On Watch

5 o’clock in the afternoon, I watched him give out orders for food to go. “Please wrap them individually in separate plastic bags”. He was worried when we couldn’t find Teh Kotak, and voiced his concern that people would have to break their fasting drinking only with mineral water, as he counted straws and placed them in the bags.

Still, I watched him drove around looking for random people in need, searching for tired faces that still needed to work that lazy afternoon, cleaning streets, hauling wooden carts carrying their life’s belongings, sometimes rummaging through other people’s garbage, hoping to find something valuable.

I watched as he pulled over, and called on to people on the other side of the street, their weary faces suddenly turned delighted as he handed them food, realizing that at least for that night, they wouldn’t have to worry about dinner.

Closing near to fasting break time, he still managed to say, “Ashar dulu, Nil…”. We stopped at a nearby mosque. His overall physique looked like he didn’t belong there. People stared. But he walked on, not caring. He belonged. I watched him pray.

We were late. In his haste to distribute food, he hadn’t counted on looking for a place to eat for himself. We settled on a small but crowded place near Cikini and couldn’t find anywhere to sit. A man saw us standing with food and no seat, he asked, “Belum dapet tempat Mas? Di sini aja…” he said. The man stood, gathered his food, told his wife to bring the drinks already served on the table. Kindness of strangers…(the man was in fact the owner of the place. He moved to the back of his pickup along with his wife and several of his staff just to give us a place to sit and eat. Makasih, Pak…)

So I watched him eat. Nasi pake cumi sama paru. Tahu goreng. Sayur asem. Teh manis hangat. Beads of sweat forming on his forehead, but he was unaware of them.

In the midst of dusk settling into night, I watched.