I’ve mentioned before that one of our guides-slash-colleagues here, Ramon, is something of a celebrity. He’s got a Facebook fan page, and people stop him in the street for photos. What we continually fail to remember is that our garrulous host, Slamet Rahadjo, is much more than that. He’s a national icon. There’s a cluttered display case in the corridor here filled to bursting with award statues. I suppose there comes a point when you’ve got too many to arrange on a mantlepiece, and they have to go somewhere. I think Slamet’s got beyond the point when a display cabinet is enough. They’re just jammed into this thing, and lord knows how many there are. Craziness.
So we’re hanging out with the famous. Last night we were kindly invited to Slamet’s brother Erros’ birthday party. It was kind of loosely explained to us as a bit of a party where Erros was going to get his old band back together. What we discovered was a sight different.
In a roundabout sort of way I want to talk about my reaction to being in that environment. As we drove to the party, we passed through a region full of mansions and the homes of the very rich. Gates, razor wire, even bulletproof pillboxes for a security guard. The sense of outrage that bubbled up within me in the slums rose again, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to grab ‘these people’ by the throat and drag them down to the squatter’s camp, shouting “What the fuck are you thinking?” I expressed as much to the thoughtful indie kid, Khiva, who didn’t say much. In fact, he seemed a bit uncomfortable. After battling through the horrendous Jakarta traffic, we arrived at a magnificent outdoor bar, in a wealthy district of Jakarta. The kind of party that we would never get near in Australia, with flashing cameras and well-dressed videographers, and stars of stage and screen. I turned to Khiva and said “So, when I was having a rant before, you were looking uncomfortable, it was because the people who live in those houses are here tonight, right?” And in his careful, understated way, Khiva said “Yeah, that’s it.”
Your correspondent, international diplomat.
The party itself was great, though. Grand floral arrangements congratulating Erros on his 35 years in the entertainment industry, as well as his birthday. A fully-equipped stage and massive catering effort (about ten different caterers all competing for the best food), with open bar and a souvenir DVD. “Hey Chris!” says Ramon, “This guy is editor of Indonesian Rolling Stone.” Later, Yaya introduces Olive, who is starring with Ramon in a new movie (our resident smooth operator, Samir, immediately sets about making a move. All class, our boy.) Importantly, like all meals in Jakarta, there was a stupendous range of sweets. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, I guess.