Dodgy Dudes (part 2)

The next man to pierce my thin skin was a ‘friend’ of Made’s who came to live with us. Let’s call him Nane.

Late last year Nane begged Made to give him a job. Pleaded with him. We’ve had many people ask us for a job since we moved into the bungalows nearly two years ago, and we always respond with a ‘thanks but no thanks’. We’re not in a position to employ anybody yet and we don’t need help.

Nane begged us to take him in nonetheless, because his wife and her family had kicked him out. He was hard done by. Gave us a sob story.

Like many people in Lombok, Nane is from a very poor family, only has primary school education and has worked most of his life as an itinerant labourer or farmhand. He can’t speak English and he carried his entire worldly possessions in a plastic bag.

We hadn’t even bought the land yet and still had no work, but Made felt sad that Nane had nowhere to live. He wanted to give him a chance; the opportunity to start afresh. So we said Nane could live at our place in return for helping out with a few chores and then, all going well, when we eventually get a new Meno Madia we could put him on as a member of staff.

Things started well and he showed an unusual amount of energy and keenness for pitching in. In the mornings he cut our grass, and swept the kitchen area for me. Made showed him how to serve the breakfast to our guests and how to say enjoy your meal in English. I was impressed. He smiled a lot at me.

Nane had a sunny disposition and was really good with our four cats, which is, sadly, unusual for locals.

Unexpectedly we bought land soon after he came. He was a great help to Made when they made the boundary fence. And he looked after our cats when we went to Lombok for umpteen appointments.

Our plans include a staff house, and we discussed with Nane that one of the rooms would be for him, and we would put him on a proper salary when the new Meno Madia opened for business. Until then we didn’t really need any help. If he wanted to get other work on the island, that’d be great, but if he stayed, we would be a ‘nonpaid team’ of three.

Nane liked to socialise, and what with Made being so quiet, and my Indonesian not good enough to chat, I think he got a bit bored at home with us during the quiet season.

He enjoyed bicycling around the island and visiting people in the village whenever we went to the beach (Nane doesn’t like swimming) or when we went to Lombok. And most evenings after dinner he headed out again. He said he loved Gili Meno! We were happy that he was happy, and I was happy not to have a fellow hanging around us all the time.

But a crack started appearing in this happy little scenario.

Nane had a bad back. It appeared when I started weeding our new land at the beginning of this year.

He said he’d been beaten by a guy with a block of wood, a couple of years ago… perhaps. The story changed so I’m not too sure. But his back got worse with bending, and so he was not able to help me much with the weeding, nor Made with the earthmoving. Nane needed frequent lie-downs in the shade.

Often he needed to get a back massage by a healer-man in the village (which we paid for).

We gave Nane three meals a day plus drinks and snacks and as many cigarettes as he could smoke, plus cash to pay for his divorce, cash for sick grandkids, needy daughters and visits to Lombok. We bought him clothes and toiletries and bedding. He was like family. But we were not giving him a proper wage, because he was not our employee.

In fact he’d have been flat out doing a couple of hours ‘work’ a day. Because of his bad back we would try to find chores for him to do, like ride to the shop and buy fruit, plant a few trees on the land, clean up some rubbish from the builders, or cook the three of us dinner. Things we could do ourselves, but Made wanted him to learn how to contribute, and to learn about hospitality.

Nane seemed incredibly reluctant to have a daily shower. He did not smell pretty. That is all good and fine in the rice fields, but here when we have overseas guests, it was not appropriate. The few times we asked him about it he said it was ‘too cold’. Or he said he ‘felt too lazy’.

It was also apparent that Nane did not have the attributes needed to help with housekeeping ;). We were starting to doubt his potential as a staff member.

But, he had a sunny disposition and loved to sit on the grass and play with our cats! How bad could he be? We hung in there. We felt sorry for him.

Lazy, smelly, gregarious… these I could handle (at a stretch). But it soon became evident that not only did Nane like to chat, he was the sort of character who did too much bla bla bla, a term used here to describe someone who rather likes the sound of their own voice.

It was when I began to realize that his many stories were inconsistent that my skeptical hackles started rising. The boy was crying wolf and I started doubting the things he said. So I asked discreet questions.

It turns out Made and Nane weren’t actually good friends (the term ‘friend’ is used very freely in Indonesia), but that they just lived in the same village and had often crossed paths at Made’s uncle’s house.

We discovered Nane’s stories about his wife were different to hers. Funny that. (When will I ever learn!)

We heard from people in Lombok that he had a history of laziness.

One day when Made and I returned from a trip to Lombok, Nane told us a story that was in complete contrast to something our guest had said. With the specific details she gave me, I had not doubt whatsoever that her version was the truth.

It was only a trivial issue, but nonetheless, because it indirectly involved our guest, and because of my need to be able to trust those I live with, I asked Made to recheck Nane’s version again, and to ask him to please reconsider his original story. Perhaps he had been confused? Perhaps he’d forgotten? I wanted to give him a chance to save face.

Boy, did Nane get vocal. The amount of Indonesian or Balinese bla bla bla that came out his mouth was astonishing, and he swore that our guest was lying.

Made tried to calm him down and explain to him that it was too late, we actually did know the truth, and Nane repeated his accusation to our guest! To her face!

It was a mortifying situation. (Anne, if you are reading this, I will forever remember the grace you showed.)

The more we tried to calm the situation down the louder he became. I tried again to explain to him that the reason we were discussing it at all was because honesty was more important to me than mistakes and other wrongdoings, but he swung his arms around and huffed and puffed at the ‘injustice’ of it all.

In that moment I felt equal pity and disgust for him; it was dreadful to see a middle-aged man protesting so.

It dragged on, pathetically. At one stage he stared me in the eyes, pleading with me, and made overt hand signals to indicate that he would slash his wrists and chop off his head if I found he was lying.

Made finally managed to take him away. They went to our land for some time out. When they returned an hour later tears were streaming down Nane’s face and he apologized somberly. Our guests were home, and he apologised to Anne also.

I thought that’d be it, good riddance, and in hindsight I wish we’d sent him on his way then.

But Nane said he really wanted to stay. He asked us to give him another chance. He assured me he would be completely honest in future.

I decided to put it down to cultural differences – after all, the subject in contention was actually quite trivial – and Made and I agreed to give him another go.

Well, it was less than two weeks later that he did the dirty on us.

He continued to eat and sleep at home, and there was very little work for him to do. One day when we returned from a trip to Lombok we saw he hadn’t even fed the cats. I was so close to being over it. Perhaps he sensed this, and that became the shadow behind his next actions.

He complained his back was getting worse. He always walked around stooped and with a hand to his back anyway, but now he walked almost doubled-over. A few days later he told Made it was just too painful, and he must return to live in Lombok. He had already planned to leave the next day.

I was so relieved he’d saved us the job of kicking him out.

That evening whilst I was alone doing a bit more weeding at the building site, I saw him walk by, straight and tall and with a bounce in his step, talking his bla bla bla on his mobile phone.

Sprung bad, as we used to say in Australia when we were kids. He saw that I’d seen him, but didn’t skip a beat.

Back at home, in front of Made, he walked with a stoop and a groan once more.

The next morning we gave him some more cash, watched him walk out the gate and down the road and turn into the direction of the harbour, shuffling along and holding his hand to his back. It was a sad and sorry sight.

Within days we heard he’d not gone to Lombok at all, but had instead taken a job at some bungalows, working for another expat, on this island. As a gardener!

Apparently his mate, Dodgy Dude No 1, had organised the job for him.

We saw him cruising on a bicycle around the island like he used to do, wearing the singlet and cap I bought for him in England, happy as Larry. He smiles at me and says selamat pagi as if nothing ever happened.

And then we heard about the slandering. Just like his friend Dodgy Dude No 1, and lying cheats all over the world. That’s when I saw red.

Nane has been telling people on the island that he was ‘working for us’, and that we didn’t ‘pay’ him. This is the bit that stabs me in my sensitive psyche. I was so disappointed. Particularly as he had been like a member of the family – albeit a frustrating one – having lived with us for several months. After all we’d done for him, and Made’s good intentions of giving him a chance at a ‘better’ life, he was just another parasite.

Made has since had a chat with him and told him a few facts of life. I hope he stops lying about us now, but I know only too well that leopards don’t change their spots.

Why hadn’t he just told us he’d found a job and said ‘thanks so much for taking me in guys, let’s stay friends’?

Perhaps it was actually the hole he’d dug himself into that was the real cause of his ‘bad back’. Perhaps he’s just another compulsive liar.

I’m afraid I will never understand the mind of a dishonest person.

It’s a month or so down the track now, and I’ve stopped wondering how he sleeps at night.

 

to be continued, soon, with Dodgy Dude No 3…