We were coming down the rainy road just east of Palu. Adnan was anxious. He hadn't seen his recently impregnated girlfriend/future wife in a couple weeks. Moments before the accident, Ben asked prophetically "Why are we going so fast?" We were passing a huge truck on our left. It sped up as we started to pass it. Then a motorcyclist appeared before us, and unwaveringly headed directly at us. Adnan could have slowed down and slid behind the truck. But he opted to speed up for the pass. We passed, and then started swerving out of control. Once to the right, then to the left... In my mind, I was thinking 'what the heck is this guy doing?' I didn't realize we were veering out of control! Then we flipped and the car started to slide on its side. We took out someone's front fence in the process. Luckily, nobody was injured. I found myself sitting on Suroso. In talking to his relatives, Adnan later mused how he was surprised the seatbelt held him suspended after the crash. Ben immediately asked if we were alright. He couldn't believe nothing had happened and we were unscathed.
Our immediate worry was tugging the car out of the gutter, and flipping it over. I tried in vain to find my left slipper. The whole left side was banged up, and the tires were flat. We had a very quiet deflated ride through the rain back into town. On our way, we passed a nasty motorcycle accident: pool of blood and an anonymous body strewn across the asphalt. A gruesome reminder how lucky we were to be alive, and how death can strike in such meaningless and ridiculous ways.
Adnan had to pay $1000 to cover the costs of repair. A daunting figure considering he was paid 4 dollars a day to work. He now had to drive up 5 hours a day for 1 month for free to help pay off his accident. Regardless, Ben's first priority was eating. As as we devoured tasty barbecued fish (ikan bakar) that night.... Adnan just watched us - -he could barely swallow what had happened to his life that night.
With Adnan:
He was a muslim boogeyman. In traveling with Adnan, we got a personal perspective into the average Indonesian's financial situation. He made 10,000 rp or 4 dollars a day. The average wage in Indonesia is 3,000 rp or $1.25. There seemed to be no middle class in Indonesia. Either the people were poor or rich. Telephones, travel, schooling, flushable toilets, electricity, running water were all luxuries. While we were touring the far reaches of Sulawesi, Java, and Bali, most Indonesians couldn't even afford to travel within their own island. However, surviving on minimum wage was easy because the food and housing costs were miniscule.
Adnan was 26 years old, and his mother a young 40. His father had already passed away. The family lived in Malaysia for 8 years because Adnan's father was a contractor there. Adnan spent his early work years inspecting chocolate in chocolate farms, and harvesting limes from trees. He was the eldest of a surprisingly varied family. One brother was a rice farmer, another in the army, another a doctor.
He brought me to his mother's house in Soppeng-- the rice heartland of Sulawesi. There, by the river, his mother lived alone in a wood house. On their porch, she dried tamarind seeds from the tamarind trees outside their door. The boogeymen build their houses on stilts because they're afraid of wildlife (ie., snakes). In the morning, the chickens under the boogeymen houses would call out to each other. Their calls would relay back and forth like a circuit through the entire village. A very stereophonic and memorable wakeup call. There was no electricity in the house, and Adnan kept promising his mother electricity once he became rich.
At one point, I went with him alone around Southern Sulawesi getting macaque hair samples. Here I was, 22 years old, ordering poor 26 year old Adnan where to drive and how to drive. And he would drive up to 8 hours a day over exhausting windy mountain rods. At one point, he burst out and told me he wanted to quit driving and return home and work for himself. I told him compassionately he chose the wrong profession and that sedentary work is more suitable for him.
Having talked to many people who said they were 'miskin' or impoverished.... their lives were not as bad as they claimed. Although the people were dirt poor, they had a wealth of personal relationships and experiences to fall back upon; the nuclear and extended family and friends could all be counted on. Their life was relaxed, unlike American's. Out of the fraction of the population that did work, most occupied their time playing cards, talking, and smoking. It was not uncommon to see many people just passing their days away sitting on the porch or under bamboo stands. Here I can call my friend at an investment banking firm at 10 PM Sunday night. He is busy working his 100 hour weeks. Can life be any more meaningful than slaving away at Microsoft excel spreadsheets all day? Although here there are conveniences and untold material opportunities, spiritual life can waste away in lost emptiness.
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