Ojek Payung

Feeling my writer’s twitch these days.  I just got home from the mall.  Outside you can hear the constant steady flow of the rain hitting the pavement.  

I was just out studying and meeting up with people, and afterward planning to watch “Little Women” with some friends this afternoon since I had to read the book for the Children’s Literature course I’m taking this term.  

Sidenote: I had watched “Little Women,” based on Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women years ago when it first came out.  I loved the music as well as the story.  I also found out through my literature course that she wrote it based on the members of her own immediate family.  I laughed and cried like a baby over her writing, so you can imagine how I have been itching to see this movie.  I wanted to wait the rain out but it has been raining for a good hour, and I was determined at all costs to get home.  

Besides my incredibly handy Eddie Bauer rain jacket (from the last post) that I remembered to stuff in my bag, I needed another option for a way home.  The rain has been pouring down in sheets and of course today would be the day that I chose to wear a white skirt.  As I was walking to the exit, I found a group of rag-tag kids hanging out with their golf-sized umbrellas, pleading with customers leaving the mall to rent their umbrellas.  Ojek payung, we call them.  I am not sure what the word ojek means, but I have the feeling that it has to do with rental, because we use the term ojek for motorcyclists who rent the backseat of their motorbike to willing riders.  Payung means umbrella (it also means umbrella in Tagalog, which is what my parents speak at home).  

I was trying to figure out which willing soul I would choose to take me home in the rain.  Normally when the umbrella is rented, the renter holds the umbrella for themselves and the child walks behind.  I used to really pity these children, and in some ways I still do because I can’t believe that they would subject themselves barefoot to the elements (the rain and the cold).  

At the same time, time has allowed me to see that these children do have a choice.  They choose to be out in the rain and they are little business people in the works, choosing to be industrious and make some money when the opportunity presents itself.  

I ended up singling out the smallest boy, holding an umbrella that used to be white, with black lettering on it.  His friends rushed at the sight of my advance and I shooed them off with my arm.  When they saw the boy that I chose, some taunted him.  One had the audacity to kick him so that he fell and hit the pillar close to where he had been standing.  You can imagine my indignation, and I pulled out my “teacher”and stared daggers at the culprit.  “Jangan,” (Don’t) I said, staring him straight in the eyes.  He smiled at me like I was joking.  Except he couldn’t know how wrong he was.  “Bilang ma’af” (Say sorry), I said, still staring at him.  “Ma’af,” he said, still smiling like it was a joke.  I wanted to “box his ears,” like Louisa May Alcott might put it.  But I also wanted to get home.  So off we went.  

I made my new little friend walk with me under the umbrella, probably to his surprise.  “Umurnya berapa?” I started out (How old are you?) “Sembilan,” he said (Nine).  I wanted to ask him what he wanted to be when he grew up, but I couldn’t remember how.  I was also concentrating on how to wade home carefully through the ankle high puddles that we encountered.  “Namanya siapa, kamu?” (What’s your name?) He said that his name was Rendi.  I had a student named Rendi for two years in K1 and K2 so I told him that.  I also asked him “Suka hujan?” (Do you like the rain?) and he said that he did.  “Punya saudara?” (Do you have brothers and sisters?) and he told me that he did and there were too many to count.  

I wish that there was more that I knew to say to him.  But I was thankful that this little boy was willing to take me back to my home, where I am writing from now.  He was shivering and I didn’t want him to go back out in the rain, but I knew he was happy to go back to it.  The going rate from Supermal to my apartment is probably anywhere from Rp 2000-3000 but all I had on me was a Rp 20,000 and I never meant to ask him for change.  

It’s 4:09 PM now, and Sassha is here now (for those of you who know her; and for those of you who don’t, she is a friend we know from here).  We are waiting for Jennifer, my colleague, to come with the movie we have eagerly awaited for.  It’s not raining anymore.  I hope that Rendi can dry off soon now that the skies have cleared and that he’ll put that money to some industrious use.  Thanks for reading.