Give an inch, take a mile, all in the name of 'family'

The Jakarta Post ,  Jakarta   |  Sun, 03/26/2006 8:52 AM  |  Life

For the last year or so, I've had a driver. Let's say his name is Pak Tomo. When he came for his interview, he was dressed very neatly and professionally, in a crisp white shirt with blue pencil stripes, tucked into immaculately pressed trousers and shiny shoes. I was just wearing shorts and a T-shirt, as I am wont to do at home, and the contrast was dramatic. He was 53 years old and had worked for big companies.

Quite honestly, I felt a bit intimidated, as I wanted to hire him as a personal driver, and who was I, after all? Just a free-lance writer (with the earnings to match!). Back then, I was still a widow, so I wondered if I could afford to keep him in the style that he was accustomed to. I suggested we try out on a daily basis first, that I would pay him whenever I needed him to drive me. He agreed.

As time passed, he dressed more casually, but continued to maintain his professional demeanor. He proved to be a good and reliable driver, so after a while I employed him on a full-time basis. I felt it was high time -- and after I got married and was at times away for weeks in Australia to be with my husband, I paid him anyway, just to keep him.

In Indonesia, like it or not, we tend to get involved in the family affairs of our household staff. Living under the same roof, we all eat the same rice (as it were), and we are all basically in the same boat.

Pak Tomo was not in the same boat, but he positioned himself as `family' anyway, because he liked me, as I treated him with respect, dignity and friendliness, unlike his previous employer. And indeed, he often acted as a mediator between me and my staff (a young couple in their mid 30s with three kids) because he was old and experienced enough to understand me and to speak on my behalf. At the same time, he was one of the orang belakang (people at the back) too. So, from early on, I was happy to help him out with various problems he had, from getting a new set of false teeth, paying the down-payment on a new motorbike for his daughter, to circumcising his 11 year old son, all of which, naturally, required money.

However, after a while, I felt the balance between his professionalism and his kekeluargaan (`familiness') attitude was no longer quite right. It wasn't just the fact that his shirts started getting distinctly down-market, or that old leather slippers had replaced those shiny shoes, but I began to feel he was taking my friendship and the flexibility I gave him more and more for granted.

A few days ago, I had told him I was going out in the evening, so could he please come at 5 p.m.? However, yesterday, I had a change of plans. I sms-ed him -- on the hand phone I had assisted him to buy -- to come in the morning instead. He came, but as soon as I got into the car he started complaining. ""Ibu, bagaimana sih? I was planning this morning to go and see my old boss (a Korean) because he wants to give me some things. Because you changed your mind suddenly, I won't be able to see him before he goes back to his own country this afternoon"". This was all news to me and I retorted, ""Since when does the employer have to fit in with the schedule of the employee, especially when I only hear about it now?"". ""Ah Ibu,"" he said, ""I don't do this often, and anyway, we're like family, aren't we?"". I felt like saying to him, ""Well, Pak Tomo, this month I can only pay you half your salary, that'll be all right for you, won't it? After all, we're family,"" but I managed to hold my tongue.

Tomo's attitude reflects two things that often bother me about my fellow Indonesians. The tendency to ask for a mile when given an inch -- the feeling of entitlement: that once you've been treated nicely the giver (in this case, the employer) is expected, obliged even, to give things that should just be favors and acts of kindness.

The second is the manipulation of the family principle, or azaz kekeluargaan, which extends from Tomo to the entire state ideology, state mechanism, and which is the basis for corruption and nepotism. Dipping into the family coffers? Well, that's natural, isn't it? It belongs to you, after all, no separation between the public and private domain, between professional and personal. The azaz kekeluargaan can be used to manipulate, as well as to oppress individual citizens and groups, on the grounds that the collective interest of the state-as-family is paramount, so you have to sacrifice your personal interests.

Well, if the state does it, why shouldn't folks like Tomo indulge as well? Everyone's entitled to everything they can get, after all, and no one ever seems to be punished for it, certainly not state officials. And if everyone keeps on taking, eventually it becomes their right to demand straight-out bribes. So, who is a reflection of who? Is Tomo a reflection of the state, or is the state a reflection of Tomo?

Well, nothing much I can do about the state (except write acerbic columns which, sadly, are usually lost on the ever-so calloused skins of the state bureaucrats anyway), but I can give Tomo a talking-to, not only about the fact that our professional relationship as employer and employee comes first, but also to count his blessings at having a regular salary, time-flexibility (so that he can indulge in playing kroncong with his mates), and -- most of the time -- friendship from his boss.

But counting our blessings is something that we all only too often forget. Perhaps better count my blessings too: that Tomo is a good driver, knows his way around and, for the most part, is very reliable. Perhaps I should also count my blessings that our government is not worse than it is? Hmmm... I have to ponder on that one a bit!

-- Julia Suryakusuma

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