Friday. As usual the thought of the approaching weekend led me to flirt with the idea of coming home early, but this time the acquisition of an Ondaatje classic had given this idea a magnetic pull. I shrugged it off with my cup of coffee and morning newspaper in this office ritual, excited to know what I will come home to. Little did I know that now at 13h I am already sitting in my car on my way back through the screaming crowd of people.

I was having my lunch when I heard the door open. The boss had come to find me. Apparently today is the National Youth Day when a peaceful demonstration by students is scheduled that lends its history to the flashpoint of 1928. Disappointments related to the current government, that was what I had read.

From the moment she opened the door, I quickly sensed the air of urgency in her eyes. Apparently our HR just told the team regarding the growing rumor that involves the imminent anti-Chinese riots in Jakarta. She encouraged me to take the day off. I looked at her in disbelief. Surely these things would be possible back then in the 90s? Indonesia was a different Indonesia then, so much have been acknowledged now? Didn't we already went through this?

She looked at me, acknowledging that rumors are just rumors. But what if it would be true? That slight chance was enough for her to grant me the day off. She offered to call for a security officer from the HQ to escort me home and I politely refused. Nonetheless, I packed my bags and left my bule and Indonesian colleagues while they resume their work.

--

They look clueless as they walk towards the main street. Most look like they are having fun being in the crowd more than anything else. Some are singing their provincial anthems, some are screaming demands that became inaudible due to the quality of the microphones, some just laughed and smiled and went along. The traffic stifled any possible movement. More buses came, evidently heavy with people. More people came, more flags are waved, and the louder everything becomes. We were sheltered behind iron and glass but not much safer did it made us feel. No honks were declaring annoyance of being stuck in traffic; we were left to be silent observers in our own cars.

--

Indonesia today is not the Indonesia that it was. We have entered a new phase following the fall of the regime, and we have been lucky to be where we are. Surely there are flaws and problems that engulf this country, drawing us to think whether this country is drowning faster and faster. But as my colleague sharply pointed out, it is not that bad. The mere fact that we could walk down the street without any protection, that we could have lunch together with no fear is what makes us lucky. My thoughts went to passive curiosity whether the Arab Spring would be as fortunate.

--

It is raining and I am sitting in a coffee shop with fragmented thoughts. The sun is shining yet water poured down. It was not however the intense tropical rain that swallowed the city in its might as the last week. This is a soft rain, a gentle rain that has a calming effect. It refreshes one's thoughts, leaving me to wonder whether it has the same effect for those currently standing and shouting and waving and blocking the veins of Jakarta.

I rest my chunky stroopwafel above my steaming cup and read on.

More than 8 weeks ago I had packed and shipped 4 boxes of my life back to Indonesia without realizing to bring working clothes in my own suitcase. For a month, stealing my sister's clothes kept me from looking like a hobo in the office. But last night when I came home, they were there. My boxes are there. I was in utter disbelief, was it tiredness that caused the hallucinations? I have read stories about this.

The next morning they were still there. My boxes have made it home. I took the morning off to rummage through them, opening each boxes brought a smile to my face. The joy of being reunited! Working pants! Proper shirt! Heels! Books! Bed cover! The drought is over!!!

Yet with more item I touched, the heavier my heart becomes. How long ago has it been since I lived with them in my room in Holland? I realized how they became an ambassador of my life there, a bridge that still needs to be reconnected. Heavy in reminiscence, I began pondering why I have yet to feel happy to be back.