The Woman Driver

Story by Darminto M Sudarmo

It was a stinking hot day, with the sun burning down relentlessly and dense clouds of dust whirling about, as everybody tried to fan away the choking pollution.
Srikandi kept her cool as she sat astride her motorbike. She was the only woman in the group, and she was also the only women who made her living driving an “ojek”. An “ojek” was a motorbike commonly used in Indonesia to transport passengers cheaply.
Srikandi was still young, not yet married, her body solid and a little plumb. Her hair was contained by the cap she always wore. Her blouse was tight, matching her rumpled jeans. Her face could be called cute, certainly eye-catching, although not actually pretty. Her radiant smile seemed to invite men to pinch her cheeks. Not surprisingly she was the most popular ojek driver and much in demand in the area. Maybe in the whole world! This exactly was the reason for her troubles. Although Srikandi herself always kept her cool.


Some women, especially mothers, disapproved of her. But Srikandi considered herself emancipated and never strayed from her firm principles. She knew her rights. Women were already accepted in the army; there were countless female drivers, conductors, even policewomen, midwives, pilots and more. There were even women wrestlers and women boxers. Why should embarrassment and social restrains hold her back? At least this was her firm opinion. And the vocation she had taken up was after all a noble and honorable one. Why should anybody object?

As she wiped the sweat from her forehead, five customers arrived. All wanted the same – to be taken only by Srikandi. This off course upset the other ojek drivers, all of them men. Srikandi too felt uneasy, but the five men insisted, and they did not mind waiting their turn to be taken one after the other. Hearing this, all the male ojek drivers grew increasingly irate. But passengers had after all the right to choose the driver they wanted. The other ojek drivers watched motionless, frowning angrily. What could they do?

One of the drivers grumbled: “Tomorrow we should get our wives to take over, and we’ll work in the kitchen.”

Srikandi showed no reaction. Without ado she took the first of the waiting men. Her motorbike flew like an arrow – shot from a canon!

The middle-aged passenger had an impish glint in his eyes, and possibly was by nature inclined to be a little mischievous; he used both arms to hold tight onto his driver’s body.

“S’cuse me,” he said, “you scare the hell out of me, going at such speed.”
Srikandi knew how to react; she was providing a service and had to accommodate the customer. And despite all, this passenger did not seem totally uncivilised. Maybe he really was afraid. But if his speed-phobia did not manifest itself stronger, it was no reason to become a police matter.

Whatever went on in the minds of driver and passenger were totally different things. Srikandi’s honesty and openness was taken by the passenger as timidity and he also believed that he had been given a green light to tighten his grip. Every time the motorbike went around a bend, he grabbed more firmly at Srikanda’s jeans; most probably he would have liked to hang on whatever was under these jeans. Whenever the bike went over bumps in the road, he firmly and without hesitation grabbed the two multipurpose parts of Srikanda anatomy, namely her two arms. And Sri tolerated it. She was committed to transport her clients, however fanatic they were.

Although patience was her constant virtue, she suddenly felt bothered by something like a flute sticking into her behind. She felt this repeatedly, making her feel so uncomfortable that she asked the passenger about this oddity. The man laughed and pulled out an object– and it was indeed a flute.

“My kid asked for it, you know, didn’t want a bamboo flute. I had to buy a plastic one from town.”

This little drama over, Sri breathed more easily, although as they arrived at the man’s house, Sri received a dagger-sharp look from the man’s wife. Luckily looks could not kill. Sri maintained her composure and calmly accepted the fare. Then she deftly continued her business, displaying her usual cute face.

As her motorbike sped off, it did so under the gaze of village youngsters who longed to enjoy the ride but had neither reason nor money for it. Too dim-witted to conceive an opportunity, they only looked on, letting their imagination run wild.

Srikandi knew what was in their mind, and so as not to provoke trouble, she gave the boys a treat in the form of a friendly wave. And as she had disappeared from sight, the grinning boys looked at one another with open eyes, then boxed at each other’s arms.

Sri, with her customary dedication, ferried the men one after the other to their destination. It happened safely, without fuss or mishap. One of the men even gave her a sizeable tip. Sri did not think for a moment that the passenger could have anything unseemly on his mind. She simply considered that it was her lucky day.

But was this the end of her story? Was everybody happy with the way events transpired? Were the male ojek drivers able to face the fact that their pre-eminent position seemed to evaporate without a trace? Oh no! All the ojek drivers had come to the same conclusion: since Srikandi had appeared on the scene, their income was diminishing day by day. As if this was not enough, they had become the target of their wives’ derision. Their wives were of course fuming as their shopping money dwindled. It was clear that the presence of Srikandi in their midst constituted an unfair competition and a serious threat to their happiness. A threat to the happiness and peace of all their households. This situation could not be allowed go continue.

The opposition manifested itself in ways both hidden and open. Dark thoughts started to ferment. After much whispering and murmuring, they unanimously agreed on a plan of sabotage to manoeuvre Sri out.

Sri never suspected that she was the target of nefarious plans and remained friendly towards all. One day, as she went to ‘powder her nose’ in the nearby toilet and left her iron horse alone, one of the men who had become a leader in the unofficial plot, started to put the plan into action. As he had finished, he quickly drove off on his motorbike, somewhere, anywhere, just to establish an alibi.

When Sri came back to her motorbike, there were already several prospective customers waiting for her. As happened before, they agreed to wait their turn to be taken by Sri. And Sri was ready to take them, one after the other.

Sri did not know that nuts in strategic spots had been loosed by a person keen to avoid responsibility. The group of envious drivers pictured I their minds what was about to happen as soon as Sri’s vehicle reached speed, with the condition of the bumpy roads contributing to the complete undoing of the slackened nuts. The motorbike was likely to somersault and Sri would tumble onto the road and be knocked out. Or if she remained unharmed, she would at least get the fright of her life.

Yet did she indeed fall victim to such a tragic fate? Let us see what happened. As the motorbike had gone as far as half a kilometer, the passenger whispered: “Hey, maybe it’s nothing, but back there I saw a guy mucking around on this bike. Maybe a friend of yours. Whatever he did, I don’t know.”

Sri received the information with a smile.

“Don’t worry about it. Nothing unusual.”

“The guy was mucking around with tools, you know.”

Sri still smiled and paid no more attention to the passenger’s remarks. But when the bike had travelled some two kilometers, she felt that something was not right. She became suspicious, then slowed down. And as she applied the brake, the forward wheel became independent and tried to keep travelling on, only loosely connected by a wire to the rest of the bike, which came to a halt at this critical moment. Sri managed to retain control, steadying the bike with her feet on either side while the passenger held tightly on to Sri’s back. How could such a thing have happened! Sri took some deep breaths, trying to overcome the shock and to calm the thundering beat of her heart. Her shoulders rose and fell as she calmly inhaled and exhaled, but apart from that, much to the surprise of the passenger, Sri’s attitude remained composed, and quiet as the still waters of a mountain lake.

The next day the male ojek drivers couldn’t wait to hear the news about Sri’s accident. They were not a little surprised to see Sri plying her trade as if nothing had happened. She was as friendly as ever. Nothing had changed!

Now it happened that one of the men who had been part of the sabotage plan started to suspect the colleague who had been charged with slackening the nut. He accused him of having been snared by Sri’s charms and as a result had failed to carry out the task as intended. The man thus accused tried to defend himself, but the evidence spoke against him. The ensuing argument finally caused the group of ojek drivers to break into two opposing parties, like two rival football teams. Throughout all this Sri remained as calm and as unmoved as a beautiful wood carving. The opposing groups ended up fighting so fiercely that the police had to step in and take them to the station. It may well be that they will have to face court. Sri is prepared for all possibilities.