Glodok, Indonesia, My Roots

My visit back home to Glodok, Jakarta after 1 full year of living in Seoul, South Korea.

Natasha Liwang

4/25/20244 min read

If portrait is what I do for work, street photography is what I do for fun.

But more than just an outlet to let go of the steam, it is also an outlet I use to tell my own stories. I truly believe that every encounter is divine, never an accident. Because through each encounter that I have had in my life, I always get to learn things that either, I never experienced or, had forgotten.

In the case of visiting Glodok, the neighbourhood where I grew up, it was about remembering the things that I have forgotten. They say, the stronger the roots, the healthier the tree. Maybe it was why I was so easily swayed by the strong wind on my first year in Seoul.

I forgot my roots.

What kind of root do I have? My father is a mix of ethnicities, my mother is of a Chinese descent who can't speak Mandarin. So, what roots?

Exactly. "What roots?" would be the first question that pop up in the millennial minds that grew up in such a mixed society that don't seem to have a distinct uniformity. But as I revisited my birthplace, I realized this.

Indonesia is the country where I was born. Both my parents speak Indonesian. My father wasn't a pure Chinese nor a pure Dutch descent. Which means, I actually have a freedom to choose which roots I want to deepen and belong to. Perhaps, that root is "Bhinneka Tunggal Ika" which means "Unity in Diversity".

Some people seek comfort in the uniformity and predictability of life, and that is not wrong. It is a preference.
I felt the beauty of uniformity and predictability as well, in the first few months of my stay in Seoul. But I cannot lie that I felt a missing piece from my daily interactions. Did not know what I was missing until December came, and I get to revisit my birthplace. Within my second week of stay in Jakarta, I immediately went to visit Glodok.

People were warning me about the crazy traffic due to the MRT construction that was going on, but it did not stop me. After being in such an individualistic country and hearing about Indonesia from an outsider perspective, even just for a year, I became almost hyper vigilant. I could not enjoy my first visit to Glodok, my head was still in Seoul. But I know I miss this place.

So, I went for the third time with my best friends, two weeks before I leave Jakarta to go back to Seoul.

That day hit different. Because, I had let go of my hyper vigilance, let go of my prejudice, let go of my pride.
I began seeing them as my own again. The people, the strangers, the atmosphere, the place...

This time, every conversation, every click, would later bring tears to my eyes as I edited the photographs I took.

I began to see them for who they are, and not the idea I had in my head.
I began to see myself in their eyes.
I began to recognize and remember the person I was. Before all of the good things in Seoul happened to me.
I began to see the wonder that I had forgotten...