Coleman found this desire for Western identification totally in conflict with the paranoia towards imported customs which, he had read, still persisted at senior government levels. Indonesia had severed all diplomatic ties with mainland China, accusing them of precipitating the abortive coup d’etat . Hundreds of thousands of Chinese fled the country taking with them the very funds the economy so desperately needed to continue to operate.
The Post Report and other economic data made available prior to his departure were all very negative. Inflation was out of control. The rupiah was devaluing on the black market at a rate of twenty percent each week. American dollars were in great demand. Communications were practically non-existent. The country was on the verge of economic collapse.
Coleman pondered these things. In his capacity as a Second Secretary, Australian News and Information Bureau, his effectiveness would be reduced considerably due to the absence of modern communication facilities. Urgent messages were dispatched by telegram through the PTT which often required several days before delivery could be effected. These difficulties were further exacerbated by the government’s inability to provide a constant supply of electricity. The PLN, Perusahaan Listrik Negara, often had major power failures for days on end severing communications domestically and internationally. The Embassy provided each of its staff with diesel generator backup systems -essential to the preservation of meat and occasional dairy supplies which managed to survive shipment via the harbour of Tanjung Priok.
Living under these conditions was a demanding task for foreigners. To operate effectively one required patience, cunning and stamina supported by almost unlimited financial reserves to survive the corruption, disease and frustration of day-to-day existence. The older expatriates would caution newcomers with regards to their health.
Disease was rife, ranging from the plague, cholera and all forms of hepatitis, to the more common ‘revenge’series of disorders such as the bug, Soekarno’s revenge; the bug had successfully permeated Jakarta’s drinking supplies. The Koki, or cooks’ revenge, was a similar bug caused by the unsanitary habits of the domestic staff and it was often the more devastating of the two. And then, of course, there was the frightening venereal wart which expatriate wives claimed was their revenge on unfaithful husbands. These excrescences grew to a huge size and were common amongst Jakarta’s one hundred and twenty thousand prostitutes or kupu-kupu malam, the night butterflies, as they called themselves.
Coleman had suffered the discomforting after effects from the mandatory series of injections prior to his departure. The gamma-globulin was painful and, disappointingly, had proven ineffective to many who had suffered the long needles. His cholera and typhoid cocktail shots had caused light fevers and swelling during his final weeks in Melbourne.
Albert had been sympathetic but insisted that, even with the added protection of these injections, Coleman should never drink un-boiled water in Indonesia. Asians are often shy and avoid describing ablutionary problems to Westerners. Coleman could now understand Albert’s reluctance to describe the filth he now observed before him. The open storm drain which ran east to west under the roundabout towards the hotel was crowded with Java’s itinerants. What the foreigners’ minds did not wish to comprehend, their senses were obliged to perceive as the sight of becak drivers squatting on the edge of the kali , defecating alongside women washing their clothes while others bathed, was all too real.
There were no public ablution blocks in Indonesia, this former Dutch and temporary British colony, yet it contained the world’s largest Moslem population, which required its followers to clean before each of the five daily prayer periods. Coleman was reminded of his error in using a Moslem supplication during his early days with Albert. The Timorese were Christian and despised the Islamic teachings. He acknowledged his debt to the guru. There was no doubt in his mind as to the real reason for his success in studying the language. He had been informed that due to the political crisis in Indonesia his posting was to be effective immediately upon completion of the final examinations. He had excelled. Each evening he had spent hours with Albert and their relationship had quickly grown beyond that of student to guru . His vocabulary and style improved in fluency until he felt almost as comfortable in Bahasa Indonesia as he was in his own tongue.
Mary never accompanied them whenever they left the campus. Albert would attempt to explain the Asian philosophy by taking Coleman on field trips to farms, where in-situ exposure to agricultural life could be utilized to teach him the more delicate interpretations of idiomatic usage.
“Never forget, Mas Koesman, Indonesia is and always will be an agrarian state. It is therefore imperative for the complete linguist to first of all understand those things which are of most importance to the people. Europeans have little knowledge of our staple food. Rice. As you have now learned, we use a variety of terms to describe the state of that mystical crop. We do not call it just rice. You may consider me a pedant. I am not. Nor am I attempting a lesson in semantics, for rice to Asians is life and life is God’s gift to us. It therefore follows that, to a logical Asian mind, rice is a life form with its own soul. You must understand that, for Asians, acceptance of animism is common and is often intertwined with religious philosophy to become one belief. There are no rules governing what man should accept unto himself in terms of personal belief. Those barriers exist only within religious dogma itself.”
Coleman had listened intently. In a country as populous as Indonesia, it was obviously a mammoth undertaking to feed the newborn millions each year.
“Do other basic crops command similar respect and therefore name changes from planting to consumption?” he had asked.
“Only some, and not in Indonesia, however I would expect so in China. Those people will eat anything.”
The student was now accustomed to the occasional slight directed at the Chinese, for even a Christian Timorese who had grown up in poverty could still be expected to harbour some animosity towards the more affluent members of the community. The Asian staff at the school rarely proffered political opinions nor did they openly cast aspersions on other ethnic groups. Albert’s comment was merely indicative of just how close the two had grown. Their time together had been mutually rewarding.
Stephen might have viewed their friendship differently had he known that Albert had forwarded his name to the Chief of Indonesian Intelligence — Nathan Seda. Albert felt satisfied that he had fulfilled his ongoing commitment to Nathan by advising him of students’ names, military background, and postings upon course completion. He felt little remorse for these people were occidental and could not begin to understand the orientals’ obligation to family. The mere suggestion of threat to his father and family was sufficient motivation for Albert. One is born with a greater loyalty than friendship and this was enforced by his belief, thou shalt honour thy father and thy mother.
He did not look on what he had done as disloyalty, but he did not deny that his strengthening bond of friendship with the young Australian tempted him to confide in Stephen.
His predicament had no immediate solution. To divulge his secret to Coleman and trust him not to alert the authorities was too much to demand of any friendship. On the other hand, once in Jakarta, his friend could convince Nathan of Albert’s impossible position. These alternatives frequently crossed Albert’s mind; however he feared that an officer such as Coleman would be obliged to inform his superiors if he became aware of Albert’s extra curricular activities. He had, wisely, discarded the idea.
They had parted at the end of the course with feelings of