Camaraderie: Arminah, a resident of Teluk Gong in North Jakarta who collects and sells used plastic bottles for a living, meets a fellow scavenger during her working hours. (JP/Rizki Fachriansyah Aziz)

“It’s hard to believe
That there’s nobody out there
It’s hard to believe
That I’m all alone
At least I have her love
The city she loves me
Lonely as I am
Together we cry”

—Red Hot Chili Peppers, Under the Bridge

Everything shakes.
Doors, walls, and everything else made from thin plies of wood in the vicinity, suddenly vibrate in unison. Minor quakes are everyday occurrence for residents of Teluk Gong — a povetty stricken community that huddles under a bridge that connects North Jakarta to the neighboring airport complex in Cengkareng.

Instead of rising from the earth as the typical quake would, these tremors are generated by the to and fro movements of cars, cargo trucks, and other kinds of bulky four-wheeled vehicles along their collective roof. This cacophony of mobility above has become a lulling soundscape to the Teluk Gong community subsisting in the underbelly of the metropolis; a reminder that another kind of realiy exists beyond the confines of their exile beneath the bridge. The reality of the omnipresent threat of government-backed eviction.

Aminah and her family survived multiple evictions executed by the Jakarta Public Order Agency (Satpol PP) in Teluk Intan during the tumultuous post-Reformation period from 2001 through 2003. She, her husband Koni, and their four children, were forced out of her original home in Teluk Intan — an area located on the other side of Jakarta’s northern wing.

She explained that the Satpol PP had set everything on fire, driving her family and her neighbors fleeing into darkness and homelessness.

“It was pure chaos,” Aminah recalled, horror visibly warping her face. “During an eviction like that, the police would cut the power, so it is pitch black at night.”

Aminah and Koni found refuge for their family at the National Commission on Human Rights (Komnas HAM) building in Central Jakarta while they waited for the commotion to die down in Teluk Intan. It took the couple several months before they decided that it was safe enough to relocate to Teluk Gong.

In the scramble for their lives, Aminah lost her legal legal documents, including identity card (KTP) and family card (KK). Since then, neither Aminah nor her husband has applied for new Jakarta KTP and KK, citing financial difficulties.

“New KTP and KK will set us back at least Rp 1 million [US$71.66],” she lamented. “My family and I don’t have that kind of money. Our daily income from collecting and reselling used plastic bottles barely covers food on the table, let alone a KTP and KK.”

Many other residents of Teluk Gong echo this bitter truth that robs them of their “legal citizen” status. Not having current identity and residential documents means exile from society, adequate livelihoods, and maybe from the city. The local municipal government (Pemda) cites a lack of Jakarta KTP and KK, which provide “legitimate residency” and access to government-funded professions in the nation’s capital, as a legal justification for evictions.

Most of the people now living in the swampy, derelict area of Teluk Gong originated as migrants from other cities and villages in Java, or more distant regions like Sulawesi. They have set up makeshift homes under the bridge, effectively hiding from the all-seeing eyes of the government. Improvisation is key to everyday survival; most of the populace work as garbage and waste collectors, an informal line of work which barely covers their daily needs.

Maming, the leader of Air Baja Neighborhood Unit (RT) for almost 21 years, whose reach also encompasses Teluk Gong, has called on the government to organize seminars that provide the people with vital information regarding the application procedures for Jakarta KTP and KK.

“These people have no clue how it works,” he said. “Therefore, they tend to exaggerate things like how the application would cost them a fortune.”

Maming further explained that is the people knew how to apply for the documents, they would enjoy access to rights they didn’t know they were eligible for.

“It’s like the government deliberate made the procedures convoluted,” he said. “As if it’s not bad enough that the entire existence of these people hinges on pieces of paper.”

To date, only 100 families of the total number of people living in Teluk Gong have Jakarta KK. The rest are undocumented.

Karyono, one of the former leaders of the now-defunct Forum Antar Warga (Resident’s Forum), a neighborhood forum in Teluk Gong, believes that the people of Teluk Gong are only considered legal when the political elite feel like it.

“Funny how it works. A bunch of representatives from political parties come here and give away free stuff during campaign season just so they can appear empathic to the struggles of poor people,” Karyono said.

Karyono added sarcastically that if it took political elections for the elite to care about residents in Teluk Gong, then the government should revise the law and hold elections every year.

“We’re merely tools used by the elite to fulfill their personal, greedy interests,” he lamented. “It’s like the country has experienced collective amnesia and forgotten that article 34 exists.”

Article 34 of the 1945 Constitution of Indonesia stipulates that “impoverished persons and abandoned children shall be taken care of by the State”, and “the State shall develop a system of social security for all of the people and shall empower the inadequate and underprivileged in society in accordance with human dignity”.

For the time being, the tightly-knit community of Teluk Gong has been enjoying a period of relative peace. It has been months since the government delivered letters warning them of imminent evictions and/or raids. Despite this, Karyono encourages his fellow residents to remain vigilant and smart.

Karyono believes that the key is not just surviving exploitation from the government, or evetually eliminating it, is education. He explained that he was grateful that several non-governmental organizations (NGO) in the education sector have set up non-profit non-formal schools such as Sekolah Ibu Kembar and Pondok Domba in the area.

“The only way we’re going to win this is if we fight using our brains,” Karyono explained, his right index finger stabbing his right temple. “It’s our greatest hope for the youth of Teluk Gong.”

One way or another, like the furniture that shakes every so often in the homes of the people under the bridge, their lives seem to be heading toward a shake-up of some sort in the future.

_________________________________________________

Live-In Experience is part of the two-month tutorial and on-the-job-training sessions provided for young journalists of The Jakarta Post as part of its recruitment and training program. Participants are attached with selected families of the less fortunate in order to provide them with the direct experience of living with the frequently forgotten segment of Indonesian society. Ana Cecilia Regalado and Rizki Fachriansyah Aziz spent their two nights and three days living with two different families in slum areas in Teluk Gong, West Jakarta.