A GOLDEN DAY

Rays of Young Gold caress my skin softly as I walk out of my apartment, demanding the big black SUV to respect me as a pedestrian and stop for I can cross the street. Fresh still, are the blue sky and out-of-shower effect scented bodies passing me by on the long pedestrian bridge that leads me to the bus stop. In a small box of glass in the middle of the main road am I, sandwiched between traffic towards the business area on one side and the political centre on the other. The bus arrives quickly today and I even have the privilege to be seated. I lean back on the soft cushy seat, close my eyes for a moment, and enjoy the coolth of the air conditioning before I will hit the warmth of the underground bus terminal. Jakarta by morning can be such a blessing.

I reach what once used to be bushy field with plants and wild grass up to a meter high; a green strip along a small river. Immigrants, mostly from all over Java, but also from Northern Sumatra, have come to this wild area to set their base since early 90s. This non-official, thus illegal, neighborhood is yet a settled one today. Kampung Buaran. A girl is pushing the hold of a water pump up and down so that her naked little brother can enjoy a shower of fresh streaming water. When I step out of the van I receive a warm and enthusiastic greeting from the little children. The teachers open the door of the playgroup and the toddlers enter the tiny square classroom, leaving me standing underneath the sun that hits the open and treeless neighborhood strip without mercy. Where are the blows of crispy breezes as usual at? My tanned arms feel no single one at all. Some children, merely dressed in their underwear, are playing cards and others are throwing ceramic tile pieces that are used to fill up the gaps in the street to each other. But the porches are empty and even the eager men and women of the gambling club are inactive today: everyone is sheltering for shade behind cloth sheets hanging outside the doors. The rainy season is coming to its end, so it is getting hot. Hotter and hotter. I feel sweat drops pouring out of my pores, running over the skin of my back, and I freeze. Another move means another flow of sticky smelling liquid underneath my clothes. I cannot anymore... The heat weakens my body.

A very long, unbearable hot, and incredible hard-working day is at its closing stage. Old Gold laughs at the Black Sea of vehicles honking their way home, and strikes its last bits and bites of light over the newspaper vendor passing through the labyrinth of the traffic jam. He holds today’s headline of another criminal convict up high, showing very explicit images of the till-death beaten persecutor next to a picture of the hottest celebrity’s new lover. Somewhere behind the clouds of emission, the sound of the adzan from a nearby mosque echoes, announcing it is time to pray.

Darkness brings along calmness, but in Jakarta it will never reach full serenity. In this never-sleeping metropolitan I am deprived of the sight of celestial bodies that passionate me most. I gaze at my screen, as if I am waiting for another source of inspiration. The moment I lit up my sigarette a big thunder clashes somewhere afar. Another one. And another one. The vivid sound of the cosmic battle covers the noisy noises of the never-pausing neighboring constructions work. The expressive thunder lightning enables me to see the green leaves of the trees outside my bedroom window. The gloomy sky pictures a show of sparkling light shocks, flashier than any fully-booked photo studio. Rain drops start falling. Heavily. And stormy. I think of my informant who lives on a cemetery. “On a kind day like this it’s very lovely to sit on this graveyard underneath these big trees and watch them children play around. But when the rainy season hits, this place will turn into one big mud pool.”