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UPDATE: Production Suspended At US Gold Mine In Indonesia
Papua illegal miners use arrows in clash with Indonesian police
Bird flu tests for Indonesia death
 Deadly
floods hit east Indonesia
At least 24 people have died in landslides and floods caused
by
heavy rains in eastern Indonesia.
NOTE : Not a complete newsletter this time as I am off to the
airport. Next week a full edition again!
FROM THE EDITOR:
 We
are probably the only bar in Indonesia where you can go from the
first floor to the second floor with a lift. Reason we have this
lift is that there are another 4 floors above us with offices, one
of which is occupied by Ex-Vice President Try Sutrisno, but that's
another story.
With an increasing middle and upper class society in Indonesia,
the creativity of Indonesians struggling to survive, often amazes
me. Birman, who sells second hand newspapers is a good
example of this. And how many of you expats haven't wondered why
your pairs of socks is so often not complete? Could it be your
pembantu (servant) who once in a while 'forgets' to match them
in pairs, 'maybe' hoping that you throw them away? Surviving on
the sidelines. There is this company in Jakarta who sends girls
around to your office to clean your telephones. They come in
uniform and look almost like a disinfection team. They wipe your
phone thoroughly and spray some fragrance on the horn. There
are so many examples of the 'little jobs' and it is always a
pleasure to discover them. In Indonesia there are more than
anywhere else, I am sure.
I was sitting in Cazbar on the new red sofa. I was trying it out.
While I sat there, a bit dreamingly, I hardly noticed this
Indonesian guy coming in. It could have been a delivery boy or one
of the office boys from the floors above the bar, I didn't really
pay any notice. He silently passed by and pressed the button of
the lift. I noticed a roll under his arm that he tightly pressed
to his body. Then I wondered: didn't I see this guy yesterday with
a roll under his arm as well? And the day before? The doors opened
and he quickly disappeared in the lift. Less than 30 seconds later
he came out again, still with a roll under his arm. It started to
intrigue me as I couldn't find out what he did with that roll. It
became even more confusing when I saw him leaving on the back of a
motorbike. Now he was holding at least 10 rolls of 2 meter length
in his arms. He had trouble keeping them all together while the
motor dangerously hit the road in front of Cazbar.
The next day he silently came in again, and this time I followed
him into the lift. I kept my eyes straight on the young man and I
was not planning to leave him out of my sight, which was
impossible anyway in such a small space. He waited for me to push
a button. Automatically I pressed the 2. He now pressed the 5. He
kept the roll, some kind of fabric, tight to his body. His eyes
looked down to the floor, maybe he was shy, I figured. The lift
stopped on the second floor. The guy looked up to me, like he was
telling me: are we gonna move out of this lift or what? I
stepped out of the lift. I felt defeated by this little man with
his mysterious roll. I waited for the lift to come down again. I
wanted to have a look on the fifth floor. It wasn't necessary.
When the doors opened, the guy was there, with his roll and he was
going down. Obvious he had done what he had to do on that 5th
floor and whatever it was. he did it quickly. I was puzzled but I
didn't want to ask him. I figured I just had to wait another day.
The next day I was sitting ready on my sofa. I knew he would come
at 7.30 sharp and so he did. I followed him again into the lift
and the guy by now certainly started to get nervous. My suspicious
look must have worried him as he now kept looking at me in
distress. I didn't press a button. He didn't press a button.
Finally I pressed firmly on the 5 and crossed my arms. We went up,
looking each other distrustful in the eyes. But on the fifth floor
he didn't step out. I pointed my both arms towards the open doors
to let him go first but he shyly refused. We went down again. I
got out but then he went up again! He tricked me again!
These Indonesians are much more clever than the average bule, I'll
tell you that.
This had to stop. I waited for him to come down. His face
expressed shock when he saw me waiting for him. 'Kamu apain,
bulik balik!?' I asked him. With his eyes wide open, he
slowly released the initial tight grip on his roll. And without
giving a blink, he slowly opened the roll of fabric, which turned
out to be a small carpet. 'THURSDAY' it read in large
letters. I looked into the lift behind him. A clean and nice
carpet with the words 'FRIDAY' was spread on the floor.
Stupid bule I was. He rolled up the roll and quickly went
outside where his mate on the motorbike was waiting with more
carpet rolls. When they clumsily drove off the driver was laughing
loudly while the carpet man was telling him the story over his
shoulder.
I appreciate these young Indonesian men for running another one of
these 'small' businesses that keeps Indonesia afloat and
interesting. Their business was only that: supplying clean carpets
with the name of the day on it and making sure it is changed every
day. It is just now -while I write this (real) story- that I
realise that I haven't seen the carpet guys for a while. I look in
the lift and indeed, its a plain carpet with no day on it. They
lost their contract. Maybe they had a day wrong? No idea. But now
the carpet is dirty. And so is my telephone. --
Bartele
PS. Quite a number of readers found my picture not reflective of
the 'real' Bart. I admit that the picture that I used in the last
few issues was showing a rather 'sophisticated look'. The picture
today - how sad it may sound -may reflect the current condition I
am in, and that is why I am off for a few days to Bali. See you
back in the bars on Sunday evening!
The link to the article in the Jakarta Post last week with the
title Friesland
farmhand turned 'bule' barman was wrong. The
correct link is:
http://www.thejakartapost.com/yesterdaydetail.asp?fileid=20060215.S01
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