Visiting Kampung Kebon DJahe Kober

It's a long weekend for me: tomorrow is Indonesia's Independence Day and Monday will be a public holiday. I had decided to spent the holiday researching on Pramoedya Ananta Toer's Jakarta of the 1950s.

In the short story "My Kampung" from the collection, Tales from Djakarta, Pramoedya painted a grim picture of inhabitants in a shanty dwelling "five hundred meters in a straight line" from the Presidential Palace called Kebun Djahe Kober. Here death and disease are everyday occurences and the daily topic of conversation is "who died?".

Pramoedya narrates in a sardonic tone, the squalor and suffering of life in Kampung Kebon Djahe Kober where the Angel of Death, Djibril is described as a regular visitor to the kampung--his appearance signaling the departure of another unlucky soul from this world.

I had carefully studied my maps to pinpoint the exact location of Kampung Kebon Djahe Kober. And this morning I took an ojek to Tanah Abang, where I found what's left of the village, located just next to an old Dutch graveyard. I had also found out earlier that "Kober" in the Betawi dialect actually derives from the word "kubur" or graveyard. Pramoedya masterfully chose Kebon Djahe Kober to make an oblique commentary on life in a typical ramshackled urban village--so common in Jakarta--and whose inhabitants literally lives in close proximity with Death.

Kebon Djahe today, consists of 3 gangs or narrow alleys. I wandered among the alleyways which are lined with smelly gutters and chanced upon an old man who was making birdcages. I started a conversation with him and I soon found out that Pak Rachmat, 70 years of age is actually the oldest person in the village. I marvelled at my good fortune: I couldn't ask for a better person to learn about the history of Kampung Kebon Djahe Kober.

Pak Rachmat was very eager to share his recollections of old Jakarta. He invited me into his small little compartment of a house where he had successfully raised eight of his nine children (one of them died). We talked animatedly about many things: the old electric tram service in Jakarta, the canals where everyone used to bathe publicly, the Gestapu incident and what a great leader Bung Karno (Sukarno) was.

His hospitality touched me deeply. We exchanged addresses and before I begged my leave, I promised to visit him again. I had earlier made an appointment with Setiawan to pick me up from there to go on a photo-shooting excursion to Monas. When we left, Pak Rachmat was standing--looking gangly in his shorts and worn-out shirt--waving us goodbye.

I feel happy that the Angel of Death, Djibril does not visit Kampung Kebon Djahe Kober that frequently these days. And I pray it will be many many more years before he makes that inevitable appointment with Pak Rachmat.