Apul was eating the food that his mom fed him on the roadside. It looked like a bowl of rice with soup that she had gotten from the street vendor. They sat with their bum squarely on the pavement - she fed him, he ate. Apul's face looked like he needed a good scrub. And maybe a change of clothing. His mother too. Apul looked active, like any young child would be. When we waved and called out to him to come to us, he seemed shy. His mother kept encouraging him persistently to go to us. Such agility, such innocence, as he toddled his way through. Apul came to us, with 'reserved daringness'. My mom gave him a pack of boiled peanuts that she bought, and then I offered him 1000 Rupiah. He took the boiled peanuts, the 1000 Rupiah and another 1000 Rupiah from my mom. He waddled away like any happy child who was just given candy. His mother beamed from the pavement and hollered a thank you. When Apul came to her, she said to him in her endearing tone, "Have you said thank you? Have you said thank you, Apul?"
We left them in their own world, but as I caught glimpses of that little world of theirs on the pavement, how priviledged a life I felt I had, and how priviledged my son is as compared to Apul. On the other hand, there was that carefree spirit, and a sense of happiness that both mother and child share, without any worries or cares of the world around them. I realised that the mom finally paid the street vendor for that bowl of rice from the money that we gave Apul. Perhaps, she had an agreement with the street vendor. If got money, pay. If not, no charge for this bowl of rice. This is the life that Apul is growing up in, a life on the street.
It looks like street kids and street youth are a common feature in the streets of Bandung. The kids sell stuffs - stuffs that you probably don't even need or want, or maybe hastely dust the windows of your vehicle as it stopped by the red traffic light. Many drivers keep loose change, so if you feel like being generous, you give. On the other hand, the teens strummed their guitar at every car that stopped at the traffic light, and serenaded a pop song, hoping for some loose change. Red traffic light is an opportunity to get into business. However, how much loose change do you have if you happen to live here, and get this every day and at almost every traffic stop. I saw a man in a vehicle who parted with a stick of cigarette for one of the strumming cum serenading teen. Unlike those who looked extremely poor and who purely solicit for money, there were many others, that being on the streets is perhaps like a job (?), a culture (?), a lifestyle (?), or maybe a part of the fabric of their life (?). I'm not certain.
A family friend recounted a story whereby a couple who sympathised with a street kid decided to adopt him. They gave him a home, clean and nice clothes to wear, good food to eat, schooled him but alas, the boy ran away from home and decided to remain on the street, where perhaps he was happier, stress-free, rule-free, and be part of a group or culture or lifestyle that he knew best, and most comfortable with.
Unlike those stuck in the thick of poverty, and had no choice but to beg, there were others, I believed, and it seemed to me from my naked eye, that do this for a living. But seeing many young children on the streets doing it for a living, really made me wonder about what the government is doing to help their countrymen, women and children even if I sensed that the children seemed at ease with their 'lifestyle'. Or perhaps they have been 'acculturated' or 'socialised' in this life that they were born into. Perhaps this is the only life they know, so they never need to ask for more. And thus, conveniencing their leaders.
And as I leave this place with memories of the good and the heart-wrenching, I hope Apul will meet a fate better that his peers and some of his countrymen, women and children but whatever path his destiny may take him, I pray and wish that he is happy and healthy and may the All-Knowing bestow more rezeki on him and his mother.
