View Point: Homing instinct of migratory 'mudikers'

Julia Suryakusuma ,  Emerald, Victoria   |  Wed, 09/10/2008 10:58 AM  |  Opinion

Do you remember Tom Jones -- that raw, hunky Welsh pop singer with the impossibly powerful and sexy voice and the gyrating hips that send women into knicker-hurling frenzies?

Well, in 1983, he came out with a song, "I'm Coming Home": "I'm coming home/to the one I love ..." It's a song about hurting the one you love the most, about forgiveness, acceptance and swallowing one's pride.

I'm absolutely sure Tom Jones was not thinking of Idul Fitri -- the celebrations at the end of the Muslim fasting month of Ramadan -- when he recorded this song, but I reckon its spirit is embodied by the song just the same. Idul Fitri in Indonesia is a time when millions of Muslims engage in the phenomenon of what is now being called mudikism (mudik lebaran is the name given to this annual exodus). Coming home to their family and friends, they enjoy their treasured once-a-year break from the daily grind of work.

But maybe there's more to our national annual exodus. Perhaps it's also a bit like a homing instinct: Birds do it, bees do it, salmon do it, even rats, cats, and some insects do it, so why not we humans too? Research as to whether or not humans have a built-in magnetic instinct has been inconclusive, but who needs instinct when we have brains and buses? Cars, trains and planes sure beat swimming upstream or flapping wings against the wind. So long as they can get a ticket, and so long as they have the money, mudikers will be on the move.

And there's the catch! I know from my staff who mudik every year that getting those tickets is a tricky business, what with a 30 percent (sometimes higher!) Idul Fitri surcharge (so much for Idul Fitri being about charity).

Because of transportation difficulties, motorcycles have become an increasingly popular mode of mudiking at Lebaran (the other name for Idul Fitri). This year, from Jakarta alone, reportedly 2.5 million motorbikes will be used to take homesick mudikers hither and thither across Java, maneuvering, swerving and piled high with baggage and gifts. Imagine the danger involved.

The popularity of mudiking with motorbikes is because it's a relatively cheap mode of transport and because it allows the mudiker to be mobile when he or she reaches the village. This makes it easier to visit the rellies and, in the end, that's what Lebaran is about: Silaturrahmi (strengthening kin and community ties) and a frenzy not of knicker-hurling, but eating.

But there's a third reason too: The mudikers don't want to leave their motorbikes unguarded at home. After all, for the "little people", it's probably their most prized possession ... like me with my beloved laptop.

Yes, like it or not, mudik requires money, and to get home mudikers are willing to pawn their belongings, sometimes even their most prized possessions -- from bed sheets to valued batik cloth to Mercedes Benz cars -- in order to get the instant cash they need to pay for their Lebaran needs. Pawnshops are easier to borrow from than banks, and certainly less embarrassing than borrowing from a neighbor.

So around this time of the year the pawnshops are swamped with housewives pawning their gold bracelets to host their relatives, friends and neighbors in the style befitting Lebaran, with tables groaning with food ... no, not the spirit of Lebaran, which is all about charity and virtue, but the style, which is too often too much about indulgence.

Yep, the tradition of Idul Fitri is so deeply engrained in Indonesians that many are willing to sacrifice their daily needs, to fulfill their (often irrational) desire to be reunited with their kin around the Lebaran table. To do this they are willing to be subjected to quite inhumane conditions, and throw all caution to the wind, climbing into overstuffed buses and running the risk of being trampled or even killed.

If they're on a boat, there is the risk of it sinking and the passengers drowning -- what do you expect if the lifeboats are already packed full of paying mudikers too? And trains are just as bad, especially in the economy class. They are packed to the gills, without any consideration of safety, with people even riding on the roofs or even the carriage couplings.

The migration of salmon upstream is one of nature's most exciting dramas, but it is nothing compared to the Lebaran migration. For the salmon, it's a long, strenuous and desperate race against time, with every obstacle taking its toll and I guess that's exactly how mudikers feel too. Unlike the salmon, they're going with the stream, but because there's 15.7 million of them (the government estimate of mudikers nationwide in 2008, a rise of 6.14 percent since last year), they are both the salmon and the stream!.

Well, good luck to them all, when the exodus starts in a few week's time. Whatever they pack into their suitcases, boxes, bags or bikes, may they also carry with them the spirit of the Tom Jones song, a song of love, forgiveness and acceptance. Too bad that most of them can't afford to take out travel insurance as well. I bet the salmon would if they could, to protect against marauding bears, feasting orcas and, worst of all, hungry humans.

But can you take out insurance against the mudik obsession that rages in the hearts of so many Indonesians? Nope -- and not even Tom Jones can help with that!

the writer is the author of Sex, Power and Nation. She can be contacted at jsuryakusuma@gmail.com

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