Musings: "Pemutihan" (Whitening) of homelessness

After a talk session at Raw Art Space last night, I found myself around Pasar Seni after 11pm. 

As I was waiting for a few people who were chatting by the sidewalk, I spotted a lady (whom I assume is homeless, because she had with her a small luggage and two worn-out plastic bags) telling off an old man who was lying down on a flattened cardboard in front of a nearby shop that was already closed.

I thought she was harassing him because she sounded angry, but after a minute or so of being ignored by him, she raised her voice even louder until I overheard: "Jangan duduk sini! Nanti diorang datang untuk pemutihan, tahu!" (Don't stay here! They will come to 'cleanse' this area!)

At first the man gave in (or maybe he was annoyed), as he slowly got up and started packing his things.  Seeing this, the lady walked away from him, towards my direction. He stopped midway and plomped back down on the cardboard after she left tho.

I think she noticed that I overheard her interaction with the man, so when we exchanged eye contact, she told me that she was at the mosque earlier and heard an announcement that the police will be ensuring that the sidewalks around nearby touristy areas will be de-occupied (presumably, by the homeless folks) in the coming weeks. They call this "pemutihan" (to make something white — like bleaching something that is dirty), and according to this lady, it is to prepare for Raya Haji (Eidul Adha) in a few weeks' time. I wonder if the authorities realise the sad irony in this.

This boisterous lady who was originally from Batam then told me about how badly people (I presume, people who live on sidewalks) are treated by the police here, how easy but also dangerous it was to get here (she came by boat which carried hundreds of people), how hard it is to talk to people because of language barriers (she even told me some funny stories about misunderstanding people and being misunderstood), and how differently Indonesia treats the poor (they seem to have a better welfare system there, based on what she told me).

She went on for well over 5 minutes, and I mostly nodded or hmm'd in agreement because I didn't know what to say (and truth be told, I wasn't sure how to pull out of the conversation). But she probably she hasn't had someone to talk to in a while, so I figured nvm lah, I'll let her talk until my partner and I had to go (which was soon, anyway). At first I thought she wanted to ask for some money after everything she had told me, but as she went on and on, I guess what she wanted was... an audience? Just someone who listened and paid attention, maybe.

Eventually, my partner came over and told me we had to go because he had another meeting to attend. I apologised to her for having to leave, and after saying goodbye etc and as we walked away, she kept reminding us about the pemutihan operation.

I wasn't sure why she kept repeating this, but by the time we reached the LRT station, it hit me that she didn't want us to get into trouble with the police, because of how horribly she and those in similar situations as her have been treated.

I was exhausted after a long day and tbh what I really wanted to do was just head back home and pass out; she didn't have a home to go back to... but still, she wanted us to be safe when the operation happened.

I tend to believe that things happen for a reason, but I'm still trying to make sense of this encounter. All I can think of is how sad and unfair the world is, especially to those who were born (or pushed) into poverty. Yet despite these feelings of (survivors' guilt?) helplessness, I am also touched that those with the least tend to be more caring and generous than those with privilleges they probably don't even deserve.

What do I make out of this?