Word: djakarta
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...anything would be a welcome change. But Pram, as he's popularly known, found the place foul and unlivable. The gutters were full of human ordure and the air stale from the smell of "cheap death," he recalled in the story "My Kampung," from his early collection Tales from Djakarta. Its mordant stories revolve around what is now Jakarta's central Merdeka (Freedom) Square, and the streets close...
...print setter, for one, concludes that his baby's death from tetanus has sated the Archangel Gabriel; therefore, he thinks, I must be safe from death's swift messenger. Two weeks later the print setter croaks, his pancreas corroded from lead poisoning. Dark, but hardly atypical of Tales from Djakarta, in which the characters suffer awful and lonely fates, ranging from sexual abuse to execution. (See TIME's Global Adviser for exotic, beautiful and interesting getaways...
...tropical spice-trading port, running north. South is Menteng, the early 20th century planned garden neighborhood where local élite, like the late Suharto's clan, reside. For them Jakarta again is a town of joy, booming with steel, glass and shining retail spaces. But Tales of Djakarta, in which the poor bathe in the canal's toxic "yellowish water" and Japanese officers fill Menteng's villas with comfort women, obstructs those pretty views. Though not void of hope, Jakarta for Pram was a town of tough and busy griefs. The bakso sellers in and around Merdeka Square might still...
...leader of a guerrilla coalition that is battling Kampuchea's Vietnamese-backed government; the next month he just as abruptly resumed his post. After Viet Nam stepped up its troop withdrawal from Kampuchea, ministers of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations agreed to be host to peace talks in Djakarta next week between the warring sides. But then Sihanouk, who ruled Kampuchea (then called Cambodia) until 1970, quit his job again...
...girl and her friend, the shoes are an event. They fall about each other, laugh and shiver, hold one another. When they've finished they bum Djakarta cigarettes from a nearby skinhead. The girl turns back to me, looking bored. Her eyes, brown and indolent, hover above and beyond, taking in the passersby, the shopfronts, the traffic, her friends...