Rarely has a country enjoyed tobacco as much as Indonesia.
Indeed, even the most passing glance reveals a link ‘twixt leaf and nation. The smoking of cigarettes, the whiff of tobacco, informs every facet of life. Enjoy a kopi susu or percedel in some roadside joint. Savour the sambal in a warung. Take a bus journey across the wilds of Sumatra. Do any of the million other things Indonesia can offer. Everywhere will there exist the pungent aroma of nicotine.
The most famed brand, of course, is the kretek. Ostensibly a clove cigarette, its reach extends far. Kretek, as typified by Sampoerna et al., acts as an icon or a totem. A cultural signifier. The kretek invokes the country just as much as the dragons of Komodo, the stupas of Borobudur or the volcanic folklore of ancient Kelimutu.
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Its sweet odour and iconic crackle stimulate the senses. Moreover, the venerable kretek massages the brain. It forms a liminal bond in a way few other substances can. Even the slightest smell creates a minute Indonesian facsimile. And in this bubble gather aeons of culture, history and conflict into a whiff of smoke. Said whiff forms and then catches in the wind. Then it floats away into eternity.
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