Endor’s bonding with Hilda
Endor was our houseboy in Jakarta. He fled the tedium and poverty of the rice paddies outside of Cirebon, a medium sized city on the coast of West Java. Endor joined the millions of country peasants who poured into Jakarta’s booming economy after the army put down a communist coup in 1965. By the early ’70s, the economy needed skilled workers rather than peasants whose enticing dreams were falling prey to Jakarta’s misleading promises. Reading the history of the eternal peasant migrations into cities was depressing; witnessing the human deluge was disheartening.
But Endor was clever and friendly. Standing around 5’5”, Endor wore his hair in a flat top; he smiled a lot and was bucktoothed. He reminded me of Bugs Bunny but with smaller ears. Endor had been working as a servant in Jakarta a couple of years before my wife and I arrived in 1971. With help from his friends and relatives from Cirebon who had settled in Jakarta earlier, Endor was hired as the gate keeper for the Citibank manager’s home. Although Endor started at the bottom of the servant pyramid, he had a room in the servants’ quarters, regular meals, and was making money that he saved. Through Endor’s expanding network of fellow servants, he had secured a house boy position (a significant promotion) with the Bank of America’s youngest officer in Jakarta — me.
Emily, my wife, and I would never know how Endor worked the system that expatriates called the bamboo telegraph. However, we knew that Endor spent a considerable amount of time gossiping on our phone with a network of servants. As an old Asian-hand told me before I left for Indonesia, “It’s not right or wrong, but it’s different; just go with it.”
Unlike many expatriates who enforced their cultural norms, we adjusted to the Javanese way and adopted the overriding vagueness that sidestepped confrontations. Many Indonesians thought Europeans enjoyed confrontations that they considered unacceptable behavior. Instead of a confrontation, Indonesians preferred an ambiguous arrangement that usually fell into place down the road; the fuzzy compromises suited both parties. From Endor’s time with Citibank, he learned to avoid confrontations with Americans through his suggestions and our willingness to negotiate with him.
Nevertheless, our bluntness surprised our servants from time to time. Bank of America’s expatriate officers were allowed three trips to Singapore per year for dental and medical visits, plus shopping for unavailable products in Jakarta. We gathered the servants before our first trip and told them that we planned to return with a puppy. Epi, our cook and senior servant said, “No like Anjing (dog). Kotor (dirty). Pee-pee, poo-poo.” With Emily’s diplomacy, we agreed to clean up the dog’s droppings.
Epi and the gardener quit without notice and were never seen again. Endor, a devout Muslim, was conflicted; but that evening he became the senior inside servant with a pay increase. Money is an equalizer: most Americans and Indonesians want more of it. Endor certainly did, and we were pleased that he stayed.
I wanted a Scottish terrier and assumed that Singapore, once a British colony, would abound with English dog breeds. That wasn’t the case; we found an ad in the Straits Times for dachshund puppies and bought a black –and-tan-short-haired standard female that we named Brunhilda (shortened to Hilda) Freifrau von Jordan — a German aristocratic name for an aristocratic dog.
Hilda’s mother died giving birth to her puppies, and Hilda missed her mother’s orientation about dog-to-dog socializing. Hilda was aggressive around other dogs but friendly with people who liked her. Our servants were not abusive toward Hilda but they ignored her friendly overtures. Hilda retaliated by ignoring the servants and focusing on Emily and me. As Hilda grew into adulthood, the underlying tension with the servants abated as they accepted an unspoken agreement that, as usual, fell into place and suited all parties.
A rat changed all of that.
We had a long bedroom. After work one day, Emily was sitting in a chair about half way down the bedroom talking to me as I was sitting on the bed changing shoes that had been soaked during the tropical rain storm. Hilda was sitting next to me. A large black rat stepped into the bedroom and was walking toward Emily. I was about to throw a shoe when Hilda saw the rat. Seven hundred years of breeding and an overdeveloped hunting instinct meshed.
Hilda leaped from the bed and chased the rat through the study and into the living room past Endor. The rat went under to sofa; Hilda spread her legs and slid under the sofa on her chest. The growling and rat noises stopped. Hilda came out from under the sofa. Endor looked and said that he would get a shovel to remove the dead rat.
Then he squatted down and said, “Hilda pintar sekali — Hilda very clever,” and patted her head. He stood up, patted his thigh; Hilda, Emily and I followed him into the kitchen as he poured a saucer of condensed milk that Hilda lapped up. Their relationship had changed.
Endor and Hilda became good friends, and the four of us would take walks around the neighborhood. Endor held the leash and would tell people, “Anjing dari America — dog from America.”
About a year later, we were transferred to Singapore. Through the Singapore Branch, we arranged that Hilda would be picked up at the airport and quarantined until we arrived in Singapore after two months of home leave. Endor asked to accompany us when we took Hilda to the Jakarta airport. It was early in the morning, the temperature had plunged down to the low 60s, and Endor was wearing a heavy jacket and was blowing into his hands. Endor sat in the backseat talking to Hilda. He patted her goodbye as he was tearing up. The ride home was quiet.
Two years into our time in Singapore, my mother took a Royal Viking Cruise to Southeast Asia that included a stop in Singapore. Mom flew from Sydney to Jakarta where she met Emily who showed her around Jakarta. After a few days, they flew up to Singapore. In Jakarta, they stopped by our old home where a new Bank of America family lived. Endor was leaving on an errand and was surprised to see Emily; after introductions Endor asked in English that he was learning, “Hilda is okay?”
“So is Tuan (me), and so am I. Hilda is fine and misses you.”
Endor missed Emily’s point and said, “Clever dog, Hilda. I never forget her. I love her much.”
I still wonder how a serious Muslim resolved the internal confrontation between Hilda and his religion.
I would never know what became of Endor; Hilda died at eighteen in Chicago. I pray for them both.
