Aku masih ingat betul, November 2003 adalah awal dari perjalanan hidupku di negeri beton ini—Hong Kong. Kala itu, aku datang sebagai seorang buruh migran Indonesia, penuh harapan meski minim pengalaman. Pemerintah Hong Kong dikenal tegas dalam mengatur ketenagakerjaan, termasuk hak-hak buruh migran. Semua tertulis jelas dalam kontrak kerja: gaji, hari libur, dan kewajiban. Sayangnya, kenyataan sering kali berbeda.
Awalnya, pekerjaanku cukup lancar. Tugasku merawat dua anak majikan, memasak, mencuci, dan mengurus rumah tangga. Tahun pertama berlalu tanpa masalah berarti. Namun, memasuki tahun kedua, majikan mulai berubah. Aturannya makin ketat, omelannya makin sering, dan kesalahan sekecil apa pun jadi bahan kemarahan. Hingga akhirnya, tanpa alasan jelas, mereka memecatku.
Hari itu, aku diusir mendadak. Barang-barangku dikemas tergesa, lalu majikan mengantarku ke agen. Tidak ada pesangon, tidak ada hak yang diselesaikan. Aku hanya bisa pasrah. Semua dokumen pentingku ditahan oleh agen, dan aku dikirim ke majikan baru yang lebih buruk: gaji di bawah standar, tanpa libur, dan akses keluar rumah pun dilarang. Aku merasa seperti burung dalam sangkar.
Setelah tiga hari bekerja, aku tak tahan lagi. Aku bilang pada majikan bahwa aku tidak mau terus bekerja di sana. Tentu saja, mereka marah besar. Majikan mengantarku ke stasiun kereta dengan perintah agar agen menjemputku. Tapi aku punya rencana lain: kabur.
Kabur tanpa dokumen bukan keputusan mudah. Aku hanya membawa sepotong keberanian dan dukungan seorang saudara yang bersedia menemaniku. Kami berjalan di bawah terik matahari Hong Kong, mencari cara agar dokumenku bisa kembali. Akhirnya, kami sepakat untuk meminta bantuan polisi.
Di tengah kebimbangan, seolah semesta menjawab doaku. Dua polisi, seorang pria dan seorang wanita, muncul sedang berpatroli. Kami segera menghampiri mereka, menceritakan masalahku. Mereka mendengarkan dengan sabar, lalu tanpa ragu menawarkan bantuan.
Aku tidak menyangka, mereka mengantarku langsung ke kantor agen. Saat tiba di sana, agen terlihat panik. Polisi hanya mengatakan satu kalimat tegas: “Tahan dokumen itu melanggar hukum.” Dalam sekejap, semua dokumen pentingku diserahkan tanpa perlawanan. Aku merasa lega sekaligus kagum pada ketegasan polisi Hong Kong.
Namun, pengalaman luar biasa itu bukan satu-satunya.
Beberapa bulan kemudian, aku menemani nenek majikanku ke rumah sakit untuk kontrol. Kami naik taksi, seperti biasanya. Saat kembali ke rumah, aku baru sadar ponselku hilang. Kemungkinan besar, ponsel itu tertinggal di jok taksi.
Beruntung, aku masih menyimpan resi pembayaran taksi yang mencantumkan identitas kendaraan. Majikan segera menghubungi polisi, melaporkan kehilangan tersebut. Polisi dengan cepat mengontak sopir taksi yang bersangkutan. Sopir itu membenarkan bahwa ia menemukan ponsel di jok belakang.
Atas arahan polisi, sopir taksi mengantar ponselku ke kantor polisi terdekat. Tak sampai beberapa jam, seorang polisi datang ke rumah majikanku, mengantarkan ponsel itu dengan ramah. Aku nyaris tak percaya. Ponselku memang hanya model jadul, tapi nomor-nomor di dalamnya sangat penting bagiku.
Dua pengalaman ini membuatku paham, polisi Hong Kong benar-benar profesional. Mereka bekerja cepat, penuh tanggung jawab, dan memperlakukan siapa pun dengan hormat. Tidak peduli apakah yang meminta bantuan adalah seorang buruh migran atau warga lokal, mereka melayani dengan hati.
Kisah ini menjadi pelajaran penting bagiku. Di negeri beton yang keras, ada pihak yang siap menjadi pelindung, memberi rasa aman, dan memperjuangkan hak-hak kita. Polisi Hong Kong, kalian memang keren. []
Hong Kong Police Are Cool
I still remember clearly, November 2003 was the beginning of my life journey in this concrete country—Hong Kong. At that time, I came as an Indonesian migrant worker, full of hope despite minimal experience. The Hong Kong government is known to be strict in regulating employment, including the rights of migrant workers. Everything is clearly written in the employment contract: salary, holidays, and obligations. Unfortunately, the reality is often different.
Initially, my work was quite smooth. My job was to take care of the employer’s two children, cook, wash, and take care of the household. The first year passed without any significant problems. However, entering the second year, the employer began to change. The rules became stricter, the nagging became more frequent, and the slightest mistake became the subject of anger. Until finally, without any clear reason, they fired me.
That day, I was suddenly evicted. My belongings were hastily packed, then the employer took me to the agent. There was no severance pay, no rights were settled. I could only surrender. All my important documents were seized by the agent, and I was sent to a new, worse employer: substandard wages, no holidays, and no access to the house. I felt like a bird in a cage.
After three days of work, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I told my employer that I didn’t want to continue working there. Of course, they were furious. My employer took me to the train station with instructions for the agent to pick me up. But I had another plan: to run away.
Running away without documents was not an easy decision. I only brought a piece of courage and the support of a brother who was willing to accompany me. We walked under the hot Hong Kong sun, looking for a way to get my documents back. Finally, we agreed to ask the police for help.
In the midst of my confusion, it was as if the universe answered my prayers. Two police officers, a man and a woman, appeared on patrol. We immediately approached them, told them about my problem. They listened patiently, and then without hesitation offered to help.
To my surprise, they took me straight to the agent’s office. When we arrived there, the agent looked panicked. The police only said one stern sentence: “Withholding documents is against the law.” In an instant, all my important documents were handed over without resistance. I felt relieved and amazed at the decisiveness of the Hong Kong police.
However, that extraordinary experience was not the only one.
A few months later, I accompanied my employer’s grandmother to the hospital for a check-up. We took a taxi, as usual. When I returned home, I realized that my cellphone was missing. Most likely, it had been left on the taxi seat.
Luckily, I still had the taxi receipt that stated the vehicle’s identity. My employer immediately contacted the police, reporting the loss. The police quickly contacted the taxi driver in question. The driver confirmed that he had found the cellphone in the back seat.
At the police’s direction, the taxi driver took my cellphone to the nearest police station. Less than a few hours later, a police officer came to my employer’s house, delivering the cellphone in a friendly manner. I could hardly believe it. My cellphone was only an old model, but the numbers on it were very important to me.
These two experiences made me understand that the Hong Kong police are truly professional. They work quickly, responsibly, and treat everyone with respect. No matter whether the one asking for help is a migrant worker or a local, they serve with their hearts.
This story is an important lesson for me. In a hard concrete country, there are those who are ready to be our protectors, provide a sense of security, and fight for our rights. Hong Kong police, you are really cool.