Breaking the Ice with Jakarta

It was in the middle of July in Jakarta. The air was hot and smokey, the vehicles were honking and swerving around one another, and the people remained restless and cold. But there we were, sitting under the shade at a cemetery, talking about the late great writers of our country.

I wondered how I got there, especially since I felt so new to the city, despite being from here. I was born here but raised elsewhere, and in just the blink of an eye everything changed for me. I was back 'home' to a place that felt so unfamiliar. A place that bred my fears of going outside. What do you mean people don't line up? What do you mean I have to sit in the back of a motorcycle to get to places? What do you mean cars won't stop when I cross?

My Day with Dead Poet Society

I had so much pent up fear about this city but I also desperately did not want to repeat past mistakes of being too afraid to live. I knew all I had to do was take the first step. When I saw a post promoting The Supper Book-Cult: Djakarta' event, I knew it would be perfect for me. Walking around the city with a bunch of poetic people? It sounded like a dream. It sounded like the perfect ice breaker between me and Jakarta.

Everyone was so thoughtful when they were talking about the writers whose graves we visited: Pramoedya Ananta Toer, Chairil Anwar, and Ismail Marzuki. I admired how they felt so inspired but also felt a sense of guilt for not being as strong or as dedicated as them. Although I wasn't very aware of the writers at the time, having not been raised here, I felt an eagerness to catch up and read all their books and feel the deep sense of connection that everyone had felt.

We later moved to a museum where we all shared our own poetry about the city. Mine was written the night before, in a state of anger because I knew nothing about the city apart from the things I've been told to "protect me" or to "make sure I knew what I was up for when moving back." Obviously, these things are mostly negative, and it didn't help that it felt like my anticipations were always proven right in the few times I ever did go outside.

I enjoyed hearing everyone's poetry. They were also angry, but more rightfully so than me as they had actually experienced the city.

Dee wrote about the irony of choosing Jakarta over the countryside, rejecting the wide fields of crops for a small room in this cramped city, where she would taste the coffee in the air at train stations, with people cramming together like sardines in the morning, all rushing to get to work. Through her poetry I learned the life of someone who moved from a peaceful place to such a chaotic city, adopting a chaotic life.

Firnita wrote about the city like it's a deadbeat mother, avoiding her at all costs for the sake of work which would go on 24/7, only hearing about said mother through everyone else. Desperately seeking warmth and comfort, but only being returned with coldness and even hostility. Something that horrified with in me was the feeling of being punished for loving this city which treats us like monsters for being here.

Lan wrote about a father feeling helpless in the race against the city. Feeling like he could not protect his daughter from the horrors of being an adult, having to get rid of all your dreams, treating expectations like it's a poison. To me, it felt like adult life and working life is what was associated with Jakarta. Jakarta is a place where people come for work and it's also a place that reminds them that work isn't life. But Jakarta IS just work. It may feel like there is no life.

Months have passed since this event and I can safely say that Jakarta and I are good friends now. I don't think twice before ordering gojek. It feels like second nature to go about the city and visit new events. I've made more friends here than I ever have all my life. Everyday I am inspired by all the art that thrives in the city, whether it is through the small movie gatherings, the art exhibitions, the poetry slams and more, I am reminded that this is a place of tough people. A conclusion made that was not defined by the people who may cut lines or honk at pedestrians, but by the people who make sure they're having a damn good time despite how hard everything is.