Even though Eid is less than a week away, chatter in family groups, offices, or neighbors’ chats has started to shift: plane tickets are sold out, train ticket prices soar crazy, or the classic question “this year riding a motorbike again, right?”. Eid homecoming is not just an annual tradition; It is the most massive, most extreme, and perhaps the most “crazy” sociological phenomenon in the world. Where else are hundreds of millions of people even in peak years reaching nearly 200 million willing to risk their lives, time, energy, and savings just for a simultaneous “homecoming” procession within a week or two? The realization of the 2025 Eid homecoming will reach around 154.6 million people (down about 4-5% from 2024 which will be 162 million, and far from the initial projection of 146 million due to weakening economic factors). This is equivalent to more than half of Indonesia’s population moving simultaneously. It is not an ordinary migration like a vacation in another country; It’s a collective ritual that involves all modes of transportation: full planes, overcapacity trains, long queue buses, to millions of motorcycles that slide on highways and arteries. We are willing to queue for hours at the terminal, get stuck in traffic for tens or even hundreds of hours, or force ourselves to drive hundreds of kilometers just to arrive at our hometowns before the Eid prayer. For many migrants, homecoming is not just a longing for parents or relatives, but a stage to prove one’s existence. We want to show that in a big city we are “already people”: an established job, a car (even if it is a long loan), a house (a 20-year mortgage), or at least a “successful” appearance. Our education system and culture rarely emphasize that true success does not need to be shown. As a result, the highway turns into a big theater: the latest car is parked conspicuously in the yard of the parents’ house, new gold jewelry is worn to the village recitation, or stories of “big projects” are distributed at the dinner table even though the installments may still be gaping. This phenomenon reflects the paradox of Indonesia’s severe urbanization. Big cities like Jakarta, Surabaya, or Bandung offer economic opportunities, but they also create inequality, insecurity, and alienation. Hometown becomes a “stage” for vertical social mobility that is exhibited. From a sociological perspective, this is similar to Émile Durkheim’s forced mechanical solidarity: going home not because of natural organic bonds, but because of the pressure of social norms so as not to be excluded from the extended family or village community. Historically, homecoming has existed since the colonial era (as a “homecoming” for contract workers), but it exploded in the Reform era thanks to the growth of the urban middle class and toll road infrastructure. From an economic perspective, homecoming does bring “blessings” even though 2025 feels more slack. The money turnover is predicted to be around IDR 138-145 trillion (down 12% from 2024), but it is still significant: transportation tickets, fuel, tolls, lodging, souvenirs, traditional market shopping, to village MSMEs that are suddenly crowded. Destination areas such as Central Java (tens of millions of travelers), East Java, and West Java received a large injection of best-selling rest areas, full food stalls, batik sellers or special foods with double profits. But it’s also a national waste of energy: fuel consumption soars, air pollution increases dramatically, productivity in big cities drops temporarily, and environmental impacts such as plastic waste in rest areas or carbon emissions from millions of vehicles. The most tragic: the salvation of the soul. Every year hundreds of people die on the road. By 2025, the fatality rate will drop significantly (about 28% lower than 2024, with fatalities falling by as much as 35% on some records), thanks to close surveillance, raids, and rising awareness. But the majority of victims remain the cheapest but most risky fashion motorcyclists. We call homecoming an “economic blessing”, but ignore the social costs, lives lost, and incalculable physical-psychological exhaustion. Why are we obsessed with our “physical hometowns”, but rarely care about “going home” spiritually? Ramadan fasting should bring us back to our true selves: honesty, simplicity, humility, sincerity. But homecoming often adds a layer of falsehood of overspending for the sake of prestige, pretending to be successful for the admiration of the family, or stress because they are unable to “show” anything. Compare it to similar traditions in other countries: Thanksgiving in the US or Chinese New Year in China also involves going home, but rarely this extreme in scale, risk, and prestige pressure. Homecoming has a beautiful side: strengthening friendship, distributing sustenance to the village, a moment of family reflection. But the essence of friendship can be done at any time of routine video calls, sending monthly money, or going home outside the season without pressure from the masses. There is no need to risk your life in traffic jams. This year (or years to come), try asking yourself: am I coming home to resume genuine affection, or just to show off my fragile accomplishments? If the intention is more inclined towards the latter, it may be better to stay at home, pray tarawih alone, read the Qur’an more deeply, and reflect on why our souls are so thirsty for the confession of others. Perhaps the real “homecoming” is not to a physical address, but to a calmer, more sincere, and more free heart from prestige. Homecoming is not the problem; obsessions, falsehoods, and imbalances behind them that we need to re-examine before it’s too late.
#homecoming
#mudik