts of depravity yet offset by natural beauty and waves, is in stark contrast to the lack of basic infrastructure, clean water, electricity, health care and food in the regional islands.  It is this disparity that in equal turn makes this country an astonishing, yet confronting place to live, work and visit.

The opulence and wealth of inner city Jakarta resides alongside poverty which is endured by smiling yet worn and knowing faces.  Rivers that wind through the city, contain less water (in which I wouldn’t wash my clothes) and more plastic, sewage and debris, and are the backyard and playground for the majority of the cities less fortunate.   During the wet season the debris ensures the rivers, already stretched by development can’t handle the seasonal torrents and the waters flood nearby homes, causing families to relocate and highways become impassable making headway in the city near impossible.  

From my privileged twenty-sixth floor apartment in Mega Kunigan, I oversee Jakarata’s newest five story mega mall and the Ritz Carlton and JW Marriott Hotels. The trendy expat friendly Loewy Bar and excellent E & O restaurant are within spitting distance yet within one minute, I wander through the local slums on my way to a kickboxing gym for which I pay 10 dollars for 90 minutes one on one coaching and the staff are paid 5 dollars a day. I am allocated a driver, as the insurance of expats driving themselves is exorbitant and I have a serviced apartment. To retain some semblance of normality I do wash my smalls however by the time I get home they are dry and folded.

In the predawn the sounds of the daily Fajr- the Musilm Dawn Prayer ring through the city, as do all of the five daily prayers.  Into the night the sound of drum and bass, fast cars, brash voices and laughter take over as the bars and cafes close.  Yet unlike the macho aggressiveness of most post closure nightspots in NZ or Australia, where inebriated men determine who has the best alcohol fuelled kung fu powers, the absence of bravado in the Indonesian male is a very real pleasure.  Apart from the odd obnoxious expat I have yet to witness any late night ‘hand bags at twenty paces’ which is common post-midnight in Perth, or Palmy or (insert the name of the last city you went to a nightclub in when you were 20).

Jakarta is a city of some 20 million people.  Indonesia is a country of 230 million Indonesians, the largest Muslim population in the world.  In the very centre of Jakarta, on the North East corner of the National Monument Park sits the country’s largest mosque and opposite, the capital’s largest Cathedral.  In the city of Manado, North Sulawesi Christians and Muslims live, work and worship beside each other every day.  Bali is majority Hindu. The country is moderate Muslim, just as New Zealand and Australia can be classed moderately Christian in the way that has shaped their respective morals, laws and customs.

They call Jakarta the Big Durian – an Indonesia fruit that is thorny on the outside yet full of sweet goodness inside. And like the city itself, the smell (some buildings won’t allow it such is the virulent odour) of the fruit makes you either love the place or simply tolerate it. Jakarta is like whiskey – intoxicating to gaze upon in the right light, exacting on the tongue, yet even though you know it’s not good for you, you just can’t bring yourself to hate it.    You either love Jakarta – or like myself, tolerate it.

Sauntering out of buildings where the air-conditioning is set to make the climate not dissimilar to a fridge and out into the humid, always smog, constant 32 degrees to endure clammy shirt fatigue is constant.  As a white expatriate in Jakarta you will be offered anything and everything anytime you step out into the areas of nocturnal entertainment whether they be five-star locations or slightly more local Tavern.  It is part and parcel of a truly 24 hour, international city.

The bombing was five kilometres away from my office and apartment.  I was in no immediate danger and whilst we closed our office and took precautions to keep people safe in the event there was a series of attacks across the city, as was first feared, the incident has not had a direct negative impact on me or our work force.

During the first 48 hours following the bombings there was a palpable unease across the city.  Meetings were cancelled, people stayed off the streets and out of the cafes and bars – my own families trip to Jakarta was deferred.  The endless flow of traffic became a trickle and the city was silent, unmoving and as if it had decided to kick off its shoes and have a wee kip. Yet just five days later Jakarta is slowly returning to normal as if getting back from a momentous hangover following a three day weekend of surfing, alcohol and illicit activity. (This, I am assuming is what that must feel like, you understand)

The pace of the city is beginning to reflect its former hectic, torrid self.  Like a wild uncontrolled glam rock star that in a moment of genius makes sense out of chaos this city, which for all intensive purpose shouldn't work, actually manages to come together. This is a city where crossing the road, even at the controlled pedestrian crossing can be a 50-50 call on if you will make the other side.  The city, choked with cars, motorbikes, mo-peds and buses somehow still makes progress and gets you there – eventually.  You know the traffic is mad when pedestrians can't walk due to the number of mo-peds on the sidewalk. A five kilometre journey can take ten minutes or two hours depending on the time of day, weather and just which part of the roading system decides to admit defeat.  There are rarely any major traffic accidents as the vehicles don’t move fast enough to create serious damage or injury. 

It would be a throw away, macho response to suggest the attack was “just another little bomb” but that is as understated as affirming that former All Black Captain Richie McCaw was not a bad footy player. 

The reality is I did stay off the streets that day and the next as did most of the people of Jakarta.  I ventured out again over the weekend, via back streets and in close proximity to home.  The pace of Jakarta is still well below its wildest levels and I expect will take some time yet to reach those previous heights.  You do give every person carrying a back pack a second glance as if your powers of observation will determine whether that person is a terrorist or just someone carrying their gym gear.  Entrances to malls and apartments complexes have been restricted, narrowed entry points, security, police and military presence has stepped up and cafes and bars have less clientèle and those that do frequent sit well back from the windows. I don’t go to Starbucks or anything vaguely western in its branding.

Yet the local people are back on the street, tending to their vending carts, selling nasi lemak, soto sapi, gado-gado and Jakarta street food. For they don’t have a choice to work from home, to take a day off, or to get on a plane and get the hell out.  Unlike me they don’t have the luxury of working for an international mining company that can source the latest security reports and determine an appropriate course of action.  For them they are doing their best to return to business as usual in the face of extreme actions and the lingering and very real chance it will happen again and soon.

And yet in the face of the most diabolical actions by those who wish to dictate to others how we should live, it is the extremes of the city and this wonderful country that will keep it alive and outlast the attempts of those wishing to subvert the Indonesian and Jakartan way of life.

For it is those daily extremes that have formed a resilience you can see in the faces of those who work on the streets, who work in this city, in the regions, at our mine, in the communities we work in through out regional Indonesia and who work beside me.  This is not the first time that Indonesia has faced down terrorism.  Indonesia and in particular Jakarta and Bali are well documented locations of past major terrorist attacks.  There is no doubt that they will again be targeted but also of no doubt is that the extremism faced by every day Indonesians has ensured a resilience that will carry them beyond those who wish to impart their own will on how Indonesia and indeed the rest of the world should conduct themselves.

I encourage you to visit Indonesia and Jakarta.  Bypass the bogan central of Kuta and Legian in Bali but venture wider across the island to Sanur and Canggu, visit the beauty of Lombok, Sumbawa, Java, and Sulawesi.  Come to Jakarta – get amongst it and then get out before it sucks you in or spits you out. You can’t be half hearted – it can sense fear! 

But most of all come and experience the extremes and the resilience that means Jakarta and Indonesia will be here long after the terrorist have turned themselves into a paint by numbers artwork on a nearby wall – cheap, nasty and something only their mother could love.