Hopes and Dreams: Capital City of Whatever
Jakarta, Indonesia.
13 million inhabitant at day and 9 million at night. On Sunday, apparently there are only 2 million left of us. If you take traffic conditions on the main roads as a valid indicator.
A city where most broken valors take place for the majority of rent seekers trying to grasp the Indonesian dream.
The road stalls during rush hours (read: 7 am to 7 pm), the endless stockpiles of social climbers, the strings of motorcades from top notch bureaucracy to pious vigilante Islamic extremist, the CO2 (if you regularly take public transport for approximately 3 years, you would have the lungs of a 10 years chain smoker), freak weather where intense heat is followed by excessive rain then the flood comes.
Probably, our grandparents or parents transmigrated to this city because they were stationed by a government body or company. They experienced the 70s and 80s chanted as the capital's great development period where roads, bridges, and building were relentlessly build. Probably, they also had to face repeated envy from their friends and relatives outside of the capital. The centralistic character of the New Order regime back then must also help our city dwelling predecessors, both economically and socially. Ah, to live in the big city. The Merdeka Palace, Monas, Hotel Indonesia, Patung Selamat Datang. Prestige, oh prestige. First class all the way.
Then comes us the third generation of Jakartans in this world. Born in the 80's. Indonesia's new rising upper-middle class family.We experienced the 90's when Western ways was the plethora of events in the Big Durian. Jakartan fled to Singapore for their weekend shopping. Still in our elementary or junior high years, every July when the holiday season has ended was another agenda. If American students had "Show and Tell" time in their curriculum, we Indonesians have the unofficial "Show-off" time.
"Hey, I just got this cool red Baby-Shock watch from Japan. Where did you go for holiday?"
"Errrr. I went to Carita Beach. Mmm, look I got this great looking shell!"
*silence* "Oh." *turning to another kid* "Hey John look at my watch, where did you go this holiday."
Then the unthinkable happened. First economic crisis. Second riot. Most likely political, but framed to be racially incited. Third, the stabilizing currency of this city (and country) resigned from presidency.
KABOOM!
The upper-middle class started to struggle. Anecdotal evidence suggests that almost 70% of Indonesian studying abroad had come back to Indonesia leaving their studies because the 500% rupiah devaluation. The upper class, those who amassed their wealth primarily due to their "close connections" to power, were wary that this social unrest would turn into a witchhunt for the rich and powerful. Foreign analyst, which previously predicted Indonesia as the next Asian Dragon, prompted that Balkanization is in progress. Then Jakarta was tested once again. A myriad of political turmoil taking place in central Jakarta, terrorism attracts in posh hotels and business districts, and religious group sweepings of "unholy places" in Kemang took place but again normalcy was restored.
Then the unthinkable happened once more. The third generation grew up. The common upper-middle class who grew up in privilege driven by chauffeur, wearing the latest Nike sneakers to school, and fancy restaurants dine in with the family every weekend back in the 90's were to face the hyperreality. Unable to distinguish the fantasy, courtesy to their lavish childhood upbringing, to the current reality where money is a scarce product essential to maintain such lifestyle.
Now, they have to find the right job. Not just a job.
"Show-off" has reached a new colloquial meaning. The gap between the upper-middle and the upper class has been stretch so far during the last 10 years. Causing prevalent anxiety because the third generation only has the uber rich for social mobility benchmarking.
Now, we need management trainee jobs.
We need great company insurance.
We need double digit (in millions) monthly salaries.
We need to go to places to be seen.
We need Gold plated credit cards from at least 3 major banks.
We need Gucci handbags and Tag Heuer wristwatch.
We need periodical overseas holidays.
We need our own car.
We need our private condo.
We need our exclusive referral only club membership.
We need our wedding held in the latest brand new hotel.
We need to get our instant gratification fed.
Now.
We need it before we become like the thousands who fled their hometown when Ramadhan holiday is over to Jakarta. To reach the Indonesian dream they saw on sinetron last night only to fail. Living below a dollar a day.
We need it now.
Before our valor shatters in line with our dreams. Living below the upper class for the rest of our lives.
13 million inhabitant at day and 9 million at night. On Sunday, apparently there are only 2 million left of us. If you take traffic conditions on the main roads as a valid indicator.
A city where most broken valors take place for the majority of rent seekers trying to grasp the Indonesian dream.
The road stalls during rush hours (read: 7 am to 7 pm), the endless stockpiles of social climbers, the strings of motorcades from top notch bureaucracy to pious vigilante Islamic extremist, the CO2 (if you regularly take public transport for approximately 3 years, you would have the lungs of a 10 years chain smoker), freak weather where intense heat is followed by excessive rain then the flood comes.
Probably, our grandparents or parents transmigrated to this city because they were stationed by a government body or company. They experienced the 70s and 80s chanted as the capital's great development period where roads, bridges, and building were relentlessly build. Probably, they also had to face repeated envy from their friends and relatives outside of the capital. The centralistic character of the New Order regime back then must also help our city dwelling predecessors, both economically and socially. Ah, to live in the big city. The Merdeka Palace, Monas, Hotel Indonesia, Patung Selamat Datang. Prestige, oh prestige. First class all the way.
Then comes us the third generation of Jakartans in this world. Born in the 80's. Indonesia's new rising upper-middle class family.We experienced the 90's when Western ways was the plethora of events in the Big Durian. Jakartan fled to Singapore for their weekend shopping. Still in our elementary or junior high years, every July when the holiday season has ended was another agenda. If American students had "Show and Tell" time in their curriculum, we Indonesians have the unofficial "Show-off" time.
"Hey, I just got this cool red Baby-Shock watch from Japan. Where did you go for holiday?"
"Errrr. I went to Carita Beach. Mmm, look I got this great looking shell!"
*silence* "Oh." *turning to another kid* "Hey John look at my watch, where did you go this holiday."
Then the unthinkable happened. First economic crisis. Second riot. Most likely political, but framed to be racially incited. Third, the stabilizing currency of this city (and country) resigned from presidency.
KABOOM!
The upper-middle class started to struggle. Anecdotal evidence suggests that almost 70% of Indonesian studying abroad had come back to Indonesia leaving their studies because the 500% rupiah devaluation. The upper class, those who amassed their wealth primarily due to their "close connections" to power, were wary that this social unrest would turn into a witchhunt for the rich and powerful. Foreign analyst, which previously predicted Indonesia as the next Asian Dragon, prompted that Balkanization is in progress. Then Jakarta was tested once again. A myriad of political turmoil taking place in central Jakarta, terrorism attracts in posh hotels and business districts, and religious group sweepings of "unholy places" in Kemang took place but again normalcy was restored.
Then the unthinkable happened once more. The third generation grew up. The common upper-middle class who grew up in privilege driven by chauffeur, wearing the latest Nike sneakers to school, and fancy restaurants dine in with the family every weekend back in the 90's were to face the hyperreality. Unable to distinguish the fantasy, courtesy to their lavish childhood upbringing, to the current reality where money is a scarce product essential to maintain such lifestyle.
Now, they have to find the right job. Not just a job.
"Show-off" has reached a new colloquial meaning. The gap between the upper-middle and the upper class has been stretch so far during the last 10 years. Causing prevalent anxiety because the third generation only has the uber rich for social mobility benchmarking.
Now, we need management trainee jobs.
We need great company insurance.
We need double digit (in millions) monthly salaries.
We need to go to places to be seen.
We need Gold plated credit cards from at least 3 major banks.
We need Gucci handbags and Tag Heuer wristwatch.
We need periodical overseas holidays.
We need our own car.
We need our private condo.
We need our exclusive referral only club membership.
We need our wedding held in the latest brand new hotel.
We need to get our instant gratification fed.
Now.
We need it before we become like the thousands who fled their hometown when Ramadhan holiday is over to Jakarta. To reach the Indonesian dream they saw on sinetron last night only to fail. Living below a dollar a day.
We need it now.
Before our valor shatters in line with our dreams. Living below the upper class for the rest of our lives.
posted by the one beneath your hair above your eyebrows @ 5:02 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home