R

ecently, I had a reporting assignment at the Tugu Kunstkring Paleis on Jl. Teuku Umar, Central Jakarta. When the interview ended at 5:30 p.m., I decided to walk to a nearby vendor selling some delicious chicken satay.

The quiet road, two zebra crossings and a traffic light should have made me feel safe, but I quickly became a paranoid mess instead. Jakarta'€™s empty roads are more dangerous than packed ones because they allow motorists to ignore red lights, or drive counter to the traffic flow at neck-breaking speed. This leaves me, as a pedestrian, in a very vulnerable position as I am unable to calculate the motorists'€™ speed and adjust my movement accordingly.

Before crossing the road, I frantically looked left and right to make sure no motorcycles or cars were coming my way. I continued walking to the satay vendor but it was not open yet. I decided to go to the Grand Indonesia mall and eat there instead.

The mall was close enough and so I walked. I was about to have my paranoia return again.

There are many intersections between Jl. Yusuf Adiwinata and Jl. Thamrin, which meant I had to cross the road many times. Whilst crossing one road, I heard a loud car engine passing by which triggered my heart to beat faster. I froze in the middle of the zebra crossing, afraid that the car would suddenly turn around and hit me.

In Jakarta, most motorists never slow down when approaching a bend but keep going at the same neck-breaking speed as when they drive on a straight road.

I have often witnessed motorists who fail to maintain their balance when turning around a bend and, as a result, their motorcycles topple.

Turned out the vehicle was not coming my way. I continued walking.

I became paranoid again when attempting to cross the road near Jl. Sumenep to get onto a pedestrian bridge leading to Grand Indonesia. I sprinted toward the other end of the road, when the deafening sound of a motorcycle pierced my ears.

I froze, shut my eyes and screamed. No vehicle came my way. The sound of the loud motorcycle had come from the other side of the road.

After arriving at Grand Indonesia and sitting safely at my dinner table, I started to understand my own paranoid behavior: I had post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

This condition may develop after a person is exposed to a traumatic event, such as major stress, sexual assault, terrorism, or other threats to a person'€™s life. My life was threatened two years ago when I was almost hit by a motorist who was driving against the flow of traffic.

That motorist yelled at me: '€œCareful when crossing the road!'€, and I yelled back: '€œYou are the one who'€™s violating the rules by driving against the traffic!'€

Jakarta'€™s mean streets are the best place for you to unleash your animal instincts!

I walked away safely from that incident. One horrifying fact, however, continues to terrorize me every day while I am walking on the streets. And that fact is that the city'€™s traffic police recorded 778 pedestrian deaths in accidents caused by reckless motorists and motorcyclists in the first eight months of 2013. Yes, 778 deaths! Well, that'€™s what you get when rules are made to be violated.

Recently, I discussed Indonesia'€™s social stratification with a friend. It is more complex and layered than India'€™s caste system and it is determined by material possessions instead of level of education or type of profession. For example, people might agree that office boys (OBs) are inferior to white-collar workers. However, OBs who possess cheap Chinese smartphones resembling BlackBerries or iPhones are more respected than those who use candybar phones.

Using the same logic, on Jakarta'€™s mean streets, pedestrians are considered third-class citizens thanks to the feudalistic mentality of Indonesians who view pedestrians as pariahs who can'€™t afford to buy private vehicles (first-class citizens) or even pay for their public transport fees (second-class citizens).

Since we are pariahs, our lives are not worth saving. Who cares if 778 pariahs die annually?

Looks like I will have to endure more PTSD symptoms everytime I walk on Jakarta'€™s mean streets!

'€“ Sebastian Partogi