Interlude | Patrol I

“Alcohol is the start of every crime,” said Arya, “so we start there.” We were sitting in the back of the police car while two officers up front navigated and drove. “You know what happened with the Papuan guy that killed another guy last week? That’s because of Cap Tikus. And the rape from two or three days ago? That’s also because of Cap Tikus. So yes, we are still looking for people who have Cap Tikus.” I glanced back at the open cargo area of the pickup, where four other Team Barracuda members held on tightly to the sides, as well as to the straps on their helmets and guns. Only a few of them were wearing their black balaclavas, but everyone, including myself, was wearing a black bulletproof vest. It had their logo on it: a drawing of a barracuda with distinctly sharp teeth and one red eye.

The whole event embodied what Arya, their commander, had described to me a few weeks earlier, during our first meeting at North Sulawesi Police Headquarters (Polda Sulut): Team Barracuda on nighttime patrol looked powerful, intimidating, and strong. It was a Saturday night, October 17, 2015, and it was my second time joining the team. We were in a convoy of three large pickups with blindingly bright blue rotating lights. Even with the sirens switched off, the convoy’s presence and authority would have been unmistakably clear, and though it had become almost a nightly parade, their presence still caught the attention of everyone they passed. It was only on entering the narrow backstreets of a quiet neighborhood not far from the center of town that the rotating lights went off. It was close to midnight, and the backstreets were mostly empty except for a small group of boys sitting on the side of the street ahead. There were about five of them hanging out in front of a small house or shop, all between the ages of fourteen and nineteen. The pickup in front of us stopped, and a few of its passengers jumped out the back. The captain in charge of the patrol that night, who was riding up front, also stepped out and spoke to the boys. It was clear he had instructed them to go home, as they suddenly got up and walked off in different directions.

“This is where it begins,” said Arya, “At this hour, there aren’t any problems. But wait a few hours—wait until someone comes back with a bottle, and then this is when problems start.” We turned the corner, and in less than 500 meters, came upon what appeared to be the remains of a typical wedding or birthday party. The small remaining group of partygoers was sitting on the right side of the road, across from the house where the party had taken place. A large blue tarp hung overhead, creating an extended gazebo and blurring the boundaries between house and street. The car in front of us stopped directly below it, and a few of the men jumped out and walked toward the small group of people. The captain remained inside this time, instructing them through his open window.

There were two bottles of alcohol in plain sight: a large plastic bottle of red saledo and a glass bottle of Cap Tikus soaking a wide assortment of roots. The group, composed of a number of older men and a single woman, was clearly still drinking. The Team Barracuda officers continued talking to them for a short while, then jumped back into the car. A radio update followed, informing us that a warning had been given, along with instructions to gradually wrap up the party and make sure that the neighbors weren’t disturbed.

The text on this page is extracted from the PhD thesis: “Inside the Drinking Circle: Cap Tikus, Contested Modernities, and Youth Resistance in Manado, North Sulawesi.” This thesis was submitted by Nastasja Ilonka Roels as part of the Doctoral Regulations of the University of Amsterdam (UvA). All text references should be made to the original thesis manuscript, once published via the UvA Digital Academic Repository, and not to this website. Permission is required to copy, display or reuse images, songs, and videos.