In May 1998 you wrote "we shrugged fatalistically and carried on with our lives."
As an epilogue to your account would you like to update the above or repeat it?
If the fatalistic sentiment was true of you and others in 1998 after such a sudden occasion why does the phrase sound to me more like you were on the verge off it anyway? If Im right what was the thing(s) in the first 10 years of your stay here that made you feel fatalistic?
Marriage? The feeling of being a mere observer ~ tied to a salary, too old to be a student, not an Indonesian?
But then, if you've been reading the Post recently, you'll have noted how very few of those student activists have not been co-opted.
Prominent public leaders, such as Amien Rais, were already part of the establishment. There was, in fact, no way that this revolution would see a fundamental shift in Indonesian life.
There may be an electoral democracy now, but life isn't any better for the majority, is it?
I dont mean to trivialise feelings but the movie 'The Year of Living Dangerously' is evocative and interesting, perhaps superficial, set in the Indonesian unrest in the 60's but helped along by Peter Weir et al and a rather young Sigourney W & Mel G.
Excellent stuff jakartass, I am thoroughly enjoying your (and Indcoup's) recollections, I didn't arrive in Jakarta for a few years after '98 but even in far distant Blighty the story was penetrating my conciousness despite the fact that at that time I would have been unable to place Indonesia on a map if you'd paid me.
It seems to me that for Jakarta people the events of May '98 are a turning point that is still very fresh to this day. I get the impression that prior to then Jakarta was, for locals and expats alike, a thriving thrusting brash modern city where a certain carefree attitude existed. It came as a complete shock to discover that behind the bright shiny office blocks and shopping malls and all the grinning "hello meesters!" there lurked such primordial violence.
Since those days Jakartans appear to be like the villagers around Mount Merapi; you still want to live on the slopes, it's where your home is and it's where you feel comfortable but you can't ignore the constant rumblings and puffs of smoke, it's in your conciousness all the time that some day you just might need to make a rapid exit.
Or to mix my metaphors further the May '98 riots are like an occasion when a friendly house trained pet dog suddenly turned and bit a big chunk out of your leg before resuming his slumber on the hearth rug. You still have him about the place, you still like him and you want to keep him, but you never forget what happened and at the back of your mind you wonder "could it happen again?".
My account is now up.
http://indcoup.blogspot.com/
cheers...
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