Finding Lika

The Slum of Jakarta

With her coffee cup in hand, and her aunt's letter on the other, Lika went to the window of her apartment. She swiped open the curtain with her elbow and looked through the glass.

It was ironic knowing that there was a huge, green golfing area at the other side of her building, along with other shiny skyscrapers standing proudly behind it, while at the same time, a dirty, sorry looking slum sat just at the back of her apartment.

The wealth gap in Jakarta was beyond irreconcilable.

Reading her aunt's letter again, Lika sipped at her coffee. Having nothing else to do, she decided to see what the slum was all about and to see whether it could be a fitting outlet for her project with her aunt.

Honestly, Lika anticipated to see poor people, living in cramped, dirty, bad homes. She didn't actually anticipate feeling terrible upon seeing the poor people living up to her imagination in ways worse than she anticipated.

The very first time Lika walked the dirty small alley in the slum, the pungent smell of sewer invaded her nostrils, making Lika's eyes water as she held her breath. For the sake of not offending nearby people, the woman kept a straight face as she walked on to see her surroundings.

The places in which these people lived in couldn't actually be a proper settlement to be called home. No. The word 'junkyard' or 'waste area' instead would fit perfectly to describe this poor neighborhood.

Dirt and various trash littered around the small, rundown huts with rusty metal roofs covering them. The huts glued to one another, making the area looked even more cramped and unhabitable. Still, there were many people living in them.

Men smoking as they crouched by their home entrance. Kids running around, making the area a suitable place for hide and seek. Women washing clothes or bathing their children with the dirty, dark yellow water from the stream. At some point she saw an elderly filled an old aluminium pot with the same water before bringing it into her home. Lika shuddered at what the elderly was doing with the water. She hoped it was not for drinking. It took no scientist to know from the looks of it that the water must be unsafe.

Lika turned to look behind her: her apartment building, and other tall buildings around it. Her stomach churned-the waste from those middle and upper middle class buildings, where do they go? Certainly, not to this heavily polluted stream. Not to these people.

Right?

"Bule!" she heard a child high-pitched, excited exclamation, pointing at her with a toothy grin, "Ada bule!"

Bule. She heard that word many times before. Lika fished for her dictionary from her messenger bag and searched the word. She smiled upon seeing the definition of the word. She was a bule, the way the Indonesians referred to a foreigner like her. It reminded her of the way the Japanese in Osaka once referred to her and Henry as Gaijin (foreigner).

Lika smiled at the group of children who was staring at her. She lifted her hand and waved at them. A little girl in an old looking blue dress, probably 7 or 8 years old, made her way towards her. Shy but brave, the girl grinned at her. "Hai tante (Hi, auntie)."

"Halo (Hello)!" greeted Lika back with a warm smile.

Lika crouched to get to the same eye level with the girl. She offered her hand. "Siapa nama kamu, cantik? (What's your name, beautiful)?" she asked the girl, "Nama tante Eliska (My name is Eliska)."

"Riri," the girl answered, taking Lika's hand shyly for a handshake.

"Nama kamu cantik, Riri (You have pretty name, Riri)," praised Lika. "Riri lagi ngapain? Lagi main sama teman? (What are you doing? Are you playing with your friends?)"