Gender inequality in Indonesia

At our company we're very fortunate to have some excellent managerial staff. They possess strength of character and common sense, are ethical, and can be relied upon to take responsibility and demonstrate leadership.

Of course, we also have managers who are at the opposite end of the leadership spectrum - lazy, lacking basic common sense, prone to fraud and corruption, have no problem solving skills, and abrogate responsibility.

The first category of manager, without exception, are female.

So, despite (or in spite of) the fact that Islamic societies appear to advantage to men over women, female managers in Indonesia have risen above that, and in this blogger's opinion (and no doubt the opinion of others) are highly preferred for senior management roles in this country.

How was your weekend?

Many of you probably watched the World Cup on TV, went shopping, played golf or spent time with family or friends. As for me, I spent much of the weekend in my office. Now, don't get me wrong - I'm not a workaholic, however I didn't leave the office for 30 hours straight, and even slept a couple of hours at my desk. I thought about going home a couple of times, but didn't get much more than ten steps out of the building before I decided to go back to my office.

Am I crazy? Not at all. My lengthy stay in the office this weekend was all because 1500 of our staff decided it would be a good idea to lock myself and a few other colleagues in the building overnight, to show their displeasure over a decision that was made earlier in the week. We even made the television news ...

Not content to occupy the property, make lots of noise, and call for the dismissal of senior managers, our striking employees brought their own padlocks to the site, and proceeded to lock all exits from the outside, just in case we were tempted to go home to our families for the weekend. Of course, our in-house security excelled in their responsibilities, with their security skills far better suited to opening doors for guests at a large hotel.

After making a few phone calls, we were eventually joined by sundry Chiefs and Deputy Chiefs of Police, several bus loads of riot police, the Indonesian Secret Service, and a team of scary "heavies" waiting in reserve if needed. Various foreign embassies also had personnel on standby. After our earlier undermanned attempts at extrication during the night, the mass of fancy third world uniforms and important looking officials was apparently sufficiently convincing enough to the demonstrators, and the Police were able to clear a path through the mob quite easily, some 30 hours after I had arrived at the office on Friday.

Today, everything is back to normal, and our staff are all back at work as if nothing had ever happened. Of course, we'll be flat out this week writing cheques to pay the Police and others who "assisted" in resolving the issue.

Medical Miracles

There are at least two amazing medical miracles relating to eating food in Indonesia - the common roadside warung, and the more "upmarket" masakan Padang genre of restaurant. Both are miracles due to the fact that people can eat there on a daily basis without dying from any number of illnesses from e.coli or salmonella.

Many warung diners take precautions by bringing their own bowl, or having their food served on a layer of paper, but that doesn't account for the thrillseekers who happily eat from the warung's crockery, which five minutes earlier was being washed in the same drain running behind the warung that several hundred children and adults have used as a call to nature during the day within a vicinity of 50 metres of the warung. Seasoned expats claim that the only way to build up resistance to these risks is to take your chances, so that if you survive your first bout of gastrointestinal troubles you'll have enough antibodies in your system that you won't get ill again. I have my doubts, but that strategy certainly appears to work for the local population.

On the other hand, masakan Padang restaurants offer a dim sum style of buffet meal featuring the cuisine of the Minangkabau people from Padang, Sumatra. It's very spicy food served at room temperature, with plates of the actual food you'll be choosing from on display all day in the front window of the non-air conditioned restaurant. I don't know about you, but I was always told that cooked food left to sit at room temperature is the most efficient way to generate nasty salmonella bacteria, so it beats me why people don't arrive home after eating at a masakan Padang restaurant and immediately drop dead.

When did the Greeks visit?

As you drive past ridiculously huge mansions in Pondok Indah, or observe construction of new office buildings progressing as you gaze out from your traffic-bound vehicle each day, have you ever wondered why Greek architecture is so popular in Jakarta? It beats the hell out of me too, since I fail to understand why a couple of Doric columns flanking your front door is equated with opulence or style by Indonesian builders. Certainly, "big is better" for wealthy Indonesians, especially in the hair department, so perhaps a 10 meter Grecian column or four in the front garden is the ultimate status symbol for the privileged elite.

Time marches on, albeit very slowly

Why do jewelry stores in Indonesia sell watches? (and why do Indonesians wear them?) Why do Indonesian cell phones, computers, cars or microwave ovens have clocks built-in? Do the guys selling fake Rolex watches outside Soekarno-Hatta airport ever find a buyer?

"Indonesian time" is quite possibly the most prominent national characteristic that distinguishes this country from others. Business meetings that should normally take an hour end up taking double that time, with the first 30 minutes spent waiting for attendees to wander in, and the last 30 minutes spent prolonging the meeting because nobody wants to be on time for their next meeting. With Jakarta traffic being as mind-numbing as it is, it's understandably nigh impossible to plan on arriving at your next destination at the appointed time, but for people who are already at the office safe from further traffic delays, it still begs belief that people can't journey 20 meters down the hallway in time for a meeting without being 30 minutes late.

One thing is for sure, if patience was not one of your strengths before coming to Indonesia, it certainly will be by the time you return home. "Indonesian time" is certainly a character building experience.

Then again, I could always rig up a 1000 watt public address system through the office, and employ someone who would be responsible for performing a "call to meeting" 30 minutes before scheduled meetings. Of course, if the meeting room TV was always on, with some fresh roti and gado gado on the conference table, the meeting room would be packed all day.

Go fly a kite

It's common for people to describe Jakarta's weather as having two seasons - the "wet" and the "dry". In reality, it can rain any time of the year, so it's difficult to define when one season ends and the next begins. However, the easiest way to define the seasons here in Jakarta is to call them the "wet" season and the "kite" season. You can tell when most of the seasonal rains have disappeared when the skies are full of homemade kites fashioned from bamboo satay skewers and any kind of paper or plastic sheeting close at hand. Some fishing line or, more often, a fragile cotton line completes the project.

On any given day during the drier season you'll see kites flying all over Jakarta, at various altitudes, and as you drive around the sprawling metropolis you can count literally hundreds (and probably thousands, if you had the inclination to continue counting) of stranded kites hanging forlornly from trees, electrical wiring, television antennas and roofs.

Each weekend I recover several kites, some of which have been lovingly decorated, from my roof, upstairs verandah, and water tank tower, for redistribution to the kids who live in the adjacent kampung. Within 5 minutes the same kites are flying once again, and usually by the end of the day a couple of the kites have been marooned once again either on, or within view, of our house.

The wet season has gone, long live the kite season!