Return Ticket to Jakarta: An Indonesian Home from Home

By David Nesbit

At 23 and fresh out of university, life is just starting for Della, a young Indonesian woman with the world seemingly at her feet. A loving family, a caring boyfriend and a seemingly golden career path ahead of her mean she should be feeling on top of the world. And yet.....it still isn’t enough.

Taking some time out, she decides to move to London and new horizons and in doing so opens herself up to a whole new world and way of life. Moving into a shared flat, she soon meets Stacey, a young English woman with a troublesome past, and it isn’t long before the two of them are drawn into a nefarious twilight world of gangsters, intrigue and shady dealings.

Getting dragged further into murky waters, Della finds herself being drawn back to her homeland and into the middle of a scheme that could either see her realise her dreams or else land her in a whole lot of trouble!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Sep 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9781482879223

David Nesbit

David Nesbit has been living and working in Indonesia for most of the past three decades. His extensive insights into the country, its people and its unique culture mean he is the ideal person to write a novel set in and around the sprawling archipelago.

Book preview

PART ONE

1

D ella was fed up.

She knew she should be grateful for her life and that many people were worse off than her, but she still felt unfulfilled. Her three years at university had flown by all too quickly and now she was ready to make her mark on the world.

Well, that was the plan, anyway. As with most things though, she was finding that reality bites and her hopes and ambitions were being put on hold, for the time being at least.

At 23 years of age and born into a nice middle-class Indonesian family, Della, or to give her full name, Anastasia Dellamarty Yusmini, knew she had never known real struggle, and she was grateful for that. She was grateful also for the sacrifices her parents had made in order to send her to university in the first place, and now she felt guilty about feeling unfulfilled or lacking a bit in life.

Won’t you please at least try and look as if you’re enjoying yourself later during the party? her mother intoned.

She knew, as the whole family did, that something was getting Della down recently, but like everyone else, she had been unable to get to the bottom of matters, and now the extended family were having one of their periodic get-togethers, with distant cousins and great aunts and uncles and the like, flying in from all over the archipelago.

Della knew she would have to make an effort to raise herself. It was only fair, after all, she reasoned, but she just didn’t feel like it. She felt lethargic, blue, down in the dumps.

You name it: that’s how she felt.

The worst thing of all was, she didn’t really know why she felt like this. Not totally, anyway. She knew though that she was going to have to snap out of it soon, as her attitude and general mousiness was beginning to be remarked upon by those outside as well as in their family circle.

"I’ll try, mum. I promise," was all she could muster up by way of reply.

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As she busied herself getting ready for the family party being held to celebrate Ramadan, Della attempted once more to give herself a taking to. ‘What is wrong with you?’ she self- admonished. ‘You have no right to feel like this, and certainly no right whatsoever to mope around like this. Look at you. You have a good degree from one of the most prestigious universities in Indonesia, you’ve found yourself a great starter position as a trainee loans manager in a bank, you’ve got a wonderful family, a great boyfriend, and practically your whole life ahead of you. What more could you ask for?’

Della didn’t know the answer to that last question, but want more she did. The only problem was, she didn’t know exactly what ‘more’ consisted of.

Frankie, her younger brother, came into the kitchen as Della was putting the finishing touches to the salad that was supposed to help feed anywhere up to 40 of their relatives, both close and obscure, and gave her a friendly dig in the ribs.

‘Allright sis?’ he queried, as he took a coke from the fridge. At 19 and just on the verge of completing his first year at university himself, Frankie towered above his elder sister. With his strong chiseled features, jet black hair and carefully manicured biceps carefully honed in the gym, Della was sure Frankie was already responsible for the breaking of a thousand hearts, and would get through a few thousand more before he was done.

"Allright," she responded in kind. Although not especially close, the two siblings enjoyed a relaxed and carefree relationship, and she was always glad to see him.

"How’s college?" Della continued, although she had a pretty good idea of the response Frankie was going to give.

"Brilliant, as usual," Frankie confirmed. "I’ve just about aced my first year and also been made captain of the basketball team. You know what that means, don’t you, sis?"

"Don’t call me ‘sis’, please, Della mock castigated him. You know I don’t like that, and, yes, I do know what being captain of the college basketball team will mean to your love life. It will mean you’ll have even more of those little wimpets throwing themselves at your feet. You’re going to have to be careful you know, or you’ll start getting a right reputation for being a playboy."

Frankie just grinned: "While we’re on the subject of our ‘love lives’, where exactly is lover boy, today?’ he asked.

Della grimaced. ‘Lover Boy’, as Frankie so succinctly called him, was not going to be able to make it. ‘Lover Boy’ aka Della’s boyfriend, Joshua, was obliged to travel back to his home town of Cirebon in central Java for his own extended family’s Ramadan celebration.

The Muslim fasting month was now at an end after 30 days of not being able to eat or drink during daylight hours, and to celebrate this, Idul Fitri was now upon them all. It is a time when all muslims who can should gather together with their extended families and spend some time catching up on each other’s news and happenings over the year.

This year it was Della’s parents turn to host the assorted motley collection of second-cousins and great aunts, and although Della had hoped Joshua would be able to escape from his familial duties, he had informed her a couple of days ago that this wasn’t going to be the case, and so now she informed Frankie of the same.

They had been together for about thirty months now, and although they were happy enough together, both of them realized deep down that it was not exactly a match made in heaven, and in all probability their relationship wasn’t likely to last an awful much longer. They didn’t argue or fight much, that wasn’t the problem - rather there just wasn’t any spark. To tell the truth, Della reasoned now, there never had been much of a spark in the first place. They had first got together almost of a feeling of kinship more than anything else.

They had met at University Pelita Harapan, a prestigious and very expensive private university in Lippo Village, where they were both part of the approximate 2% non-Christian student body. Della had been studying on a business management dual degree, while Joshua was enrolled in the faculty of psychology, and at first they found they had little in common other than their shared religion, but after a while as they had gotten to know each other a little, they settled into a comfort zone and began to hang out together more and more until people started assuming they were an item. Both Della and Joshua did little to dissuade anyone of that opinion and so kind of fell into a relationship, and through mutual apathy and lack of viable alternatives, had stayed together ever since.

No, Joshua was not going to be with them for the celebrations, and Della couldn’t say she was particularly bothered.

Frankie saw that Della didn’t especially want to talk about Joshua, and was apparently in ‘one of her moods’ again, so tactfully he changed the topic. Assisting her with the salad preparations, he engaged Della in light chit-chat and regaled her with tales of his latest escapades, and as was his wont, was soon able to cheer her up with his naturally sunny disposition and outlook on life.

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The day dragged. From mid-morning onwards their household was under siege from a steady flow of visitors and the format remained the same throughout.

Rather than all the guests arriving at approximately the same time in the way they would at a normal party, a family of mum, dad, and assorted offspring of varying ages would pull up; everyone would scream and hug each other as copious amounts of food was placed before them; an excited 45 minutes of ‘news-sharing’ then followed, with all parties competing to impart as much information as possible regarding their activities over the past twelve months since last year’s shindig.

Finally everyone would start to run out of steam and excuses start to be made. The distant aunt or uncle or whoever, together with their family-in-tow now suitably fed, would then stagger back to their car and make their way to the next address on their whistle-stop tour of free eateries for the day, while, in turn, they would be replaced by another family pulling up at Della’s house and the whole process being repeated.

The effect of this, of course, was that the host family had to keep smiling and keep eating all day, and Della was finding it difficult to do either. Her mum kept giving her anxious, almost imploring, glances whenever a new batch of guests arrived, seemingly willing her to be on her best behaviour and be a gracious host.

Della ever so slightly resented what she considered to be her mother’s over-bearance. Although not exactly full of the joys of spring recently, she knew how go behave courteously to others and, indeed, considered herself a polite person, so her mum’s worries were, in the main, unfounded.

As the day dragged on, and Della went about her duties, she slowly began to lighten up and actually enjoy herself a little. Amongst the guests that day was her dad’s cousin and his family. One of Amir’s daughters was the adorable 2-year-old Tia. A little dark haired, brown-eyed bundle of joy and mischief, she never stopped laughing, chatting, climbing on furniture and generally running rings round Della, who was only too happy to be tasked with looking after her during their short visit. Finally, in an attempt to amuse Tia and keep her out of harm’s way, Della asked her if she wanted to play in her bedroom.

Ya, ayo, play time!!!!!! Tia agreed, and bounced off the sofa.

Twenty minutes of giggles, laughs, shouts, cuddles and tickles later, and Della was feeling almost her old self again.

"Bye, Bye Della," called Tia, as her dad edged their car out of the drive: "Pay wit me agin’ soon, yaaaaaaaaaa"

It’s good to see some colour in your cheeks again, dear, her father spoke, as they waved his cousin on his way.

Oh, hi dad. I didn’t see you there. Sorry I ‘ve been such a grump recently, it’s just .......

Putting his arm around his daughter, he led the way back inside: I know dear. I do know how things can get sometimes. It’s normal to be a bit flat and to feel like you are waiting for something to happen, but you just don’t know what that something is yet.

Della was surprised. Her dad was not usually one for long speeches or, for that matter, heart-to heart talks with his only daughter. A quiet man by nature, Pak Ari only spoke if he had something to say, but when he did, invariably people listened.

Come on, love. Let’s go and have a chat, just you and me. Let’s see if we can’t get to the bottom of all of this and sort things out.

We can’t, dad. There are more guests expected soon.

Don’t worry about that. We’ll go and sit in the back garden and your mum will soon let us know if we’re needed.

Knowing to argue further would be futile, and also knowing that she might not get another opportunity, Della quietly agreed, and, pausing momentarily in the kitchen to fix them a couple of cokes, joined her dad on the garden patio.

Looking out over their small but perfectly manicured back lawn, father and daughter began to relax together. Pak Ari was in his early fifties and a life of hard work was beginning to take its toil. Although still fit and spry, and capable of cycling over 50 km most Sundays with his cycle club team-mates, Pak Ari was starting to look his age. He was a small and skinny man weighing in at around 9 stone or just over 60 kilograms and now had lines creasing his weathered face and forehead, and his hair, once long, bountiful and jet-black, was now short, spikey and as white as snow.

As with many of his generation, he had left school more than thirty-five years ago with no real qualifications and no real idea of what he’d wanted to do with his life either. A university education hadn’t been an option, and so for the want of anything better, he had started work as a trainee sales clerk in a men’s clothing shop in one of the first malls to open in Jakarta.

He had started the position with no real ambition of carving out a career selling suits and ties to men who didn’t really want them and probably couldn’t really afford them either, but to his surprise he’d found both an aptitude and interest in what he was doing, and actually discovered that, his natural quietness notwithstanding, he was a natural salesman. Here his introverted character didn’t hold him back, rather it was the opposite because it was through this initial opening Pak Ari honed his skill for speaking to the point and making sure people listened when he did so.

He rose quickly to the position of senior sales clerk, and then by the time he was twenty-three, to store manager. About this time was when he met Stella, Della and Frankie’s mum, when she came into the shop looking to buy a cravat for her own father. Although still very much inexperienced in the ways and wiles of women, Ari had made an effort to charm Stella in his own way, and for her part she had been taken by the quiet boy with impeccable manners who had shyly asked her out on a date to go and eat bakso together at the mall’s food court.

That had been in 1980. They had courted, had a reasonably-lengthed engagement, and been married in 1983, with Della being born in 1986 and Frankie two years later. Now here they all were in 2009, drinking coke and reflecting on the past while looking to the future.

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Her dad started: What is it you’d like to do? What’s going to get you out of this flunk? He looked at his daughter with concern. Where was his Della? The fun-loving and chatty ‘daddy’s girl’ she had always been up to so recently.

Della considered: I’m not sure. It’s not that I am unhappy in my job, as such, it’s just that....I don’t know....I expected more. She felt guilty again. She knew she was hurting her parents with her attitude recently. They had given everything they could for her, and this was how she was repaying them.

How do you mean? Pak Ari asked.

Taking a sip from her coke, Della continued: Well, I don’t know....I put so much effort into university and getting a good degree, that everything seems to be just a bit of a let down and a bit flat since I left. I thought I was going to go out in the ‘big bad world’ and everything was going to be great. The world was just going to fall at my feet, but that just hasn’t happened.

Della felt mean and spiteful even when she was saying the words. She could hardly bear to look at her father and so stared off into the distance and watched the neighbour’s cat chasing a bird up a tree instead.

Pak Ari was silent for a while before he spoke again: Give it time. It will. The world’s your oyster. You and Frankie are going to do anything you want and have all the chances in the world to be whatever you want.

Oh, I know, Daddy. But I just don’t know what it is that I want, or where it is I want to go.

Her dad thought for a while. You know what I think the problem is, Della? I think you’ve never had time for yourself. You went straight from senior high school to university without any kind of a break first, and then you worked your tail off to get good grades and a good degree. Then you went straight to work in that job of yours without so much as a good holiday first. You need some time off, dear. Some time to yourself.

Oh dad, Della sighed: I don’t think a couple of weeks holiday is going to make much difference.

Her dad looked at her sideways: I wasn’t talking about a couple of weeks holiday.

Della was a bit confused and it showed on her face and in her intonation as she replied: "Well, what did you mean, then?"

"Why don’t you, her dad started, I don’t know, have a look at doing something completely different? You’ve saved up some money from your job, I now, and your mum and I could also help you out a bit if you wanted to travel for a while."

Della forced herself to face her father: I couldn’t do that, she replied

Why not? was her dad’s simple retort.

Della took a deep breath: "Well, for starters it wouldn’t be fair to you or mum to ask you for money. You still have two or three years of Frankie’s uni to pay for, remember? Also, I would get bored just traveling around. No, I’d need a purpose. Something to really do and set my mind straight".

The words felt like they were being ripped out from inside her. Even now she couldn’t be happy. Her dear old dad was offering to give her a once in a lifetime opportunity and here she was making excuses not to take him up on his offer.

Pak Ari was not to be deterred: "Well, how about this? Why don’t you look at taking some time out and maybe travel and perhaps even work abroad for a while? That way you could kill two birds with one stone. You could see a bit of the world, while helping to pay for it yourself."

Still Della protested: "Ah, it’s not that easy, dad."

Why not?

Della was beginning to flounder now: "Many reasons. How about my job? How about Joshua? How about the various rules and regulations? You can’t just go and work anywhere you want, you know. There are rules and permits and visas and things you have to get."

How about, how about? her dad mimicked: How about you put that pretty little, expensively-educated mind to work and come up with some ideas and solutions instead of questions and objections?

Knowing when she was beaten, Della grinned and promised to think about it.

2

O ver the next few days, Della did just that, and as she did so, the idea became less and less absurd. She did some preliminary research on the internet, and found there were far fewer obstacles than she had imagined. While it was true that certain countries made life difficult for anyone to obtain a visa, let alone single unattached muslim women from Asian countries, others were much more accommodating.

Narrowing her options down, Della began to seriously consider making a straight choice between Indonesia’s near-neighbour, Australia, and its Commonwealth partner, Britain. Her first thought was to plump for Australia, being that it was closer and she had already spent some time in Adelaide as part of her dual degree programme at university, but in the end it was these very factors that led her to opt for London. The fact that England was so far away, and she had never been there before, were what swung it for her. After all, she reasoned, if she were serious about making a real change, and getting away from things, then where better to do so than on the other side of the world?

Letting her fingers take the strain clicking away on the internet, Della found that one could get a visa to study in England as long as it was on a ‘full-time basis’. This required a minimum of 15 hours per week of classroom study in a bona-fide institute of learning. It didn’t, however, need to be a registered university, and this suited Della just fine.

She found from her research on-line that a lot of young people took the opportunity to register at English language schools in London or one of the other big cities in Britain and then simply come to stay on 12 month visas. The only prerequisites were a letter of enrollment from the school or institution involved, and a commitment to a minimum of 12 months’ study. Della found that a lot of the schools involved didn’t even require the total 12 months’ tuition fee to be paid in full in advance, but instead were happy to accept monthly payments.

Better still, a student visa, when granted, would enable one to work part-time up to 15 hours a week, and as long as one registered to pay national insurance, one would also be eligible for medical assistance on the UK’s national health service. In certain conditions, Della discovered, housing benefit allowance could also be claimed.

All in all, it seemed a pretty good deal to Della’s young mind and in time to come she would learn how naïve she had been, but that was all still far in the future. For now she was caught up in the idea, and soon she was convinced of her next steps. She continued to scour the web for suitable courses and living arrangements.

What she was looking for was a course that would be beneficial without being too demanding in a centralized location. She would then be able to procure suitable evening or afternoon employment nearby, she reasoned.

From checking out specialist estate agencies and the like, Della discovered the first stumbling block in her plan: the price of accommodation. To rent a single room in a shared house anywhere remotely near the centre of London cost a minimum