Pandaya – Turning up at the polling station on last week's election day was like a great family outing for many people, especially those taking the once-every-five-year political event (pesta demokrasi) lightly.
The station set up in every neighborhood consisted of an open plastic tent and a row of open chest-high cubicles, thus allowing voters to look at and talk to each other, but not enabling you to steal a glance at which legislative candidate the person next to you had voted for.
In my neighborhood, the people in charge of the registry, security and an army of witnesses representing the numerous contesting political parties looked extremely relaxed. Nobody hurled insults at each other as some did during the street rallies.
Approaching the polling station, I almost fainted at the sight of a neighbor who once got very angry at me because my dog would furiously bark at him every time he passed by my house. In fact, I have apologized to him for my dog's nasty behavior, but apparently my pet will not forgive him for pelting him with stones and cursing him at every encounter.
To my surprise, that day he greeted my daughter Anggie, my wife Nuny and I with a smile. We were not sure if his smile was really sincere or designed just for that particular day, or if he would stop threatening my best friend.
In the booths, Nuny and Anggie were puzzled by the bulk of three ballot papers containing a litany of headshots of perfect strangers. Yes, it's real fun: Picking people you don't know to represent your interests in the House of Representatives, Provincial Legislative Council and Regional Representative Council.
"Hey, which one do you have to tick for the House member of your choice?" I heard my confused wife ask me, giggling.
"It's my secret," I smilingly replied.
"Is this Sylvia Sumarlin the daughter of Sumarlin, the minister during Soeharto's heyday?"
"Yes"
"OK, I'll vote for her."
A minute or two later, after browsing through the pages, she still was not sure whom to choose to represent her at the provincial legislative council.
"Ah, this man at the bottom looks Chinese," she held up the ballot paper and showed me the photograph of the man that had grabbed her attention, much to the amusement of the witnesses. "He has fair skin and slanting eyes. He is definitely my choice," she said, laughing.
On our way home, my florist wife said she chose the Chinese-looking candidate simply because she befriends many Chinese and because the Chinese constitute most of her clients!
Anggie, who celebrated the day as a first-time voter, burst in with a slightly different story. She said she had voted for candidates from a "nationalist party" she reckoned would grab at least 14 percent of the seats in the House of Representatives.
"I was following the priest's advice in his sermon last Sunday, remember?" she said.
Of course I did. This priest dedicated his routine sermon to giving a piece of his mind on the Communion of Indonesian Churches's (PGI) stand on issues pertaining to the general election. Interestingly, he didn't recommend Christian-leaning parties because the churches firmly believe in pluralism and in the Unitary State of Indonesia.
With no clue about almost all of the names, she chose the political party instead of picking a stranger. By doing so, she delegated the authority to choose the legislative candidates to the party. As for her DPD senator, she said she chose a woman bearing a "Western name".
The other day Pak Kumis, a neighbor of mine, who makes a living selling meatballs bakso, said he just couldn't stop wondering why none of the legislative aspirants who had bought votes had knocked on his door on the eve of the election and offered him cash, as they reportedly did in some regions.
"If they had, we would probably have had a familiar face or two to chose from and have forgotten the rest," he said. I cannot tell if he was only joking, but I do know pragmatic people who honestly admitted they would never turn down "political money" and they would give their vote to the most generous donor.
And I believe there has been some truth in this game. The earth-shaking early victory of President Yudhoyono's Democratic Party has been widely linked to the highly populist cash-for-the-poor program he fiercely defends.
To this day, all the funny stories from the polling booths left me wondering just how irrational people could be when the eventful day came to exercise their political rights. Now I know why major parties would do anything to recruit celebrities, from dangdut singers, comedians to sitcom stars as their legislative candidates, although this tactic has often met resistence from loyal cadres who think it steals their thunder.
The National Mandate Party (PAN) became a butt of national jokes for its legendary penchant for celebrities. Putting more than 30 of them on its candidate list, PAN has been nicknamed the National Artist Party (Partai Artis National) and looks proud of it, with pollsters forecasting a gain of 6-7 percent vote.
The Golkar Party, winner of the 2004 elections and seeing its gains plummet like falling stars, may learn from PAN's trick and recruit more comedians and sinetron stars to its legislative candidacy lineup in future elections.