Next to him, as tall as his crumpled body, is a plastic bucket in which passersby drop their money. The solitary sounds of the harmonica might invite some people to stop and listen, but most of the time the old man doesn't attract much attention.

The old man and his loneliness amidst the city and its prosperity reflect the drastic contrast between the rich and the poor.

Ali is 82 years old and has cataracts. For several days every week, he picks up his bag and drags his plastic bucket on a little cart for 40 minutes to this place to play his harmonica from dawn to noon. His only sustenance is a bowl of white rice porridge and some warm water that he has before leaving home. He sometimes mumbles to himself and sometimes plays the harmonica. But he is always alone.

When he finishes his performance, he picks up his bag and drags his bucket for another 40 minutes back to his home in an area of illegal shacks along a railroad in Johar Baru, Jakarta.

Broken home

It is said that all kinds of people mingle and live illegally next to the railroad in Johar Baru. The place is disorderly, so most outsiders consider it unsafe to go there.

When one first comes to Johar Baru, one can only see narrow alleys lined with houses. Sometimes one may see street vendors and stores the same as those in other residential areas. But after passing through a walkway about one meter [3 ft] wide, one finds a completely different scene.

Following the railroad tracks in both directions are densely built shacks that look tightly glued to each other. Even the word "shack" might seem too good to describe them; "chicken coop" would be a more appropriate description. Each shack is made of old wooden boards, doors, anything that can be used to form a surface; each looks like a part of a jigsaw puzzle. Some shacks are only as tall as one's shoulder.

The irregular-shaped interiors make it difficult to figure out the true size of the shacks. They look no more than 35 square feet, since we could only observe the interior from outside the door. When our pupils adjusted to the darkness, we could see the dampness, grease, and everything else inside. There was no furniture, and cooking pots were scattered around on the ground, gathering grease and dust.

This is where a family lives, sits, and sleeps. Food is cooked outside next to the railroad; when eating, people simply pick the food with their bare hands from the plate. Roofs are made of plastic tarpaulins held down with bricks or wood sticks. The sight of tattered tarpaulins and torn cloths is almost unbearable.

Even though the people there live under such conditions, they don't show any signs of anxiety or uneasiness. Ali is a Christian who tries to help neighboring children go to school with the money he brings in.

No worries

The shacks are only a meter [3 feet] from the railroad, but people are used to walking back and forth on the tracks. Some even sit on the tracks and chat with others or just daydream. Between the tracks are items collected by residents, and on the tracks is garbage that trains have obviously run over.

While I was pondering something, the sound of a bell from an incoming train echoed through the air, and in a few seconds a train hurtled forward and kicked up flies, garbage, and dust into the air with strong gusts of wind. If one is not careful, one can be killed by the train in an instant.

Residents are injured by passing trains from time to time. Ali was one of them. Two years ago a train hit him and fractured his right arm. Fortunately, the tendon was not injured so he could still move his arm around. However, Ali never thinks about getting treatment for his arm or his eyes because he believes the injuries were caused by his God-given fate.

At the age of 20, Sarini is a widow and lives with her mother, who was crippled by polio. Four years ago, Sarini was hit by a passing train in front of her home; one arm was broken and a large portion of her scalp was scraped away. She was hospitalized for a month, and the accident still frightens her. The wound on her head is still visible despite her long hair. Sarini told us that her head wound was partly treated by taking skin grafts from her thigh, but her smashed arm could never be cured.

The indelible memory of the accident hasn't changed her miserable life at all. She and her mother still sell recyclable cardboard boxes for a living. She said, "I'm afraid of living here and I want to move away, but I don't know where I could go or how I could make a living."

Tarniah has suffered the tragic loss of three lives. Her husband makes a living by collecting garbage, but he likes to drink. One day Tarniah was taking a nap when her husband woke her and told her to buy him some alcohol. Walking half-asleep between the tracks, she was hit by a train.

She was saved, but the embryo inside of her wasn't. And this was just one of the accidents. Tarniah is only 31 years old, but she has already lost three children. Her one-year-old child now lives with her in an old, broken home, where she pays $160,000 rupiahs [US$19] for rent each month.

These people have to pay for many things besides rental. They don't have any bathrooms or toilets. They have a village chief who lives in a nearby legal house. If they want to use the bathroom or toilet he built for them, they have to pay 500 rupiahs each time. Three buckets of bathing water will cost them 500 rupiahs; a bucket of drinking water 100 rupiahs, and so forth.

Still, the residents are used to this kind of life. Whenever they buy water, the railroad tracks become convenient conveyor belts since the residents can simply push the buckets along the tracks without any difficulties.

Whenever approaching trains signal their alarm bells, people sitting or lying on the tracks simply get up and leave. But as soon as the trains have gone by, people return to the tracks as usual, like water flowing back after a boat sails through.

The residents always live in danger, but they don't seem sad when describing their awful experiences. "I was hit" is the typical answer they give, as though the speedy trains are no more than fleeting shadows.

Because they live there illegally, they mostly depend on collecting paper boxes, empty bottles, and other garbage or recyclable items for a living. Indonesians always drink bottled water or mineral water in sealed plastic cups. The empty bottles and cups become the main source of income for these residents.

After picking up the cups, the residents remove the thin layer of plastic covering the opening and sell the cups to recycling companies. One often sees adults and children scraping off the plastic with small pieces of glass while walking or sitting. The noise of scraping is heard everywhere.

Sweating without regret

Statistics show that more than 62.5 million Indonesians, or more than a quarter of the total population of 200 million people, live under the poverty line. After the 1997 Asian financial crisis, Indonesia fell into such deep debt that it couldn't solve any of its poverty problems.

Last May, to help alleviate food shortages for local people, Tzu Chi started a rice distribution program which will last for two years. The Tzu Chi Indonesia branch, the social service department of the central government, and the military have joined hands to deliver 50,000 tons of rice donated by Taiwan's Council of Agriculture to six million poor people in Jakarta, Java, and Sumatra.

At the end of May, Tzu Chi volunteers were distributing rice in Tanah Tinggi in central Jakarta when they discovered the people living next to the railroads in Johar Baru. Thus, the volunteers also included them on the recipient list to receive rice.

The 1,600-kilometer [994-mile] railroad extends from Jakarta to East Java. There are 500 families in Johar Baru. Because they live there illegally, their shacks do not have any addresses and they do not have any official residential information. Therefore, the volunteers had to follow the village chief to each family in order to include them on the distribution list.

On July 9, volunteers and soldiers went to deliver rice coupons to these people.

When they reached Temu's home, she happily shared with them her own story. She had four children in her hometown; only her youngest son, who was in sixth grade, was with her in Jakarta. To earn money, he sang songs at intersections or on buses to passengers. This would bring them between 5,000 to 10,000 rupiahs [US$0.59-1.17] a month. When she received the rice coupon, she smiled and expressed her gratitude to the volunteers.

Sugi Yanto was wearing a hat when we came to him. He was seriously injured with only torn clothes covering up his wound. Yanto told us that someone had once stabbed him when he was selling food. His intestines protruded through the wound and he covered them with a plastic bag. He had no money to see a doctor, so he lived each day this way.

He hoped Tzu Chi members could help him get treatment. The volunteers told him that in addition to giving him rice, they would also help rebuild his home and send him to a government hospital for treatment. With his rice coupon in his hand, Yanto held onto hope for the future.

Under the scorching sun, Tzu Chi members went from door to door in spite of the foul odor and filth and their own sweat. However, the longer they stayed, the more smiles showed up on the residents' faces when they got to know the volunteers better.

Delighted to receive rice

July 12 was a sunny day, and Tzu Chi volunteers gathered before an army office in Johar Baru to prepare for the rice distribution.

Residents slowly gathered outside the office in the early morning. Volunteers brought out bags of rice while the residents waited patiently to receive them. Some people carried the rice home by themselves or with their children. It was also interesting to see women breastfeeding babies nestled in their left arm while carrying rice with their right arm.

More than 300 families crowded the distribution site. Some people carried their rice in front of them or tied the rice to their bodies. Some families piled their rice together on three-wheeled carts, usually used for moving recyclable items, to bring home. We could see happiness emanating from their children as they tagged behind the carts and shouted in excitement.

Kanta, who had lost a leg, came with the help of a neighbor to collect his rice. He would beg for money on the trains and send the money to his children living in the countryside every week. When he received the rice, he said without any hesitation that he would take it home to his children.

Lieutenant Colonel Okta, chief of the army office in Johar Baru, has long been supplying manpower to help Tzu Chi do charity work. He commented that he wanted to fully cooperate with Tzu Chi because of the foundation's humanitarianism.

Most of the Tzu Chi volunteers who helped out with the rice distribution were employees of Sinar Mas, one of the largest companies in Indonesia. Rudi, a company employee, first helped Tzu Chi in 1995 with the distribution of tuberculosis medicine in Tangerang and Serang counties. Rudi doesn't speak Chinese, but he is delighted to be a volunteer in a Taiwanese charity organization.

Rudi remarked that he respects Tzu Chi's humanitarianism, which transcends religion, culture, and race. Tzu Chi volunteers always help people in remote areas. He further added that although Johar Baru was an illegal community with terrible living conditions, Tzu Chi brought rice to the people there and gave them hope. Rudi said that although he wasn't rich, he and his friends supported Tzu Chi's charitable deeds.

Rudi had one concern in mind: there were many poor people in Indonesia but there weren't enough volunteers. How could Great Love be spread to other places? This would require good planning.

The residents are delighted to receive the rice, but behind their happiness is another concern: After they finish eating their rice, how will they get more in the future?

Eighty-five percent of Indonesians are Muslims, who pray five times a day. On these two days when the volunteers were handing out rice coupons and rice, the sound of prayers came to our ears from loudspeakers far away.

A newborn infant in Johar Baru is sound asleep in a rocking basket that hangs from the ceiling. He is innocently enjoying the love and care at the moment, but he has no idea what a bleak future lies ahead of him.

Tzu Chi volunteers will continue to give care in this place. We sincerely hope Allah will bless these people.