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Flag of Indonesia.

     Jakarta, Island of Java, Republic of Indonesia

     Friday, 11^th June 1993

     My happy “beachcombing” days on Phuket were abruptly interrupted by a telephone call from TRAC in Bangkok.  They wanted to lease me out to a new company in Singapore called AVILINK, which possessed a contract to provide three B-737-200s and crews to BOURAQ Indonesian Airlines.  The captain’s pay was good so I greedily accepted the assignment.

     On this day, the 11^th of June 1993, I’m sitting in the left seat of a 737, attached to a jetway at Terminal One, Gate C-7, located on Soekarno-Hatta International, serving Jakarta.

Soekarno-Hatta International.

     In the right seat is an Australian Captain acting as my line training check captain; an affable sheep herder type from the outback.  Like me, he’s fifty, has got loads of flying experience, with a confidant-relaxed approach to aviation, allowing us to get along swimmingly. 

     Our route today will be Surabaya and Ujung Pandang, with an overnight at Manado, then, on the following day we’ll fly this route in reverse; returning to Jakarta.  At which point my pleasant Aussie Captain will sign me off.

     The Republic of Indonesia has blown me away; until dealing with the challenges of flying across it I hadn’t realize how big it was.  With 13,460 islands (approximately 6,000 inhabited) it is the world’s largest archipelago, which stretches 3,181 miles east to west, and 1,094 miles north to south, while the equator runs right across the middle of it.  With a population of 260 million it’s the fourth most populous country in the world, and more than half of its population is crammed onto the Island of Java, creating the world’s top populous island.  In addition it also possesses the biggest Muslim population in the world.

     Tectonically speaking, Indonesia is highly unstable since it lies on the “Pacific Ring of Fire” that accounts for its 400 volcanoes, 150 of which are still active.  Between 1972 and 1991, 29 volcanic eruptions were recorded, mostly on Java.

     To give one an idea of the diversity of cultures populating these islands, over 700 different regional languages were spoken, with the prestige dialect of Malay being the prevalent one.  Thank God, where aviation is concerned, all communication was conducted in English.

     The Republic of Indonesia has been run by two corrupt dictators: Sukarno from 1945; who was then ousted by Suharto in 1968, and who in turn ruled till 1998. 

     Regarding the old proverb, dear reader, “shit runs downhill,” I soon discovered that corruption in Indonesia ran from the very top, to the very bottom of its society.  That’s the type of snake pit I had jumped in to.           

     As for Indonesia’s Capitol, Jakarta (“The Big Durian” or “J-Town”), it lies on the northwest coast of Java, at the mouth of the Ciliwung River on Jakarta Bay, which is an inlet of the Java Sea.

     The northern part of Jakarta lies on a plain, with some parts below sea level.  Since 13 rivers run through Jakarta - combined with the wet season rains and insufficient drainage due to clogging – it is naturally prone to severe flooding.

     Being the most populous city in Indonesia, Jakarta was home to civil unrest, riots and attempted coups, accompanied by high crime rates, gridlocked traffic, squalor and corruption.  Both of my Australian First Officers had their pockets picked when riding on the overcrowded buses; prompting me to never leave the hotel, unless I was being chauffeured to the airport for work.

     And why would I?  BOURAQ put us up at the five-star Hotel Borobudur, featuring 695 rooms, various shops, six restaurants and bars; serving local, international, Italian, Chinese and Japanese cuisines.  It also had rambling, beautiful, luxurious gardens and a pool, with a modern gym to keep myself in shape.  So why on earth would I want to expose myself to a squalid, overcrowded, Muslim shithole, with its gridlocked traffic, riots and crime that awaited me outside the hotel?

Me, Ronny and Karen: 

Both Singaporean Purser/Instructors; having dinner at one of the hotel’s fine restaurants.

     As for BOURAQ Indonesian Airlines it was a family owned business that had flown for the past 23 years, and derived its name, BOURAQ, and logo, from “al-Buraq,” a flying horse in Muslim mythology.  

 “al-Buraq,” a flying horse in Muslim mythology.  

     It mainly ran a fleet composed of DC-3s, turboprop Hawker Siddeley HS 748s and Vickers Viscounts.    When I arrived, AVILINK had already installed two B-737-200s into service, as the Government had recently given its permission for BOURAQ to operate pure jet aircraft.  However, as of yet, it didn’t have authority to fly internationally – it was strictly a domestic carrier.

Douglas DC-3.

    Hawker Siddeley HS 748.

Vickers Viscount.

My Boeing 737-200.

     Eventually, the airline would be shut down in 2005, after experiencing ten serious accidents, over its duration of operation, with its turboprop aircraft piloted by locals.

     In contrast, the 737, piloted by expats, never had any accidents, dear reader.  You be the judge.

     Soekarno-Hatta International was expanded in 1991, and was currently the busiest and largest airport in Indonesia, built at Benda, Tangerang, approximately 12.5 miles northwest of central Jakarta.  With gridlocked traffic so bad it took virtually 50 minutes to drive that short distance. 

     There were two parallel runways, running on the north and south side of the airport; Runway 07L/25R (070°/250° magnetic, NE/SW) at 11,811 feet in length, and Runway 07R/25L at 12,008 feet in length.  Both runways had ILS (Instrument Landing Systems) but lacked the coupled DME (Distance Measuring Equipment).  That was annoying as hell, since the local controllers kept asking for our distance from the runway, which I had to “SWAG” (Scientific Wild-Ass Guess).

     I solved this dilemma by purchasing a hand-held Magellan GPS at Singapore.  Hooking it onto a knob of my instrument panel, it neatly sat in front of my right knee; giving me easy access to its keyboard.  It had a sucker cup on its antenna along with a six-foot cable, which I ran around my body to the cockpit’s 2^nd side window behind my left shoulder (the window without electrical power for anti-ice).  The sucker cup secured the GPS antenna to the window’s slanted glass where it had a clear shot at the sky above.  Using alligator clips, I hooked the GPS’ power line up to the cockpit’s magnetic compass light – keeping the GPS on a DC trickle charge - therefore its battery never went flat.  Without fail, it always gave me our exact distance from the runway.

Magellan GPS in front of my right knee.

     Many times that Magellan GPS got me out of a lot of trouble, as Indonesia’s lack of reliable radio navigation aids had the tendency to go “dead” when I desperately needed them.

     AVILINK also had hired ex-Singapore Airlines’ Flight Attendants as Pursers to train the BOURAQ Flight Attendants.  These ex-SIA ladies were in their thirties, which SIA had thrown away because they were “too old to fly.”  In reality they were attractive, highly professional, and a definite asset to any airline.  SIA had a penchant for always throwing away the best people.

     To illustrate how important and capable these “too old to fly” ladies were, may I submit the following, dear reader.

     Nearly a month after I had settled into the job, I was in command of a flight departing Jakarta for Surabaya, and, at 6:30 A.M., I’m sitting in the left seat getting ready for “Start Up and Push Back.”  

     When the Lead Gate Agent stuck his head into the cockpit, handed me the passenger manifest, and informed me I was “released”; even though there were still six passengers missing.

     Then he turned and started to bolt out of the cockpit.  I immediately stopped him, informing him we couldn’t leave.  Naturally he wanted to know “Why?”  Patiently I explained that due to the missing passengers, we now had a possible bomb threat on our hands; leaving us two options.  Either the passengers had to be found, or their checked baggage had to be located, and off-loaded from our 737 before we could depart.

     Okay, dear reader, here are two of the serious problems facing me flying for BOURAQ.  Firstly: the locals don’t understand English, which I’m finding deceptive, for they can speak it, but they don’t understand it.  Secondly: any airline gate agent knows that “missing passengers” signals a possible bomb threat.  BOURAQ’s gate agents obviously haven’t been trained on this concept...for this yo-yo has “released” me for departure, and by his look of bewilderment, he hasn’t a clue as to what I’m going on about.

     Fully realizing I’ve hit a brick wall with this gate agent, I snatched up the P.A. microphone and requested the Purser report to the cockpit ASAP.

     Shortly thereafter my favorite Purser, Ronny, appeared.  She’s Singaporean-Chinese, 35, attractive, with short, silky-black hair, has 15 years of service with SIA, and is extremely switched on.  She and her husband lived in New Zealand.

     I told Ronny what the problem was, and she translated the problem into Malay, causing the lights to go on behind the gate agent’s eyes.  He snatched the handy-talky radio off his belt and began transmissions in Malay.

     Fortunately we don’t have to wait long, his radio crackled back, responding in Malay.  Ronny leaned next to my ear and whispered, “They’ve located the six passengers in the loo.”

     Sure enough, I eventually spotted my six “lost lambs,” running like hell down the glass enclosed gallery in front of my 737’s nose, which led to our jetway.

     I could have, and should have, kissed Ronny, dear reader, for taking that load of pressure off me.  Only it wouldn’t have been professional.

My favorite Purser, Ronny, and me.

     Getting all passengers on board, my 737 was buttoned up and we pushed back merely five minutes behind schedule – time I’ll easily make up en route.  Without further impediments, I launched for Surabaya.

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