Live Open-Air Concert

Live Open-Air Concert

In spite of annoying, roaring motor vehicles passing by, a very rare, exquisite, live open-air concert can be heard free every day at dawn.

It is staged by hundreds of singing crickets on the new grassy strip in Jl. Majapahit in the very heart of Jakarta. Choirs no less wonderful than Bach’s and refreshing as a mountain breeze. And seen through a frame of gate of a pair of trees, which look like giant sized Bonsai, grand and old with age, with perching, flitting birds, they have the Palace Park, the Monas Park and the glorious rising Sun as their wondrous background décor.

Indonesia Times, March 19, 1987

A Manyar Nest

A Manyar Nest

How lovely, cozy is a nest of the Manyar bird hanging high up on coconut trees. It’s cleverly woven from dry leaves of grass, picked up somewhere, into a form of a boot. How deftly they fix it on the leaves of the tree as though to adorn a Christmas tree, safe from predators, rocking gently in the wind, sheltered from the sun and rain. They’re so happy to have a nest to live in, with their mate, to lay their eggs and rear their kids. How I wish I could have a little home in a tree, or in my Dream-house of the future floating on a lake. So si Upik mused.

An inner voice whispered: “just calculate how many hundreds of square meters land would be required, the many trees that should be cut down, cubic measures of sand that should be taken from the river, sacks of cement hollowed out from the rocks to build a mansion to shelter his family, his servants, his dogs, cats, birds, his cars and all the household furniture, not to say of building a villa somewhere in Puncak and invest in tens of hectares of land.”

“Hmm, that’s none of your business. Just sour grapes. You but envy those who are happy and successful.” She pictured the owner’s retort.

Yet, it’s greedy, she mused; without much concern for the land, the rocks, the rivers and its inhabitants.

From Merdeka, February 15, 1995

Angon

Angon

Today have I angon-ed (herded, tended) my dogs, yesterday my rabbit, in earlier times my children. Angon is a great joy. I remember a Chinese painting, painting the happiness of a boy just in his trousers, sitting on a trunk of a tree, playing his flute, his slippers below and his buffalo wallowing in a pool near him, I also remember the lovely sound of the flute in the song, Der Hirt Auf Dem Felsen (The shepherd on the rock) by Schubert. So do I know the happiness of shepherds and the beauty of the flute. Otherwise wouldn’t have I a share in these joys.

A Cricket's Philosophy 5

A Cricket’s Philosophy 5

A Cricket’s Praise

Surely, Opa Johan couldn’t travel, journey abroad, afford world tours but he still can bicycle about 50 Km up- and down-hill on his 78th year.

The Artist

He doesn’t seek after the dazzling light of clever people. As a firefly he carries his own (God given) so precious, breathing, living light.

A Cricket’s Comfort

Though if you would win the Nobel Prize for your works, merits, you’re not becoming a bit greater except in the praises of the people. And though if you got no Nobel Prize, your works and you, are not becoming less and are still the same as before.

A Cricket’s Thought On Love

For a mother, the smallest corner is so vast to share it, the littlest food so much as to give it all to her child. For a miser, a palace, all the treasures of the world is him too small.

A Cricket's Philosophy 4

A Cricket’s Philosophy 4

The Garden Of Eden

In the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve lived in perfect happiness and unconscious goodness. Since God planted the forbidden apple tree they became restless, unhappy, eager to know, why it was forbidden and so the miseries follow from transgressing, disobeying the prohibition. They then became conscious of good and evil and sin, A cricket, all other creatures have no forbidden apples. They’re not subject to this law and so don’t, can’t sin.



A Cricket’s Consolation

“Don’t be downcast, downhearted, unhappy if you have no success with your writings. It’s God who intentionally did so to you, in order to make you, Mr. Chew not arrogant, lazy and your writings become poor, having no weight. My chirping was never broadcasted.”



Free Will
Man is created after His image, in His likeness, that is according to His own discretion. Man certainly is not like God.
I’m happiest as I am, though but a cricket. My free will is but what Nature, God has implanted in me. My Free will is His will.

Benjamin Couldn't Say Goodbye

Benjamin Couldn’t Say Goodbye

“Suddenly, unexpected, he went away. Could I know it before, I’d never miss the chance to see his shows on TV” so said Ita, a teenager while her younger brother said, I prefer to be a Benjamin, rather than a minister. He is more loved, remembered by the people”.

“What would you do if you knew that tomorrow is Doomsday?” asked Pak Arif. Ita fancied herself: spend all her money, eat the most delicious food, ice cream, pray for forgiveness, pay off all her debts, and eh, … marry her “prince”.

“When St. Fransciscus was asked the same question, he said that he would just continue to plough his field, and do his daily chores as is his wont.”

“Why doesn’t he want, wish, as other people would if they could know the last day of their life?” asked Ita.

“Then it would be too late.” Said Pak Arif. “I imagine St. Franciscus knowing that he never could know the time to say farewell so every time there’s an opportunity he is doing the best thing he should, could do. He has, does already all what he wants. He wants nothing more.

“He can’t recover, undo, wipe away, what had passed, had happened. He can’t hasten his life, eat more, see more, read more,... Moreover, you can’t “eat up” all your riches except as much as your daily meals, your daily reading, daily joys, … Any day could be his last day. It’s now, today, not tomorrow.

“Everyday he eats the nicest, best food, though it’s just simple fare, the coolest drink, though but plain water, anytime he wants to pray, he prays, he never wasted his time to no purpose. He isn’t resentful, hostile, even birds aren’t afraid of him, so they say. He’d lived well, perhaps poor in the eyes of people, yet never could he have lived a better, “richer” life.

“Well, would you postpone your marriage with your “prince” till a day before your last day? What do you think?” So asked Pak Arif.

Ita kept silent. “True, don’t be a fool, don’t wait, postpone, delay doing, what is best, most likable for you, in order not be too late and be sorry. Benjamin, anyone never has the opportunity to say goodbye.” So she assured herself.

From Jayakarta, September 20, 1995

Honey Always Sweet To Me

Honey Always Sweet To Me

I remember the prince saying: “ Honey will be always sweet to me, Honey, although someone says it’s not or bitter.” Just guess, who is the happier, you or me?”

Without giving her the opportunity to answer he whispered to his princess: “Me, as I do love you more than you … me.

They certainly didn’t compete as is common between rivals in harming, cornering one another, but on the contrary, compete in offering the greatest happiness, blessing, heaven, to each other.

“To someone who harbors envy, hate, ill will, heaven is,” … “is to harm, hurt some one he hates and succeed to send him to hell. Ha, ha, ha.” Si Upik interrupted.

From Swara (Kompas), October 7, 1999

A Thought On Inhuman Behavior

A Thought On Inhuman Behavior

In former times, naughty children were sometimes threatened with cabe rawit (a very small hot-tasting chili) and chicken dirt to their mouths or locked up in a room, beaten with a rattan or having no meal as punishment by their parents who were angry. Now, should children then revolt against their parents and establish a movement, which is anti-, counter parents? There’s no such thing in their minds, said Pak Arif.

Suppose we persuade children to join a movement that’s countering parents. Christie, Stephen, Angie, Jason, Justin would say, “Why? They’re no foes. Dad and mama are our most loved ones in the whole world and whom we wouldn’t exchange with any other pap and mama. Even if we get a beating.

What should be fought against is inhuman behavior perpetrated not only by parents, by masters, but by anyone; not only to children, to women, but to anyone.

Wow, how sweet it would be when on Woman’s Day, women celebrate the day by surprising men, their husbands with something special that’s nice to them.

Pak Arif whispered to me: “Instead of celebrating with publishing (at that time in Jakarta), gathering all the sins, atrocities perpetrated by men towards women. Is it only men that are capable of such inhuman demeanor?

Complain about The Almighty who created man so black! I would rather sing, praise woman, of her goodness, her warmth, her charm, her smile, her voice her dignity, … and be very grateful to The Creator who made her, instead of exposing her wickedness, deceit, as I myself am not better than she is, said Pak Arif.

Well, I can’t wait till Man’s Day to come if there was one. I’d celebrate any day of the year by surprising women with something delightful when I’d feel like it.

And I remember the marriage agency in the news paper for men and women who wish, seek a partner. Man, woman and children united in harmony makes a happy family.

From Jayakarta, July 28, 1995

Opa Johan's Old Bike

Opa Johan’s Old Bike

“Well, choose a fine bike that’s strong and low-priced. But sell the old one first. I will provide for the money. This is what your grown up daughter told, ordered me to do as I teased my wife. “ said Opa Johan to me.

“Well, it isn’t nice to be hurried, ordered, do this and do that, just to buy a new bike, as though I have no dignity anymore. If she’d like to give me money, let me decide what I will do with it.

The Creator has given us hands without prerequisites. He didn’t order us to use them for praying only. We’re free to use them, to work with, to dance, to paint, to embrace, to play the piano, to bless, yes, but also to hit, strike, hurt just someone else or an animal without reason. Only, could, would you do it?. Ha, ha, ha. Our hands can accomplish a lot of things, not to speak of our feet and our organs and limbs.

I haven’t the heart to sell my old bike which has carried me thousands of kilometers, served me for years and given me a lot of pleasure to a vendor. It would be ungrateful. I’d rather give it to some one who would appreciate it If the old bike should be sold as something old and useless to a vendor, well, don’t buy me a new bike. So I said to my wife.” said Opa Johan to me.

I kept silent, reflected and remembered the saying:. “Money is a good servant but a bad master.”
Suppose I’d like to help some one in difficult circumstances, perhaps it’s better to aid him or her with a sum of money as a gift to have him free to decide for himself, rather than giving him in the form of goods.

He certainly will make money his servant and spend it wisely, with care for the most important purposes without having to lower himself by begging or asking for it.

But if we make money our master, I then thought of the speculators who made their profits by “manipulating” the dollar rates, our forests that were cut down, our lakes, marshes dried-up, nature’s treasures exploited, our conscience corrupted and a thousand and one awful things for the sake of money.

From Sinar Pagi, February 22, 1998

The Mote In His Brother's Eye, ...

The Mote In His Brother’s Eye, …

It was in 1998 and was eagerly discussed that anyone, - especially President Soeharto -, on the contrary should, could prove that his riches doesn’t come from illegal dealings KKN, (that is Corruption, Collusion, Nepotism).

I think of his salary which is so small in relation to his huge, vast responsibilities. Certainly a small salary is no excuse to commit KKN. The amount of what is corrupted, if it could be proved by the court, perhaps is not enough to pay him for what he has done, accomplished as long as 32 years for his country and his people.

Even more so as I think of what he has endured, suffered, of the people’s despising, blaming, cursing him, hate, … when many of his ministers left him, instead of aiding him during the crises. If his faith was not very strong, he certainly would mentally collapse. Yet he doesn’t try to escape to another country. Oh, if one could only know before, how bad, unthankful, how sad it is to be a president, who would like, wish to become one?

A lot had been published at the time of the economic, political crises, about mass unemployment, families hardly able to buy the most necessary foods, even more so the vagrants or pemulungs.

Yet, all the fuss about their sorry fate, state, it could be said that they’re still lucky as compared with the fate of one who suffered from a tumor in his mouth, stopped his mouth and covered one of his eyes with as big as a live coral-like tumor. Another suffered from elephant decease, elephantiasis and makes his thy as large and heavy as a heavy sack of rice as shown on TV. They couldn’t escape the deadly clutch of those deceases. A death sentence wouldn’t be more terrible, frightening.

When si upik saw this, she said: “Well, rather than fuss, read about the many unpleasant, ugly things, doings of others around us, better busy ourselves with opening a public purse to help to heal sufferers of such terrible deceases, better take home oleh-oleh (something nice brought home after a trip) duren Parung, hear Benjamin’s gay singing in Jakartan slang, see Miing’s humorous show on TV, hear CD’s see video’s, enjoy the full moon on a beach and a lot more.”

“Doesn’t reformation starts with correcting our own bad behavior, our mistakes, our greed first.” said Pak Arif. ”And on the contrary think of all the good of others, take, bring blessings, happiness to our neighbors, instead of harboring base thoughts, of blaming, slandering about their bad behavior, illegal dealings which aren’t yet proved.”

“Suppose we’re as rich, and powerful as Soeharto, wouldn’t we do the same as he does (KKN), as though we’re spotless, honest, superior to him? And would we have the honesty, courage to sue ourselves as we prosecute as “pitiless” Soeharto with. It certainly is less risky for us to be prosecuted as we have no riches as vast as his.

“If there is proof of his wrong doings, certainly take him before the court. Don’t be keen on pursuing other’s faults, weaknesses as though they’re mere evil and have nothing good at all and forget our own wrongdoings ourselves as the Dutch saying says, Hij ziet den splinter in zijns broeders oog, maar niet de balk in zijn eigens. He sees the mote in his brother’s eye and not the beam in his own.

From Suara Karya, November 5, 1998

Comments some one:

Wow, 9 billon US dollars savings!! If counted one by one with a speed of a fourth of a second, then we need 9 billion times of a fourth of a second and calculated it would take us about 75 years counting, that is to say non-stop, 24 hours a day without sleep and other activities. If we counted 8 hours a day it would take the time till our grand, grand, grand children of the so many degree and that is without Sun- and Holidays.

If it were connected, each dollar with one another in a row (if there is, instead of a coin) and a banknote is about 20 Cm, in length, it would reach 9 billion times 20 Cm or nearing 2 million Km or a journey of 450 times around the world. If packed (and one packet of 100 banknotes is 1 Cm thick) and placed one upon the other, just calculate how many thousands of Km high it will reach, that is more than 10 Mount Everest high.

Another one comments:

Oh, it’s only 9 billion US Dollars that’s in question as published in a well known international magazine and moreover not yet proved to be so before the court. It can never buy one’s peace, health, happiness, love, isn’t it? Besides, if we compare it with the atrocities, million murders, crimes of war under the Hitler or Pol Pot regime so say those who know it. Well such huge crimes are well worth questioning.

Adam And Eve 2

Song Of MM*

Should I see myself as a fallen, sinful woman?
While I have got the honor of Adam.
Should I treat my child, his child as a child of dishonor?
While I received it as a blessing instead of a misfortune.
I don’t care of the honor for an honorable woman
Though people sing and praise me
And build me a statue
If no Adam wants me
But regards, treats me
As though empty air, a stone, a piece of wood.

*Maria Magdalene of our age

Eve In Our Times

Does it make a difference
Between a promise of faithfulness
In our youth or before the altar
Or unspoken in a kiss?
For you, no difference.
You wouldn’t have broken it.
But what is your promise, your oath
Even before God to me?
Though you would always stay with me
But stop loving me.
Better free you of your vows
Yet, still love me
And sing and dream of me.
Though not forever,
Though not sanctified before God
Though others would “imprison” you
Or block your way to me.
Your ring, your promise, your vow, give it to others.
But that you’re mine, as long as you love me.


Song Of Adam In Our Age

So Eve granted me her warmth, her smile, her touch, her kiss, … and though not for as long as life, but just for a day, an hour, a minute or even a second, I would forgo all honor, renown, riches, and readily endure the greatest pains, miseries, and not, ever would regret. Is there a warmer, cosier couch than to sleep in her arms? Oh, God, am I so happy being Adam. Her treasures would otherwise have been in vain.
Her eyes are lovlier, brighter than the most precious stones.
Her whisper divine music.
When she comes I forget all
And I don’t care,
Whether tomorrow is Doomsday.

On Old Age

On Old Age

Being old or being invalid doesn’t prevent, hinder, block one to live a healthy, happy life. While being young doesn’t prevent one from illness, calamity, disaster, misfortune.

Tooth-ache, stomach-ache, is as hurting in young and old and so is a sore, heavy heart as painful and sad. Death is so terrible. There’s no one who would sacrifice his life for another, for a child however old he is, is there? “Yes there is”, says the Bible.

There was the toothless, wrinkled, old fruit vendor carrying his pikulan (two baskets on a bamboo stick on his shoulder), wearing a kopiah (Indonesian cap) looking as “ugly” and funny as Mang Cepot, the folk’s jester, living in Ciputat. Everyday he traveled as far as 25 km to Jakarta Pusat selling his fruits. His voice was still strong, his face cheerful, didn’t complain. He still danced the joget, a folk’s dance, crying out humorous pantun (spontaneous improvised verses) about his fruits along the way and teased, ran after the house maid in fun. Though he just ate very simple faire, he didn’t feel himself poor, or old. Remember, he too certainly was a lovely child on his mother’s lap before.

I had read the story of Helen Keller who was blind, deaf and mute, yet she could still obtain a doctor’s degree. Perhaps she’s “seeing” even more without eyes than many people who could see with their eyes open. If she could be granted to see even though just for a week, how grateful she would be.

Yet, invalids, so handicapped, don’t despair, aren’t distressed, feeling uneasy among people.

Young, old, or invalids, who can escape the road to old age? However, they all have the opportunity to a thousand and one joys and happiness:

Of celebrating the grandness of each day with all the living, to feast, enjoy the morn, the glorious rising sun. To be grateful for the rain, the coolness of the wind. To see the waving trees, the grandness of a starry sky, of sailing clouds, the charm of a rippling lake, the peaceful moon. To breathe the soft, delicious scent of Mahoni blossoms, or hear the sad plucking sounds of the kecapi (Indonesian harp) accompany a bamboo flute. And dine, drink, create, write, play, dance, sing, love … and have a sound sleep. Even baby is happy, nestling in its mother’s bosom.

And tired after life’s traveling, how peaceful to rest in Mother Earth.

From Media Indonesia January 16, 1991

A Mother's Heart

A Mother’s Heart

Dea lost her son, Theo. He was stabbed to death.

Oh, she doesn’t care about the sermon of the preacher, as Theo will never return. Even though she would be given an island, a house like a palace and an income for life. That wouldn’t comfort her, even whether she was granted the whole world.

Suppose God should console giving her, her youth again, beauty, good health and another child in his place, she would say:

“Gladly am I prepared to grow old, bald, toothless and ugly if that could bring me Theo back.”

“What, if I take another son from you instead of him. You decide which one.” said God.

“If You have the heart to force a mother to decide the blackest destiny for her children, You should take me first.”

This Is Heaven

This Is Heaven

“This is Heaven, said father while tapping on his pocket” said mother then, hinting at a full purse and dreams of delicious foods, heavenly drinks, a Mercy, a mansion and perhaps, a lovely angel.

Yet, the more we possess of what is displayed, shown on TV, advertisements, billboards as heaven,- who isn’t attracted? – the more we become satiate.

I remember when on my birthday I received, was surrounded with chicken soup, beef-steak, barbecue, cakes, pudding, ice cream, grapes, …. My eyes said “this is Heaven” but my stomach said: “No, this is Hell.”

I certainly do appreciate my family’s gifts to me - God forgive me – but it’s better to share it with others. They will enjoy it and I will be free from the torture to eat all of them or see them thrown away as garbage.

I never troubled myself to find heaven, yet unexpected did I find it, not just once but many times, even though on an almost empty purse.

As I couldn’t afford to buy my children Peters or Campina ice cream, yet when my little daughter bought herself “es Nong-nong” (so sounds the vendor’s gong), just ice cream of thin coconut milk in a cone as small as her little thump, then spend all her riches of Rp 10.-, feeding me this ice which she held in her little fist licking it by turns, sitting secretly in a corner, till today almost 25 years ago I still remember the sweetness of enjoying that ice together.

Thus be wise to buy yourself a heaven. Taste doesn’t’ care about prices, the luxury of foods. Being hungry, happy, healthy would turn just a simple meal as some rice, “tempe” or fermented soy beans, “sambal” or concocted chili, “lalap” or fresh vegetables into a heavenly dinner. The opposite would turn the most delicious food into something of a bitter pill. Heaven is in a deep sleep and it doesn’t care about a straw-mat, a “bale-bale” or a wooden couch, a bed in a five-star hotel. Heaven is where our loved ones are.

From Media Indonesia, February 21, 1992

A Worse Punishment

A Worse Punishment

“Well, what’s the use of mere apologizing and condemning. The violator should be punished by seeing the same, if the same fate befalls to his loved ones before his very eyes.” said a woman after watching the victim’s shocking, inhuman experience before the Human Rights Committee as shown on TV mid-May 1998. Perhaps, this is a worse punishment than having him flogged severely in public.

For many days, her words preoccupied my thoughts said Pak Arif. And I dreamed I was in the court of the just and wise Judge Bao with the violator and the woman accuser who wanted the violator to be punished in the same way as what he did to his victims. Contrary to his wont, Judge Bao granted the suit. “Take his wife, his daughters, his sisters, his mother before the court and have the executioners ready.” he ordered to the officials of the court. The court was dumbfounded, silent.

As in the tale of Draupadi* who was dishonored by Dursasana* and his brothers in front of her husband, aunts, uncles, grand sires and royal visitors, they also were stripped off, of their clothes.

They kneeled in fear and sobbed: “Please have mercy on us, help, save us Judge Bao. Oh, God. What have we done that we deserve such a cruel punishment?”

Seeing such a fate befall to women as she herself is, without any wrong, so helpless, so pitiful, she forgot her charge. “Stoooop! Judge Bao. Don’t continue this torture, insult, affront, outrage. They are innocent! Thousand years of prison wouldn’t be enough to wash away these wrongs, their suffering or dry their tears.!” So did she cry aloud and I awoke, breathing freely.

How lucky that it was just a dream, said Pak Arif. Whoever wants to be an executioner of helpless women … “more over, what’s wrong with them? - Except he, who has lost or traded his sense of humanity.” Si Upik interrupted.

*From the Mahabharata

From Sinar Pagi, August 8, 1998

Our Universe The Only One?

Our Universe The Only One?
I imagined, pictured myself to have reached the outer most part of our universe and I fancied that outside this ball there could be many more universes and that our universe is not just the only one.

Could that “outside” of our universe not exist? Our most brilliant human brains couldn’t discover, prove that. Does it mean that that “beyond” doesn’t exist?

But for beings on other solar systems with a higher intelligence equipped far superior to those of us, isn’t it impossible for them to discover many more universes?

Is it impossible that life and beings could exist on other solar systems on planets very similar to ours, except on our planet and within our solar system?

When I Was Downhearted

When I Was Downhearted

I just finished reading a novel which got the Pulitzer Prize. Hailed by critics, news papers, translated into many foreign languages, filmed and supervised by a famous stage manager, … Meanwhile my book was rejected by publishers. I’m not “deaf” nor “blind” to hear, to read, about what is said, commented about the book and the writer, which makes one feel bad, sad, to bear a heavy heart as “the Ugly Duckling” in the story of H. Andersen.

These thoughts then dawned on me. I don’t remember who said it:

On what merits could I pride myself above others? Suppose it were so, it certainly was not because of my own efforts, except through what was given me by God.

Perhaps being the better of someone was because I‘ve got a bit more talent, a keener nose/eye on beauty, or it might be that I was better equipped with patience, discipline, diligence, perseverance, …

And if someone surpassed me, be more lucky than I was, why should I envy him? That too was what the Creator had granted him.

If people regarded me, as a good, honest man, what is there to be proud of? Perhaps my “thirst”, “hunger” after rank, official duties, wealth, “forbidden fruits” wasn’t so severe. This too wasn’t because of my own exertion.

The earth-worm, “naked”, without physical members, without voice, wings, it certainly is grateful and happy. Busy grubbing, living in the soil, it doesn’t envy the nightingale who warbles so sweetly, nor does it envy the butterfly with its delightful, colorful wings and drinks honey. All of them busy and happy with what was inborn in them.

That’s what I remember he said. Now am I happy as I have regained my peace of mind.

From Pelita, November 12, 199

When Life Was Tight

When Life Was Tight

Did you know it?

Yet, how sweet life was, when I, a married University student even though without work and living in tight circumstances.

To celebrate our honey moon, tandem riding, hitch-hiking on a truck, traveling by bus, a sado (two-wheeled horse-cart), staying for the night at country inns and in an old, somewhat scary “palace” for free, touring Bali.

Feeling comfortable in a small wooden food-stall waiting for the rain to stop at a village road-side, while eating on a plate just warm ketoprak (cheap cooked vegetable folk-food) together until the plate was very clean.

How cozy it was sleeping together with just a one person’s mosquito net.

Having no money while pressing money difficulties were in sight with the coming birth of our baby, what a god-send relief it was when I luckily got my first salary so direly needed.

To count all the money within closed doors and windows in our bed as an unexpected gift from heaven, a rich reward for the efforts, trouble of my woman to sell some-one’s jewelry as a go between.

To take home but some little money yet so precious, small earnings, by selling my woman’s self-made snacks was even sweeter than taking home my salary.

Milk isn’t drunk anymore, but spooned, enjoyed like ice cream.

Seeing our youngest daughter joyfully strewing her first honorarium as flowers falling, to her mother.

Seeing our eldest son so proud and happy to be able to buy an old motor-cycle with all his savings in his savings-box and the readiness of all the family-members to support, supply him with the shortage.

Well, I’m not feeling poor at all, why sigh, be sad, blame, hate life when it was hard, tight. When we were happy, sharing our gains, joys and happiness and bore to lessen, soften our burdens and suffering together.
.
Thus grandpa Johan related this to me.
.

From Harian Ekonomi Neraca, Januari 17, 1997