Urban Stories: Jakarta

The Driver

"Stirred not shaken."

"Well, it's coffee with condensed milk, what's more to it?"

"It's from James Bond." I answered with smile, trying to mimic Daniel Craig, to unsatisfactory results.

"James who?" He responded, with a look.

"The guy in the movies last night, on tv..." I paused, I was going nowhere, "Never mind, thank you for the coffee."

"Weird man, back in my day we watched Warkop DKI." He answered as he placed my coffee in front of me, "Dono, Kasino, Indro, heard of them?"

"I'm not that young, pak."

I stared at my cup of coffee, stirred brown liquid that has been mixed with a generous amount of both milk and coffee, sadly there wasnt much water. I don't know what the people call this coffee, "Kopi Susu" that's the name for it. Two sachets, one coffee and one milk, place them inside a cup, add hot water, and stir. I'm no connoisseur, but I can tell that the baristas in the cafes I go daily would have another name for it, and it certainly didn't look this crude. I wonder what they tasted like, I can buy about 4-5 cups a day, overpriced coffee for the people on high rises.

I wanted to drink it, but it's just too hot, I told the man to add some normal water in. Oh who am I kidding, every water in this stall is boiled water. The ones in the bottles are not meant to be boiled like this, indeed. The kettle was large enough for a day's service, and inside the kettle, are liquid that is definitely hot, not cold. Oh no, never cold.

My motorcycle was parked near the stall, I'm in the side of the road to have my break for a while. There are better places, I assure you, but we're not exactly in friendly terms with the other guys in here. They didn't like my colors, and my helmet, and my shirt, well, they just hate my colors.

My phone then rang, there was a match. An order, I looked at the GPS, the person doesn't seem to be that far, the numbers are displayed, I called the customer instantly.

"Hello, is this Mister Yanto?" That's the only name I could see on the screen, "Yes! I'll be with you shortly... The address?.... GPS? Ok, I'm on my way."

I turned off the phone, and addressed the man, "I'll be back in a while, please keep my coffee safe."

"Don't just go off like that, where's my money?"

"Penny Pincher", I thought. I shuffled through my pockets, and took the cash I needed. I didn't have much, I couldn't buy a meal inside a mall, but a coffee from a stall? that I could afford.

"Much obliged.." The man answered with a smile, he placed the coffee under his stall.

I went to my motorcycle, and wore my helmet. The order was matched, a man needed to be taken to the train terminal. I shifted to gear, and rode to the streets. Who am I? I'm a deliveryman of some sorts, carrying with me are my attributes. There's many of us, some having different colors than others.

Do I have a sense of pride wearing these colors? In truth, the attributes that I wear has brought me nothing but bad luck. Corporate or independent, government or private, two wheeled or four wheeled, they all disliked our work. They would go as far as demonstrating in the streets of Jakarta, heck some decided to use violent measures. Sticks and stones lobbed when things really explode between us, and they really do break bones.