Chinese New Year

Until a few years ago, Jakarta was a center of conflict between the native, Javanese, population and the ethnic Chinese, or Chong-Hua. I don’t know all the details, but I do know that, across Indonesia, Chinese shop keepers were targeted, harassed, and killed. Celebrations of the Chinese New Year, although not technically illegal, were not acknowledged by the government, or by non-Chong-Hua citizens. People had to celebrate privately in their homes.

In the last few years, this has changed. Ethnic conflict has subsided (I wish I knew why; I don’t), and the Indonesian government has formally acknowledged Chinese New Year as one of its many national holidays. As we get all national holidays off in the SC-UK office, I had the day to play with. Alister and I decided to go down to Jakarta’s China Town, Glodok, to see what we could see.

We took the bus down to the old city, Kota, where people had thought things might be happening. There was nothing there. No decorations, no signs, no more people than normal waiting around. There was a very cute kitten. We asked one of the bus watchmen if anything was going on, and he gestured generally up the road towards Glodok, and said he thought something was happening up there. We headed up the road towards the Glodok market, which we had driven past on the bus. The market was one of those covered markets that sells everything. There were clothing stands, hair and accessory stands, medicine stands, pirated DVD stands, candy stands, and, as we got further into the market, Chinese New Year accessory stands. These stands were gold and red, and sold things that shined and flashed and sparkled for Chinese New Year. The people who I asked seemed to know that something was going on for the new year, but had only a vague idea where. We wandered through the market, emerging on the other side, and followed these general directions.

We found ourselves wandering through the back streets of the “village” of Glodok. This part of Jakarta reminded me more than anywhere else I have been in Indonesia. The small back streets were outlined by nasty smelling parit, or open gutters. The houses are all next to each other, without spaces, and start right on the street. At the end of the road are food carts, almost identical to those found in Kemang, my fancier part of town, and platforms where men hang out and talk to each other when there is nothing else to do. I spoke to one man who was taking care of his fighting cocks. He told me all about how he bathes them everyday, trains them, and feeds them meat and eggs.

After some more wandering and questions, Alister and I found our way to a Chinese temple, full of people. Outside of a temple were flower sellers, selling beautiful little bouquets. Inside, there was a first courtyard, completely full of people. Most were all sitting, looking towards one of the temples. The place was full of energy and little kids and ice cream sellers, and generally did not feel like my impression of a religious ceremony. Also, very few of the people looked ethnically Chinese, and none were dressed up. Walking between these seated people and the largest temple was a steady flow of ethnically Chinese people, dressed nicely. Alister and I walked around for a bit, and tried to figure out what was going on. I asked one of the kids selling ice cream what was happening. He told me that the hundreds of people who were sitting in the open courtyard were all beggars. At the end of the day, he told me, money that was being collected from the worshippers would be divided amongst them, and so they were waiting. As Alister and I went into the confines of the main temple, we could see that there were big bowls of money being collected at the gates. We dropped some money into the bowls.

Inside the main temple’s courtyard, there were many more people. The heat was intense. Everyone was carrying huge handfuls of incense. In that courtyard, there were bonfires where incense was put when its real holder became full. While most of the people were worshiping, there were also a lot of people that looked like Indonesian tourists. They were mostly college aged kids, with huge cameras. They were wandering in and out of the temples, and made it quite comfortable for Alister and me to use our little digital cameras. The temple felt quite unlike any other place in Indonesia I have been. It felt more like Malaysia, maybe, where the Chinese population is a large and well-respected. It did feel like we had fallen into the middle of a scripted movie about the exotic east.

Alister and I went inside the main temple. Inside, there were at least 50 human-sized candles lit. The smoke, both from the candles and the incense that people were carrying, made everyone tear up, and wipe their eyes and cover their mouths as they went from alter to alter. In between the worshipers were more people with cameras. Throughout the temple, people went from alter to alter, placing their incense in bronze jars. Workers came every few minutes to collect the incense and throw it into bonfires across the temple grounds. By the time we left the temple, neither Alister nor I could really breathe or see.

By that point, we were exhausted from the heat. We left the confines of the temple to get something to drink. We found a guy who sold young coconuts, and had one.

We had originally come with hopes of seeing the Barongsai, or dancing dragon, but we were told (more than once) that this normally happened 15 days after the Chinese New Year. There were a number of little kids I was talking to who thought it was going to be that day as well, and we were all disappointed together. But Alister and I decided to go and explore the area, and see what we could see of Glodok.

So, we started off, pretty much at random. We saw a monkey show, where a band plays music and they get a poor dressed up monkey to dance around. We continued on, and found the largest pile of rambutans for sale that I have ever seen. They were also not just red, but a vibrant green. We continued down the back village paths until we came to the market that we had found our way through earlier. This market made me very happy. The amount of things, and people, and the thrown-together-ness of it made me think of the market in Putussibau, one of the towns near where I lived in Kalimantan. And there was such food. I was able to get Bakpao, a rice four dumpling (?) with delicious fillings, which I had previously only been able to find in Malaysia. Then we continued across the road, and found an entire run-down mall devoted to pirated DVDs. If anyone wants any of the new movies, and doesn’t mind copyright infringement, let me know. Then we headed back through a food market (where you could buy shrimp as large as your hand; I have never seen such shrimp), and back to the temple. The ceremonies were still continuing, but there was no sign of the Barongsai. Ah well. I guess he will be out in two weeks.

Today is off for another day off, for Islamic New Year. This is much more a traditional day with family, and so there are no celebrations for me to tourist at. So, I am taking the day to read and write. I am, right now, sitting on my front porch with my laptop. It is rainy season, and it feels like it is about to pour, any moment. I hope it does soon. I love the massive, drenching rainstorms. Since I am home, I am wearing a tank top, and put my hair up in bunched up piggy tales, with melati (jasmine?) flowers in my hair, I can smell them when the wind blows right. Later on to some work, and then ultimate frisbee.

The inside of one of the less busy temples.  

People waiting outside for their ang-pao, or money that is traditionally handed out on the new year.  

A very quiet part of the covered market.  

The faces of people as they watched the monkey show. 

A fighting cock, who, by the looks of his feathers, did not do well in his last fight.