Jakarta

That night, I was sitting in a coffee shop, staring blankly at my laptop screen, trying to imagine the words I had to write for a proposal. Stuck, that night was really stuck, I did not know what else to explain. A few minutes passed in the same position, until finally my phone buzzed and broke my staring contest with the screen. It was a call from Alisa, she asked about the schedule and said she wanted to invite the Festival Mentari friends (a project from Padang Panjang) to come to Jakarta and perform at Galeri Indonesia Kaya. Hearing the offer, without thinking twice, I said, "let's gooo!!"

A few times before leaving for Jakarta, my friends and I met online. We talked about the theme we would work on and shared our experiences about the rice fields near where we each live.

As it happens, my family and I felt a very drastic change while building our house in this area. We were the first people to live in the Bulak Indah neighborhood back in the 90s. Our house sat right in the middle of a stretch of rice fields, with no neighbors at all. Our only friends were farmers who used to pass by our house, and buffalo and duck herders who often made our dogs bark like crazy at them. We could still feel the morning sun from the east whenever it came up. The cool air and morning dew shading the sunlight would call us outside to sunbathe before starting the day. I was still small then, maybe not even in school yet. My two older siblings were already teenagers, and they often invited their school friends over. Actually they did not really play at the house, they played in the rice field in front of it, catching snails and frogs to cook. I often saw a group of my siblings' friends come to celebrate a birthday, and it was not a normal birthday with cake, they would throw the birthday person into the still-wet rice field, until everyone ended up playing in the mud. Their laughter was loud and free, no shame at all in shouting once in a while. Their voices were the only thing that broke the quiet of our house.

It was not only the people we knew who came into our house uninvited, sometimes guests we did not know at all also came looking for a comfortable spot inside. Yes, we were on close terms with snakes, mongooses, giant sewer rats, monitor lizards, and a few other field animals still roaming around. Our chickens also disappeared one by one, or sometimes we would see their legs hurt in the morning when we opened the coop. We often saw a snake camouflaged in the grapevine, a snake sleeping coiled up under a pile of tools, a snake slithering on the wall, falling from the roof, even a cobra crossing the rice field with its head raised. We got so annoyed with them that we decided to gather them all in one place, an empty Aqua gallon. In one month, we could collect more than ten snakes that stopped by our house.

Every day during harvest season, the sound of the rice mill would run until evening came. The loud noise of the machine and the farmers joking around kept me company whenever I was left alone at home. As a kid, I was often left home alone, because my two siblings were at school and my parents were at work. I don't remember who took care of me back then. What I remember is only two Rottweiler dogs who were always by my side, guarding me. When the mill stopped running, faintly, their activity would leave behind the smell of fresh straw, and piles of it left beside the house. It reminded me of a scene from a Bollywood movie that was popular back then, a crowd of people running and dancing on top of a pile of straw while singing. It made my body want to do the same thing I saw in that movie. Rolling around here and there, throwing straw at my dogs, and they got so excited they bit and pulled my clothes until they tore. We were happy to play outside, especially in that pile of straw that evening. But our happiness fell apart when we heard a man's voice shouting my name, "Mikeee!!". Yes, that was my father, already holding a broom and coming closer, scolding me for playing in the straw. My legs got hit a few times by the broom he swung, telling me to go take a bath and never do it again. But if I think about it now, I feel like what my father said was right, why he strictly forbade rolling around in the straw. Because it never crossed my mind back then that there could be snakes hiding under that pile of straw, which of course would have been dangerous for me. There are still many more memories stuck in my head about how our house felt back then.

A few years passed, until I entered the last year of elementary school. I remember clearly that the rice fields in front of our house had been bought and housing was about to be built there. At first I was happy, because we would finally have neighbors to keep us company. One by one the houses were ready to be lived in, and new people started showing up. Almost every month there would be guests visiting our house, bringing small gifts and introducing themselves as the new neighbors of this area. We have lived side by side peacefully until now. Our family has always been seen as the elders of the neighborhood where we live. Sometimes it is even them who have to adjust to us, especially to the noise of our dogs, which have grown in number by now. Now, a lot of people and vehicles like motorbikes and cars pass by in front of our house, because behind the housing complex built in front of our house there is now SMP Negeri 3, so it is no surprise that from afternoon to evening a lot of kids start teasing our dogs. The road in front of our house is now like a main road. Motorbikes and cars pass by at high speed. Right on both sides of our house there is empty land owned by other people. Next to that there are already houses and boarding houses for UMS students. Food stalls, cafes, and exclusive boarding houses have been standing tall for the past few years now. More buildings are added to serve the students, and this erases the rice fields that used to be there. Farming activity is now rarely seen, and I even find myself asking, where do the buffaloes and ducks look for land to eat now? Now, even when we talk, we cannot do it as freely as before. I cannot imagine if houses were built right on both sides of us, we might be able to hear everything they do inside their homes. Honestly, I am very stressed about how our house is now. I feel like I have no privacy.

The memory above came up from just one question that was thrown out during that online meeting. As it happens, Alisa (Jakarta) and I were going to work together to make a duet piece. We come from different backgrounds, and even the places where we live are different. I felt a change happening, while Alisa lives somewhere with no rice fields or farming activity around her at all. That also has an effect on the people who live and grow in that place. I had to adapt to the situation and the changes that were simply bound to happen that way. Piece by piece, the land got bought and developed, until eventually the view was blocked off by standing walls. Meanwhile Alisa is already used to being packed close together, and everything really has to move fast to get what they want. While we were in Jakarta, our process was very short. We exchanged thoughts and experiences about living and growing up in our own places. We found something in common happening in the environments where we each currently live. Even though sometimes we don't greet our own neighbors, there is one activity that manages to connect people, and that is playing badminton. We showed that activity at the opening of our 15-minute piece. Wearing housedresses and flip-flops, we tried to play as seriously as possible to hide how bad we actually were at hitting the shuttlecock, along with a narration about the difference in land between the places we live. Alisa and I agreed to find and record what is happening right now, and the changes we have each experienced where we live. I tried to find whatever rice fields were still left near my house, and I also tried to find the buffaloes that usually pass by in front of it. It turned out I found them. They walked quite far from where they were kept, and of course they were looking for food in a patch of land squeezed between tall houses. It was truly a heartbreaking sight. Their space keeps getting smaller, and I cannot imagine where they will look for food once that land is all gone one day. On the other hand, Alisa brought a series of her own recordings of the Jakarta landscape. After that there was also a collection of videos showing the rice field and city scenes, projected behind us. We arranged our exploration carefully, thinking about the experiences we each went through in the places we live. We started looking at what material would best show the state of the environment we live in. For example, I felt that mud in the rice field was a very fitting material to describe this place. A movement that is slow but sure, still fluid but with a weight that can show a state that is starting to shift over a very long time. Growing over a certain length of time to reach its goal. Meanwhile Alisa tried to feel her body as something alive and growing within all the limits and fast movement around her. It carried Alisa's body to keep changing in every situation. Our very contrasting movements gave the impression of two spaces trying to become one. Imagination carried our bodies to move, trying to feel and become what we imagined. Every now and then our bodies moved in sync. Even though we have different experiences and backgrounds in dance, we managed to make something that could open up and give space for the audience.

Actually, out of this whole process of making work in Jakarta, what I felt the most was how my body adapted to this huge, crowded city. At that time, I lived in South Tangerang and had to go to Central Jakarta for rehearsals and to meet the other collaborators. Every morning, I had to travel for about an hour, and had to switch transportation several times, Gojek - KRL - transfer KRL - Gojek. I understand, maybe that way was the easiest and cheapest way to get there. But I felt tired having to wait and switch between different transportation over and over. Not to mention the weather often rained in Jakarta back then. When evening came, right when our rehearsal ended, exactly at 5 pm, I had to go home. I often saw videos on social media about people's struggle to get home at that hour, forcing them to squeeze together to ride the KRL home. With that image in my head, I decided to go home using Gojek instead, one ride straight to my house with no extra time spent waiting for the KRL or switching to another form of transportation, and no squeezing in with other people. The Gojek fare that evening was indeed 30 thousand rupiah more expensive than the package I bought every morning. It turned out I was wrong, every evening the workers also headed home using their own private transportation. So I got stuck in traffic for more than two hours on a motorbike. Sitting upright, having to control my body so I would not fall forward whenever the driver braked. It was truly a sight that made my head spin. The driver himself tried to find shortcuts so we could get there quickly and avoid the traffic. But during the ride, I saw another side of Jakarta. Houses built close together, usually standing right by the edge of the main road, narrowing the space left to pass through. It looked as if Jakarta was free to build a house anywhere they wanted. It seemed like there was not even the smallest gap left that I could see, empty and standing as vacant land. However small the empty space available, there would always be someone building a house or an 'illegal' business spot there. Sometimes, I think, I do the same thing at home with things that should not really be placed where they are. It really does make it easier for me to tuck small items into a space to make it look efficient. But in reality, those things pile up and make the whole house look messy. I even find myself questioning, does the government also see this reality at the edges of the city center, where skyscrapers are usually built? Is the layout of the city center already good and proper enough to be shown off to people coming to Jakarta? Then what about the reality I saw, even though that space is not far from the city center at all? I felt strange, like I was in another world.

Maybe Jakarta is a good place to visit if we have a specific need that requires our physical presence. I prefer living in Solo, even though it is also starting to grow now, but I feel like every place develops at its own pace, evenly. Ease of getting around is also one of the factors that makes this city comfortable. There is nothing wrong either with people who want to move and live in Jakarta for work. But again, I feel like Solo is a good place to live.