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Letter from Jakarta
Mondo Weirdo
| LETTER FROM JAKARTA: PART 2 | PAGE 2 OF 2
May 27: Happily enough, that protest broke up at 5 a.m. with no bloodshed. And since then, the most amazing things are happening. The people of Indonesia start winning a few. Companies that mysteriously got tax vacations of up to 10 years start getting investigated. Two political prisoners are released and more are promised. The members of the two election bodies, handpicked by Suharto, start resigning -- willingly. Habibie goes downtown, to the riot-stricken areas, to the burned-out shops and malls. He tells the owners, most of whom are ethnic Chinese, that he is going to push for unity and fairness. He says that this will not happen again, and he will devote resources to helping rebuild. He starts acting like a president. But here's the thing, here's the moment that makes us all catch our breath: An angry store owner steps up and -- shakes his fist at Habibie, the president! Six months ago, that fist would have ended up in jail, after a few very bad hours. There's a new rule in town: The old rules are dead. Today, the paper says that the flood of evacuees has turned. The expats and Indonesian-Chinese who ran for Singapore or Kuala Lumpur or anywhere a plane was going are coming back. They keep looking around, waiting for the riots to start anew, waiting for the sky to fall again. When we meet, I smile and shake their hands and act reassuring. They look like they've been through a bombing raid -- and they're the ones who left. The ex-president, I hear, is still in his home downtown, surrounded by his family -- they didn't leave, it turns out. A majority of Asian executives polled by a regional business magazine say that he and his family should be prosecuted for corruption. I wonder how that story goes down at their breakfast table. Riding my bicycle around, pondering these surrealistic days, I find myself thinking of James Fenton's remark as the other journalists left before the fall of Saigon: something along the lines of "Won't it be nice to have the place to ourselves?" I didn't stay because I wanted to be the last white guy in Jakarta. I didn't feel particularly brave or noble. The truth is: I just wanted to stay. Other people stayed for their own reasons, some selfish, some foolish, some were simply too lazy to pack.
I don't want to sound too sentimental, but the people who stayed were dear to me before -- and the fact that they stayed makes them only more precious. That night at the Kafe Batavia, our eyes met -- Ah, you stayed, too -- and the wine tasted especially robust, the cigars were particularly fine, and the embraces we exchanged were stronger than they were before. Perhaps it takes a coup to really see the people you live with.
Originally from Los Angeles, Jeff Pulice has been living and working in Jakarta for the past seven years. His first "Letter from Jakarta" appeared in Wanderlust on May 22. Discuss the Indonesia crisis in Table Talk.
Letter from Jakarta, Part Three
After the political turmoil, politicians reinvent history, foreigners become attractive to local women -- and other bits of hard-earned wisdom.
Letter From Jakarta When all hell breaks lose, what's an expat to do?
The man who would be king
Dickering with the devil
A country amok
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