Beyond Handouts:
A Mie Ayam Seller's Political Calculations
"Whoever gives, I'll accept"
In the narrow kitchen of her modest home in Purwokerto Barat, 61-year-old Wati prepares the day's mie ayam, a popular noodle dish she sells to supplement her precarious income. "Not a single bowl sold since morning," she remarks with resignation. Yet behind this economic vulnerability lies a woman whose political perspectives defy easy categorization.
Wati's experience with government assistance spans presidential administrations. She recalls receiving cash transfers during Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono's presidency and various food packages under Jokowi. The most recent—ten kilograms of rice monthly from January through June—arrived conspicuously before February's presidential election. But when asked if this timing influenced her vote, Wati's response reveals a pragmatic detachment: "Whoever gives, I'll accept," she says, drawing a clear line between receiving aid and political loyalty.
"I'm Javanese"
She notes when explaining her inclination toward Ganjar Pranowo, suggesting that shared cultural background creates a foundation of trust that handouts cannot replace.
Her critique of assistance programs stems from lived experience rather than political talking points. When the government provided food packages instead of cash, Wati discovered firsthand their shortcomings: "The tempeh was spoiled, the potatoes rotten." The rice, in earlier distributions, "was full of bugs." This practical awareness informs her preference for cash assistance, which she can allocate according to her household's actual needs—"for electricity bills, water payments." Her assessment isn't ideological but functional: "With objects, you can't divide them up."
When presidential candidate Prabowo Subianto campaigned on promises of free meals, Wati's response was neither enthusiasm nor partisan rejection, but rather economic skepticism: "Where would the money come from if everyone eats for free? There are so many poor people." This calculation—recognizing that resources are finite and implementation complex—reveals a sophisticated understanding of public policy that belies her incomplete elementary education.
Cultural and regional identities factor into Wati's political considerations more heavily than economic incentives. "I'm Javanese," she notes when explaining her inclination toward Ganjar Pranowo, suggesting that shared cultural background creates a foundation of trust that handouts cannot replace. Though she ultimately expressed admiration for Anies Baswedan's perceived closeness to ordinary citizens, her reasoning involved abstract values rather than material calculations.
The rhythm of electoral politics has become familiar to Wati through decades of experience. Having voted during the authoritarian New Order regime when citizens selected only parties, not presidents directly, she expresses nostalgia for that simpler system: "It was better back then... More peaceful." This historical perspective gives her a comparative framework that younger voters lack, allowing her to evaluate current democratic processes against alternatives she has personally experienced.
Wati's political engagement reflects a pattern common among many lower-income Indonesians—intermittent attention rather than systematic participation. "Sometimes when I have free time, I watch," she says of political news coverage. She follows campaign developments not out of ideological commitment but from basic civic curiosity: "I just want to know how things are developing." This casual but consistent monitoring allows her to form independent judgments without becoming emotionally invested in political personalities.
Her articulation of what makes a good leader reveals priorities beyond material assistance. When asked what qualities a president should have, Wati first mentions someone "who has a wife"—valuing family structure as a sign of stability and support. More importantly, she emphasizes that a president should "embrace everyone—poor people, rich people, the lowest people." This inclusive vision suggests that representation and respect matter as much to her as economic policies.
Despite limited formal education, Wati maintains a clear-eyed view of political promises. When candidates pledge to continue social assistance programs, she responds with measured expectations: "Promises must be kept." But instead of requesting more generous benefits, she asks only for "raw materials that can be stretched farther"—reflecting pragmatic household management skills developed through decades of economic survival with four children in a resource-constrained environment.
As Indonesia's democracy continues maturing, voices like Wati's challenge simplistic narratives about voter manipulation through welfare programs. Her story reveals that even among those most economically vulnerable, political decisions emerge from complex calculations involving cultural affinity, practical assessments of policy feasibility, historical memory, and fundamental values about leadership.