– Written while stuck in traffic
Jakarta will grind to a halt in 2014. Its streets barely move already, four lanes of almost stationary traffic. I wasn’t surprised that my brother (also in Indonesia at the time) refused to meet me here. While on a bus today I spoke to a local about the historical force of humidity as a barrier to human development. In a hundred years, that same conversation will be had about traffic.
The traffic does come in useful, however, for the hundreds of street youths wielding instruments you’ve probably not heard of — the rebab, the angklung, and the gendang are examples — and those you probably have — electric keyboards, ukuleles and guitars are the most common. Like rats they leap on and off of busses and shimmy between cars, strumming and singing comic songs about love, living on the streets, being unable to attend school, corruption and so on.
They are cool, part of the punk scene, unwilling to be on camera and outwardly reckless and aloof. Part of me wants to be like them, to live like them, singing for my supper and floating on self confidence, rebelling against all the rules. The rest of me, however, thinks the same thoughts as I always do when I see kids in complete rejection of the status quo: if I can recognise your anarchical leanings 100m away, you’re still just trying to fit in.
At roughly 8 to 20 years old, their numbers indicate a failing security net for Jakarta’s youths. But that’s where the locals step in. The buskers’ jumps onto vehicles are brief transactions; they don’t look at their audience, and barely register donations with a nod. They don’t have to, as there’s a real culture of giving in Jakarta (Indonesia?), which doesn’t require acknowledgement. It is beautiful to see so many people reach into their pockets to pick out one or two thousand rupia (currently 14,000 rupia per GBP) for the homeless, buskers, charities and churches.
My friend on the bus is a doctor, and spoke of the difference between healthcare in the city and in rural areas. He says in small communities people come together to take care of their own, but in the city “it’s every man for himself”.
That may be the case as far as health is concerned, but if you’re really out of luck, even the city-dwellers are there to help.