On a rainy day in Indonesia's capital Jakarta, three men coated in metallic paint known as the "manusia silver", or silvermen, brave the elements at an intersection near a mall to ask drivers for change. It is an arresting act that comes with health risks, one some young Indonesians feel is necessary to make ends meet as the cost of living worsens and jobs dwindle after the COVID pandemic. "I'm ashamed to earn money like this. I want to find a real, more dignified job," said Ari Munandar, 25.

"But the embarrassment disappears when you remember that your daughter and your wife are at home." Barefoot, dressed only in shorts and daubed head to toe by the irritating paint, Ari, his brother Keris and their friend Riyan Ahmad Fazriyansah each take a lane in the road. When the cars come to a stop they strike robotic poses in front of the drivers. "Good afternoon, have a nice drive," says Ari.

Street performers Keris Munandar (right), his brother Ari Munandar (center) and their neighbour Riyan Ahmad Fazriyansah posing after their performance.

Street performer Keris Munandar (left), handing over his tips to his wife Desi Apriyani, before bathing with his daughters at their home in Jakarta.

Street performer Keris Munandar (right) and his brother Ari Munandar buying drinks before performing at an intersection in Jakarta.

Street performer Keris Munandar, checking the silver paint on his face in a mirror inside an abandoned house where he and others hide their belongings before performing at an intersection in Jakarta.

Street performer Keris Munandar (center), undresses his daughter Nadin Apriyani to bathe together at their home in Jakarta.

Street performers Keris Munandar (right), his brother Ari Munandar (left), and their neighbor Riyan Ahmad Fazriyansah, hitching a ride on the back of a container truck to reach an intersection in Jakarta.

Street performers Keris Munandar (right) and his neighbor Riyan Ahmad Fazriyansah painting their bodies silver in Jakarta.

Street performers Keris Munandar (right), his brother Ari Munandar (left), and their neighbor Riyan Ahmad Fazriyansah walking to the main road to hitch a ride in Jakarta.

Street performer Riyan Ahmad Fazriyansah (left), and his neighbor Keris Munandar, waiting for the traffic light to turn red before performing at an intersection in the rain in Jakarta.

Street performer Ari Munandar (right), with his body painted silver, receiving a tip in the rain at an intersection in Jakarta.

Street performer Ari Munandar, crossing a road after getting off a three-wheeled taxi in Jakarta.

The poses have little meaning other than to attract cash. "I do them because one day I saw a friend earn more by doing them," he said, moving between cars, holding out a bucket for donations. On a good day they can pocket up to 200,000 rupiah ($12), but typically earn around 120,000. That's much less than Jakarta's monthly minimum wage of five million rupiah and barely enough to cover daily expenses. "I'm not going to eat lunch, just drink and smoke," said Ari.

Every penny counts in a country where prices have risen steadily in recent years. A kilogram (two pounds) of rice, the archipelago's main staple, jumped by 27 percent between 2015 and 2025, according to statistics agency data. And behind the paint, the friends are clearly undernourished. None are taller than 172 centimeters (five feet eight inches) nor weigh more than 55 kilograms.

'Stings my eyes'

A lack of employment opportunity is the main cause of young men and women taking to the streets, they say. "Since I was made redundant in 2019 I've been begging," said Ari. "Before that, I worked cleaning toilets." According to government data, the number of people living below the poverty line in metropolitan Jakarta -- a megalopolis of 11 million people -- was up from 362,000 in 2019 to 449,000 as of September 2024.

Street performer Keris Munandar, with his body painted silver, posing for tips in the rain at an intersection as cars stop at a traffic light in Jakarta.

Street performers Keris Munandar (right), his brother Ari Munandar (center), and their neighbor Riyan Ahmad Fazriyansah walking to the main road to hitch a ride in Jakarta.

Street performer Ari Munandar (right), with his body painted silver, posing for tips in the rain at an intersection in Jakarta.

Street performers Keris Munandar (left), his brother Ari Munandar (center), and their neighbor Riyan Ahmad Fazriyansah (right), counting their tips on the way home in a three-wheeled taxi after performing at an intersection in Jakarta.

Street performer Keris Munandar, posing as he arrives home in Jakarta.

Street performer Ari Munandar is helped by his wife Wahyu Ningsih to apply silver paint to his body in front of their home in Jakarta.

Street performer Ari Munandar reacting as silver body paint gets into his eyes while waiting for the traffic light to turn red before performing in the rain at an intersection in Jakarta.

Street performer Ari Munandar (right), with his body painted silver, posing for tips in the rain at an intersection in Jakarta.

Street performers Keris Munandar (right) and his neighbor Riyan Ahmad Fazriyansah painting their bodies silver in Jakarta.

This combination image of two photos shows street performer Ari Munandar, posing before (left) and after (right) painting his body silver in front of his home in Jakarta.

This combination image of two photos shows street performer Keris Munandar, posing before (left) and after (right) painting his body silver at the entrance of his home in Jakarta.

This combination image of two photos shows street performer Riyan Ahmad Fazriyansah, posing before (left) and after (right) painting his body silver in Jakarta.

"Many young people with few qualifications between the ages of 20 and 40 have found themselves unemployed," said Bhima Yudistira, executive director of the Center of Economic and Law Studies. "Even though there is no national count, there has been a huge rise in begging in Jakarta after the pandemic of 2021." After five hours at the intersection, the group returns home by hitchhiking a ride from a tuk-tuk.

The three pile into the back, counting their meagre earnings and lighting a cigarette to share. Once dropped off, they walk by a polluted river and across a railway line to their Jakarta slum. Far from the capital's high-rises, children play near the tracks to the rhythm of the trains as Ari makes his way back to remove the silver. The paint, similar to that used for screen-printing on fabric, is not easy to remove.

Squatting in front of a well and buckets filled with water, he splashes his body before scrubbing fiercely, his one-year-old daughter Arisya watching. "At first the paint burned and I had a blister on my neck, but now it only stings my eyes," he said. The shower reveals a new, younger man. Once dry, he heads home to play with Arisya. "As soon as I'm here I forget all the fatigue and the hardship," he says, smiling. "But I hope she never does what I do." - AFP