[nasional_list] [ppiindia] Neglecting Mr. Neglect, respecting M. Corrupt
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- Date: Wed, 26 Jul 2006 12:49:09 +0200
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Neglecting Mr. Neglect, respecting M. Corrupt
Julia Suryakusuma, Melbourne
Sometimes beauty is fine when it's just skin deep -- at any rate, that's all
sofas need. So, when my home redecorating finally worked its way around to the
front room, I decided the guest sofa didn't need replacing, just
reupholstering.
Instead of hauling it off to a shop, I asked some of my domestic staff if they
knew of an upholsterer who could come to my house. I like to use the services
of the orang kecil (common people) whenever I can, and in Indonesia that
includes the roving tukang (tradesman).
These are the ones who wander past our homes every day, calling out the
products they offer, whether they be hawking clothes, household utensils, a
multitude of raw and cooked foods or jamu, Indonesian herbal medicine. But
there are also itinerant vendors of services: clothes repairers and alterers,
shoe-repairers, knife sharpeners, bamboo-blind makers and repairers, and, most
importantly for me, mattress makers and upholsterers.
Sari, my maid, knew exactly the right tukang for my shabby sofa. His name was
Abai, a diminutive man who looked much older than his 55 years as he had three
small children and not enough money coming in. I asked Pak Abai to reupholster
the old, tatty sofa in my front room and make new cushion covers for it, as
well. Some of the work he did at my house, working in the garage or on the
terrace, and some he took home, trudging off up the street laden like a camel
-- but wherever he worked, he did it with amazing speed and expertise.
Material he took away in the afternoon would come back early the next morning
in the form of beautifully-stitched cushion covers, complete with piping and
neatly sewn-in zippers. "Maybe", I said to my husband Tim, "he has had a team
of elves helping him".
And perhaps there really was magic of some sort involved, because he did such a
great job that we decided to get him working on the other furniture as well,
and in no time had completely transformed almost every seat or cushion in the
house -- he even made the battle-scarred seats of my little Karimun car soft
and comfortable again.
We kept finding more and more things for him to upholster until we began to
worry he might end up upholstering the house itself, like a Christo
installation.
Tim called Pak Abai "Mr. Neglect" (abai is the root word for mengabaikan -- "to
neglect", in Indonesian), and it made me think of all the other "little people"
trapped on the lower rungs of our unforgiving Indonesian social ladder. They
are certainly neglected, and don't get much regard from society. When noticed
at all, they are treated as irrelevant or stupid.
How ironic! We give respect easily enough to people in high places -- like
politicians and entrepreneurs -- who have secretaries, wear ties, brandish the
latest mobile phone or organizer, and ride around in flashy cars (not even
their own or not paid off yet), but most of them have precious little to offer
to anyone but themselves.
I feel more respect and appreciation for "little people" like Pak Abai, because
they usually have more skills and often more integrity, and because the quality
of my life is greatly enhanced by them. Now that's something I couldn't say for
most politicians and entrepreneurs.
So forget about the pembesar, the big wigs, who mess up our lives with economic
crises, interest charges, unemployment and price hikes. My vote goes to Abai,
who helps beautify my house; Pri, the vegetable vendor who delivers fresh
produce every day; and, of course, Ibu Wati, always on hand when I am afflicted
by aches and pains or the Indonesian national ailment, masuk angin (literally,
"wind entering" or "under the weather").
After her massages, I go to sleep for a few hours and wake up feeling totally
refreshed. Better than taking pills or going to the doctor, I say -- and
cheaper, too! And then there's her friend, Ibu Ai, who makes the most beautiful
garments for me, sometimes with embroidery if it's a kebaya or a slinky nightie
that would cost much more in a department store.
And don't forget Pak Ayut, who makes shoes for my long, narrow feet, which
don't suit ready-mades. I choose a model from a foreign shoe-fashion magazine
and he copies it perfectly -- and sometimes even designs his own. Ayut can make
slippers and handbags to match an evening gown or kebaya, delivering matching,
color-coordinated accessories for a fraction of the price of similar branded
goods. Yes, "little people" like Ayut make Indonesia a fashion-queen's
paradise, I think to myself as I wander through Plaza Indonesia, my eyes wide
open but my purse firmly closed.
The skills of Indonesia's "little people" don't stop with the roving tukang. I
have always been a great lover of Indonesian products and handicrafts: rattan
and bamboo baskets, matting, earthenware plates and containers, carvings and
statues, batik, woven ikat cloths and jewelry, among many products based on
traditions that are now lost in many other societies.
We may not be very good yet at democracy (but come to think of it, who is in
today's world, never mind Indonesia which has only been at it for eight years),
but we do have a long tradition of home and village industries, of high-quality
craftsmanship that shows Indonesia as its best.
It is reassuring that despite all our economic woes, Indonesian crafts are
recognized overseas for their exceptional quality. But it's a pity, isn't it,
that we don't give our talented and able craftsmen and women -- common people
like Pak Abai, Ibu Ai or Pak Ayut, the little people who make a big
contribution to the quality of our lives and the survival of our economy -- a
bit more of the respect we are happy to lavish on the big wigs who have ruined
our economy and made us an international benchmark for corruption?
The writer is the author of Sex, Power and Nation. She can be reached at
jsuryakusuma@xxxxxxx
or jskusuma@xxxxxxxxxxx
.
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