Anger now pumping the necessary amount of adrenalin, he continued. “Who the fuck are you to get on my case anyway?” he demanded, his hackles rising as he started to move out of his seat; aware that his temper had taken control of his better judgment but did not care, as his head ached, his stomach was in turmoil and now he was faced with some sanctimonious bastard who was having a bad day and quite obviously prepared to take it out on the new boy. It was not lost on Stephen that part of his response was in retaliation to being reprimanded within earshot of the young woman just outside the Secretary’s door.
Suddenly, he was determined. ‘If this arsehole wants to get his jollies off berating others within earshot of his staff then he can find someone else to take a shot at, and now!’ he decided. He leaped to his feet and started to leave the office, when the secretary outside leaned across and closed the door brusquely, not even giving him a second look.
“Get back here, Coleman!” the voice barked. “Sit down and shut up.” He was about to respond when Cornish raised his open palm and glared at the newcomer not to talk. “Just shut up and listen,” he said.
Shaking with anger Stephen turned and glared at the First Secretary who was standing behind his desk, his anger obvious. Moments passed. He shook his head in disgust and returned to the seat.
“I am sick to death of seeing you young upstarts coming up here and carrying on as if you were the proverbial gift to whatever it is these days. You have only been here two days and already you are in shit up to your eyeballs.”
Coleman sat still, listening partly out of shock and partly also because he was captivated by this man’s performance.
“What the hell,” the First Secretary continued and then, with a sigh of exasperation, pulled a cigarette from the box of Rothman filters and offered the packet to his new assistant. “Man, did I cop a bollocking because of you when I came in this morning,” he said, his voice having dropped its venom. “Ten minutes with the boys out the back threatening to down grade our security in this section did not, I assure you young Coleman, offer the best start to my day!” He leaned back in the chair, placed his hands behind his neck and, with the cigarette still hanging from the side of his mouth, blew smoke from the other side contemptuously. “They will want to see you in fifteen minutes so I guess we’d best get on with the rest of the introductions.”
Stephen still sat there, stunned. He didn’t even know what the hell he had done but decided to wait for the ‘boys out the back’ to enlighten him as the atmosphere in the room was still hostile.
“Okay, thanks,” he offered, “sorry about the outburst.”
The older officer stared directly at his assistant’s eyes for what seemed an eternity before unclasping his hands and leaning across the desk. He held his hand out which Stephen readily grasped, relieved that the bumpy start had a chance of being overcome. It was only then that it also dawned on Stephen that this man either had two offices or he had misheard Dicky point out the First Secretary’s desk in the adjacent section. He was about to ask when there was a brief knock, the door opened and, not waiting for permission to enter, Margaret stuck her head into the room and said, “Time to move, boss, the animals need feeding,” with which she left the door ajar and Cornish beckoned to Coleman to follow.
Turning to the others sitting around the larger office he said, “Listen up, everyone, this is Stephen Coleman. He will be on our team but will be seated outside until we can come to some other arrangements. He’s coming with me now to the zoo so don’t raid my stocks while I’m away!” with which he half waved while there were audible responses such as ‘Hi, Steve’and ‘Welcome, mate’, but the one which caused him to be even more curious than ever was the girl’s voice as she called back to her boss. “The animals sound hungry boss, better tell Stephen, to keep his hands in his pockets!” which attracted several guffaws from the men.
He followed his new superior back through the maze of doors and corridors towards the reception and consulate offices. Leading off in another direction from the area he had just visited was yet another passageway which led into a small guest area containing a number of chairs, coffee tables and book racks, creating an atmosphere not dissimilar to that of a dentist’s or doctor’s reception. There was a buzzer positioned at almost eye level above which the instructions advised those requiring to enter need only to push the button twice. They did so and were ushered into an area which contained at least a dozen offices, each tagged with the occupant’s name, rank and official position, and a warning that access was strictly for authorized personnel only.
Stephen was taken around the outer office first and introduced to the three non-commissioned officers who acted as personal assistants to each of the three Military Attachés. He was then taken in to meet the attachés, one by one. He observed that all desks had been cleared of files and loose documents.
There was one remaining office apart from the others which had no designated name or any other information to identify the occupant. Only the warning regarding unauthorized entry was evident on the door. Peter Cornish knocked and waited. When the door was finally opened, the tall man extended his hand to the surprised Coleman.
“Welcome to the Zoo,” said a smiling John Anderson.
During the following days he met most of the remaining members of the embassy staff. Their reception was warm and Stephen was amused to discover that he was the only fluent Indonesian speaking Australian in the Embassy. Most of the others had acquired a smattering of what sounded to Coleman’s ear to be basic kitchen pidgin. However, he reminded himself not to be overly critical as he understood only too well the problems these Australians would have experienced taking up temporary residence in a country where even most of the local inhabitants used their national language poorly, not to mention the absence of spoken English.
Where possible the Australian Embassy had purchased or rented houses in adjacent suburbs. He had not expected a palace neither had be been provided with one. Jalan Sidoardjo, Number Two, consisted of a one bedroom apartment-sized home surrounded by high brick and bamboo walls. The sliding iron gate was so heavy that the jaga appeared close to rupturing something each time he was required to provide access to the garage. The previous tenant had apparently used only embassy hire vehicles and was not particularly concerned with security. Previous guests were obliged to park their cars outside where there should have been a curb had the government of Jakarta both understood the necessity for such conveniences and, of course, the funding to build such infrastructure.
The area where he was now domiciled was known as Menteng. The homes were all of Dutch vintage and desperately in need of care. Lawns were practically non-existent as servants could never bring themselves to understand the reasoning for growing grass around one’s house, cutting it regularly then throwing the cuttings away. You could not eat it and the effort in maintaining fine grass in the tropics was excessive. As a result, houses in Jakarta rarely had lawns but, instead, cleanly swept areas of dirt which, when the tuan was away, always managed to double-up as a badminton court.
Coleman inherited three servants. This did not include the jaga whose basic function was to provide security around the quarters. As the driver carried his suitcases into the house the servants ran around bowing and wishing him welcome. They had already heard of his linguistic ability. Surely life would be much easier with this new tuan who could actually speak to them avoiding the confusion which reigned with the previous tenant! He spoke to them for a few minutes and then set about familiarizing himself with the house. The jaga , an East Javanese, presented poorly. His demeanour was arrogant and Coleman identified the product of too close an association between employer and employee. Several questions to the cook confirmed his suspicions. The previous tuan
had been dependent on the jaga for his girl supply and often shared his liquor with the man. Stephen discharged him immediately to the dismay of the other servants. A replacement was found within the hour.
Another problem was the fasting period. He had arrived the week the