Say It With Flowers

Say It With Flowers

English Version of Katakan Dengan Bunga-Bunga, The Jakarta Post December 6, 1998

“Say it With Flowers” people say. Well, what do they mean by giving flowers to someone? Showing their love of course, so as not to embarrass or be embarrassed by saying “I Love You” openly to someone. Yet there are many subtle ways to show it.

One might say it with a song, with a winning smile, with a touch, with “speaking” eyes. When I was a youth, I remember girls humming, singing: “In je ogen staat geschreven wat je mond niet zeggen wou.”. (In your eyes is written what your mouth wouldn’t confess).

On the contrary, si Upik conspired with si Buyung by secretly inserting money into her mother’s purse. That’s her way of giving her mother flowers.

Pak Arif has another way of saying it. One day as he was going cross-country on his bike his wife prepared his lunch-box. When she had finished, Pak Arif said, “thank you Molly” intentionally to his dog. On leaving, Pak Arif again said “Goodbye Molly. See you again soon”, without even looking at his wife who was standing by his side at the gate. When he’d gone some way, Pak Arif looked back and rather than wave his hand, held up his fist and broke into laughter. Well, that must make his wife “gemes” (crazy, mad about him).

One day when Pak Arif was going out again he returned.
“I forgot something”, he said.
“Well, what did you forget, you scoundrel?” his wife asked surprised.
“I forgot my kiss”, he grinned and hurried away after having kissed her.

Yeah, that’s his way of bringing flowers to his wife. He rather loves to tease, tickle her feelings. It’s nicer, sweeter, warmer and unexpected than saying an outright “thank you” or kissing each other or waving a goodbye as is the custom.

They neither honey-ed nor darling-ed each other. When his wife had finished his share of the chores, he feigned ignorance with “look, how nice our “bibi” (housemaid) is to do my work.”

Well, on Valentine’s day it was different. A kiss was stolen, for stolen, forbidden fruit taste sweeter, he said.

“I am not sorry, nor worried about being a woman. I am not losing my mind. Feigning a faint for instance, but I just aimed the hose at his face, he turned, I said, ‘sorry ya’. That’s how we became friends.”

A sweet souvenir from Valentine’s Day some 50 years ago. But don’t tell him this. His head might get inflated.” Pak Arif’s wife whispered to me in Bahasa Indonesia.

It doesn’t mean that there’s always peace. When they argue they don’t just quarrel, but there is warring, not mere warring with angry words, but warring a cold war. Once when peace was nearing their door, Pak Arif started the peace treaty, “Why does this rice taste bitter?” Then, his laughter which he had kept suppressed, straining all his efforts, broke out, as water gushing from a broken dam.

“Yes, as bitter and as black as your heart” his wife teased him in return.

Well, that’s Pak Arif’s kiss, or way of making peace.

“Ah, how sweet is peace after having quarreled so vehemently. I really thirst after another violent war, just to feel this peace once again.” Pak Arif whispered to me.

And I mused, peace is not realized by peace treaties. But when there’s no trace left of the dissensions. That’s peace.