Sense of Humor

What makes us laugh really? The easy answer would be; something funny. Although one could also questions what defines which are funny and which ones are not. The definition differs between each person with time and place as a variable.

A psychopath like Joker might laugh at the scary sight portrayed in the face of his victims, something that most normal people wouldn’t find funny in the slightest. Racist people may lol at some racist jokes which a lot of decent people would be offended by. An atheist would rofl at something considerably slanderous to some and vice versa.

Moreover, something that is funny usually comes surprisingly. The laughing meter might drop the next time it appears second time around. Public farting loudly in a college dorm obviously would be funnier than at some point in a family funeral.

It is tricky to learn when and where one should do or show anything funny.

Humor is different though. It’s a noun, which simply means an ability to provoke laughter and provide amusement. That means ‘sense of humor’ is a capacity to appreciate and experience humor.

Muslim’s sense of humor has been a topic of discourse in many places. So much so that Hollywood deemed it worthy of a dedicated film. The title is “Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World”. It’s not a totally bad attempt, several low key sarcasm, interesting dead-pan delivery, and explains bits and pieces about what is considered funny for some Muslims especially in India and Pakistan.

Albert Brooks plays as himself and lightheartedly insult not only at himself and his non-famous career but also at world’s inability to understand why some Muslims have trouble to laugh at the jokes from the western world.

Fascinatingly, Mr. Brooks, the leading actor in the movie, is of Jewish descent. They’re renowned for their self-deprecating high sense of humor. I don’t mean to stereotype (but I already did so might as well continue) yet since this is a good stereotype I hope no body would mind.

One of their strength is in the knack of finding humor even in the most adverse moments. For thousands of years they amass a wide range of jokes laughing at their oppressors, problems they’re having, themselves, even their relationship with Their God.

The ability to laugh at one self is probably something us Muslims might want to learn. It really pains me to see the over reaction by some of us in the events of an attempt of humor by some party in the west mocking the ‘barbaric and stupid’ Muslims.

Question: How many Muslims does it take to change a light bulb?
Answer: None. Muslims just sit in the dark and blame it on the Jews.

We should just laugh at these harmless or even the more offensive jokes and use it as impetus for self improvement. The extreme responses were probably just what they needed to bait. We have to learn that humor is not just about playful confrontation; it is also an amusing way in which people can recognize the tragedies of life without getting too depressed.

Although on flipside of the coin, sensitivity for ‘laughing at’ us probably required at the other side of the fence. I’m not talking specific about laughter and jokes aimed to ridicule Muslims, but to all group of people, especially sensitive issues such as religion, race, and sickness.

At least personally I hope they won’t do it too often. We might want to remember that for some of these easy targets, life is depressing enough without having certain high brow artists or some random party making a mockery of something they hold dear.

Certainly we haven’t been too deprived of other avenue of humors and entertainments to the point that we have to laugh at other people’s expense most of the time. It would be totally discouraging if people started to make fun of down-syndrome for example.

I myself laugh a lot. I laugh at children’s antics and smile at their cuteness. Banters between friends made me spill my tea to the keyboard, so probably am guilty of too easily amused. That’s why aged PC jokes still work well for me. Mr. Bean, Donald Ducks, Tom and Jerry continue to make me rolling on the floor laughing, so do other conventional comedy like Seinfeld and The Office.

Although I understand completely that: to each their own.

PS: Selamat menjalankan ibadah puasa Ramadhan bagi umat Islam.

Many Kinds of People

For the past six months, since moving to our home in Bekasi, we’ve been tremendously helped by our maid. Bu Sri is her name.

She is around forty years old and obviously quite an educated widow. She dressed up well, wears glasses, and her mannerism is different from conventional domestic helper that we know of. In fact, one of our neighbors thought that she’s the owner of our house and we actually rent the room from her. We told them she's an aunt. It feels like she is.

In a nutshell, we like her, so much that we’ve raised her salary twice in this short period.

Alas, just like every good story, there’s a complication. Apparently, Bu Sri, has an ogre of a brother. He is forty something brute of a man, a corporal in the army, and built like a bulldozer. Since the first time we meet him a while ago, we’re not that impressed with his behaviors. Always with sleazy innuendos, kinky stories, and often comes up unannounced when we were not at home.

It gets more intriguing for the fact that Bu Sri has quite a sum of savings from the pension of her late husband. She has earmarked that savings to build a house for her daughter, who’s married, and currently living with her in laws.

It seems that the big brother, being a twat person that he is, wants a piece of that stash. He asked her to buy him a Scorpio motorcycle and when she rejected that absurd request, he pushed Bu Sri to the floor so hard; she got bruises all over her arm and knee. He then stormed into her room and stole her hand phone (the one that we gave her) and important letters including savings book and pension papers.

We knew all this when we saw the giant tosser fled out of our house and we found her crying in her room. She told us all of the stories and we were just so incensed. According to Bu Sri, the man has been a bully all his life. She was beaten to pulp at least twice already, yet there’s nothing she could do about it. My wife consoled her that night. She’s asking permission the next day to leave for her hometown Magelang, taking care of the stolen documents.

Several days later, the lovely brother came to our house. I didn’t let him in, so he asked to speak from outside of the fence. The giant bastard told me that Bu Sri is no angel herself. He said that she’s been stealing from us a couple of times, some money, little stuffs like belt and bags and gave it to him. He came over to our house to return the stuffs, not the money mind you.

This however confirmed our mild suspicion. Some weeks ago, I found out that my wallet has been changing places and I was short fifty thousand rupiahs. Ira also lost an envelope with some money in it. Since those were isolated incidents and concerning small amount of money, we didn’t think much of it. On the other hand, we do think that because the thick brother was asking for money all the time, she had to do what she did.

Back to the dastardly brother in front of the porch, the sodding man gave me an ‘ultimatum’, we have to fire Bu Sri, otherwise he’ll come back with his police friends and we’ll be in the world of trouble.

In the name of jumping elephant, what an unbelievable nerve! I was having none of that and asked him to leave immediately. He scurried away with his bike, and gave me a nasty look that would scare little children before he vanished around the corner. Clearly, by his minuscule dimwitted logic, if he has to suffer not to get a bike, his sister should also suffer.

When we confronted this with Bu Sri, she cried and plead to us not to let her go, she has no other place to stay. She said that she hopes to stay with us even if we don’t pay her. Of course, we won’t be doing that.

A few moments later, the charming brother called my wife and said that he’s not afraid to die, he’s an army trained for confrontation, and he is ready to be fired because he’s been working as a bodyguard to a famous artist. We were just laughing to hear all that. This is shaping to be reminiscent of a soap we get to watch on the telly.

I guess that is what you get when you gave a shallow immoral person a gun, train him to kill without giving proper education and value to live in a civilized society. The man is a remnant of a barbaric time and we were surprised that those creatures exist in our midst.

Not on an entirely different theme, we went to Bandung last week. I’ll write some journal about the trip later. I’d like to talk about something else for now.

We stayed in a hotel near our old campus and enjoyed a memory lane roaming around Dago area. Just like any other visitors from Jakarta, we were shopping like there’s no tomorrow in the plethora of factory outlets scrambled around Bandung. The prices are just so good, we ended up with dozens of paper bags by the time we’re finished.

We checked out of our hotels. Given that there’s still some time before the travel bus arrived, we decided to have a meal at Suis Butcher, one of our favorite places when we’re in college. With hands full of goodies, I accidentally left my hand phone in the hotel lobby desk.

After a good one hour then I realize that something was missing. I was totally stunned with the thought of losing that phone. Ira immediately called my number and some woman answered. She’s the receptionist from the hotel. The lady ensured us that the phone was safe in their hands after one of the bellboy found it. We were so relieved and slightly surprised at the same time.

I rushed to the hotel with a taxi. I received my cellular with glee and thanked the person who found it several times. I gave the man some money as a reward, yet he refused to take it. I did force it in his hand though eventually. Rahmat is his name and I’ll never forget him. In this day and age, there are some honest people left around us too. If the bellhop were bent, he’d have a cool three to four million cash in his hand straight away.

I shared this story with some friends in the office, and all of them shared almost similar experiences. One left her phone in Breadtalk’s table and was returned intact. A friend left an ATM card inside an ATM machine, yet losing no money and got his card back. This truly made me feel good. It brought back my faith that there’s hope in this place. Not all of us are twisted. Not all of us are corrupt.

These contrasting stories however were a lesson for me. Not to be too trustful yet not to be too bitter and cynics towards others. I remember the movie Crash, which we like so much. There is wide spectrum of antics people could do to one and another depicted brilliantly in the movie. Even the most crooked can have an angelic moment in their life, and the noblest person can have a bit of evil in their heart. After all, we’re only people.

Selamat Ulang Tahun Indonesia

Saat yang tepat untuk menyatakan cinta untuk negeri sendiri.

Pada saat yang sama, saya telah mengembangkan sebuah blog baru, khusus untuk membahas segala hal mengenai Indonesia. Semoga di masa depan semakin banyak artikel dan ulasan yang bisa mencerminkan kembali betapa indah dan berpotensinya negeri ini.

www.negeriku-indonesia.com

Of Children in The Streets

Several times I’ve observed some children who sing in the bus mixing some Christian and Muslim songs in their play list. I wonder if this is a street smart trick to broaden their target market or somebody teaches those poor kids random songs with them oblivious about the true meaning of the lyrics.

Anyway, I have a mixed feeling to see children wandering around dangerous places at night and hop from bus to bus earning cool cash instead of studying for school. Obviously, earning some fifty thousands a day is far more attractive than reciting names of national heroes or counting obscure algebra formulas. However these children probably do not realize that they are losing their golden period in life.

After watching some documentaries and observing around all these years I can conclude that most of the kids are not doing it for food or books. Instead, they spend their money for glue to sniff, cigarettes, and some kop a feel from cash strapped hookers on the street. It broke our hearts to see two underage girls squatting and smoking under the Casablanca fly-over the other night.

The documentaries also show that almost always there’s an adult behind these kids activities, a Fagin-like character from Oliver Twist, who end up with larger portion of income from these innocent lads. There have been accounts of child kidnapping, and later on exploited as beggars and performers in the street. And I figure it’s not too hard to sway some of the other youngsters from low income family to go and work for them. Such is the lure of green and the unattractiveness of school curriculums

On the other hand, we’ve got our National Education Department incapable of providing cheap and affordable education despite having been allocated around twenty percent of our national budget. Where were all that money spent is a different issue altogether. 1,200,000 students all over Indonesia stopped their education because they could no longer afford it.

The question now is; what can we do as an average Joe? I realize it could be hard to resist reaching for our pocket when some doe eyed little children staring at you asking for some spare change. However, I would suggest there are other and probably more effective ways to help without encouraging them to be on the street.

I guess it’s supply and demand, when fewer people handing them easy money, there won’t be as many Fagins roaming about the place. They’d probably be back hoodwinking adults in no time, but that’s relatively better than abusing naive little children.

Becoming foster parents is one of the better ways to contribute. People can do it directly by adopting child from a poor family, or, indirectly by donating some amount regularly to several noted organizations specialized in helping educations for unfortunate children. Alternatively, we can also look at our surroundings, the janitors and the office helpers. We usually help them when the holiday is near, such as Lebaran or Christmas, but I’m guessing they also need us most when the new school year begins.

So instead of me overburdening my waist with carbohydrates, I reckon once a week reducing two intakes of those tasty J.Co plus Breadtalk and assign them to better causes. Once every semester we’d take a look at their school results and with regular talks to their father we’d know the progress they’ve been doing over the years.

In Indonesia there are several organizations working to bridge the donators and the families in need of education fund. Some are focusing on children in the streets of Jakarta, providing community schools and temporary home stay, such as Dilts Foundation. The others are stressing their effort in poorer and under-developed provinces of the country, like GN-OTA for one, while YCAB mainly deals with adolescents struggling against drugs and narcotics. I have several friends who can find more lucrative jobs anywhere else but dedicate their skills for YCAB promoting drug free culture amongst teenagers.

There are various other groups with similar noble deeds, nevertheless it’s always better to pick one with better track records, accountability in audits, and complete information. Here are some of the recommended organizations out there:

• GN-OTA (Gerakan Nasional Orang Tua Asuh)
  Bimantara Lama Building 5th Floor.
  Jl. Kebon Sirih No. 17-19
  Jakarta 10340
  Phone: +62 21 390 0900
• Dilts Foundation
  Jl. Swadaya I No. 11, Pejaten Timur
  Pasar Minggu
  Jakarta 12510
  Phone: +62 21 780 5134
• YCAB (Yayasan Cinta Anak Bangsa)
  Jl. Surya Mandala I No. 8D
  Jakarta 11520
  Phone: +62 21 5835 5000
• Annisa Indonesia
  Jl. Cigalontang No. 10
  Singaparna, Tasikmalaya
  Phone: +62 265 546 240
• Sampoerna Foundation
  (Although please note that Sampoerna is a Tobacco Company, which presumably could have ulterior motives, this is entirely up to your judgment call)
  Sampoerna Strategic Square
  Tower A 27th Floor.
  Jl. Jend. Sudirman Kav.45
  Jakarta 12930
  Phone: +62 21 577 2340
• Update courtesy of Mbak Katadia:
  Mandalawangi
• Update courtesy of Leyla:
  ACT
  Phone: +62 21 741 7782
  BCA Account: 6760302021

The Crown Jewel of The Equator

I'd really appreciate any comment, suggestion, critique and feedback on this entry. It is a work in progress and I'm hoping to replace all the photos and the articles inside with my own once I get to visit every spot, finger crossed.

Of Mosquitoes

Rewind back six months ago, we were living in this small rent studio in Pejompongan. For around seven years there’s hardly any mosquito manage to sip our blood.

Almost every night we could sleep soundly bar occasional events where the neighboring couple was fighting and throwing some dishes or some teenagers decided to play guitar loudly in the hallway.

Those were some simpler times.

A couple of months after moving to the current home, it was actually not bad. We managed to suppress the little suckers and hold the fort with some anti-mosquito sprays. These skeeters were just a mild nuisance easily thwarted with simple claps and flick of hands.

We did not know who made the order but some guy from the county then fog the area, we presume this was to prevent the dengue fever that has been spreading around lately. However, apparently, this measure barely drove those pesky insects away for a while, and then somehow back with a vengeance while inviting their families with them.

Conspiracy theorists would claim that this scenario was set in motion by those huge insect repellent industries. Spreading the baby insect all over the place. Alternatively, it could be that the dry season has arrived and it is in fact a mating season for these annoying bloodsuckers.

My wife is the one who suffers the most. She could hardly get any sleep in recent weeks fighting a losing battle against the sneaky invaders. Small drop of blood spatter all over the walls and floor are proves of how fierce the skirmish went.

I, on the other hand, could sleep anywhere as long as there is pillow around. However, with a sense of camaraderie I also woke up sometimes to spray pesticide around the house. This in turn would make me all drowsy and lethargic at the office during the day.

If malaria or dengue fever did not kill us, I reckon these poisonous fumes from the many brands of pesticides would do the job later down the years. Besides, all these sprays in the end would create mutant and super breed of mosquitoes running amok impervious against all insect killers in the market. What a scary thought.

So we scourge around the shopping centers to find better and safer ways to deal with the pest.

We inspect some ultraviolet light specially designed to attract and electrocute mosquitoes. We also bought some high frequency emitting apparatus that claimed it could repel bugs away in a 25 m square area. There is that racket thingie, which some friends assure us it could be deadly to any flying insects.

We tried them all at once.

Now things are getting better, we are back to our normal resting cycle and snoozing peacefully at night.

Sight of a Woman

I barely escaped an accident this fine morning. Apparently, my ojek driver was totally distracted by sight of a woman in her translucent nightgown sweeping near the roadside. The driver likes what he saw too much, he missed an oncoming sedan from the opposite corner.

Our bike kissed the sedan face to face. I have to admit both drivers were pretty quick with their reflex. By chance, we all escaped with hardly a scratch. The only thing left was the exchange of angry words from both party. I can laugh at it now, but I’m guessing things won’t be this funny when we break a bone or two.

Now that's what we can call a defined beauty, if one could cause a traffic accident while performing house chores.

A while back, in my omprengan commute, a gorgeous woman in her twenty something sat by my left side. It’s very common to sleep during the whole trip, so did this young lady. Probably because she was still too tired, she slept like a baby and used my shoulder as some short of cushion to her pretty head.

Being a gentleman that I am (cough), I did not shrug her off. However, the temptation was killing me, as her hair was this nice smelling coconut-y. Moreover, you know that high percentage of women’s pheromone coming from the top of their head right? Therefore, you can guess that I was stuck between a rock and a hard place (no pun intended).

I touched my finger in search of the wedding ring to remind myself that I am married. Alas, the ring wasn’t there. I forgot that we had to take it off due to my swelling fat fingers.

So, anyway, I started to occupy my mind with more important and worldly topics. Starvation in Sudan, difficult physics formula, which I scarcely remember any, deadlines looming in the office, and finally I take solace in my favorite subject, footballs and gadgets. I lingered with those thoughts for a while and suddenly we almost arrived in our destination. One hour flew by that quickly.

The young woman and I exchanged polite smile as she departed off the omprengan. I wonder if she did that on purpose. Argh no way, I scolded my self; I am way past that glory days.

Speaking of sight of a woman, we have this consultant guest comes to our office every once a while. She’s a foreigner in her mid forty. She always wears this very low cut see-through dress and has been the talk of the office for sometime now. We can tell that she seldom wears any bra, but I can’t tell you how.

Whenever she speaks to me, I had to look a little bit higher than her eyebrows. I set my eyes just about the top of her forehead. As you know that, our cone of vision spanned approximately around 45 degrees right? That’s how I managed to slalom my way out of staring at her cleavage. She probably thinks I’m a geek, a prude or something.

Apologize for this rather lewd post, my friends. [tongue=in cheek] I’ve just found new respect of life from this near accident in the morning [/tongue].

PS:

• Ojek is a motorcycle taxi used in Indonesia for short distance travel
• Omprengan generally is a mini van type of car, like Suzuki Carry or Daihatsu Zebra. Two sit in front with the driver, four in the middle, and six in the back. It's not a formal mode of transportation, just like ojek.

Of People and Their Suit

Several weeks ago, I met an old friend. We were sort of best buddies way back then. Since junior high, we went to different high school. After a good 18 years, we meet again in Jakarta. He was always of the brash kind, never shy to speak his mind out of anything.

The meeting went as usual. Although, there are some excerpts of the conversation that was rather  disconcerting for me. Here it goes:

Him: Do you go to the office everyday dress like that, Her?
Me: Yep, why?

Him: I don’t know, don’t you think people won’t look down on you?

This was where I felt uneasy. I may not be a very trendy person. However, in my opinion, there’s nothing too wrong with the way I dress. Regular cotton shirt, black pants, no ties and suit but everything was quite clean and comfortable.

Therefore, I ask him to elaborate.

Him: Your bag! Isn’t that akin to what high school kids wear? And, why would you have to fold your sleeve like that? I don’t mean to brag, but when people look at me, they know I meant business. They always think I’m the boss even though I’m only a supervisor in my company.

I was just smiling, completely devoid of any answers on how to respond to that. I was also not in the mood to argue.

Anyhow, I guess it’s perfectly normal that people judge a book by its cover. It happened to us plenty of times, in the mall for example. There’s an apparent distinction of treatment when I walk in wearing a casual dress compared to strolling with a power suit. Sales suddenly started being friendlier and the security guys loosen up.

I just didn’t expect an old friend to be that superficial. He even had the temerity to ask how much I earn in one month! Well, he may look like the boss but perhaps tact and discretion is not his forte.

If I’m being honest, I have been rather superficial too from time to time. The reason I bought my current gadgets because I wouldn’t want to be the guy who comes in a reunion (be it high school or college) with the lamest hand phone.

It would help a lot if I could just rent suits and gadgets whenever I need it. That way gaining respect would be much cheaper.

On a different note, my wife and I were in an angkot the other day. The driver was this reckless young punk who drives like a drunkard. We spent a good five minutes cussing the driver and praying for our life when all of a sudden the driver stopped.

Afterward he stepped out of the angkot and crossed the road. He then gently took a blind man’s hand and slowly guided him to the other side of the road and under the bus shelter. He even gave that poor blind man some spare change.

This driver was a young chap, with hair like a Mohawk and a torn t-shirt with Rage Against the Machine written on its dirty top.

Me and the missus were sitting there silenced and just stared at each other. Apparently, we have underestimated the man. Although, subsequently, the now highly esteemed driver went on with his brutal way of driving. We didn’t use any bad language this time, we were just praying.

Up until now, I have to remind my self, time and time again, not to judge a person by their dress, their gadget, or by their haircut.

PS:

• Angkot is an abbreviation of Angkutan Kota (City Transportation Mode). Usually it's an MPV Cars such as Toyota Kijang colour coded and numbered based on directions.

Of Watching TV

The description of couch potato suits me very well. I spend more than half time of the week to watch any kind of stuff from that idiot box.

I used to read a lot, not anymore.

Although I’m OK with watching the TV by myself, it could be fun watching it with the wife. She is not the type who asks who is the bad guy in The Matrix, however she has a pretty eclectic and difficult taste of her own.

Friends, Scrubs, and Desperate Housewives are certainly her picks. It’s not difficult as they have ‘chick flick’ theme written all over them. Not that I don’t like them, mind you.

I have managed to make her mildly interested in The X Files, by picking some of the best episodes from the saga, which have nothing to do with the main story arc. The X Files for me still reigns as the best program of all time.

Prison Break was a gamble, and it largely succeeded due to the fact that Michael Scofield is a pretty good looking chap. The story being totally intoxicating was also helpful. She was hooked and became a major fan of the series since day one.

She hates 24 and The Office with a passion, while I love both of them with a passion. I mean, Jack Bauer kicking major butts, need I say more? Also, the cringe worthy antics from David Brent and Gareth Keenan are some of the most hilarious comedy in the business.

She’s still lost on Lost. Every time I watch the award-winning sci-fi, she goes browsing over the net or watching some sinetron on terrestrial TV. It is very difficult for me to explain the beauty of flash back and flash forward method they intricately use in Lost. In addition, the love triangle between Jack, Kate, and Sawyer, what’s not to like?

For her, Grey’s Anatomy is just another Melrose Place. For me the interrelationships between the characters serve merely as a spice for the complexity of drama that touches patients and doctors when dealing with a matter of life and death. Granted there’s one too many McCheesy moments in between, but there are riveting storylines in most episodes.

House MD is just brilliant, there’s no question about it and she agrees.

The genius diagnostician’s sarcastic way of dealing with his patients while solving some of the mysterious medical cases ala Sherlock Holmes is indeed the greatest show around these days.

With the three CSI series, there are no problems.

It’s just a matter of who’s the best between Gill Grissom, Horatio Caine, and Mac Taylor. I picked Grissom while she’s smitten with Horatio, which is mind boggling in it self. Because I’m totally fed up with Caruso’s ultra cool way of putting his sunglasses while staring blankly in slow motion.

Yesterday though was a major coup in our TV watching history. I managed to literally drag and shackle my wife to watch Dexter.

I’ve been telling her how awesome this new series this past two months. She just won’t budge. Not only because the star is that quirky gay dude from Six Feet Under, but the opening sequences involving Dexter grinding someone’s skull opened.

Yes, Dexter is a serial killer. Nevertheless, he has a code, a moral fiber, which has been instilled on him by his late foster father to channel his urge to kill, into something worthy for the society.

Not often I can say that people may relate to a sadistic serial killer. However, Dexter, I am sure will be able to steal your heart and in the end cheer for him when he sticks that 6 inches blade in the chest of his victims.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a gory stuff alright. It’s definitely not for the squeamish kind. In fairness, there is humor inside, albeit a dark one, with perfect comedic timing from Michael Hall.

If you haven’t watch it, I suggest you do. You will be entrapped in an absorbing story and end up wanting to see more from our friendly neighborhood serial killer.

Now I only need to rack my brain on ways to get my wife watching organized sports programs.

Mom & Pops Store

Trying to avoid post power syndrome, my parents decided to open a tiny Mom & Pops Store following their retirement. It’s rather fortunate that we have a corner house back in Makassar. Soon after finishing renovation the little store ready to sell random stuffs from butter and eggs, to tooth picks.

They were running pretty OK during the first couple of years. Since Dad still has his pension from Aneka Tambang, the store merely serve as something to keep them occupied. Not much profit taking, they don't open in late hours, and the customers are mainly our neighbors.

Recently, as the effect of globalization, lots of Multinational Corporation opens their business everywhere. The result was evident in the wholesale and retail industry. Its growth brings plenty of employment opportunities, generating income for the government, and doing pretty good at moving the wheel of economy in these difficult years.

The flipside of the coin is the expansion of these behemoth businesses engulfed lots of smaller establishments like The Mom & Pops Stores in many places.

Take an example from the tug of war between Carrefour and Hero group. In their effort to increase their business, they open branches far into the rural areas. This ‘invasion’ will eventually swallow millions of small business that has been striving in the neighborhood.

Let’s face it The Mom & Pops Stores tend to cost a bit more due to their inability to purchase a million shampoo at once from the principal distributor. Many people including me prefer anonymous shopping for a lot of things at once. We have to admit that walking in the cool aisle surrounded by gazillion selection of almost everything makes shopping a lot more comfortable.

Recent survey from AC Nielsen shows that people, especially in the big cities, prefer shopping their groceries in modern shopping centre. Traditional markets have count that hundreds of shop closed each year. That would mean, even though plenty of employment opportunities arise from supermarket and hypermarket chain, there are many business closed as the indirect result.

I think it’s about time government regulate the license of opening store chain in hope to level the playing field between major players and the little people. We might want to remember that when we shop in large chain store our money goes to some rich CEO who already makes hundreds of billions rupiah. Not that it’s wrong, mind you.

One thing that could keep these smaller ventures is if and when they can excel in their uniqueness: Their closeness to their market base and customers. The hospitality of the owner is important to keep people coming back. They maybe are 100 or 500 IDR pricier, yet the personal touch, the small talk, and the warm welcome are what separate them from the cold shoulder people get in huge retail store.

If they can keep their edge, they might survive this onslaught of free trade.

We are a bit lucky because my mom, bless her, is a very hospitable woman. It helps a lot to keep the Mom & Pops Store afloat, at least for now.

PS: The picture is supposedly of David vs Goliath's Tale.

Quo Vadis Democracy?

My mind was perplexed reading about Hillary Clinton’s 20 million USD of personal debt. Now there’s this call from Obama asking his party member to donate their hard earned cash for the already wealthy Clinton family.

Further reading about election, I found out that around 200 trillion IDR from the national budget would be used for 33 Governors and 473 Mayors and Regents Election.

That is an astronomical amount of money by any standard! We can build a lot of schools and hospitals in the entire archipelago for that bewitching sum.

Moreover, the number merely represents the formal cost of election. We can be sure there’s a lot more invisible outlay during the campaign process.

One easy example is; for any candidate to step forward, he or she would have to pocket endorsement from the local parliament and party. These are not free. One article mentions that the going rate is around 75 million IDR per endorsement. That means the candidate would have to provide capital in the range of 1 to 3 billion IDR.

There is no guarantee that after spending that money they would end up victorious. Consequently, they would do 'anything' to maximize their chance of winning.

It’s obvious that as soon as they win, first thing they would do is to make sure the capital they’ve spent will return some handsome profit. That’s not a good news for their constituent.

Usually people who benefit from this scheme are their inner circle. Now that’s why there are plenty of middlemen circling around government projects. Like any good vulture they are.

During our process to learn democracy, we also harbor potential conflict. Any sort of differences will be nurtured and escalated into a weapon for the candidates to win these gullible people’s support.

Almost no parties are able to lose gracefully. Maluku, West Java, and South Sulawesi are some of the cases proving this.

More often than not, the candidates are a collection of sleazy politicians and dodgy religious characters. Hence, for us it feels a lot like choosing the lesser evil.

I wonder what happens in other country. Is there any true democracy around?

From my understanding of American brand of democracy, their policies mostly influenced by lobbyists and wealthy industrialists (weapons and oil). People who back up the politicians financially in the first place.

The difference is most of its citizens are educated enough not too fight in the street during a campaign.

I understand that democracy in Indonesia is only young. I’m not suggesting that we should scrap the system altogether. However, any discourse about an alternative civil society in the end would prove whether democracy is the one and only proper way of nationhood.

After doing some research, we can divide the alternatives into two categories:

Anarchism; this includes Anarchist-communism, Anarcho-capitalism, Anarcho-primitivism, Libertarian socialism, etc.

Authoritarianism; are Autocracy, Aristocracy, Communist state, Corporatism, Despotism, Dictatorship, Monarchy, Theocracy, etc.

None of the above sounds too promising.

How about Pancasila’s type of Democracy, is there such a thing? This is the task for our bureaucrats and technocrats to ponder. When they have finished pondering, I’d hope they enlighten us little people. As, in my observation, very few of us live by the way of Pancasila these days.

Maybe democracy is indeed expensive and we all have to pay for it, at least for now.

In the mean time, we can always muse and blog.

Of Music and Me

I’m a little embarrassed by the fact that my first dabble on music was of NKOTB. To be fair they have the right stuff to make a pimple-faced teenager like me hangin' tough amidst the awkwardness of puberty.

To compensate the lameness factor, I also forced my self to listen to some Sepultura and Metallica. Let’s just say parents and neighbors weren’t that impressed.

As I grew older, Bon Jovi and Guns n’ Roses starting to rule my airtime. The love was and will always be there for these two juggernauts of rock. Everlasting tracks like ‘Living on a Prayer’ and ‘November Rain’ are pure and simply the major ingredients that made life ever so exciting.

In fact, I got so hooked up with Bon Jovi back then. It’s the sole reason I flunked my Mechanical Technical class. I skipped the final exam with my partner in crime, and we ride all the way from Bandung to watch Bon Jovi’s concert in Ancol, Jakarta.

Pity the gods of rock n roll decided that we have to experience flat tire mid way. Baked banana and cheese was the only solace we found in the cold Puncak Bogor. Swell.

College years, Acapella and vocal groups were all the rage. Wooing girls in my class with pale imitation of Boyz II Men and sitting in circle with friends playing guitar to the tune of White Lion and Nirvana. Those were the days.

With the advent of mp3 format, music is getting cheaper and easier to obtain. Now I listen to everything. Well, all except probably dangdut.

A quick glance at my ipod, apparently the most frequent song I’ve played is Corinne Bailey Ray’s ‘Put Your Records On’ and surprisingly the soundtrack of Legends of The Fall by David Foster. Been listening a lot to Take That’s ‘Rule The World’ (haha yeah laugh away), Daughtry, and the breathtaking collaboration of U2 and Mary J Blige in ‘One’.

Let me be honest and admit there are times when I want to be a musician myself. Let the broomsticks and shower-pad be my witness. Every so often out of sheer madness, I think I can pull it off.

We had a rock band in college but only have the guts to perform on one small faculty occasion. It was a blur for me so I don’t remember much abut the performance. All I remember was we played GNR’s ‘Estranged’ and I think I missed some of the lines out of nervousness.

It was horrendously humiliating. Yet it’s worth it, if only to remind us to find another career path far beyond music.

Of Forbidden Love

There was this gorgeous babe living in the Citarum’s riverbank. Dayang Sumbi was her name. She has a hobby of knitting beautiful stuff for her father, The Emperor.

One day her tool fell down and rolled outside the house. Out of laziness, she swore to the Almighty that whomever kind enough to bring her that precious tool back, she would give a fantastic reward.

The promise was to marry the person if it was a male. If it turns out it was a female, she'd make a sister out of her.

Anyway, as it happened, a male dog named Tumang came to her aid. She collapsed and fainted out of shock. However, as she is one proud chick with abundance of integrity, she kept her promise.

It was quite sketchy on how they consummate their marriages, but some months later a handsome baby boy was born, with five-finger and all. The odd couple decided to give the boy name Sangkuriang.

Sangkuriang grew up into this agile teenager and a pretty good hunter too. He and the dog hunt together all the time. At some point, they met this fat pig and decided to hunt her. It turns out that this fat pig was Sangkuriang’s grandmother and Tumang hesitated.

There’s a rumor circling around animal kingdom that the Emperor dated this pig for a while, back then. I know things are a little weird but bear with me please.

Because Tumang didn’t want to run the pig down, Sangkuriang saw red. Out of rage, he shot his arrow towards Tumang. The brave and loyal dog died instantly. He cut Tumang to pieces and brought back the poor canine for his mother to cook.

Upon learning that the menu of the day was her beloved hubby, Dayang Sumbi fainted again. As soon as she gained consciousness, she yelled at Sangkuriang and banished him, forever.

Sangkuriang limped out of the kingdom and walked all the way to the west. The teenager met many dark wizards and gained plenty of great magical power.

Years of traveling around the globe brought him back to the kingdom near Citarum River. He was intrigued to hear about the story of the hottest lass in the village. He then met her and electricity sparked all over the place. The chemistry was apparent as they were instantly attracted to each other.

After some romantic date by the countryside, they decided to get hitched. It was gonna be the biggest wedding of the era.

When they’re about to do it, this woman, who turns out to be Dayang Sumbi, notice the birthmark on Sangkuriang’s neck. She screamed and kicked Sangkuriang out of the bed. A ‘No’ means ‘No’, said the bewildered woman.

Dazed, horny and confused Sangkuriang zip his pants and asked her what he should do to win her heart back. Seeing a way out this, Sumbi smile and said that it would be divine if they could make love inside a large boat roaming a huge lake.

However, the stipulation is both the lake and the boat has to be made in one night and one night only.

The adrenaline rushed towards Sangkuriang’s head and he dashed toward Citarum River. By his great magical power, he summoned thousands of minions to dam up the water stream forming an enormous lake. He summoned another thousand for good measure to build this large and strong wooden boat.

Confounded by the latest development Dayang Sumbi racked her brain for counter measure. The morning has yet to come and both the lake and boat is in near completion. Using her cunning feminine instinct, she decided to take matters into her own hand.

She and some of her sorority sisters made some racket and woke up the village roosters. They also put large orange sheets into the eastside made it look like the dawn has arrived. The roosters cock-a-doodle-doo and all hell broke loose. The thousands minions scrambled to their hidings and left the unfinished tasks in tatters.

Sangkuriang saw red again. Seething out of his lost, he kicked the large boat tar away to the sky. With a loud bang it landed up side down.

Thousands of years have passed; the upturned boat was covered in thick layered dirt, trees have grown on top of it, forming a mountain. The locals now called it Gunung Tangkuban Perahu – The Mountain of Upturned Boat.

Whatever happened to Dayang Sumbi and Sangkuriang no one really knows. Some said that Sumbi runs to a cave and turned herself into a rare flower. While Sangkuriang, our very own Oedipus, walked and vanished into the west.

PS: Pictures can be found in here.

Of Misplaced Gallantry and Jakarta

Fresh out of a semi military school, we were trained to be a bunch of gallant individual. You know the lot that opens the elevator doors for women, not staring at cleavages, and always give our seat to senior citizens, the handicapped, and women in particular pregnant ones.

Jakarta however has this power to change my set of fine etiquettes into one with a more sinister brand. Of course, I still behave rather impeccably in front of colleagues, clients, and particularly the in laws, regardless of the situation. Nevertheless, in public there has been an apparent decline of good manners.

Riding the bus for example, there has been countless time when I chase them bus to their starting point so it was empty. Found me a good chair, and when the bus started rolling there was a lady, sometimes pregnant sometimes the elderly kind, did not get a seat. Almost consistently without fail, no body gives them their place.

Now and again, I wonder why it has to be me most of time all the way from the back to sacrifice my sit and stand during the rough ride of Metro Mini or PPD buses.

Perfectly understandable, knowing that everybody must be very tired, after long and hard labor. I do not blame them at all. I blame the ineffectiveness of our transportation system.

From 2004 to early 2008, I did not use bus a lot. Mainly because we lived nearby the office and all our favorite malls. Pejompongan is such a strategic place, less than twenty thousand Rupiah (around USD 2) by old fare cab to almost every destination we desire.

Since March though, I would have to use the bus to get home. My office is in Mayapada Tower, Sudirman. I could just stand beside the road and pick 17 or 52 to Bekasi. People have already crammed inside like sardines. It is going to be a long ride, more or less 90 minutes in Jakarta’s humid and hot air with male sweats and stinks. It is heavenly.

To get a proper sit I could just wait until 9 pm when it is not that crowded anymore. Alternatively, I could walk a kilometer to Landmark building when the buses are empty.

This is where it gets tricky. After long walk, of course I get tired. I decided I deserve to sit comfortably for the rest of the taxing 90 minutes. Starting a few weeks ago, I have reduced the type of people I hand out my seat to. Not just any women, they would have to be old, unmistakably pregnant, a combination of both, or very pretty and looks frail.

Deep inside, I felt guilty definitely. I am sure time eventually will erode that guilt into oblivion.

For now to minimize them I usually pick a seat by the window or deep in the corner, and just looking outside to avoid the glance and stare of some women who happen to stand in the aisle. Occasionally though, I would have to give in, when the shame turn out to be irrepressible.

Now the annoyed glance and stare though ironically coming from the male passengers who just sit there casually. As if it’s my fault they feel uneasy for looking ignorant. Every so often, I picked up a hint of smile, probably sniggering; hey, we’ve got some gentleman among us.

I felt uneasy too and trying hard to look nonchalant.

This is what Jakarta and probably other metropolises could turn us into; we could feel uncomfortable for doing something good. It’s jolly good for sardonic value.

Uh Oh, Happy birthday Jakarta!

Toraja - The Land of Magic

Back in my hometown, our neighbor is from Tana Toraja. Two of their eldest sons are about my age, so we sort of grew up together. They’ve been telling me stories and legend about the magical and mysterious Toraja. Stories that still fascinates me to present day.

How dead people walk themselves to their graves. Buffaloes that keep fighting long after they have been beheaded. Sending death to enemies via magic and enchantment. Their machete’s magical prowess, able to cut even the hardest of material. And many other tales. In all probability, none of it was true. Nevertheless, they have been imprinted in my mind arousing curiosity and interest.

In junior high, some friends and I visited this mystifying land. A trip that’s worth so much for all of us. We didn’t know it back then, but I can safely say now that Tana Toraja is without a doubt one of the most beautiful places this country have to offer.

We spent four days in a small dusty town called Rantepao, slept on top of a wooden floor in my friend’s old relative house. We were clueless back then. Thinking of it now, it’s such a shame digital camera was invented only recently.

The magnificent scenery with layered step of rice fields, buffaloes, river, and blue jagged valleys in the distant is very difficult to illustrate with words. When the sun starts to appear, everything was so delightful.

OK, I will not bore you much with description, because to be honest it was a while back and I have forgotten some of it. Here are some pointers though if you want to visit the place.

Tana Toraja is a region in South Sulawesi, Indonesia. The nearest town is Rantepao and to get there is not effortless. If you have arrived in Makassar (South Sulawesi capital city) with plane or ship, you will need to take one more trip using smaller plane. This will be a rather rough flight so better brace yourself.

If you decided to use buses instead, it will be around 8 to 9 hours including some meal stop. When I say buses, I meant some sort of MPV cars like Toyota Kijang and or Daihatsu Panther. This is also going to be rough, but plenty of good-looking scenery along the road.

For people who do not like the hassle, I suggest using one of those travel packages where all is included. That way you will not have to risk getting lost or loosing your cool. Please be a bit patient though because foreign language communication with us Indonesians could be rather tricky.

You can come to Toraja in any months of the year; the high season is July to August. However, it is better to come off season, as things are cheaper and lots of accommodation available. There are very few good hotels around but there are many budget inns. They usually use the name Wisma.

Toraja’s architecture just as any other Indonesian vernacular is a thing of marvel and worth another different post altogether.

This may sound silly, but it’s better if you come when there’s a funeral going on. Toraja people make a festival out of every death. Some even make it into international coverage. Funerary rites will have this elaborated ritual called Ma’badong (Lament for the deceased) complete with buffalo fighting and ceremony to put effigies to a sacred hill.
A magical place, indeed.

For more information about Toraja please read the following links:

• My-Indonesia.info

• New York Times

• TorajaNet

Of Bad Luck, Good Luck

I have always wondered how vast our earth is. A quick search on Google tells me that it's approximately 510,072,000 km². Boy, is that huge.

Imagine my surprise a couple of fine morning ago when I was just so unsuspecting, all smiling, riding on an ojek*, a little birdie decided to drop its fecal matter right into my freshly ironed shirt.

We were probably traveling around 20 km/hours and then something squishy splashing into my chest. For that to happen the velocity of the bird and the trajectory of its flight must have been perfectly arranged for the excretory product to drop right into its doomed target.

I have to take a quick detour to change into new set of clothes.

I mean, for pete sake, this bird could have aimed at something else, the tukeng ojek's** helmet perhaps, or the large area of garbage dump around us. But no, it has to land on top of my good self.

Although my friends told me that based on local superstitions it's supposedly a sign of good luck, I spent the whole day feeling victimized.

Well I guess it could have been worse, landed on my face or hair, which means I have to take another shower and risk being late to the office.

Another good thing is, it prompt me to search how big our earth is and learning a thing or two about bird feces along with their synonyms. Although for once I shivered at the thought of bird flue that could come from it. Now if that were to be happened, tough luck indeed.

It's true that behind most silver lining there's a dark cloud.

Note:

• * Ojek is a motorcycle taxi used in Indonesia for short distance travel
• ** Tukang Ojek is the driver of an Ojek

Of Things to Write

I’ve always been one to weigh my words carefully, as if they’re diamonds. Sometimes it might be tempting to just blurt out any rant and opinion that cross my mind.

Yet I’ve always failed to do so, like there’s a switch that flick to the side of caution every time the urge for expletives is increasing.

That goes double for emails and any other written communications, especially blogs. It's all too easy for someone to misconstrue even the simplest statement and get hot under the collar about it.

Being a consummate Libra, making peace is what comes most easily to me and what I do best. Some friends often criticize me for sitting in the fence far too frequently. Yet until now I haven’t had the temerity to write anything outrageous or controversial.

While it turns out that being outrageous and controversial is one of the recipe to get traffic and comments. Sex does sell and denouncing everyone’s favorite religion are among the current trends for attracting the elusive visitors.

Instead I chose to write about lighter stuff of life and decide to promote the beauty of Indonesia from time to time.

You get to see the hottest and mind boggling reports about my country from the news media and some of the blogs around. They often portray us in the darkest of tinted glass because let’s face it, for them bad news is good news. While I believe quite the opposite.

The truth perhaps lies somewhere in the middle, or it could be that the truth, does not exist at all.

My problem is, I haven’t been around my country that much.

I was born in Sulawesi, in my opinion the least celebrated island in the archipelago. I know the area pretty well. I have written about Bantimurung, and I La Galigo. I’ll probably write about Tana Toraja and Bunaken sometimes in the future.

I have touched about Tangkuban Perahu and Pelabuhan Ratu and will get to Prambanan and Borobudur next.

I studied architecture in Bandung for 6 years but have no fascinating view about the city compared to the other writings around.

That’s just about it really.

Of course I can write about other beautiful places by research (and there are a lot, believe you me), but that would not be from first hand experience. It won’t be fair.

Here I am hoping that someday I get the chance to see more places.

New7Wonders: Vote Indonesia Please :)

http://www.new7wonders.com/
Please vote Indonesia for New 7 Wonders of the world.
It might be better to choose Komodo Island as it's ranked the higher.

Of Pengamen

I’ve got to make this very quickly for there are monsters looming large and their shadows are hovering ominously above us.

In a long and boring commute, people would do anything to occupy their mind. Some are busy reading paper, some are listening to audio player, a few stare vacantly to the window outside, but most people prefer sleeping.

One phenomenon that are striving in Jakarta’s shambolic but unique transportation system are a group of street performers called Pengamen.

They are ever present in every big buses and trains traveling to and from the megapolitan area.

During my short experience on buses from Jakarta to Bekasi, I have made some classification over these street smart band.

The best would be a group of men, in an ensemble, using more than one music instruments such as guitar, violin, and even percussions. They range between good and very good. Often times they are enterprising and entertaining with songs selection from the latest Indonesian top forty to rock classics. At one time they performed Vanessa Mae's Toccata & Fugue which blew passengers out of the water.

The second ones is a single adult male performer with a guitar or ukulele. In this group you can sometime stumble with few with very good technical ability. They have astonishing voice and several even have this unique knack communicating with their audience ala radio DJ. These are rare breed though and you wouldn’t hesitate to spare some thousand rupiahs for these street entertainers.

The third ones and they currently make the most frequent appearances, are pure incomprehensible noises. Typically they are tone deaf under age and teenagers. You gave them spare change out of compassion and or primordial preferences, depend on whether they are singing your religion’s song book.

The fourth group are beggars and muggers masquerading as pengamen. From clapping hands and pleading money for their sick friend, or claiming to have just got out prison. They’re in short a disgrace to their kind.

Recent sudden fame of Aris (Januarisman), pengamen turned finalist of Indonesian Idol, shot to stardom from his incredible rendition of ST12 hit, would encourage fellow pengamen alike cracking to improve their fortune.

Like it or not, they will always be there, when the employment field and opportunities in the big city still difficult to find.

As for me, they have been an interesting company in my long and winding road home.

Of Day Job

Been thinking about how to make some extra cash on the side by doing what I love. It's not going to be the first time. I’ve had some moonlighting episodes in the past.

I just stopped doing that these couple of years. I figure quality time for myself is just so priceless, and I didn’t want to waste it merely for a few extra bucks.

Some people have the luxury to do things they love full time. I used to love what I do, it’s just years gone by and it became a bore, a ritual.

First, I have to figure out what it is that would inspire me most and will chase it later. I just don't have the guts to quit my day job to pursue it - not yet.

I've got some ideas. One of them is quite good - it involves making money by turning my hobby into a part-time job. Which will be nice.

The dreadful part is that, since this global economic turmoil won’t be stopping anytime soon, I may eventually end up doing the hobby full-time and my 'job' part-time. Not exactly a first-rate scenario.

In the end the hobby will eventually be totally boring and I’ll be back to square one. Vicious cycle really.

Part and parcel of life.

Well, I’ve got to do my homework. Lay down the grounds and doing some networking. In just a few months, I figure I would be ready. I have to stop stalling and decide what to do about it.

Maybe I have to ask someone who knows the ropes for some advice. Problem is, all of my close friends are nine to fivers like me.

Surely there’s somebody else out there. Ah, it’s that time to open my year book again.

Of Bantimurung and Paradise

Some of Alfred Russel Wallace, The famous British Naturalist, most pleasurable moments in life were spent in Bantimurung.

It is no overstatement as the name of the area itself, Bantimurung, loosely translated as a place to overturn sadness.

Notes of his alluring account in “Malay Archipelago” prompt many archeologists and lepidopterists to visit and observe the kingdom of butterflies he mentioned in his writings.

Bantimurung has long been known as a magnet for tourist, local and foreign. It was located about an hour northeast of Makassar, Sulawesi. The area has been stapled as a prime natural reservation but, sadly, that doesn't mean much in Indonesia.

Many wildlife species in Bantimurung are endangered by fervent collectors and locals who treat them as profitable souvenir. It is a popular weekend resort for families and couples who seek cooling in the river under the waterfall.

A lot has changed since Wallace roamed there in 1856-57.

The place once was the habitat of around 250 different types of butterfly. Recent research found only 100 left. It’s a rarity nowadays to see them flying around freely, so if you decided to visit, August and September would be the best season for a trip.

Papilio androcles
The largest and rarest swallow-tiled butterflies, often seen wander around Bantimurung

Back in 1999 was the last time me and friends rove this beautiful waterfall. Butterflies were all over the place at that time especially after the rain stops.

The magnificent view and the relaxing sound of surging water was comparable to the feelings I had when staring Pantheon’s rooftop or the tranquility of Sacre Coeur.

All that has led to Sir Wallace considered it paradise on earth.

I encourage you to come, time and money permits, before all the butterflies have gone.

Of Love and Growing Up

Was having a major crush with someone in my 1994 batch. Three years I think it took me to get over her. During those darker days I am so sure it was love. I was such a hopeless romantic back then. Ah, the level of naivety still have me chuckle and purple until now.

I remember she asked me during one outing, what gets me attracted to a girl. My answer was … “the hair” ! What kind of dimwitted lame answer was that? No wonder she opted to go out with somebody else.

Should have went for something more cerebral you know. Personality, sense of humor, quick wit, and a selection of better answers masking my apparent shallowness.

To be fair though, she actually has gorgeous hair.

During my junior high, I have this feeling with the prettiest girl in school (well, at least according to me and some friends). Three years went by and the only time I was able to really talk to her was when we're on our separate ways after the graduation. We kept being pen mate for several years after.

I think if there’s a book for teenager to overcome the awkwardness of growing up, that will be a best seller.

I’m happy to report I haven’t grown out of it. The awkwardness, the uncontrolled blush, and the brain short circuit is still there.

Here’s a question for those of you who are, or have ever been, in love. If the object of your affection doesn't feel the same way, would you still be in love with them, despite the hopelessness of the situation, or would you rather rid yourself of these feelings?

Back then, I used to linger in those feelings … far too long. Not so much after the new millennia when something turn me into this pragmatic self.

Maybe it’s true that love is overrated, romanticized by those who've never known it and those who manage to profit from it like Hallmark and De Beers.

Growing up and growing old made me realize that care and affection is what matters. Not that glorified bio-chemical reaction called Love.

As you can observe from the picture above. I look happier now albeit slightly wider horizontally :)

Of Sinden and Blue Eyes

I was just toying with the remote control, changing the channels, when something very peculiar shown on the TV. A woman, complete in her authentic Javanese Kebaya, was singing as a sinden. What’s amazing is that, she is not a Javanese, not even Indonesian. She is in fact a leggy Caucasian woman born in Wisconsin, USA.

She was sitting there among the other sindens and belted some pitch perfect Kromo Inggil (Javanese Language of the highest caste - according to my wife who is from Malang). She also dance and mime in a flexibility often attributed to the most veteran of dancers.

My wife and I were just sitting there with our collective jaws hit the floor.

Now being a sinden is not like your run of the mill singing technique. It requires theatrical ability, wide range of pitch control with atypical (pentatonic?) notes, and most importantly the comprehensive grasp of Javanese language and folklore. That made the achievement of one Karen Elizabeth Sekararum all the more remarkable.

The number of professional sinden across the nation has been in a steady decreasing trend for quite sometime now. This is inline with the decreasing number of Wayang Show – Indonesian traditional puppet, confirmed by Tribun Indonesia, a local newspaper.

With young ones like us pursuing careers that would make all of our parents proud. Working as engineer, IT geek, architect, and other field deemed more promising financially. Even those into art, prefer western type of art such as hip-hop, R&B, and break-dance. Traditional heritage has been neglected over the years. It is encouraging to see the attention is now gaining momentum.

After some Google research, I found out that there are other budding foreigner sinden around, apart from Mrs. Sekararum. One Briton by the name of Esther Wilds, a Chinese descendant Meyling Sri Bowo. and another American, Susan Pratt Walton.

Several shows has been a sell out, with people intrigued by the sight of white women singing Babad Tanah Jawa. They could even let slip some English during the show, with the audience all laughing and amused. It was fantastic.

If Karen Elizabeth could fall in love with Indonesian art and culture. Indonesians should be even more proud that our traditional art can be as admirable as that of foreign culture. Hopefully not only our government authority but the private sector able to seize this opportunity to introduce them to broader audience.

With the world having a better appreciation of our cultural history, might as well become a counter balance of all the negative issues that has blighted our nation’s journey.

Note:

• Photo taken and edited from http://www.mangun-dharma.com/

Of Putting from The Rough

Everyday I go to the office using a commute called omprengan. We’ll venture more about omprengan in the coming days. Right now, I’d like to share with you a rather uncomfortable experience in my ride to the office these past few days.

Basically omprengan is a mini van type of car, like Suzuki Carry or Daihatsu Zebra. Two sit in front with the driver, four in the middle, and six in the back. I know, it’s totally crowded. People are bumper to bumper in the most inconvenient way possible. But it’s miles better than running for the buses from my place in Bekasi.

The six persons in the back are sitting face to face, knee to knee, if you please. In one fine day you’ll get a companion of some skinny and pretty ladies, so there’s room to spare. At worst you can end up with 6 rather large men like me with sweats pouring, as more often than not, the omprengan doesn’t have air-condition.

Anyway, there’s only a few cars operating to each direction, mine is Sudirman. So it’s inevitable you’d meet the same people over and over again.

There is this one particular guy, probably around 35, whose being friendly to me, sometimes in the threshold of being too friendly. Previously, we were just nodding to each other, sometimes chat a little bit about the driver being careless and what not.

I was beginning to be suspicious when his hands frequently touching my sitting knee. Too frequent and just landing there far too long for my liking. One time he tried as far as rubbing my thighs. I was in total shock and abruptly move my feet away from him. That was Wednesday.

On Thursday, I got up early and tried to change my habit, exchanging my usual favorite ride. Yet there he was again. This time his hand held my knee, and he tried to make conversation. I was being polite and immediately putting my iPod on to avoid any further contact.

People are stopping off in front of BRI and all of a sudden it was just me and him in the back. Now this is what makes me real mad. When I wanted to get off the car, as I bend there to drop my right foot, he spank me right in my ass. It was totally humiliating and I was just standing there speechless like an idiot.

What would any guy do in a moment like this?

I told my friends and they were just laughing their socks off. It’s not funny guys, well maybe a little bit, but they're not helping. I still don’t know what to do if next time he repeat his act.

I’m a very bashful person. Always trying to shun attention away. I’d be caught dead before I could make a scene, let alone inform a guy to get his hands off me.

Am I homophobic? I guess not. Being branded as a homophobic in these PC days, close many doors for you. But let’s just say this is not the first time for me. However we'll talk abut that some other time.

Of Red and White

You know that unavoidable moment when your wife asks you to be a little more frequent in saying that you love her. I wonder if my country Indonesia could speak, She'd asks the same out of all the people who born, live, breathe, feed, and love in Her bosom.

From now on, I promise to proclaim my love for Indonesia a bit more often. For no particular reason really. I just love this country so much, the people, the beauty of the land, the culture (I mean we have 400 different tribes, and 400 or more languages for God sake), the never ending promise, pride, and joy this land has given to me. To us.

I don't really care what people may say.

This high time is exactly the reason I get so angry to see politicians, time and again, fail to live up to the pride of our flag. Politics have been such a dog eat dog arena, and have drag this great nation to places She isn’t suppose to.

I can’t do anything about that now.  We can’t do much more about that now.  Nevertheless, there’s nothing wrong in showing your love to your country from time to time.

In this troubled times we might want to remember the old cliché asking about what have you done to your country. I wish in the end I could die and be able to proudly say that I've given everything that I could to serve my country.

( This is for all my high school friends who serve in Lebanon, I envy you guys! )

Ritz Carlton Buffet

We dine in Ritz Carlton last week. Ira crave the teppanyaki ice cream and I've been dying for some big prawns.

It was rather empty when we arrived. Packed full not long after, with families and couples alike. Overall, twas an OK meal, I am too easily full nowadays for my liking.

There are quite a few dishes I haven't pillage. The pasta has gone downhill since the last time we visited. Couldn't quite point out what's missing. Maybe they have changed chef.

For around 19 dollar per person, it was definitely worth the price, if only I weren't so fed up. Pity, I used to be such a warrior on buffets.

However I must say the ratio between food quality, quantity and compared prices, Ritz Carlton trumps Four Season and Le Meridien. No surprise there's a lot of tourists and expatriates hobnobbing around us. There were several celebs also but we was too busy munching the lobsters to pay attention.

Ira enjoyed the dessert set, a collection of mouthwatering troufle, tasty tiramisu, and colorful mouse. Perhaps that's the reason she picked Ritz Carlton. It's her favorite place for cookies and sweets.

Here's some of the pictures of my loot. Forgive the quality, as they were taken with an old camera.

By the time we went home, I was more or less five kilos heavier. Gone all of my hard work in the gym for this last two months.

Of Thugs and Misdirection

I gotta hand it to the current administration. They are very slick in using this whole Ahmadiyah FPI saga as a smokescreen for the 35% rise of fuel price.

Now everyone and their English speaking dog is crying in unison for the banning of these FPI thugs and forgetting already about the petroleum hike.

It's funny and amusing how the local blogdom react to some members of the aptly named National Alliance for Freedom of Religion and Faith (AKKBB) being beaten to pulp by these so called Islamic Defender Front (FPI).

It's like a competition of who could scream foul the loudest and who could come up with the most creative insults to this notorious band of men in robes. Kudos to them. Let them all be the unwitting cogs of SBY's PR machine.

The overreaction will definitely reach its fever pitch in these coming weeks drowning all the issue of inflation and the increase of living cost. As I were saying, more power to SBY's think tank.

The conniving section of the media also working full time for this. I haven't been able to guesstimate what their motive was. To sell papers/slots while under instruction perhaps. It's like one clap for two flies at once.

O well, all of this to me is like watching a car crash.

Of I La Galigo

Not a great deal of people aware that the world’s longest literary work is not the Harry Potter series. That title belongs to the unheralded piece of an ancient scribble named I La Galigo. It is a vast epic and stirring saga of heroes, forbidden love, gods versus demons, and the eternal battle between good and evil.

Some sources even mention that it’s around twenty times longer than the Homer’s Odyssey. It’s estimated at 6000 folio pages, related to events from pre-Islamic, 14th century Bugis, South of Sulawesi, Indonesia. Would make a good read during my boring commute.

During my study of Bugis Architecture I find myself more fascinated by reading about Sawerigading than the actual concept of local building (not that they're half boring, mind you).

Sawerigading is the main protagonist on this giant story arc. Apparently he traveled to places no people ever step on, after falling in love deeply with his twin sister. Of course this incestuous love is strictly prohibited even in the times of the Gods, and he ultimately have to marry another woman.

It was said that this ancient chronicle consists of dozen of episodes, using wide range of storybook technique called flashback and foreshadowing. Now that is interesting. People in South Sulawesi are long known for their tradition of history writing using ‘Lontara’ – some sort of papyrus or fan.

It’s unfortunate the local humidity often times ruin these past writings. Very few have survived and shockingly preserved not in local museum but in European Libraries. Evidently they were quite valuable amongst European scholars back then. I remember one Sherlock Holmes story involving one Bugis manuscript.

When I was a kid, we have this rented villa, we always use during the school holidays. It was on the street named La Galigo in Makassar. I wasn’t aware of the significance until my findings in the library many many years after.

Some time ago there’s several article in national publication regarding an around the world performing art directed by Robert Wilson which featuring a cast of 50 Indonesia's finest performers. Some said it was a hit. Reading about it made me warm and fuzzy because it was about the land where I was born, Sulawesi.

Here are some links with information about I La Galigo:

• Indonesian Article  in Sinar Harapan
• PDF about I La Galigo

Of Coming Back

Almost 2 years have past since the last journal. A lot have happened but to be honest I'm not sure they'll make a good reading.

The last couple of weeks however, something tickled me to do this time consuming and not necessarily productive blog trawling. My life was sailing along real fine, now I'm starting to miss deadlines and end up arguing some insignificants with strangers over the internet.

Blogging for me is a pretentious habit. Often times I was trying too hard to look cleverer than I really am. Using some big words and pseudo intellectual analysis talking about things beyond my pay grade. There, see i did it again.

Looking back to what I've written so far sometimes embarrass me, it's not even funny. Those were the days huh.

Wish I could just write something for private, for archiving sake. When I get older, as something my kids will read to me in my death bed. But then I argue myself, where's the fun in that? It's a lot nicer to write something that some people, even in small number, could read and relate to.

Mind you, I used to have a journal (ehem diary) in junior high. Putting all the name of girls I fancy inside. My late sis (bless her) stole and read it. I knew I should've wrote it in magic ink. Well, let's just say, paranoia has haunt me since.

Indonesian blogosphere though has changed a lot this few years. Encouraging to see the variety of quality and quantity posts by fellow countrymen. Some prominent names has risen to the fore and maintain quality for years. There are some cliques, elites who hounds off in packs those daring to voice dissenting opinions. There are people making real money out of blog and there are skeptics. A national convention in the name of Indonesian Blogger Party even held successfully a while ago. Things are looking promising.

Along with my trawling madness I found one particular blog which air my exact feeling about a lot of subjects, it's scary, only he put it in a much cooler fashion and far more articulate. I would have give you the link, but I’m afraid you'll just stop there and never return.

Phew, finished my first post. For your information, I wrote this on a non air-conditioned 'omprengan' commute. We'll get into that later. Here's hoping for more journal to come.

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