Ah, Jakarta. Less than a week to go and still you continue to play your amusing tricks. A USB drive that sighs and gives up functioning, a microphone that has a strange rattle, miscommunication about stuff we need to film, a traffic jam so horrific it doubles the cost of the taxi... you mischievous urban sprawl, you!
The love/hate relationship with this cheeky city continues. This week, while doing the washing up after breakfast, listening to some indie guitar-y, violin-y music, both the front door and the back door of the house open and a cool breeze blowing through, I couldn’t quite remember why I wanted to leave. But I know this can’t last. I’ve learnt not to trust tricksy ol’ Jakarta. Today or tomorrow there’s bound to be a technical failure, or a behemoth of a traffic jam, or a small bout of food poisoning. So I shall enjoy this nugget of peace and happiness while I can.
Experience wise, I cannot fault what we’re actually doing one bit. On Tuesday we went to the Indonesian House of Representatives to meet an MP in her offices. The MP, Eva Sundani, works in women’s rights and migrant workers’ rights and has just got an award from the UN for ethical conduct. She’s the kind of woman I want to be when I grow up. My favourite part of the interview was when we had to pause because of noise her assistants were making in the outer office and she got up and said ‘I’ll just go and tell the boys to be quiet’! The boys! Ha ha ha! They shut up pretty sharpish too!
This week we’ve also interviewed a mother whose son disappeared twelve years ago. We got to the very basic house where she lives to discover it was his birthday. As you can imagine, that made for a pretty emotional interview. All the parents still have hope that their sons are alive, even though it was so long ago that they went missing. But they’re are getting old and frail and no one’s giving them any answers. The current president has the power to find out, and served on the Council of Military Ethics that heard the details of the case back in the late 90s. He could make the details public, but a lot of his support comes from the powerful members of the military who are implicated in the case so everything is stuck. The government is finally working out financial compensation for the victims but they don’t want financial compensation, they want to know if they’re sons are alive, held by the military somewhere or buried in some mass unmarked grave.
We have a security guy here, he’s an old guy and he does the night shift, from about 7pm till 7am. We were told he’s a little bonkers and yeah, he is a few anchovies short of a pizza. He’s very helpful though, and always wants to chat even though we only speak English and he only speaks Bahasa. Sometimes he’ll be a little creepy too; apparently he comes in and stares at me when Dani and I are working, although weirdly he never does it when I’m in the room on my own. Sometimes he’ll come in and do odd little dances and gestures; Dani and I used to get a bit annoyed as we were trying to work but he’s harmless enough I suppose.
Dani was editing a few nights ago, some footage of an activist called Mugi who was kidnapped with the other victims 12 years ago but was returned. His interview was in English and mentioned a man who was held with him named Gwun Li. Old security guy was in the room with us at the time and started going mental, rushing over to the computer repeating “Gwun Li! Gwun Li! Mugi” and started frantically pointing at the screen then himself. Turns out that crazy old guy IS Gwun Li. He was held in prison for 6 months, during which time he smuggled messages between Mugi and the other prisoners. He wants his picture in the documentary, captioned with “Gwun Li is another victim of the Suharto regime”. How could we refuse? Mugi was beaten, tortured with electric shocks and repeatedly told he would be killed while he was held. Is it any wonder the old guy’s a little crazy if he’s been through similar? Oh, and he’s never been married, apparently due to his craziness. Instead he comes and does a 12 hour shift here every night except for the weekends, when he does… who knows? Makes you sad to think.
Enough of the serious stuff, I will fill you in more on the fun stuff another time. For now, Dani and I are about to head out with a Hong Kong friend, David for dinner. Indonesian food… Oh God, I’m such a bulé; all I want is pizza!
Today I like; Red Bull, lots and lots of Red Bull, my new scarf from Borneo courtesy of our friend Reza, that I managed to spell phlegm correctly without Word flagging it up as misspelt, that I will soon be back in Hong Kong!
Today I don’t like: The fact I seem to have permanent low-level illness, currently wisdom tooth issues and nasty phlegm, that being back in HK soon means I will be back in London soon without any idea of what I’m doing with my life- GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!
Sunday 29 August 2010
Wednesday 18 August 2010
Whenever, Wherever... Shakira Provides Indonesia’s National Anthem
Jakarta has got a little better. At first, I HATED IT. “Jakarta is something to be endured, not enjoyed” I would snarl into my regular breakfast of rice and noodles as the mosquitoes had their own feast on any of part my uncovered flesh. Nothing seemed to run right. Taxi drivers were out to rip us, driving round and round as we screamed “We know it doesn’t cost 48,000 rupiah to get from Tebet to Menteng!” Then they would get out to ‘ask directions’ for the 3rd time. Rice for breakfast everyday at our hotel (and then again at work for lunch) was a minor annoyance. Far more frustrating was the lack of urgency when things went wrong, which led to something I will only describe as ‘the leggings incident’ and one of the most spectacular applications of the ‘slam and flounce’ move I have ever been privileged to witness.
In addition to the leisurely pace, more than a few people in Jakarta seem to be on the take. If money is going begging, it would seem the best plan is to try and get as much of it as you can. Who knows when it may come around again? People are paid to attend meetings here, and I’m not talking about recreational meetings, I mean meetings they actually need to attend for work. But why show up if my transport isn’t covered? And when claiming for transport, why not triple it and add the first number you think of? Then I’ll show up alright.
I think after 21 days (14 to go!) I’m getting the hang of it a bit more. Our friend Reza explained the concept of ‘rubber time’ to me, which is the force that rules Jakarta, causing people to turn up for the event you scheduled at 4pm at maybe at 5pm or 5.30pm. Or 6pm. Here, the traffic, the weather and our vulnerability to the whims of the fates have created a very relaxed attitude about timekeeping. And if you are trying to make a film, or run a workshop, or host a film screening, or indeed, find the leggings that your hotel laundered, well, there’s no rush. It’s not my specific responsibility, someone will sort it out. Maybe. Whenever.
Yesterday gave us an excellent example of a useful application of ‘rubber time’. Me, Dani and our friends Yu Yuen and Markus got trapped in Kemang when the road flooded after hours of pissing rain. It was all the way across the road, up to the knee. Dirty and brown and none of us much fancied crossing it. The guy in Starbucks (where we sought shelter) calmly explained that this happens every time there’s heavy rain. Just one of those things, nothing we can do. Everyone was standing at their respective edges of the floods, shrugging. One man decided to make the most of it by taking his dog for a walk through the water, waving around his sodden flip-flop for the dog to chase as another filmed it on his phone, laughing. Brave (or stupid) young men were ferrying their girlfriends across on their mopeds, stopping once they’d crossed the flood to blow the water out of their exhausts. The general mood was merry. No one seemed to be fretting about the delays to their schedule. Probably because they didn’t have a schedule. After all, anyone they may have arranged to meet knows it would be foolish to expect them at the actual time they said. No rush or worries about getting anywhere, we can just meet up... whenever.
And during the floods, the motto ‘on the take’ took a more enterprising slant. Rain brought a chance to make a little cash; one old man carrying a well-heeled lady across the water in his rubbish cart, others donning their rain macs and frenziedly blowing whistles to direct traffic to safe parking places. A hooker was helping 2 stranded bulé (gweilo) guys by steering their BMW while they pushed it to higher ground. She then held her hand out for some cash, and when she’d got it they negotiated another deal and all went off together. Happy endings all round.
So rule of Jakarta seems to be; when God throws you lemons, don’t just make lemonade, water it down and sell it as liqueur to the stupidest looking bulé you can find. Or just wait around for someone else to make it. It may seem to the casual observer that everything moves slow and everyone’s trying to screw you. But that is part of Jakarta’s playful nature. When your taxi driver looks at you slyly and tries to keep all your change, just smile as slyly back and shake your head. Keep a pleasant demeanour about this good-natured scamming and it won’t get you down. And for fuck’s sake, throw out your schedule and develop the patience of a saint.
Things I like today: Scrambled eggs, toast and baked beans, orange flavoured hot chocolate (I’m scratching myself to death from mozzie bites anyway so I may as well eat yummy stuff I’m allergic to!), flooding, hazelnut hot chocolate, cheesy pasta... notice how much more important food is becoming now what I like to eat is scarce?!!!
Things I don’t like: Finding that even the oddest of people can have someone hot fall for them. And who fancies me...?!!!! I give up!!!!!
In addition to the leisurely pace, more than a few people in Jakarta seem to be on the take. If money is going begging, it would seem the best plan is to try and get as much of it as you can. Who knows when it may come around again? People are paid to attend meetings here, and I’m not talking about recreational meetings, I mean meetings they actually need to attend for work. But why show up if my transport isn’t covered? And when claiming for transport, why not triple it and add the first number you think of? Then I’ll show up alright.
I think after 21 days (14 to go!) I’m getting the hang of it a bit more. Our friend Reza explained the concept of ‘rubber time’ to me, which is the force that rules Jakarta, causing people to turn up for the event you scheduled at 4pm at maybe at 5pm or 5.30pm. Or 6pm. Here, the traffic, the weather and our vulnerability to the whims of the fates have created a very relaxed attitude about timekeeping. And if you are trying to make a film, or run a workshop, or host a film screening, or indeed, find the leggings that your hotel laundered, well, there’s no rush. It’s not my specific responsibility, someone will sort it out. Maybe. Whenever.
Yesterday gave us an excellent example of a useful application of ‘rubber time’. Me, Dani and our friends Yu Yuen and Markus got trapped in Kemang when the road flooded after hours of pissing rain. It was all the way across the road, up to the knee. Dirty and brown and none of us much fancied crossing it. The guy in Starbucks (where we sought shelter) calmly explained that this happens every time there’s heavy rain. Just one of those things, nothing we can do. Everyone was standing at their respective edges of the floods, shrugging. One man decided to make the most of it by taking his dog for a walk through the water, waving around his sodden flip-flop for the dog to chase as another filmed it on his phone, laughing. Brave (or stupid) young men were ferrying their girlfriends across on their mopeds, stopping once they’d crossed the flood to blow the water out of their exhausts. The general mood was merry. No one seemed to be fretting about the delays to their schedule. Probably because they didn’t have a schedule. After all, anyone they may have arranged to meet knows it would be foolish to expect them at the actual time they said. No rush or worries about getting anywhere, we can just meet up... whenever.
And during the floods, the motto ‘on the take’ took a more enterprising slant. Rain brought a chance to make a little cash; one old man carrying a well-heeled lady across the water in his rubbish cart, others donning their rain macs and frenziedly blowing whistles to direct traffic to safe parking places. A hooker was helping 2 stranded bulé (gweilo) guys by steering their BMW while they pushed it to higher ground. She then held her hand out for some cash, and when she’d got it they negotiated another deal and all went off together. Happy endings all round.
So rule of Jakarta seems to be; when God throws you lemons, don’t just make lemonade, water it down and sell it as liqueur to the stupidest looking bulé you can find. Or just wait around for someone else to make it. It may seem to the casual observer that everything moves slow and everyone’s trying to screw you. But that is part of Jakarta’s playful nature. When your taxi driver looks at you slyly and tries to keep all your change, just smile as slyly back and shake your head. Keep a pleasant demeanour about this good-natured scamming and it won’t get you down. And for fuck’s sake, throw out your schedule and develop the patience of a saint.
Things I like today: Scrambled eggs, toast and baked beans, orange flavoured hot chocolate (I’m scratching myself to death from mozzie bites anyway so I may as well eat yummy stuff I’m allergic to!), flooding, hazelnut hot chocolate, cheesy pasta... notice how much more important food is becoming now what I like to eat is scarce?!!!
Things I don’t like: Finding that even the oddest of people can have someone hot fall for them. And who fancies me...?!!!! I give up!!!!!
Thursday 12 August 2010
Only 21 days to Hong Kong...!
When staring at the calendar, noting I’m here for 3 more weeks it’s hard to believe I will ever leave. I can no longer imagine walking down the arrivals tunnel at Chek Lap Kok, a jaunty spring in my step, revelling in the knowledge that I’ll be home within an hour, hour and a half tops and that the MTR, buses and taxis are all there to help me. Jakarta is a dark nightmare.
Of course, I’m exaggerating in true drama queen style. Mercifully, the thing I have come here to do, work on the WISE project has been interesting, amusing and educational. We have the premiere of the girls’ film tomorrow (as I type, frantic, last-minute editing is taking place)which is going to be a proud moment. Some of the footage they’ve shot is incredibly moving; there was silence all round when we watched a drug user nonchalantly sticking a needle in her leg then calmly smoking, looking off into the distance and an interview with a HIV positive woman had more than a few people in tears.
Our girls are themselves a mix of ex drug-users, sex workers, transgendered woman and HIV positive women. As such, when the project first started there was a ‘car-crash’ moment for me pretty much every day. By this I mean a moment where I get KAPOWED! and all I can do is shrug and be very British about things, saying ‘Oh!’ or perhaps ‘Oh! That’s nice!’ For example, one our gals mentioned she had ‘many boyfriends’. “She means clients” hissed another. Oh! Or the time when of our transgendered women (who’s in her 30s) mentioned she has a boyfriend who is still in high school! Oh! That’s nice! Another asked me if I was sleepy one morning and when I replied ‘Yes! Coffee, coffee, coffee!’ she responded ‘Me too! Methadone, methadone, methadone!’ Lovely! Whatever works! I’ve got quite used to things now though; when some of the gals who are going through withdrawal are a bit edgy or when I actually saw a pic of the high school boyfriend (YIKES!). Just rolling with it is, I think, the most important lesson I’ve learnt.
Another thing I’m remembering is a lesson I’m calling ‘When you’re in charge, take charge!’ although I must say I’m learning it from Dani rather than doing it so much myself! Before Vixening I’d never really been in charge of anything and I’m still very far from being a ‘take charge’ kinda gal. Take charge of my own life, yes, but of other people? Nah! I’ve done a teeny bit here though, as on Tuesday I took the games for the morning which was fun but slightly nerve-wracking (especially when, halfway through the 3rd game we played, I completely forgot the point of doing it!) The first game was my fave though- we did a blindfold obstacle course where the girls took it in turns to be blindfolded while the others shouted instructions to guide them round. Trust and team work being the purpose of course and Dani and I were not exempt from playing (which meant we learnt the Bahasa for ‘left’, ‘right’ and ‘straight on’ pretty quick). Then we went outside for more games (led by me!) and things went fairly smoothly. The trouble is, when I’m in even the tiniest position of authority I imagine someone will say ‘And why the fuck are you in charge, what can YOU do?’ which is of course my own negative inner monologue. But when you ASSUME authority, you HAVE authority. It does help if you know what the hell you’re talking about I suppose but when called upon I’m reasonably good at faking it.Enough to make it through alive anyway!
And I’ve learnt another thing. I like cities with well organised public transport networks. I cannot even tell you the number of times our taxi drivers have ‘got lost’, even on the way to our office which is ten minutes from our hotel! They seem to see a white face and think we don’t know where we are going and we have lots of money they can screw out of us. When every journey ends in an argument you tend to get a bit stressed. Add to that banking difficulties and illnesses for both me and Dani and some general unhelpfulness and the result is that everything in Jakarta is FUCKING FRUSTRATING!!!!!!!! Next week Dani and I are moving into a ‘crack den’ (kidding, it’s a house owned by a charity we are working with and it’s not that bad, though our mattresses are on the floor) and will be working on our own film on enforced disappearances in the 1990s. It’s going to be interesting for sure, but I have no doubt that our frustrations are not at an end! Stay tuned for more swearing, rants of hatred and bowel updates!
What I like today: Our taxi driver only getting lost 3 times today, Tiger Balm, Dani ordering pizza for all of us for dinner- yes! No rice!
What I don’t like today: Tummy troubles, weird blocked ear troubles, impending financial issues, that the project ends tomorrow and it’s been the only thing keeping me sane!
Sunday 1 August 2010
Meetings, Metal Dectectors, Martinis
I feel like I'm being bitten all over and not in a good way. In the coffee shop once more and there are mosquitoes in my hair, on my arms, down my pants, nibbling my eyes. Disease-spreading motherfuckers.
I'm calling this Jakarta Day Two as though I've been here since... Thursday? I'd not really done anything much till yesterday. The evil pooing and all. Today's pooing has been less traumatic and I have been able to face the future with something resembling hope. Hope that the world won't fall out my arse.
We had a 'meeting' today with some of the team we will be working with/who will be helping us. As always, the term 'meeting' turns my blood to ice. I don't know why. I suppose it's the assumption that I'll have to talk seriously about serious things and use terms like 'fiscal' and 'blue-sky' and nod wisely and not crack knob jokes. Dani asked what I plan on doing when, one day I have a serious job. I'm don't exactly know. I'm pretty sure I'll have to run into the Ladies and scream 'BUM!' at random intervals just to get through the day.
As it turns out, everyone at this 'meeting' was pretty cool. They're all about our age, and you could go for a bevvie with any one of them. It's certainly calmed me down about what tomorrow brings. I have no specific role in this project, I'm just along for the ride and hopefully to be useful at some point. One of the guys, Micheal, offered his assistance as a tea-maker or general gopher. I smiled politely but my brain screamed 'Back off dude, that's my gig!'
We were going to head home after the meeting but saw the lights of the Marriot hotel ahead and asked the taxi to make a quick detour. Dani was gagging for a pint after two weeks in Pakistan and I wasn't about to say no to a fortifying cocktail. You take your joy where you can when staying in a Sharia hotel with no bar. As our taxi pulled up, a team of Marriot staff opened the doors. Not to help us out, to check for bombs. They're pretty thorough too. Then, on the way in, we had to put our things through an X-ray scanner and walk through a metal detector. Bombs again. The Marriot was one of the hotels that was bombed here back in 2009 and I guess they've not let their security up since then. Slightly scary, though I guess now it's one of the safer places to be. The Martinis and Carlsberg were well worth the security measures though.
And so to bed. In the morning, an early start and the first of or 10 or so days with the women. Please pray to your respective deities that I don't do/say anything inappropriate and that I manage to be, in some small way, vaguely useful.
Today I like; Cocktails, non-scary meetings, the fact my stomach appears to be returning to normal.
I'm calling this Jakarta Day Two as though I've been here since... Thursday? I'd not really done anything much till yesterday. The evil pooing and all. Today's pooing has been less traumatic and I have been able to face the future with something resembling hope. Hope that the world won't fall out my arse.
We had a 'meeting' today with some of the team we will be working with/who will be helping us. As always, the term 'meeting' turns my blood to ice. I don't know why. I suppose it's the assumption that I'll have to talk seriously about serious things and use terms like 'fiscal' and 'blue-sky' and nod wisely and not crack knob jokes. Dani asked what I plan on doing when, one day I have a serious job. I'm don't exactly know. I'm pretty sure I'll have to run into the Ladies and scream 'BUM!' at random intervals just to get through the day.
As it turns out, everyone at this 'meeting' was pretty cool. They're all about our age, and you could go for a bevvie with any one of them. It's certainly calmed me down about what tomorrow brings. I have no specific role in this project, I'm just along for the ride and hopefully to be useful at some point. One of the guys, Micheal, offered his assistance as a tea-maker or general gopher. I smiled politely but my brain screamed 'Back off dude, that's my gig!'
We were going to head home after the meeting but saw the lights of the Marriot hotel ahead and asked the taxi to make a quick detour. Dani was gagging for a pint after two weeks in Pakistan and I wasn't about to say no to a fortifying cocktail. You take your joy where you can when staying in a Sharia hotel with no bar. As our taxi pulled up, a team of Marriot staff opened the doors. Not to help us out, to check for bombs. They're pretty thorough too. Then, on the way in, we had to put our things through an X-ray scanner and walk through a metal detector. Bombs again. The Marriot was one of the hotels that was bombed here back in 2009 and I guess they've not let their security up since then. Slightly scary, though I guess now it's one of the safer places to be. The Martinis and Carlsberg were well worth the security measures though.
And so to bed. In the morning, an early start and the first of or 10 or so days with the women. Please pray to your respective deities that I don't do/say anything inappropriate and that I manage to be, in some small way, vaguely useful.
Today I like; Cocktails, non-scary meetings, the fact my stomach appears to be returning to normal.
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