Pengungsi di Jepang

Original post February 2008.

Salah satu pertanyaan dari teman saya apakah di Jepang ada gelandangan. Jawabnya, tentu saja ada.

Tadi saya baru dari stasiun kereta api bawah tanah. Letaknya yang beberapa lantai dibawah dan tertutup menjadikan tempat ini cocok untuk berlindung dari angin musim dingin. Saya lihat beberapa  bapak-bapak, berjaket lusuh, sedang duduk mengobrol bersandar di tembok. Seperti kebanyakan orang Jepang lainnya, mereka tidak acuh, asyik sendiri dengan kegiatannya. Salah seorang duduk terpisah di anak tangga yang saya naiki, asyik membaca koran dengan sepatunya dilepas.

Kecuali di Akihabara, saya memang tidak pernah melihat orang disini meminta-minta (mengemis)*. Seperti kata mbak daun singkong, mungkin mereka tau orang lain juga punya kesusahan sendiri-sendiri. Kalau saya pikir, mungkin karena mereka tidak mau berurusan dengan polisi. Meminta-minta dan membuat orang lain merasa terganggu bisa membuat mereka diusir bahkan dipenjara. Atau, memang pada dasarnya gelandangan (tramp) berbeda dengan pengemis (beggar).

Tempat tinggal memang bisa jadi urusan runyam di negeri ini. Saat ini ribuan orang sudah menjadi "internet/manga cafe refugee", yaitu mereka yang tidak sanggup menyewa tempat tinggal atau kos-kosan, akhirnya pergi ke internet/komik cafe semalaman sebagai tempat tidur. Akomodasi memang sangat mahal di kota-kota besar seperti Tokyo dan Yokohama. Biasanya refugees (pengungsi) ini pekerja paruh waktu/tidak tetap, masih muda, dan "cuma" berpenghasilan paling banyak 1 juta yen setahun (kira-kira Rp 85 juta). Menurut sebuah survey, sekitar 80% internet/manga cafe di Jepang memiliki penghuni tetap seperti ini.

Asosiasi internet cafe sendiri mengajukan keberatan kepada media yang menciptakan istilah internet cafe refugee karena memberikan kesan negatif, padahal mereka itu adalah pelanggan utama cafe-cafe tersebut.

Dan ternyata bagi sebahagian yang lain, internet cafe itu termasuk mewah. Sekarang ini muncul istilah "McRefugee", yaitu buat mereka yang menjadikan restoran McDonald sebagai tempat tinggalnya. Kalau "menginap" di internet/manga cafe membutuhkan 1.000-2.000 yen per malam, di McDonald yang buka 24 jam hanya dibutuhkan 80 yen untuk satu burger kecil atau 100 yen untuk satu cup kopi, dan nantinya bisa diisi ulang. Bagi mereka, menginap di internet/manga cafe hanyalah buat orang kaya yang punya uang.

Seorang ahli ekonomi, Takuro Morinaga, memperkirakan dengan trend semakin membesarnya gap penghasilan orang kaya dan miskin di Jepang, para gelandangan dan refugees ini akan semakin banyak dan hidup berkelompok yang pada akhirnya akan muncul tempat-tempat kumuh di Jepang.

Agaknya orang Jepang perlu belajar prinsip kita, mangan ora mangan seng penting ngumpul. Janganlah terlalu individualistis.

Catatan:
1 yen = (kira-kira Rp. 85,-)

* Di Akihabara, Tokyo, kadang-kadang ada beberapa orang yang menyapa orang2 asing (tak dikenal) lalu meminta uang (tidak memaksa). Mereka bukan gelandangan. Berpakaian cukup bersih, kadang-kadang sepertinya terpelajar. Kelihatannya orang-orang yang kehabisan ongkos untuk pulang (CMIIW). Saya pernah memberi kepada satu orang, gemuk berkacamata. Sampai saya jauh dan berada di lantai dua dia masih membungkuk-bungkuk berterimakasih kearah saya. Soal apakah dia betul-betul musafir kehabisan uang atau cuma peminta-minta yang memanfaatkan rasa kasihan orang WTH.

sumber gambar: http://www.chopsticksny.com/contents/down-in-tokyo/2008/03/447

Stories of Kansai Travel 1

Original post May 2008.

It was about one month before I'd leave Japan. I had submitted my thesis right on the val$@&%*# day, so practically it was a month-recess for me before the defense in the mid of March. I'd been in several places in Sapporo, Otaru and other areas in the north, Ibaraki, Hiroshima, Kyoto, etc. so thought now it was the time for southern's turn.

I was fascinated about the southern Japan (ok, anywhere in the country actually). You know, smaller cities often have their own characters as oppose to the large, established capital. The climate was warmer, so people are warmer I thought. And there was this charming lady at the office, Eguchi-san, that always greeted with sincere smile and helped us students through those hard days (ok, sometimes not that hard hehe..). She was originally from Kyushu, and the naive me would tell myself Kyushuans are all like her. So travelling to those places would be fun.

The plan was to go the southest (not including Okinawa) as far as Hakata or Miyazaki, and crawl back-north to Yokohama. It was still February, I could not use 18 kippu the kind and friendly discount ticket. I shared this one-week-or-more plan to Suhut, a fellow Indonesian student from the same office as well, and he was eager to join, but later we found he wouldn't have holiday for Monday classes (I graduated from it already). I attempted poisoning him to skip class only to know he had already been absent some classes ago. So we opted to cut the trip within a week, just to Osaka and sorrounding cities. Talking about companion and trade off.

So we executed the plan. Because the theme was Budget Travel 2008, we chose to use a night bus. Riding bus at night and arriving at destination in the morning can save you several thousands yen from hotel rent that you can spend happily on cha mochi or sweet potato instead. We used the 123bus found from the net, from Yokohama to Osaka, an 8 hour bus ride that costs 3,900 yen. Some questions to Google-sensei also led us to Mikado hotel for 2,100 yen per night per person, which I presumed, was a business hotel because it was cheap.

Riding Bus to Osaka, Simpai Ja Nai (don't worry)

It was raining quite cats and dogs and so windy that evening when I was to go. Valery, one of my house-mates asked whether the bus could fly in that kind of wind. Hehe, trying to scare a brave person. The last local bus of the day to terminal would pass my apartment at 22.40, and Suhut's dorm was 5 minutes after away. It was going as planned, although Suhut had to run to catch the already-passing bus because the driver, of course, did not see him waiting in a shelter of a tree in front of somebody's house instead of at the bus stop...

We arrived at bus terminal about 20 minutes later. It was just a place of wide trotoar across Yodobashi Camera Yokohama, so nothing specially designed for a bus station. But the buses picking up passengers there were so many. At least some 3 groups of staff from different companies were managing registrants and passengers and the coming and departing buses. Each company operates several buses an evening, with different classes, different fares. To our amazement, the buses seemed all full with passengers! And it was even Tuesday not weekend!! Most passengers of our bus (the economy class I would say) if not all were university students, or undergraduate students males and females.

This bus was the normal available and happened to be the cheapest. Initially I wanted to book the one with toilet inside, or if not available, with toilet and wider seats. For those who already experience it must know that nature calls could become real torture like hell. Unluckily when I checked 4 days before the d-day, those buses were already fully booked! Amazing. Just some seats left in the-then our bus, no other way so I took it.

Later I found out that we needed not to worry on the bladder thing. Some one hour and half after the bus hit the road at 23.50, it stopped at a fancy rest station designed for long journey wheelers. The station were also with restaurants, souvenir shops, and even book store with bright lights (later when I returned to Indonesia I knew Indonesian call it setopan). Passengers were happy go lucky to hop out the bus to do their business. Only then the bus stop again and again, every 1 and half hour, or two hours for those rest stations I felt it a little bit too often in order to get some decent sleep.

The bus ran in a very careful way. It ran steadily about 80 kph (I guess) on sturdy smooth road and best illumination of road lights a bus can get. Through some distance the highway even had semi canopy like the ones houses have for carports! You know, from some countries more bus drivers go to heaven than clerics do. It's because when clerics preach parish become sleepy, but those bus drivers drive so crazy that make passengers pray all the time and really remember God! But not in Japan, here I think clerics win unanimously. Bus driver won't scare you.

But maybe that's just because our ride was designed that way so that we arrived in Osaka at the right time, otherwise we got there too early in the dark before dawn with welcoming sound of crickets everywhere.



Picture 1 (railway across Japan) taken from http://www.purple.dti.ne.jp/tokyoryokan/japanrailpass.htm
Picture 2 we boarded our bus
Picture 3 Eguchi-san, with husband, holding a present from Phong Vietnam at farewell party for her retirement December 2007. Osewani narimashita.

Stories of Kansai Travel 2

Original post May 2008.

Arriving Osaka

It was a very nice sunny day when we stepped out in Osaka at 9. We got off at Universal Studio, the farthest destination of the bus in the city. Actually an hour ago the bus had reached Osaka, delivered passengers at downtown area (Umeda station) and another place which we didn't know what its name was. We decided to go farthest wherever the bus went then go back to find our hotel.

The Universal Studio looked really vibrant. When we arrived thousands of people kept flocking in the area but the gate was not open until 10 o'clock. I was awed how Japanese managed to plant palm trees there, they are tropical or sub tropical or desert plants as far as I know. If only they liked durians maybe they could grow them there anyway.

After some pictures here and there, it seemed that Suhut was tempted to enjoy the advance-technological park. We discussed but I found it would cost time as we should stay there at least half a day to enjoy games inside, which reduced time to see other places as planned. So I suggested he stayed there while I went exploring Osaka. Suhut being a good companion decided to abandon his sudden desire and agreed to go directly to downtown instead.

Now we were looking for our hotel. It was around Doubutsu-en Eki Mae, or literally "Train Station in front of Zoo". Guided by our map, we headed to the most direct station near our hotel through several train transfers. And we finally ended in a nearly slum area.

The place was quite filthy, with many rugged-clothing old people, metal trash and ammoniac smell in the air. We went inside from the main road, still many old people and even trash collectors. It was the first time in Japan I saw big dogs stray and they were running loose around on the streets as if they were playing hide and seek. I was afraid of them thumbling on me, got furious then gangbanged me.

After some asking to kind people there, we found our hotel a bit further going away from the area. The air was cleaner, though people there were as old as in the previous place. No wonder the hotel price, the place was not quite business area, but it was perfect for us, it had everything we needed including internet connections. We found there were so many cheaper hotels around as low as 1,000 yen a day. Later my Osakan professor told me the area is a place where day laborers who do construction work or any other lowskill job stay and wait for orders (and maybe they use their payments for staying in those cheap hotels).

Japan that didn't fail me

I realized there that Suhut, being an engineer, is a savvy map reader. Wherever we went he preferred consulting map, while I on the other hand, asking people about direction. I was grown up with the saying, "malu bertanya sesat di jalan" or "too shy to ask leads to lost in the way". Luckily in Japan after asking I even sometimes got encouraging remarks such as "kyosukete ne!" meaning "be careful (on your way there) ok!" or even got escorted directly to the place. Once two schoolgirls in tracksuit even ran chasing us on our bicycle, and while we stopped at a junction, there they managed to catch us, out of breath from running, just to tell us that we had gone to the wrong direction they told earlier. Simply saying, in my two year stay Japanese people never failed me on my such a way. Makoto ni Arigato.

We were on the way in Osaka city from JR station on a showery day after that sunny morning. We had just got off at a wrong station, but anyway, this was a backpack travel, so lost was enjoyable. After wandering here and there and a lunch at a McDonalds, we were heading for the compulsory visit in the city, the Osaka Castle. We had been walking through some blocs, and consulted maps in some places (it stunned me how there are so many area maps in Japan to assist people). But after a long way walking around the suspected area, the castle hadn't appeared anywhere. I knew searching again would take us to the site, but it would also take some other time that can be spent in castle otherwise. So at the junction I asked a man who happened to be waiting for the green light too, "Sumimasen.. Osaka castle wa doko desuka?" (Excuse me, where is the Osaka castle?).

He then seemed not originated from there as he answered, "Wakaranai (I don't know)". I said Ok Thank You. But then he's busy pushing buttons of cellphone he was holding (he was busy communicating with someone I thought). After about half a minute busy with his cellphone, he then looked at me and pointed to a right-hand side direction, "There!". He was actually consulting his cellphone GPS to help me locate the castle.



Osaka castle itself is amazingly huge complex. It has two layers of parks, surrounded by walls and gates, and in the outskirt there is a big river circling the complex for the defense against enemy's attack in the past. It was very clean, and seeing around made us think that people in the past were maybe not less technologically skilled than engineers are now. They designed parks and constructed buildings so neatly and robustly by putting large stones one on top another. Simply stunning.

The complex was so huge that walking surrounding it, even in the showery day, exhausted us. And by the time we arrived there the castle (main building) was already closed for public from 4.30 PM.

Refugee Wannabes

I wrote a post about the increasing number of what so-called refugees in some cities in Japan. There are internet refugees who stay at internet cafes as their home because they can not afford the monthly rent for apartment or key money. There also even McRefugees, referred to people who stay overnights at McDonald by only drinking a cup of 100-yen coffee. Just Google with keyword "McRefugee" and you will come accross such article. We enthusiastically wanted to see this phenomenon and experience by ourselves.

So part of our travel would be becoming those kind of refugees. We only booked one night at the Mikado hotel, and checked out the next morning. Tonight after going around Osaka we would stay over either at a McDonald or an internet cafe.

During the day, we screened our place. We found a perfect McDonald around town taht opened 24 hours. We had lunch there, and made field examination of the place.

There were several of salarymen and salarywomen there, each of them occupied on set of table (with two chairs). Some of them were busy with paper work, one was having a siesta. Other guests were women who looked like university students and two groups of highschool students. We occupied narrow,long tables as it was the only vacant. We did our rehearsal by trying to be sleeping on the table. It was, of course,  uncomfortable.

Stories of Kansai Travel 3

Unfortunately something unfortunate happens. My story of Kansai Travel 3 was unintentionally deleted, leaving only this picture showing I was sleeping of tiredom on one of the tables at a coffee shop. In short, our journey as internet refugees was something closer to misery. Late at night, we eventually decided to find accommodation, with no avail. There were hotels open around, but the receptionists just rejected us coldly as we hadn't registered previously as guests. It seemed guests should have had booked earlier through online system to stay. It was past midnight 1-2 am already, we were left stranded on the street in the cold of Osaka's winter until we found this restaurant (Himawari coffee shop). I was so thankful the restaurant existed that if I had a daughter born that day I would give her name Himawari boru Ritonga.

Stories of Kansai Travel 4

Original post September 2008.

Nara

The next day we went out from hotel early in the morning. Took breakfast at a soba/udon shop in the hotel vicinity where the owners were mid-old couple (at their 60s I suppose) who just worked without chat. No chat chat just stood there after serving us so it's very quiet inside.

We then took the JR-line heading to Nara. The train was for longer route so the seats were different from thosefor local/city quarters with seats located on sides. They were all facing front. The cars were very clean and looked new. But the fare was cheap enough, Y450 one way per person. With not so many passengers to outskirt town like Nara, I hope they make it to cover the service cost. Or maybe they subsidize from the profits they make from Yamanote line in Tokyo that's always packed with passengers.

We arrived at Nara before noon. But it was chilly, a bit chillier than early morning in Bandung. To the right side directly we saw a tourist information corner. That's one thing I like about Japan: everything is well arranged for customer convenience. We asked about sites there and were attended by a nice middle-aged lady who spoke perfect English. She dressed casually so I thought like seeing ibu-ibu pengajian who volunteered for her lovely small town.

Nara is a quiet, clean town. I always love town like this. But usually in small towns nothing much to do. But maybe there's the point: I love having nothing much to do hehe.

The main tourist site is a huge wood building inside the town area. Because it was once a capital of Japan, the area is huge. Hectares. Later after tired walking a day long we realized that we hadn't covered everything there.

Upon entering the town there was a small street. I asked Suhut to take my picture and it proved to be one wise decision I've ever made. Just check :D -->

Despite the street was full of omiyage /souvenir shops, there weren't lots of wisman (international tourists) we encountered except some young caucasians. We were told some festivals were held in Nara, but not in that month of our visit.

On the side of the street there was a mochi-shop, where they made mochi and sold them directly. The making of mochi is quite a traditional thing in Japan, with two persons slam wooden hammers on rice mixed with water and other ingredients to make the adonan. What they made there were green tea mochi with redbean filling. For JPY 130 per each obviously the price was for tourists. Several wisman surrounded and took pictures of the guys punishing the rice, yelling one after another to keep their pounding rhythm. I bought some for lunch.

Mochi itself is a delicious cake shaped like apem but with filling (one I like the most with strawberry inside, very juicy). Unlike apem though, it has very soft texture (well, anything slammed in that way must be very soft). Japanese family make them at new year's celebration when members of family gather. Sadly some old people die on that occasion every year because they eat mochi without proper chewing and get choked. So better not eat it when you don't have teeth.

On outside wall of the shop hung two proud framed pictures of theirs, posing together with Dewi Sukarno a.k.a Madame Syuga. Hmm not only in Serdang Bedagai the restaurants display their picture with Bapak Pejabat and celebrities visiting their places I thought.

Sweet Potatoe a.k.a Ubi Rambat and Todaiji Temple

Further into the area, we were welcomed by friendly deers that ate papers (yes they ate papers, I saw it). Perhaps they were a bit desperate from nothing to eat so they did that. Around Todaiji temple they sniffed tourists for food. Later some of them followed me for my sweet potato so I had to eat them (the potato not the deers) all at once. Sorry deers, Pardugem was hungry too that day.


Previously on the way to the temple we passed across a cart selling sweet potato (ubi jalar/ ubi rambat). I had a thing of this ubi rambat because I saw once in Tokyo they sold it Y500 (Rp 42k) for A SLICE. For the price 10 kgs or one plastic bag of it in Tokyo, if you go to traditional markets in Medan instead with your money, you can bring home ALL THE SWEET POTATO AS WELL AS THE SELLER. This one in Nara was bigger like cassava root (ketela), and the tag hanging there read Y200/100. I assumed it must be Y200 one and Y100 a slice. So I asked the lady seller one (with my 10-word Japanese skill) and asked to cut it into two.

She chopped it in Mary Marvel's speed and put each half in a paper wrap. Handed them down to us and said kuhakyu en. Whaaat??!! that's 900 yen (around Rp 75k). I wanted to protest but I could not say it in Japanese, and she's the one who held the knife LOL. I looked the tag again then it must read Y 200/100 grams. Why the hell didn't she write down the grams??!

I shouldn't have easily judged small towns have much cheaper prices. Suhut grinned happily eating his portion of ubi rambat while I grumbled wishing the lady could speak English.

After an hour or so we went to main tourist destination in the area, the Todaiji temple. It's a HUGE building of 8th century, house of a colossal Buddha statue inside. The info said it's _the largest wooden structure in the world_. I was impressed by the size of it. Given the technology they had on those days (c. 700s), it was amazing. Perhaps when the Japanese in Nara built the Todaiji temple and the Javanese in Magelang crafted Borobudur, my ancestors in Tapanuli were still hunting rabbits and boars for their group supper.


The area around the temple did resemble residence area for rulers. There were beautiful traditional big Japanese houses, large and enchanting gardens, and they located far each one another. It's that large that when we headed back to the town center, it was almost dusk.

Prosa Medan

Di sebuah situs sosial yang isinya anak medan (semua), ada dibuat sayembara menulis prosa berbahasa medan. Syaratnya paling banyak menggunakan kosa kata medan dan pengalaman berkaitan dengan kota medan. Jadi anak mudanya ikutlah. Cuma sayangnya sampai berakhir nggak ada pengumuman siapa yang menang.

Berikut ini saya copy-kan dua cerita yang kurasa lucu. Dua-duanya dipost dengan pemberitahuan kepada pengarang.

---

(tak ada judul)
Oleh: Fransisca Batubara

Pengalaman ini terjadi beberapa abad yang lalu...ga denk, beberapa taon yang lalu, waktu aku masih di Medan.Ini nyata sodara2, nyata terjadi pada diriku yang cantik dan manies ini.
Di tengah teriknya matahari sepulang kuliah, aku sama kawan ku mempunyai niat mulia yang udah ga terbendung lagi, yaitu... BELANJA DI PETISAH...*JENG...JENG....

* Tertampak lah oleh kami sebuah pakaian yang nempel dihati dan nempel di lidah(?????).
Aku: Eh, keknya bagus tuh celananya.
Kawan: Iya...mau kau????
Aku: Mau sih...tapi klo ga cocok harganya yah males juga lah..
Kawan : Kan bisa ditawar..
Aku : Aku ga pinter nawar...kau aja yah?
Kawan : Aku juga ga bisa...
Aku : *(dalam hati) "kau mau ku salibkan disini sekarang?* ya udah lah...kita coba aja.
Kawan : Iyah...kata orang2, klo nawar harus rendah dulu.

Kami datengilah si kakak2 JABIR yang jualan itu. Kenapa Jabir??? Jangan tanya dulu...ini ceritanya....

Kawan: Kak, berapa nih celananya?
Kakak Jabir (KJ): Ini mahal...250 ribu.. (salah satu penyakit pedagang di Petisah..yah ini...menurunkan mental pembeli. ya ngga)
Aku dan kawan : "........."
Kawan: Ga kurang kak?
KJ: Kurang dikit yah...berapa maunya?
Kawan: 70 ribu
KJ : *dengan emosi*SERIUS LHA DEK....
Kawan : Kan biasa sih kak...
KJ : udah lah...100 aja yah..
Aku : (dalam ati)...*mak jang...turun juga nya...*
Kawan : (sambil narik tangan ku keluar dari tuh toko) Udah lah kak, segitu aja..
KJ : 90 lah ayok...biar jadi aja nya nih yah..
Kawan : Ngga lah kak...(kami berjalan semakin menjauh)
KJ : KLO GA ADA UANG GA USAH BELI CELANA DEK...(teriak kuat2)
Kawan : KAU PUN BISA KU BELI (ga kalah kuat)
Aku : *keknya sebentar lagi tinggal nunggu jambak2an nih*

Dan niat mulia itu pun berakhir tragis.. Batal celana baru, eh malah nambah dosa...Ampooooooon...

- - - -

The Art of Bargaining Durian
oleh: Pardugem

Setting: Tempat jual durian, Medan

Tips:
- beli pas hujan rintik-rintik, karna durian habis kena air meletek, jadi harganya murah hehe
- kolo bawak mobil parkir jauh2
- setelan makin miskin makin bagus
- kolo bawa cewek suruh aja tunggu di mobil (tk jualan di medan pantang tak liat orang bawa cewek langsung dinaikkan harganya)

...

pembeli: berapa bang duriannya satu
(gaya sok udah bosan sama durian, padahal kolo buka' mulut sikit lagi udah ngences)
penjual: abang pilih dulu la
pb: berapa dulu bang satunya (udah ngences tapi tecampur air ujan)
pj: iyyah kan ada yg besar ada yg kecil bang
...

pb: pilihkanlah ... lima! bang

- abang itu milih sambil ngetok2 durian pake piso nya
- kadang2 nyuruh asistennya ngambil durian di pajangan (supaya nampak dia yang bos)

pb: yang besarlah bang
pj: bessar ini

pb: pilih yang bagus (agak mop sikit)
pj: jamin bang, kolok nggak bagus abang balekkan aja

- durian udah tekumpul lima

pj: cukup lima aja bang
pb: cukuplah (harap2 cemas berapala dikasinya harga)

- pas momen ini, tengok2 abang tu, trus bilang (dengan sok akrab)
pb: macam kukenal abang ini
pj: .... *lagu lama kau*
pb: orang pasar 1 ya bang?! (muka seperti teringat, padahal entah pasar 1 mana)
pj: (spontan) NGGAK
pb: oo.. kupikir..

jadi berapa bang

- abang itu bediri nengok-nengok durian (padahal lagi ngukur awak, ini orang kaya atau nggak, berapalah kukasi harga).

pj: udah abang kasi ajalah 75
pb: (harus spontan dan terkejut) AH MAHAL KALI BANG!
pj: jadi berapa abang mau?
pb: ....
nggak bisa 35 bang
pj: 35 belum dapat la bang
udalah abang kasilah 60
pb: 40 la ya
pj: 40 nggak biisa
...
pb: udahlah 50 lah kolok gitu. biar 10 ribu satu kita bikin
pj: ....

(sama asisten) ikat-ikat ini

pb: *jadi makan durian...*

T A M A T

Cerita Tukang Becak

Original post January 2010

Sabtu 9 Januari, sekitar pukul 9 pagi di bandara Polonia. Aku bergegas keluar dari terminal kedatangan. Diluar penuh para penjemput dan supir taksi bergerombol. Aku berjalan tak menghiraukan supir-supir taksi yang mencegat menawarkan jasa. Sampai sekarang taksi di Polonia tak pernah masuk dalam hitunganku. Harganya tak reasonable, tanpa argo, belum tentu bersih pula. Entahlah kalau aku berombongan. Tujuanku melintasi taman, keluar bandara ke dekat loket pembayaran parkir, ke jalan di depan pom bensin Petronas. Disitulah biasanya tukang becak mesin (beca motor) mangkal. Jaraknya hanya beberapa ratus meter dari terminal. Kalau tak ada, bisa jalan terus ke simpang jalan Juanda cari angkot. Bawaanku cuma ransel berisi 3 baju.

Aku disambut seorang abang beca. Kulirik becanya, tidak baru. Jok penumpangnya terkelupas, cat becaknya juga sudah pudar. Penutup depannya kain bekas spanduk. Tapi tak apa. Bagiku tukang beca mesin itu pekerja keras dan friendly (bisa diajak ngobrol). Kusebut tujuanku. "30 ribu," katanya. Kutawar 20 ribu dengan menyebut bahwa itu harga yang biasa. Dia minta 25 ribu, dengan embel-embel "ini harus bayar parkir lagi bang, 3 ribu". Bah, itu bukan urusanku, pikir hatiku. Tapi tak mau tertunda gara-gara 5 ribu, akhirnya aku iyakan.

* * *

Dalam perjalanan, aku buka percakapan. "Memangnya bayar 3 ribunya sekali masuk bang?"
"Ya tiap kali ada disitu," katanya agak ragu. "Tapi memang nggak semua bang. Kalau dikenal orang itu, nggak diminta. Tapi kalau enggak (dikenal), diminta".

"Abang gaul la," kataku bercanda, garing. "Biar nggak diminta sama orang itu"
"Payah bang, gak bisa dekat kali awak1) sama orang itu," jawabnya. "Kalau terlalu dekat, dimakan2) orang itu awak".

"Orang itu siapa bang? Preman?"
"Bukan bang. ** (salah satu unit angkatan yang markasnya dekat disitu).

Aku terdiam. Oknum berseragam tapi penyebab ekonomi biaya tinggi.

"Gak malu orang tu minta-minta 3 ribu gitu?"

"Itulah bang, awakpun heran." jawabnya. "Kunci becak awak ini berapa kali udah diambil" sambil memegang lubang kunci starter kereta yang dikendarainya. "Ini awak rusak aja biar gak ada kuncinya. Tak bisa diambil orang itu".

Lobang kunci itu sudah dol, dan tak ada kunci bergantung disitu. Lubangnya lurus, tanda dalam posisi On.

"Kalau gitu gampang la becaknya dicuri bang".

"Iya memang. Tapi cemana lagi bang".

* * *

Kami berbincang sepanjang perjalanan diantara deru mesin Honda Win becaknya. Kalau la ini becak mesin lama, pasti tidak bisa kami bicara. Suaranya jauh lebih ribut daripada ini. Untung pulak becaknya berpenutup depan. Kalau tidak bisa2 pas cerita masuk capung ke mulutku.

"Gitu bang," lanjutnya. "Pernah, satu orang ngusir awak. " Cabut kauh!" katanya. Bukan apa-apa bang, sok kali dia. Maap-maap, umurnya aja pun masih sebaya anak awak yang paling kecil."

Aku mengangguk-angguk. Aku pernah juga kena begitu. Di simpang Guru Patimpus, disetop oknum polwan muda berpangkat bengkok dua. "Nggak kau liat lampu merah itu," katanya ketus. Kim*knya ini, kupikir. Tamat SMA, sekolah Caba tak genap setahun, membentak warga negara pula. Padahal apakah aku melewati lampu merah atau kuning pun belum jelas. Terakhir, ujung-ujungnya duit juga. Makan kau duitku itu biar jadi api di perutmu, kupikir.

Kembali ke cerita si abang beca. "Awak bilang," lanjut dia, "Bapak jangan gitu la. Cemana kalau orangtua Bapak saya "kau kau" kan. Kan nggak senang Bapak."

"Iyah, melawan kau??!" petugas itu marah.

"Bukan gitu Pak," awak bilang. "Nggak pantas la Bapak bicara gitu ke saya".

"Banyak kali cerita kau," katanya. "Pigi3) kau dari sini!"

"Nggak mau saya pigi. Polisi sama Dishub aja nggak ngusir kami," jawab dia. "Bapak kan tugasnya bukan ini. Kalau Polisi atau Dishub baru bisa ngusir kami".

"Iyah ngajar-ngajarin pulak kau! kata petugas itu marah. Ditendangnya awak."

Aku terdiam. Petugas menganiaya rakyat pulak. Susah-susah gitu abang itu pasti pernah beli pulsa dan bayar PPN. Dan itu salah satu sumber gaji petugas itu. Kutanya, "dimana ditendangnya bang."

Di sini awak bang, katanya sambil memegang kakinya setinggi betis, bagian luar.

"Terus awak bilang," lanjutnya. "Ini saya punya nomor telpon anggota DPRD. Bapak mau bicara?? Saya telpon. Biar kita tau betul apa nggak. Bapak mau nelpon? Atau saya yang telpon nanti Bapak bicara."

"Trus apa katanya?" tanyaku.

"Pigi dia... Gak berani dia bicara."

Hebat, pikirku. "Siapa anggota DPRDnya bang?" tanyaku. "I** S** namanya bang" katanya. Nama yang tak kukenal. "dari Fraksi P** dia." Sempat pula kutanya sekali lagi untuk mengingat namanya.

* * *

"Abang dulu nggak disini ya". Tanyanya retorik. "Dulu sempat rame bang. Kami tukang becak mesin demo".

"Gara-garanya pengusaha-pengusaha taksi itu ngasi duit itu ke orang tu," tuduhnya. "Biar kami nggak boleh disana. Soalnya bekurang penghasilan orang itu" (Ya  mungkin seperti aku yang lebih milih becak mesin). Sempat kosong kami disitu bang. Waktu itulah muncul ojek-ojek itu kalau abang tengok".

Memang ada juga di bandara ojek-ojek yang menawarkan jasa selain taksi dan becak mesin.

"Dilarang kami disana. Makanya kami demo. Itulah diterima di DPRD. Diterima kami disitu bang. Bapak itu (I** S**) langsung bicara nelpon di depan kami semua. Suaranya dikuatkan (speakerphone maksudnya). Jadi kami semua disitu mendengar. "Gini Pak. Mereka ini kan masyarakat kita juga. Mereka kan cari makan. Kenapa dilarang..? Entah apalah jawaban orang itu. Terus dia bilang, Perda-nya ada Pak? Kalau ada boleh lah dilarang. Itulah rupanya, tak ada praturannya bang. Itu kan gara2 pengusaha taksi itu supaya kami dilarang. Nah sesudah itu lah kami boleh disitu lagi. Tak ada alasan orang itu melarang kami"

"Ooo" kataku kagum. Masih ada anggota DPRD yang peduli seperti itu. "Bapak itu masih disitu sekarang?"

"O dia udah habis periode-nya bang," jawabnya. "Sekarang nggak anggota lagi dia."

"Cuma fraksi itu yang membela bang," lanjutnya lagi. "Yang lainnya udah dikasih duit itu semua sama pengusaha. Kata Bapak itu: Ini kita cuma satu (fraksi). Kalau fraksi yang lain membela, jangankan diluar, masukpun (ke dalam bandara) kalian bisa". 

Menarik juga pikirku. Kalau ada becak mesin wisata mangkal di Polonia, dirawat, ditatar sadar wisata pengemudinya, akan jadi khas kota Medan yang tak ada dimana-mana. Kenalan saya orang asing saat ke Medan jalan-jalan keliling naik becak mesin. Yang sebelumnya, waktu saya bawa naik mobil kaget melihat becak mesin, "nani sore (apa itu)?" tanyanya. "Motored Tricycle," saya bilang. Dia lalu nyari kamera di tasnya untuk difoto-foto. Turis bule pun mungkin lebih senang ke hotel-hotel di daerah SM Raja atau Pinang Baris menggunakan kendaraan ini.

* * *

"Jadi abang masih ada nomor telepon anggota DPRD yang sekarang?" aku tanya. Simpatik juga dengan kondisi mereka. Kalau betul cerita itu, masih ada Wakil Rayat yang betul membela mereka, sesuai aturan.

"Masih bang," katanya. Pak S** L**, wakil ketua, pak G**, pak ... (tak kudengar lagi).

O ya pak S** L** pernah ada acara di rumahku, beliau lebih dahulu datang. Ketika kucari-cari untuk persilahkan masuk kok gak keliatan. Dicari-cari ternyata lagi duduk di lantai teras di bagian yang gelap-gelap. Waduh pejabat negara rendah hati sekali. Aku jadi terharu waktu itu.

"Mau rupanya orang itu ditelpon-telpon gitu?" tanyaku.

"O senang orang itu bang," katanya. "Itula yang dicari-cari orang itu."

Dan kemudian dia bilang kata-kata yang rasanya akan selalu aku ingat.

"Selama awak hidup 48 tahun ini," kutengok mukanya menerawang dan samar tersenyum bangga. "Baru sekali ini lah awak bisa bicara-bicara dengan Wakil Gubernur, Wakil Ketua DPRD, anggota DPRD. Bicara langsung bang. Satu meja kami."

"Datang pun kami, senang orang tu menyambut. Waalaikumsalaam..!! Iyah apa kabar Pak" katanya. Diajaknya awak cerita. "Apa ini yang bisa dibantu?" Macam bekawan4) dekat lah kami.

"Kalau anggota-anggota (DPRD) dulu," kata dia. "Jangankan cerita, ngeliat awak pun malas orang itu. Udah diliatnya pun awak duduk disitu, buang muka dia".

* * *

Tak terasa, kami sudah sampai. Aku sebelumnya pesimis dengan liburku kali ini, apa yang kudapat. Pulang ke kampung cuma weekend, Sabtu-Minggu. Tapi sejak lebaran September dulu aku tak pernah pulang. Pun cuti pas Muharram, Natal dan Tahun Baru tak bisa karena pekerjaan yang ngantri. Jadi kuniatkanlah pulang meihat orang tua walau sebentar. Tak nyana di 20 menit berada di tanah kelahiran sendiri, sudah banyak yang kuterima dan resapi. Kadang-kadang memang bukan lamanya kita mengalami sesuatu yang paling berarti, tapi kualitasnya yang mungkin bermanfaat bagi jiwa.

Aku turun, kubayar abang itu. Biasanya aku menambah ongkos untuk tukang becak mesin. Kali ini kubayar pas, 25 ribu. Aku menghargai dia dengan caraku. Aku merasa tak perlu menambah. Aku hormat dengan abang itu sebagai seorang pekerja keras, seorang rakyat kecil yang berjuang dengan kesusahan hidupnya, yang makin sulit dibuat oknum-oknum yang buta pada rasa malu. Cuma gara-gara receh yang untuk beli makan sekalipun tak cukup. Biarlah kudo'akan dia agar makin kuat berusaha dan apa yang dimakannya, anak istrinya, adalah hasil kerja keras yang halal.

Sebelum dia memutar becaknya, kutanya namanya. "Dahrun, dari Belawan", katanya dengan senyum lebar. Duh, pulang pergi dia dari Belawan, 26 kilometer dari pusat kota Medan. Dia melaju, kelihatan senang dengan nafkahnya kali ini dan berbagi cerita ke aku yang sebelumnya tak tau apa-apa.

Jakarta, 11 Januari 2010.

Catatan:
1) awak: saya 
2) dimakan: dijadikan mangsa, dalam hal ini "diperas"
3) pigi: pergi
4) bekawan: berkawan/berteman