I spent more time reading newspapers, scrutinizing every news detail, comparing it with my memories of the future. I wanted to see this Reformasi event more clearly, no longer indifferent as in my previous life. Back then, I only knew the broad strokes, not really caring about the details that shaped history. Now, every demonstration, every political conflict, every surge in the dollar's price, became part of the grand plan I had to pay attention to. This was no longer just passing history; it was the foundation of my future.
In 1998, the atmosphere turned chilling. The Reformasi wave swept uncontrollably. I followed every second of it from newspapers, television, and rapidly spreading whispers. The horror truly unfolded. Trisakti students in Jakarta were shot dead during demonstrations, their blood fueling the fire of resistance. Student movements from various regions, including Bandung, began flocking to the capital, demanding change.
In Bandung itself, ITB, as one of Indonesia's leading universities, spearheaded the student movement. They loudly voiced demands to overthrow Suharto. Clashes between students and security forces became more frequent, making the city feel tense every day.
Adding to this, the Asian economic crisis that had been lurking since last year now truly hit Indonesia. The skyrocketing price of the US dollar made the rupiah worthless. Prices of basic necessities soared, and panic gripped every corner of society. It was a direct depiction of the destruction I had seen in the future, now unfolding before my eyes.
Time continued to pass quickly, and we entered early May. I knew this was the peak. It couldn't be delayed any longer. I decided to have a serious talk with my Father again.
"Father," I said one afternoon, my voice full of urgency, "the state of the country cannot wait any longer. We must immediately go to Singapore to execute our plan." Father looked at me, seeing the anxiety and certainty in my eyes. He nodded, understanding that time was of the essence. This was no longer just about potential profit, but about safety and the future I had told him about. The storm was at hand, and we had to move now.
Without wasting time, Father and I immediately went to see Grandfather at his office again. A tense atmosphere enveloped us. Grandfather looked at both of us, knowing that important news was about to be delivered.
"Grandfather," I began, my voice serious and hurried, "since last January, the rupiah's value has started to drop sharply." I saw Grandfather's eyes harden; he must have known about this from news reports. "It's now around Rp11,000 per US Dollar, and I remember clearly that in June, that price will surge to over Rp16,000."
I saw Grandfather surprised to hear the exact figure. He knew this was not just ordinary fluctuation.
"The student movement is also becoming more massive, Grandfather," I continued. "In early May, they're becoming more aggressive. And... in mid-May, there will be a shooting tragedy at Trisakti." I said this with a slightly heavy voice, remembering the impending horror. "That will accelerate Suharto's fall."
Grandfather listened, his face showing a mixture of anger, sadness, and tension. He knew what the fall of a dictator meant, and the consequences of the chaos that would accompany it. "Because of that, Grandfather," I concluded my explanation, "Father and I will leave for Singapore immediately."
Grandfather nodded. There were no more questions, only determination and urgency emanating from his eyes. He knew time was very short.
Our discussion—mine, Father's, and Grandfather's—became increasingly serious. The grand commissioner's room felt filled with tension, as if holding back an impending storm. The conversation about looting and attacks on the Chinese ethnic group sent shivers down our spines. I still couldn't fathom why that hatred was so easily ignited, and who was behind it. My Australian friend used to tell me a lot about how her relatives in Jakarta had to hide inside their homes, hearing the shouts of the mob outside, and eventually decided to leave everything for safety.
"We have to move quickly, Darmawan," Grandfather said to Father, his voice full of urgency. "Arrange all tickets as soon as possible. Don't draw attention." The situation outside was indeed very tense. Newspapers and television didn't show the whole truth, but rumors, whispers, and word-of-mouth reports had spread. Prices of basic necessities soared uncontrollably. Long queues were seen everywhere. The sound of police or military sirens passing on Bandung's streets became more frequent. The fear was real. People began hoarding goods, while others locked their homes tightly.
We had to move carefully. My Father, with connections from Grandfather, arranged flight tickets to Singapore. We couldn't just choose any flight; we had to find a schedule that wouldn't look suspicious, amidst the panic of people starting to seek a way out of the country. I, as little Marlon, was asked to remain calm, not ask many questions, and follow all of Father's instructions.
A few days later, Father told me that everything was ready. We would fly in two more days. Departure preparations were made as if we were going on vacation. Mother Karina and sister Putri knew nothing about our grand plan. They were only told that Father and I would go to Singapore for Grandfather's business. It felt heavy to keep this from Mother, but I knew it was for their future safety and well-being. Grandfather would also remain in Bandung, managing the company and serving as an information bridge.
Before leaving, Father prepared several important things. He carried Grandfather's and our financial documents in an inconspicuous handbag. I also made sure my scribbled plans were kept safe. We brought no luxury items, just enough clothes. We wanted to appear as ordinary passengers, not drawing attention amidst what would surely be a crowded and tense airport atmosphere.
I knew that once we set foot in Singapore, a new chapter in this mission would truly begin. A chapter where we would harvest dollars amidst the reform storm sweeping through our homeland.
With the contracts already signed in Singapore, we now entered the waiting phase. The sun outside the bank office and law firm windows felt very different, as if oblivious to the turmoil that would soon hit my homeland. My Father, with a tense yet hopeful expression, occasionally checked his watch, while I, little Marlon, tried hard to hide my anxiety. I knew exactly what was going to happen, but waiting for that peak moment to arrive was a torture in itself.
Every day in Singapore, we monitored the movement of the dollar's exchange rate against the rupiah. News from Indonesia, which we accessed through international television and newspapers, increasingly clarified the picture of impending destruction. Jakarta was reported to be heating up, students were demonstrating more vigorously, and rumors of looting began to spread. This condition, ironically, was a signal to me that our plan would soon bear fruit. The more chaotic it became in Indonesia, the higher the dollar would soar.
We often met with the forex trader we had recruited. He was a calm-looking, middle-aged professional, even amidst global market volatility. He explained charts, predicted trends, and gave me a deeper understanding of forex market mechanisms, even though I already knew the general direction. My Father, with his layman's eyes, could only nod, trying to comprehend the complex financial jargon coming from the trader's mouth. I, on the other hand, used this moment to sharpen my understanding of the financial world, a crucial asset for my future steps.
The tension in the air thickened when news of the Trisakti shooting incident began to spread. My small heart sank, remembering how horrific that tragedy was in my previous life. I could feel deep sadness, even from afar. That event, though painful, was the final trigger I needed. This was the turning point that would make the dollar surge to our target rate.
Time seemed to slow down, yet at the same time, it passed so quickly. Every hour was anticipation. Every news report was confirmation. My Father kept asking me, "Is it time, Son?" And I could only answer, "Not yet, Father. Soon." I had to wait for the most opportune moment, according to my detailed memory.
We immediately went to the Bank of Singapore, where our trust fund had been established. There, we met again with the friendly yet professional bank representatives. They guided us through the necessary procedures for managing our dollar assets.
Besides the bank, we also visited the legal counsel who had previously assisted us, and a forex trader directly recommended by the bank. This meeting was important. My Father, with my guidance providing details from the future, explained our strategy to them.
The plan was clear: we would sell all of our US Dollars, amounting to $4.8 million USD, when the rupiah plummeted to Rp16,000 per dollar. That was the peak of the crisis we would leverage. After that sale, most of the rupiah we obtained would be set aside. A portion of that rupiah would be prepared to buy dollars again when its value dropped to Rp7,000-8,000, a moment that would occur when B.J. Habibie led Indonesia.
All these agreements were not just verbal. We drew up strong contracts with the bank, the trader, and of course, fully assisted by our legal counsel. Every detail regarding target selling and buying prices, the trader's profit percentage, and risk limits, all were laid out in binding legal documents. This was to ensure that everything proceeded according to plan, securely, and would not cause problems later on.
After all agreements were reached and documents signed, it was now just a matter of waiting. Our eyes, especially mine, which already knew the future, were fixed on the movement of forex rates, awaiting that crucial moment.
Weeks passed in tension. Each day was an agonizing wait, monitoring the forex charts that continuously showed the rupiah's decline. Finally, in mid-June 1998, the moment I had been waiting for arrived. The US dollar price skyrocketed crazily, breaking past Rp16,000. My signal was clear: It was time to act.
We immediately contacted our trader in Singapore. With firm instructions and full confidence from my future experience, we began to sell all our dollars and buy rupiah. The large transaction went smoothly, thanks to the professionalism of the bank and the trader we had chosen.
Imagine this: we started with $4.8 million USD. We bought these dollars when their price was still around Rp2,500 per dollar in June 1997. That meant our initial capital (after deducting costs) was about Rp12 billion. Now, we sold all those dollars when their price reached Rp16,000 per dollar. The calculation was simple yet astonishing: 4,800,000 USD×Rp16,000/USD=Rp76,800,000,000. Our initial Rp12 billion had now multiplied into Rp76.8 billion! This was an extraordinary profit, exceeding Grandfather's and Father's greatest expectations. An absolute success thanks to knowledge of the future.
We had spent almost a month in Singapore since our hurried departure. During that time, we also monitored news from Indonesia. The situation in our homeland had indeed improved slightly after President Suharto stepped down on May 21, 1998. B.J. Habibie had replaced him, and although the atmosphere was still volatile, political tension had slightly eased. This was a sign that the next phase of our plan would soon arrive: waiting for the dollar to stabilize again at Rp7,000-8,000 to buy back.
Finally, the time came to return to Indonesia. We waited until the country's condition was relatively safe, after the major upheaval in May and the power transition. The atmosphere at the airport was no longer as tense as when we left, but vigilance remained.
Upon arriving in Bandung, without delay, we immediately went to see Grandfather. His tense face instantly brightened upon seeing us return safely. In the familiar commissioner's room, Father and I recounted all the details of what we had achieved in Singapore. Father showed the reports from the bank and the trader, tangible proof that our strategy had worked. Grandfather's eyes sparkled at the fantastic figure: Rp76.8 billion was now safely stored in our trust fund in Singapore. However, Grandfather frowned. "Why hasn't the money been brought here yet?" he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.
I smiled faintly. "We will do it one more time, Grandfather," I explained. "When B.J. Habibie leads, the economy will improve slightly, and the dollar will drop. Well, that's when we'll buy dollars again." I knew this was a second opportunity to multiply our profits.
"After that, we'll wait again," I continued. "During Gus Dur's presidency, the rupiah will weaken again, not as severely as before, but quite significantly. And that's when we'll do it again." A sly smile crept onto my face, thinking about how we could maximize this future knowledge.
"After all these cycles are completed," I concluded my explanation, "then we will start paying off all the rupiah debts from Grandfather's and Father's company shares." I wanted to ensure all traces of the loans we took were erased, so there would be no burden in the future.
Grandfather looked at me, astonished yet proud. He nodded, understanding that his grandson had a vision far beyond his age. This grand plan, it turned out, was not over; it had only just begun.
Upon returning to Indonesia, amidst the return to normal routines, I often chatted with Father. We discussed future plans, especially regarding the next forex cycle. This is where my limitations as an adult Marlon began to be felt.
"It's a shame, Father," I said one afternoon, "in my memory, I wasn't a finance person." I explained that although I knew the big market trends and dollar movements, I didn't quite understand the technical details. "I only know the big trends, Father; I don't really understand the small details."
I imagined the missed potential. "If I understood the process of shorting or longing in trading, or other micro strategies, maybe we would have even more money." A small frustration crept in, realizing that despite having the golden finger of future memory, there was a gap in my knowledge that limited the potential for profit.
Father just smiled faintly, patting my shoulder. "That's enough, Son," he said, in a calming tone. "Just enough money, as long as it's safe. No need for one huge amount. The important thing is that it can sustain, continue."
Father's words calmed my worries. He was right. Security and sustainability were far more important than ambitious, risky maximum profits. This wasn't just about money, but about building a solid foundation for the family's future.
Amidst conversations about financial strategy and the future, Father suddenly said something that made me realize. "Marlon," he said seriously, "never forget zakat."
I nodded. Of course. As a Muslim, I knew zakat was an obligation that had to be fulfilled. I felt a little ashamed, because in the hustle and bustle of planning in Singapore, this detail had slipped my mind. My focus was too much on numbers and strategy, forgetting the essence of this blessing. "We didn't discuss this in Singapore," Father continued. "But later, when we have the money in our hands—after all transactions are complete and profits have been made—the first thing we must do is fulfill our zakat obligation."
Father looked at me, emphasizing the importance of this. For him, the blessing of wealth came not only from clever strategies but also from adherence to religious teachings. Zakat was not just an obligation, but also a way to cleanse wealth and ensure continued sustenance. This reminder felt calming, inserting a spiritual dimension into our economic ambitions.
Time continued to roll amidst Indonesia's political and economic uncertainty. After the huge profit from selling dollars at Rp16,000, we returned to Bandung, monitoring from afar. My Father and I often discussed the country's condition, matching every news report with my memory.
As I suspected, B.J. Habibie's government tried to make economic improvements. The rupiah, which had been plummeting in the tens of thousands, began to show signs of strengthening. In late 1998, and continuing until mid-1999, the dollar began to slowly decline.
We maintained intense communication with our trader in Singapore. Phones became the main channel, discussing chart movements and when would be the right time to re-enter. "The price has reached the target, Marlon," the trader said one morning, his voice calm yet professional. With Father's approval, who fully trusted my instinct and knowledge, we significantly bought dollars again when the rupiah strengthened in the range of Rp7,000 to Rp8,000. This was our second purchase, taking advantage of the temporary strengthening momentum. Then, on October 20, 1999, as I remembered, Gus Dur officially became Indonesia's president, replacing B.J. Habibie. His arrival brought new hope, but also unexpected political turmoil. During his government, the rupiah again showed fluctuations. There were periods where the dollar strengthened again, though not as extreme as the 1998 crisis.
We monitored closely. I knew there was one more big momentum we could leverage. On July 23, 2001, that dark memory returned. Gus Dur was impeached and replaced by Megawati Soekarnoputri. This moment of power change, though I had anticipated it, still triggered market uncertainty. The rupiah again significantly weakened against the dollar.
"Here it is, Father," I said to Father, pointing to the chart in the financial newspaper we subscribed to. The dollar had again touched a profitable figure for our third sale.
Quickly, we contacted the trader in Singapore again. This time, we sold the dollars we had bought during the Habibie era, when its price had significantly strengthened again during the leadership transition. Profits multiplied once more. Our money continued to grow, exceeding Grandfather's and Father's wildest dreams in their previous lives. After this second cycle, we finally felt we had enough. Most of the debts from Grandfather and Father for our initial capital would also be paid off, erasing any trace of risk.