Abmi Handayani

A Weekend in Java's Tranquil Hills Reveals Gaps in Society

“The Pacific Northwestern salmon beats itself bloody on its quest to travel hundreds of miles upstream against the current, with a single purpose, sex of course, but also ... life.”

Protaganist Drew Baylor in “Elizabethtown”

I remember the quote above whenever I think about my neighbor, Yayan, who lives in Sawangan, Central Java. He’s a father of three children (soon to be four) and works as a realtor, broker and hamster breeder.

Sawangan lies between Wonosobo and Banjarnegara. Located near the Serayu River and surrounded by rice paddies and forests, it’s a perfect place to rest, write or paint. And one month ago, after a hectic week in Yogyakarta, my partner and I decided to go to our humble rented house there, which Yayan had helped us find, and which we had leased for six months.

It takes about three hours from Yogyakarta to Sawangan by bus, passing an area between Mount Sindoro and Mount Sumbing. Accompanied by green landscapes, the blue sky and breathtaking hills along the way, I started to imagine the cups of coffee and long conversations with my partner over the weekend.

However, our idyllic getaway was not to be.

While we had been away, Yayan had leased the house to a mama-san or madam, for her “girls.”

We were surprised when she told us that she had already paid an annual lease fee of Rp 1.5 million ($160) to Yayan, who had not informed us about the change of plans. After a short discussion, we went to Yayan’s house to demand an explanation. Then we decided to meet with the owner of the house to see what could be done.

From the owner, we discovered that the new tenants at the house had been nothing but trouble for his family. The village head had been calling family members and complaining about the prostitution ring at the house and how it had been disturbing the neighborhood.

It was decided that Yayan was the source of all the confusion. After a long discussion, the family agreed to give the house back to my partner and I. They asked Yayan to make the mama-san and her girls move to another place as soon as possible, by whatever means.

That evening, we decided to give Yayan time to arrange everything, but we also wanted to sleep in our own bed. We asked him to tell the mama-san that we wanted to stay with them, but in a separate room. He handled it quite well and we got our room on the second floor that night.

We brought all the things we needed into the room, locked the door, sat side by side, and finally had a big laugh.

As the sky was getting darker, I listened to the crowd downstairs. I heard noisy motorbikes arriving and the sounds from the living room became more lively.

They were talking in Javanese, a language I don’t understand. And three times, I heard a woman and a man talking in another room, probably having just finished their transactions.

As I sat there listening, I started to think how hard life could be for some people. The mama-san and Yayan were just two examples.

At first, I was upset and angry with them. But when I thought about it again, I realized that was just how some people survived.

The mama-san needed money to feed herself and the prostitutes. And Yayan needed money to feed himself, his wife, his children and the baby in his wife’s womb.

Through them, I learned again that life is not cheap, unless one decides to become a hermit and live in a cave. People struggle and take risks to survive in so many ways — from parasites or corruptors, to writers or hairstylists.

I finally fell asleep around 1 a.m., when the madam, the girls and their guests ceased to be so noisy. I woke up late the next morning and decided to go to a literary and philosophy session near Gunung Slamet, still in Central Java, and to stay there until the mama-san and her crew moved out. I packed our things while my partner ordered coffee and food next door. When I said goodbye, the mama-san stopped me.

“Hi mbak , where’s your mas ?” she asked.

“He’s at the warung (street food stall) . We’re going to have some coffee,” I replied.

“Fifty thousand,” she said. “For the room.”

I was stunned. But I chose to laugh. I reminded myself that she needed the money and I told her to go and ask Yayan for it.

Before I stepped out of the house, I said to myself: “Welcome to a weirder-than-fiction reality of Java.”

Your View

See Result