His friend came to him, took the needle and injected the heroin into a vein on his elbow.

A few moments later, the man was much more relaxed. He took his time washing the needle with a cup of water. The water slowly turned red mixing with blood,  the needle was clean. His ritual was completed.

Two elementary school students who were buying their lunch nearby ignored him. Others, including a mother with two children, two girls, several boys and men, simply watched from where they were standing. They seemed to be waiting for something or someone.

Then, another man wearing a hat walked down the alley, pushing a cart. He stopped in front of a room near the corner of the alley, removed his hat, took out several small plastic bags containing powder, and handed them to people who had been waiting for him.

“Do it inside,” he told them as one room was open. “‘Diseases are near.”

The people followed his instruction and the door was closed. I did not see what happened inside. “Do they inject heroin inside the room? And what is the disease?,” I asked my friend, a heroin user who had accompanied me to Boncos.

He nodded. “Oh, about the disease, it means the police. Police come to check, but we are not really worried about them.”

“You don’t go with those people?” I asked.

“I wait for my turn. I don’t buy from that man [with the hat],” he said.

“I buy from another dealer,” he said, looking straight at a young muscular man on the corner. “He has good quality putaw. I will buy from him now and let you see putaw.”

My friend went to his dealer and returned swiftly with his score.

“The powder in the plastic is putaw. If you mix it with liquid, it will bubble and dissolve completely in the liquid. Then you can inject it into your vein,” he said.

He did not say any more as it was his turn to go into the room. It took only a few minutes for him to finish his ritual.

He looked at me, smiling. “Let’s go back.” I nodded.

We strolled on wooden planks covering sewers near a wall that separates Boncos from an empty block of land. After several turns, we finally came to the main street, Jl. Jatibaru. About 50 meters to the right is the Jl. Karel Satsuit Tubun-Jl. Brigjen Katamso intersection. It’s probably only around 10 minutes  from the iconic Hotel Indonesia traffic circle.

Not very far from where we stood, I saw a man I met earlier in Boncos whom my friend had identified as a dealer. He did not see me as he was talking to several people near a police post. I smiled cynically. That’s just ironic. The anti-drugs campaigns seemed to be ignoring this place.

I heard my friend talking to me. “So mas, what do you think about Boncos?”

I was silent for a while. “Hmh. What I just witnessed was on the surface, but I was shocked to see that kids were watching people doing heroin. I am worried about their future and exposure to heroin,” I said.

“Also, I believe the heroin users in Boncos share needles too, right?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Are they not afraid of contracting HIV/AIDS? What if they pass it on to their families, their girlfriends or boyfriends?” I asked.

“Mas, if heroin ‘calls’, you can’t resist it,” he said. “Sometimes, there are not enough new needles. So you just have to do it.”

“Yeah that’s what I thought. I imagine that heroin is just like God to all of you. It is just too powerful.

It keeps calling you and you bow. The gathering in the alley was like people going to pray,” I said.

He was a bit stunned by my words, but then laughed. “Whatever you say, in Boncos [injecting heroin publicly] is safe. You have seen it.”

— Moch N. Kurniawan

Popular

RI, Australia strengthen partnership on taxing crypto assets

Analysis: Indonesia denies normalization with Israel to enter OECD

Citroen to produce electric cars in Indonesia