In the pre-dawn stillness, the azan unfurls through the cool air: Allaahu Akbar, Allaahu Akbar… The call pierces the darkness, a familiar sound that draws Kodir from his rest in his 3,5 by 5 meter rented room. For him, the dawn prayer is more than ritual, it is the sustenance for his soul, the essential breakfast before a day of small, honest labors. To the left of his door, two silver and black United Bikes stand parked neatly, his and his brother Ical’s. After prayers, Kodir prepares the silver bicycle, loading its racks with his ammunition for the day: packaged drinks, milk, coffee, tea, Nutrisari, and packets of nuts, all procured the night before from his regular supplier near M-Town Serpong. As a final preparation, he boils water, then washes away the sweat earned from loading his mobile stall. His uniform is simple, worn with purpose: a Trond cap, a grey shirt, faded blue trousers, an Eiger sling bag adorned with a red car keychain, and an agate ring on his left middle finger. At precisely 7 AM, a meow greets him at the door. It’s Mimi, a calico village cat who has been his companion for two years of vending in Tangerang’s Gading Serpong. As Kodir wheels his bike out and acknowledges Mimi, he doesn’t forget to rouse Ical, still wrapped in the digital embrace of a long-distance sleep call.
The journey from his rented room to his usual spot, a stretch of pavement in front of Universitas Multimedia Nusantara, locally known as Damen is a one kilometer routine with deliberate stops: for ice, for a refillable water gallon, and finally, at an orange walled warteg. There, a plate of catfish and tempeh orek (Rp 18,000) becomes his fuel. The clock reads 7:10 AM. Arriving at Damen three minutes later, he is met not by queues of customers, but by the debris of the previous night: scattered plastic cups and cigarette butts. Ical hadn’t had time to clean the area before leaving. Without hesitation, Kodir begins sweeping, his mind drifting to a memory from a year prior, a time when students would line up for him long before his arrival. The reality now is a littered pavement, a silent testament to change.
The cleanup brings the day’s first customer. “Your bike’s looking sharper, Dir. One black coffee yee,” says a student, handing over a Motul sticker to add to Kodir’s collection. The silver United Bike is a custom masterpiece: a front rack holding drink cases and cigarette box, a wooden frame over the rear carrier supporting a 19 liter water gallon, two faded pink thermoses with Rizky Febian’s face on it, a worn green ice container, and dangling keychains a duck and, humorously, a male phallus. The bike’s true flair, however, lies in its collage of stickers from loyal patrons: PATS, UMN, Starling, JBL, Motic, and viral memes of every kind. “You got it,” Kodir replies with a smile, swiftly preparing the coffee. Four teaspoons of black powder, two of sugar, hot water, served in a ten-ounce cup. The first sale of the day, the first blessing.
In the quiet of Scientia Boulevard, before the 7:30 AM rush of classes and office hours, Kodir’s thoughts wander home to Pamekasan, Madura, where he imagines celebrating Ramadan with his wife and two young children, aged one and six. The quiet is fleeting. Soon, customers come and flow, seeking their morning caffeine fix. Kodir serves them with the easy grace of a friend hosting guests for coffee and conversation. A silent bismillah reaffirms his intention for the day’s goodwill. By the time Ical arrives at 8:12 AM, the once littered patch is alive with dozens of customers. Throughout the day, Kodir never compromises his prayers for Dhuhr, Asr, Maghrib by stepping away briefly from his stall with unwavering trust in his customers. “A good intention yields good results,” he believes. Despite the unpredictable weather, gratitude anchors him. “Alhamdulillah” becomes the refrain for the day’s fortunes and trials.
At 6:20 PM, under a rising moon and the glow of streetlights, Kodir closes his stall with a final, heartfelt “Alhamdulillah.” He reminds Ical to clean the area for tomorrow. The night wind accompanies his ride home. Evening offers a different solace: video calls that bridge the distance to Pamekasan. Kodir has journeyed far from East Jakarta, Central Jakarta, even Malaysia, all driven by a desire to elate his family back home. In Tangerang, the promise of income outweighs the prospects on Madura’s dry farmlands. This shift from agriculture to service is a story echoed by many. Kodir, Ical, and their fellow starlings pedal their dreams, vendors of caffeine and nicotine respite, forging a humble lifeline for their families back home, one careful cup at a time, in the heart of the city’s roar.
