Journal Province: DKI Jakarta Regency/City: Central Jakarta Subdistrict: Tanah Abang

A Story about a Journey on the Bengawan Train

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Written by Imam Rahmadi
That afternoon, the sky was clear, although not too long before it had been cloudy with a little drizzle for a short time. From the west, the sun shone under the cover of white clouds. The breeze sometimes came through the window into my rental bedroom while I was preparing myself to go to my hometown. That day (Sunday, February 14th, 2010), I had intended to come home to Klaten, my hometown, because my college was in a semester break.

Rail transport service users were queuing at the ticket counter.

The people were queuing at the ticket counter.

Everything was ready, so I went immediately to Tanah Abang Station. It was 15.50 WIB when I glanced to my cell phone screen. After waited for a short period of time at bus shelter in front of UIN Syarif Hidayatullah Jakarta, finally Koantas Bima number 102, which would take me to the station, arrived.

After 1 hour travel, I arrived at the station. Many people went in and out, to and from it. I instantly walked to the ticket box to buy a ticket. I didn’t have to wait long to get my ticket, because fortunately, the queue was not long. The ticket stated that the ETD of Bengawan Train would be at 19.30 WIB and the ETA at Klaten Station would be at 06.30 WIB. Under the departure schedule on the ticket there was a writing that stated K3-4, 9C. That showed the class of the train (K3 meant third class or economy class), carriage number (carriage 4) and seat number (9C), and that would be my seat. I deliberately came early so that I could get a ticket with a seat number. Because if a person couldn’t get it, he or she had to either stand or sit between the carriages and this was very uncomfortable. Not to mention that the journey would take about 12 hours, a quite long journey.

Bengawan Train that had not been fitted locomotive yet.

Bengawan Train that had not been fitted locomotive yet.

Bengawan Train had already become my usual mode of transportation. Every time I came home by train I always took that train, because the ticket price was very cheap, I could go home with only 37000 IDR. The train also became alternative mode of transportation for middle to low class people, because the bus ticket price could be twice the price of the Bengawan Train ticket. The class was economy class so the price was economic.

According to the information from station guard, the train was ready on platform three. I was a little surprised, because it was only 17.00 WIB, why was it ready yet? But when I walked to the platform I saw that there were only the carriages, the locomotive had not been assembled yet. Even so some people had already gone aboard the train and looked for their seat. They could do it maybe because Tanah Abang was the departure station for Bengawan Train.

Station of Tanah Abang

Station of Tanah Abang

Time went by. The locomotive finally had been assembled. “Ding-dong, ding-dong.” “Bengawan Train, from Tanah Abang Station, final destination at Solo Jebres Station, on platform three, is ready to depart. I repeat, Bengawan Train, final destination Solo Jebres is ready to depart.” The sound of the alarm and the voice of the officer echoed through the station from the loudspeaker. “Jeglek-jeglek, jeglek-jeglek, jeglek-jeglek,” the sound of the friction between the train wheels and the rail was heard. “Toot…toot…toot…” the whistle sounded loudly, then it was followed by the voices of the street vendors:

“Mizone, Mizone, Pocari, cold Aqua!”

“Coffee, Pop Mie, coffee is 2000 IDR, Pop Mie is 5000 IDR!”

“Newspaper, newspaper, 1000 IDR, to sleep on!”

“Fan, fan, if it feels too hot!”

“Eat, eat, the fried rice, the rames rice, only 3000 IDR!”

“Tofu, tofu…Sumedang Tofu!”

“The key chain…”

A hawker of coffee and instant noodles.

A hawker of coffee and instant noodles.

A hawker of keychains.

A hawker of keychains.

Just like that, their voices came back and forth. And that was not all, there were more of them, and there was also a train officer, who offered the rental pillows, who outvoiced them all. “Pillow-pillow, only 3000 IDR a night,” he said. Between all of those voices, there were sounds of guitars from the street musicians passing by the seats. There were four musicians at that time. The voices of the street vendors and the sounds of guitars from the street musicians came out at the same time so that they collided. So, it was very noisy there.

A hawker of Tahu Sumedang (Sumedang's fried tofu)

A hawker of Tahu Sumedang (Sumedang’s fried tofu)

The train had left Jatinegara Station. The sound had not stopped yet. Even more street vendors were on the train when it had made a quick stop at Jatinegara Station to board passengers.

“Dsesss, dsess, dsess…” that was the sound of the break when the train was about to stop. “Jeglek-jeglek, jeglek-jeglek”, that was the sound of the friction again. The train stopped at Manggarai Station to board people again then. Quite many people boarded from this station, not to mention the street vendors and musicians who also got on the train, making it so full of people. It could be seen especially near the door to every carriage.

The passengers and traders (or hawkers) were jostling.

The passengers and traders (or hawkers) were jostling.

After the train had gathered speed again, suddenly from the throng of people who jammed at the door of carriage 4, which was the carriage I was in, came out a shriek from a middle aged woman, “Heee, what is this? How does this happen? Heee…heee.” Everyone immediately gave their attention toward the voice, which came from a place near the toilet at the front side of the carriage. I was also surprised hearing her voice.

I sat quite far from her, so I didn’t really understand what was going on. “Well, it seems that she has a trance,” said a person next to me and some others seemed agree with that opinion. I was intrigued, I really wanted to get nearer to see what had happened, but it was very difficult because so many people surrounded that woman. I remembered that I brought a digital camera, so I took it out from the right pocket of my jacket and snapped the picture of, only so far I could do.

A woman who were screaming that his son wedged.

A woman who were screaming that his son stuck.

“Heee…My child is stuck!” screamed that woman again. The situation became chaotic. Everybody was still staring at the throng of people. “Ooh, her child is stuck,” a few people murmured around me.

A few minutes later the clutter had been over. It seemed that the child who was stuck had gotten the help. But, only a few seconds later, came out another scream from another woman. “…My money is lost!!! Huh…where is my money, it was inside my pocket, but now my pocket is torn, somebody tore my pocket, pickpocket!! Pickpocket!!!” that woman screamed loudly, puzzled. The people who had been quiet for a moment suddenly had been taken aback again hearing that voice. The woman then walked back and forth in the carriage, screaming, “Pickpocket, pickpocket! There is a pickpocket here, Sir!”

The other passengers and I instantly were alert, looking right to left and everywhere around the inside of the carriage whether the pickpocket was there. But, there was nothing suspicious and there was no one who looked like a pickpocket in that carriage.

“Calm down, Mam…calm down,” said one of the passengers.

“How could I calm down, my money is lost,” replied the woman.

The other passenger asked her, “How much money did you lose, Mam?”

The woman, annoyed and perplexed, answered angrily, “1.500.000 IDR!” People were immediately shocked upon hearing that.

A woman who were screaming that his son wedged.

The woman who lost her money.

That woman kept walking around the carriage, screaming. Finally, she stopped in front of the middle-aged woman whose child had been stuck. Then she asked the woman loudly.

“Hey, are you a pickpocket?! You were beside me then, right?!”

“No, no, I didn’t do it,” replied the middle-aged woman.

“Let me check your bag,” without listening to her answer, she grabbed the middle-aged woman’s bag and checked its content.

The middle-aged woman sat silently while her bag was being checked. But unfortunately, the second woman couldn’t find her money in that bag. Eventually she gave the bag back to its owner. Then she resumed what she had been doing before, walking around the carriage, upset. A few moments later, she asked a man whose seat was not far from the middle-aged woman’s, “Sir, should this woman being checked again?!” It seemed like she still had suspicion with that woman. The man instantly checked the middle-aged woman’s bag over, but he didn’t find the money either.

The woman who lost her money was examining a woman accused of stealing it.

The woman who lost her money was examining a woman accused of stealing it.

The face of the woman who had lost money became pale, it seemed that she had to let go of her money because nobody else could be suspected. Unfortunately, there had been no officer around when the commotion had happened, so, it was a bit hard to report to the train officer. Then the woman went outside the carriage and into another carriage, maybe she intended to look for the train safety officer.

The situation in the carriage had been settled at last. The train stopped again to board people at Bekasi Station. The voices of the street vendors and street musicians were still there. The train didn’t stop for long and gathered speed again soon.

“Hey, where are the woman and her child? Why are they not here anymore?” said a person right in front of me. “Well, this is a sign,” he went on.

“A sign of what, Sir?” I replied interestedly.

“That means that my feeling was right, the pickpocket was the woman with the child, but she was not alone. When she screamed because her child was stuck that was only for diversion, then her friends took the money. The money was not with her, it had been taken away by his friends. That was why the second woman could not find her money when she checked the bag,” answered the man.

“Was it true, Sir?” I was a little bit in doubt.

“Yep, it looks like she got off the train at Bekasi Station, well, she might be meeting her friends there,” he answered again. Then that I came to think about it, it seemed likely that that was what had happened.

“I was a street vendor myself, but I worked on the bus, nevertheless it seems like the pickpockets anywhere has quite the same tricks,” he added.

I heard his explanation, nodding, because when I came to think of it, it did make sense.

keributan-di-depan-gerbong-2

The train gathered still more speed. It was getting late. I fell asleep. Once in a while, I awakened by the voices of the street vendors who offered their merchandises. There would always be street vendors on economy class train.

“Jeglek-jeglek, jeglek-jeglek, jeglek-jeglek”, the train stopped again. The sound of it made me awake. Before that one, it seemed that the train had made another stop, but I didn’t know where, since I had been sleeping. “Lanting-lanting, oleh-oleh’e mas, sepuluh ewu papat”, “Gethuk pisang… Gethuk’e, gethuk’e”, “Lapis pisang’e mas…”, “Kopine mas.., rongewunan”, “sego ndok telongewu…sego ndok”, the voices from the street vendors came out back and forth.  I felt something was different there, hearing the voices mostly spoke in Javanese. I saw through the window, apparently, we had already arrived at Kroya Station in Cilacap. It meant that the train had already entered Central Java Province, so naturally, the vendors spoke in Javanese.

It was a very tiring journey. A full night inside Bengawan Train, I had been crammed between people, and had been entertained by the voices of street musicians and vendors. Suddenly, my cell phone vibrated, “Where are you, Son?” a text came from my father. “At Lempuyangan Station, Jogja, maybe in 30 minutes I would arrive at Klaten,” I replied. The time on the screen of my cell phone showed that it was 06.05 WIB. The train stopped quite long at that station. Besides getting its passengers off, the drivers also got off it and went inside the station office, maybe they wanted to take a rest for a moment while drinking morning hot tea.

“Toot…toot…toot..” the train once again rattled onwards, speeding past through stretches of the vast rice fields, sounding its klaxon repeatedly, because in that area there were many crossing gates without the barrier, and many farmers often walked through them. It had passed through Brambanan and Srowot Station, so it meant that soon the train would arrive at Klaten Station. “Toot…toot…toot..” “Jeglek… Jeglek,” the train finally stopped. “Welcome at Klaten Station to the passengers of Bengawan Train,” the voice of the officer echoed through the station. “Alhamdulillah, finally I have arrived,” I murmured.

The train stopped at Station of Klaten.

The train stopped at Station of Klaten.

The sun shone brightly from the east as though welcoming the arrival of passengers at Klaten Station. It indeed suited that city motto, “Klaten Bersinar” (Bersih, Sehat, Indah, Nyaman, Aman, Rapi), it was translated as “Shining Klaten” (Clean, Healthy, Beautiful, Comfortable, Safe and Neat). On the other side of the railway, I saw my father had been waiting for me. I immediately walked toward him and Bengawan Train gathered speed again to continue its journey to the east toward its final destination at Solo Jebres Station.

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Imam Rahmadi

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