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The commuter train arrived at Juanda station near the State Palace at 12:30 p.m. As the passengers left, they were mobbed by at least 200 men chorusing, “Ojek! Ojek!”

Aris, 30, was one of the men in the mob of motorcycle taxi drivers. He gestured and shouted: “Ojek, Pak! Where are you going? Let me take you!”

“If I am not aggressive enough, I will not get any customers,” he said as he waited for the next train, having failed to snatch a fare this time.

This is the world of the ojek driver, a take-no-prisoners battle to land a rider on the back of your bike, only to then battle the dangers of Jakarta’s crowded streets and hurry back to the station to find another fare.

“Every time I find a space to slip through the traffic, it’s only the size of a human body,” Aris said, describing the narrow gaps ojek drivers find between cars, buses and trucks.

“Sometimes, that’s what the passengers want because they are in a hurry. We are the most practical form of transportation.”

Aris has been doing this for 13 years. Riding a 2006 Yamaha Jupiter MX, he earns about Rp 50,000 ($5) a day, enough to support his wife and two children. His average fare is about Rp 8,000.

His base of operations is Juanda station, where he competes with the other drivers and some 50 bajaj three-wheelers, as well as conventional taxis, Metro Mini buses and the TransJakarta busway. He gets 10 to 15 riders a day on average.

Aris knows that unruly ojeks add to the chaos on Jakarta’s roads — there are something over four million motorcycles in the city — but he has a family to feed and his goal is to move as many people as he can throughout the course of the day.

Nearby is Sony, 32, a bajaj driver. He’s been operating out of the train station since 1996. It remains to be seen how much longer drivers like him will be around, as the days of the creaking, smoke-belching bajaj could be numbered.

Unlike ojeks, bajaj drivers line up for passengers, who pay between Rp 10,000 and Rp 20,000 a ride, depending on the distance.

While some people choose motorcycle taxis because they’re fast, others say the bajajs beat the ojeks on distance and price. “We usually take two passengers, sometimes three. They share the fare so it’s cheaper,” Sony said. “Or they’re alone but have a lot of things to carry.”

A bajaj fare can be higher than a taxi, Sony said. “But taxis usually don’t do short-distance trips. If you go from here to the Istiqlal Mosque, which is just across the road, or to Monas, which is just a few blocks from here, a taxi won’t take you.”

But despite this “captive market,” Sony said he’s earning less money each year, with his average take for a 15-hour day coming to about Rp 40,000, or roughly half of what it was seven years ago.

Driving a bajaj or ojek is a hard way to make a living, but tens of thousands of drivers do it every day.

“They are not a part of the economy, so they have to survive somehow,” says Mohammad Danisworo, chairman of the Center for Urban Design Studies in Bandung. “There’s a conflict between the formal and informal transportation sectors. Informal transport is mobile, cheap — it gets you anywhere.”

Competition among bajaj and ojek drivers is worse than ever. Ojek drivers have an inherent advantage because their vehicles are cheaper to buy and maintain. Bikes can also be bought on credit and almost all ojek drivers own their motorcycles.

Bajaj drivers, however, are unlikely to own their three-wheelers, because at about Rp 25 million for a new one, the cost is prohibitive.

Sukarno, 66, knows this all too well. He’s been driving a bajaj since 1975 and still can’t afford to buy one. Stationed in the Benhil area of Central Jakarta, Sukarno clears Rp 20,000 a day, after paying Rp 55,000 in rent to his boss, who owns the bajaj.

And if he can’t pay the entire rental fee, which he often can’t, what he owes gets added to the next day’s bill. “If after three consecutive days we do not pay the full rent, the boss will take the bajaj back and leave us jobless,” he said.

Competing with more than 20 other drivers, most of them 20 to 30 years younger than him, Sukarno said he only averages about one customer every two hours. But like Sony, he carries on because “this is the only job available.”

There are at least 15,000 bajajs on Jakarta’s streets, according to Nurachman, head of the Jakarta administration’s Communications Office. The city is now replacing the old orange, diesel-burning machines with more eco-friendly models that run on natural gas. But the project isn’t moving quickly because some bajaj owners refuse to purchase the more expensive clean blue bajaj, which cost about Rp 40 million.

In parts of the city that are not as densely populated, ojeks are more efficient and manageable, and the drivers are slightly better off.
At a motorcycle stand near Atma Jaya University, there are 32 ojeks serving the area immediately around the campus. Most of the passengers are students and office workers who live nearby.

“Here we only take passengers from this place to the houses they rent,” said Abdul Razak, leader of the Atma Jaya Ojek Association.

“It takes about 10 minutes on average and the fare is Rp 5,000.”

He said members of the association all earn about the same amount, “because we manage ourselves properly” to avoid cutthroat competition. Here, the drivers try to help direct traffic to avoid becoming a source of congestion.

Bambang Susantono, chairman of the Indonesian Transportation Society, said ojeks didn’t pose a problem if managed properly. “Ojeks deserve to remain in Jakarta. The demand is there. They are needed.”

According to data from the Jakarta Police, there are 23,000 ojeks operating from 628 stations.

Police provide regular training for the drivers to raise awareness about traffic regulations and safety.