Jakarta, heart and soul

WEEKENDER   |  Thu, 07/02/2009 4:08 PM  |  Life

When a story that started nearly 15 years ago shows no signs of coming to a close, it might be called a tall tale. Or anyway, a long one. Priya Tuli tells her story of being a long-term expatriate in Jakarta

I fell 200 percent in love with Indonesia on my very first visit, a 10-day holiday trip in 1990. I had no idea then that I would be back in Jakarta four years later, to spend nearly 15 years living in this beautiful country that I’m convinced is my Soul Home.

After that first trip, I came back a couple of times in the intervening four years, again on holiday, and got offered a job as executive creative director at a local creative hotshop. I accepted, returned home to quit my easy part-time retainer with Saatchi, close up house, pack up my two cats and get back here within the month.

Then, kaboom! I hit the first snag. They needed my university degree to process the work permit. My trouble was that I’d never collected my degree; being fiercely anti-establishment, I did not believe in the value of that little bit of paper. And I was right; in all my 15 years of working until then, nobody had ever asked to see my degree.

Well, now they did. So off I went to the university, only to be told that “all records were destroyed in a fire five years ago; check with the Dean’s Office, they might have a copy.” No such luck; the Dean’s Office and storage facility had been hit by floods, and all records destroyed some 10 years ago. Back to my university, where I met the principal, who kindly consented to provide the relevant certification.

So I booked my ticket, bought cat carriers for my two kitties and awaited the signal from Jakarta that I should arrive. Not so fast: India was hit with the plague – yes, plague – a week before I was due to leave; my almost-boss requested I defer my travel until things quietened down, particularly as I was bringing the cats, which might be a problem.

Fire, flood, plague: the biblical overtones that surrounded my arrival here were hard to ignore. I should have known right then that this was the start of a series of Life Tests/Lessons for me, but I was not old enough or wise enough at the time.

Some of my very first impressions of Jakarta and its people have stayed with me to this day:

 People here really love children and respect older people, both endearing traits. I was so struck with seeing fathers carrying babies around, something one rarely encounters in other cultures.

 Jakarta must be the only city with plant shops along the roadsides! What a clever idea, greening city streets with glorious tropical plants! It makes traffic jams less tedious, and probably boosts sales for the nursery owners as well.

 It was amazing to find Sanskrit words in use here; Sanskrit is a dead language in India, its country of origin (and mine!). We only use it for mantras, naming our children and Hindu religious practice. I mean, you wouldn’t swear at someone in Sanskrit.

 I was surprised to learn that many Indonesians, despite being Muslim, had Sanskrit names, and that the Balinese still used the ancient Sanskrit greeting “Om Swasti Astu”, which we have long forgotten in India.

 I loved the rain; here, it generously poured forth for six months of the year, and the plants loved it! In New Delhi, where I come from, we were lucky to have three grudging weeks of rain during our totally pathetic July–August monsoon, which is the only time the plants would briefly wake up and look happy.

 People smile a lot in Indonesia. It’s hard to frown when someone smiles at you :-)

I had an epiphany around 10 years ago, that “sabar” was one of the Major Life Lessons I came here to learn. I had three different people say “sabar” to me in one day. The taxi driver, as I sat fretting in the back seat when we got stuck in traffic. Half an hour later, the guy waiting patiently for the elevator while I repeatedly jabbed the “up” button, muttering under my breath. And finally my maid, when I got home without the cat food I was supposed to pick up on my way back. They all said the same thing: “sabar”. Surely this was a sign that the Universe was trying to tell me something?

Back then, I used to get irritated at expats who would complain about Indonesia despite the privileged lifestyle they enjoyed here, and I’d have to stop myself snarling, “Well if it’s that’s terrible, why don’t you just go back home? Nobody forced you to come, so you’re free to leave!” Expats still complain; I think it’s just something they feel compelled to do. But I don’t hold myself back from snarling any more. Under my breath, of course, in keeping with Javanese tradition.

At that point in my timeline I had a really short fuse; it was approximately 3 inches long on a good day. I can hardly recognize myself now; that fuse is so long it trips me up. And although “sabar” means “patience” in my language too, I never learned the lesson back home. It took Indonesia to teach me that one. I did a lot of my growing up here, and finally stopped being a brat.

It’s not like I don’t get fed up with the traffic or rant occasionally about the typically circular trajectory of the legendary Javanese style of communication. Which means a conversation can start out at one point, circumnavigate the globe and end up back at the same point with nothing being resolved meanwhile. But I love it here, warts and all, and that only happens when you feel you belong. And I do feel I belong; I even talk circular now.

It was never the plan to stay here for 15 years; it just happened. And along the way, Indonesia has claimed me, heart and soul. It’s more “home” to me now than my own home country and there’s no place else I’d rather live. Which is not something I ever thought I’d say, 15 years ago.

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