Just as many had predicted, some type of collapse seemed to be inevitable for the Indonesian economy after the American giant seemed to slump further these past few weeks. Never happened in my observation that the IDX (Indonesian Stock Exchange) was stopped for a day, not just once, but for two consecutive days, only be halted again half-way on the third day, Friday, until further notice.
Not only for the investors or traders who lost their shiploads during these hard times, it was also a pretty disconcerting vista for the people who work around the perimeter of the stock exchange building, such as myself. Customers that should be returning from their Eid Holiday by Wednesday were just not there. On the same day, we saw a huge drop, even from the (already) low Tuesday, continuing on Thursday and Friday.
People had warned me to sell, while I was still holding. The value of my portfolio had plunged about 50% in comparison to the glorious December 2007 rate. In any case, I didn’t want to embark on this communal panic, since I am still blessed with other sources of income. Still, people kept on calling in desperate “it is getting worse day by day” - “buy some land” - “ buy more gold” tones. All happened while the USD rate was hiking and breaking the Rp. 10,000,- level.
I then decided to just simply go to a nearby gym to calm my nerves. Unlike the regular pre-holiday season Friday, the venue was shockingly almost empty. Upon further investigations, personal trainers in the gym would tell me recent horror stories in conjunction with the fall of the local stock market.
“You see, from the 10 clients that I should be training, only 2 showed up. The rest canceled due to the stock market fiasco”
“One of my clients lost everything. From four luxury abodes, now he is forced to rent. From five enviable automobiles, he suddenly needed to auction everything asap. He is in so much debt right now”
So I called a buddy of mine who was a very active personal investor. He said: “You know, I think God had called upon us once again. The greedy will fold. The contented will survive”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked
“Let’s go fishing tomorrow”
“What?”
-0-
At the least, the weather was cooperative that Saturday. The sun was bright. The clear blue sky welcomed us. It was past noon when we finally reached the fishing dock. Only a handful of people were there. We chose to share a bamboo type of hut with an elderly man who was accompanied by his teenage grandson. They were there earlier, observing their lures, waiting patiently. Soon enough, I was having a totally “blond moment” watching my buddy preped his fishing rods, put on the baits while throwing the lines at the murky waters below us.
“I wished the government had given us some type of protection like they did in Thailand and Malaysia. There were certain amount of time-bond, sometimes it could run for years, before foreign investors at the stock market could sell everything and just leave the country”
“Really?” I asked as in amazement, since I knew almost nothing about the subject that he was discussing.
“Did you know why they had to stop trading for the last couple of days?”
“Because it fell so sharp?”
“Not only that, because these foreigners had gained some quick profits to help cover their losses back home, and they were more than ready to fly. That would definitely hurt us worse faster”
He would continue his monologue (or lessons as I perceived it) for another thirty minutes about the good and the bad, the mistakes and the greed that people were becoming blinded by.
“As the old adage said, don’t put all your eggs in one basket. This way you shall have other means of support when bad things started to roll. I am still grateful that I still have my day job, and I didn’t invest all my savings in the stock market. It was as if I have an inner voice that guided me to know when enough is enough”
“Yeah, try to tell that to the people who are plainly broke right now because of the blow”
“Well, the wise one would take this as a learning vehicle, while some other might snap and become literally insane”
Suddenly the elderly man who was sitting at the next table waved at us.
“Excuse me Sirs. Would you like to share lunch with us? But these are the only things that we can offer you guys…” he said while showing a rolled up rice cake with salted fish inside.
“My grandson will prepare some tea if you will.”
I was touched by his sincerity.
“Come on don’t be shy, I made this myself this morning. People said it’s very delicious!” he insisted.
With some hesitation we then accepted his offer. The rolled rice was indeed sumptuous. He wasn’t bragging himself earlier.
“So how many fish did you catch today Sir?” my buddy asked to open up a conversation.
“Just these two” he said showing the meagerly sized local fish, about the dimension of a woman’s palm.
“Maybe it wasn’t the season Sir?” I asked.
“I dunno, sometimes I may catch a lot. I could throw the lures and I might pick ‘em right up in a second. Sometimes it’s like today, almost nothing. Hey, but it’s good enough lah. I can cook some kick ass fried chilly with these ones. Maybe tomorrow we’ll catch more.”
We talked about everyday things in some very warm manners with the two of them. After a while, the grandson pulled out a very humble dessert.
“Oh this is soo good!” I yelled for his sweetened steamed banana dessert.
Then they would rest for a while, exchanging guard from time to time. Then my friend said, “You see, this is one of those life enlightenment processes going on for us. Even seemingly lacking of worldly things that he could amass, he would still offer us what little did he have in his hands.”
By dusk the family duo then excused themselves.
“Did ya catch anymore Sir?” I asked before they’d parted.
“Nope” he said laughing, showing his decaying teeth.
“Just like the sea Sir, you never see the oceans complained. They just took in whatever bad things we might throw at them. I might as well just follow the sea. I don’t want to complain about what the sea would just offer me today in return”
Somebody smacked me about the way I run my life.
Yet still, I didn’t even care enough to ask for his name.
Bowing for The Old Man,
Prof. Utonium
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