At the terminal and passing the boutiques the adjustment was always needed for the frequent flyers. First-classers even, if not A-listers, might be sprinkled there too. Directly from the street a little shock was unavoidable.
At the gate it was a different story with the budget travellers, the regular uncles & aunties going down to Jogja to visit relatives. The domestic workers returning to their kampungs made up a good proportion, even an old ahma from the neighbourhood at G. Serai was in the mix.
Blush to tell, you were pretty much the coolest dude in that scrum at Gate C18 that morning. Few could have picked the slightly worn thrift shop Levis shirt and the panama dazzled as ever. The Versace specs were likely lost on that crowd. (Sacred Heart, $30.)
Up in the clouds there had been the usual resort for blanketing the shuddering & roar of engines. Ni again strongly featured, even now after her passing. No more would Ni reach out like she did in the dead of night in the railway hotel in Jogja, where the shunting and horns never let up, checking whether there might be anything stirring for her beneath the bedsheet. Making her discovery, the slow, shy, yet resolute steps from there would never fade from memory. Ni had had precious little experience of sleeping nights with a man; on holidays she made sure to get maximum benefit. A lover like Ni was extremely difficult to find, as she herself had warned in advance. That memory returned regularly, but for the buffeting through the clouds it was a constant resort.
All regulation 130 minutes otherwise, without any disturbance. The pilot’s warning of turbulence in the second half of the flight had turned to nought.
A fumble came at Immigration—the visa on arrival needed prior payment back at the counter on the right.
Almost done and away, when a chap at Customs, a regular Joe passenger, wanted the attention of the white guy.
Yeah, Bud.
There was some noise coming from a big, 4 - 5m screen. Jokowi, the ever popular former President, was leaving behind him now a little dynastic route for his heirs.
And, oh! That ugly critter Prabowo, newly in the saddle. Air-brushed ex-Kopassus commander, who they said, like Hitler (at least in the Brit. wartime propaganda), had only one ball. In Prabowo’s case the mishap had occurred in East Timor during the attempted suppression. For a number of years the atrocities had kept Prabowo from being able to enter the States. There were some questions now too over the count in the recent election that were quickly buried.
Someone back in Sing had mentioned the likely reappearance of Prab’s white steed for the inauguration, possibly a second enlisted if the one from the last failed campaign had buckled under the weight.
National anthem! the patriot by Customs informed after some confusion.
Most of the people in the hall, certainly the uniformed officials, were standing stock still. One of the domestic helpers at the carousel was ignoring, likewise ignorant of the protocol.
Though time was short for making the tren into town, it was wise to follow the observance. With Prabowo ascendant, the military would be playing a larger role in government now.
A week later Agus was employed for a trip out to the other side of Kali Code, the river. First stop was Gramedia in the hope of the Jakarta Post,
It was almost the hour on arrival. Once it struck 10, a repeat came of the earlier at the airport.
The form ought to have been immediately recognised, even at first hearing.
Same again at the store, this time with perhaps one or two of the kids in the Gramedia livery leaning against benches, rather than bolt upright.
Downstairs Agus had not the faintest. A minute or two was needed for untangling.
You don’t mean the Security? Military personnel in the building…
Of course Agus and his fellow becak drivers, the street pedlars, the angkringan and other hard scrabble folk, knew not a thing about any of that formal scene. In the three years since the local Regent, the Sultan who doubled as Governor of Yogyakarta, had instituted the 10AM playing of the national anthem, they had not entered any government office, mall, hotel or the like, and it might be many a moon before any of them would do.
Two weeks after landing, shortly after the former General assumed the Presidency, the Parliament in Jakarta followed suit with the anthem at 10 every morning. In the media release announcing, sure enough, wajib sikap sempurna was stipulated—perfect posture required.
Yogyakarta 2024
An Australian writer of Montenegrin origin, Pavle Radonic has spent ten years living in SE Asia. Previous work has appeared in a range of literary magazines, including most recently QU Literary Magazine, Of Zoos, Superpresent Magazine & New World Writing Quarterly.
