on traffic, and getting to where I am now

I congratulate you in advance if you decide to wade through the many words I have just posted. Since being here in Indonesia, I have really enjoyed the time to reflect on my new surroundings.

21 juli 2009
Pt. Yonasindo Intra Pratama
8:45 am – first day of work

If I had perfect pitch, I could tell you immediately what note the fluorescent lights sound as they flicker over my head in my new boss’s office. He is not here, so I am sitting here writing while we wait for his arrival. I don’t have perfect pitch, so I will use my time to write instead…shout out to Dr. Victoria Hsiao, also known as Vicky, for the Moleskine journal in which I wrote down all of my thoughts that follow.

Upon arrival in Indonesia, we discovered quickly that anyone who is someone has a driver. I estimate that a driver’s monthly wages are somewhere around $100-$120 USD a month – considered a decent salary, sufficient for supporting a driver and his family. Rather than hiring a driver, we have purchased a used vehicle, into which we normally cram 9 members of our 13-member team (the Kim children Josiah, Elliot, and Karissa are small, which helps). Today, no such cramming was necessary as only four of us – Irene, Ruth, Sarah, and I – were the only passengers. Driver, you ask? It’s Pastor Seth!

If you have not visited Southeast Asia, you’d be amazed to observe the commute to work. Over the past year in Ann Arbor, I drove to work every day sitting on the left-hand side of my car, driving on the right-hand side of the road, with the majority of my commute being State Street, which turns into State Road just after the Ann Arbor Municipal Airport – my uneventful daily commute ranging anywhere from 9-12 minutes. (And if you’re sitting reading this at 880 Technology Drive, Suite B, I miss all of you very much!) Although traffic this morning wasn’t terrible, we felt bad for Pastor Seth, who had the privilege of navigating the labyrinth of expressways and toll roads this morning without clear directions to our new place of employment.

The traffic during the commute is a sight to behold, as well. We do have lines that demarcate where each lane of traffic should be – but once off the expressway, they are essentially meaningless. At any given intersection, where three lanes of cars [mobil] might appear, there are at least six if not more! Ojeks, or men who offer the backseat of their motorcycles to passengers as a type of taxi ride, contribute to the convolution of the lanes – weaving between cars effortlessly, sometimes so close that should I open my window and stick my hand out, I could touch them. We also have minivans with the side door ripped off that function as buses, driving slowly enough so that people can hop in or hop out as they please. Interspersed throughout traffic are people – pedestrians and passersby. And then there are those who remain between the “lanes,” holding their wares on their heads or shoulders, looking to make eye contact with anyone who might want to buy something of theirs – a purchase which would contribute to their income, which would be valued at pennies, I’m sure. I find this heart breaking, because in order to not buy, one has to avert their eyes and ignore these vendors, who are people.

Today I will meet my new boss, who started this company 10 years ago with this thought in mind for the people of Indonesia: ”For a Better Life.” I saw this company mission statement on the green t-shirts of the women who greeted us this morning with smiles and bows, these women who are training to become domestic workers and maids, in order to give themselves and those they love a better life. I was expecting to work in a skyscraper somewhere in South Jakarta – even hoped for the possibility of being hired into the company that first employed me as a brand new graduate, since they have a bureau here in Jakarta. I actually work in a small compound, on the outskirts of Jakarta, located near the Soekarno-Hatta airport. Surrounded by rice paddies, with classrooms made from bamboo and thatch, I would hardly say that this was the place at which I was expecting to work. I should clarify that in spite of my previous expectations, I know that there is no place in the world that I would rather work than di sini – here. I decided this after our superior Jeffrey took us on a tour of the compound last week. I went from sitting in an air conditioned conference room with chairs big enough to get lost in, to stepping outside into another world – thick heat even so early in the morning, classroom huts surrounding the nicely manicured grass. Through the classroom windows, the four of us could see faces peering curiously at us. That day, I remember worrying about what to wear since “first impressions are everything” – after deciding on a 52% wool skirt and heels, I realized the impracticality of such vanity in this hot weather, and how silly my shoes sounded clackering on the pavement where these women stood, barefooted.

Between each classroom where we were greeted enthusiastically with “Good morning, ma’am – how are you, ma’am?” Jeffrey explained that many of the trainees were single women looking to support 2-3 children. He said that the divorce rate here is very high because the culture here is to marry very young. Hearing this from him reminded me of a conversation I had with my friend “Dr.” Matt Schumann on this topic – and reinforced the reality of not only the stress of making enough money to support a family, but also the reality of pain and heartache. I thought that I knew the pain of heartbreak when I ended my relationship with my boyfriend of two years, almost two years ago. And while the pain I felt is not invalidated by the greater suffering of others, I see that my perception of pain was naïve and very small. Jeffrey is more familiar with these women, and I don’t know if he sees more than just women who are training to be domestic workers. I am sure that he understands the plight of the poor here in Indonesia – otherwise he would not still be here at this company.

I know sedikit-sedikit [very little] Bahasa Indonesia, but I am hoping to be able to get to the point where the four of us working here can speak the heart language of these people – regardless of how well we pronounce things or any grammatical errors we make. I am no one to talk about pain, but I know a Healer who is qualified, who knows the deepest hurts of the heart, who experienced pain Himself, even death – but conquered it so that he, by being broken, could mend broken hearts – and also break them further again for his purposes. I can’t say that I enjoy having my heart broken. But if Christ’s heart broke over me, because in my heart of hearts I was so destitute and trapped in the poverty of sin, then a broken heart is what I want to have for other people, too. I guess this is the long-winded (as is the nature of kids who study political science) answer to “why Indonesia?” which so many of you asked me before I left. Mengapa [why]? For a broken heart.