How Beautiful
“?”
“Your underwear, you little fool” said Opa Johan to his wife.
December 2009
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
I Picture A Paradise, A Heaven In Hell
I Picture A Paradise, A Heaven In Hell
I picture a paradise, a heaven in hell with two lovers, or a mother and her children, or a dog and his master in it, not a paradise or heaven as is written in the Bible.
December 2009
I picture a paradise, a heaven in hell with two lovers, or a mother and her children, or a dog and his master in it, not a paradise or heaven as is written in the Bible.
December 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
The Choir Conductor's Taking Risks
The Choir Conductor’s Taking Risks
I’m giving the weak members the chance to sing solo to improve their singing. It’s no wonder that they might not perform very well. No one knows that I’m taking a risk. I have 11 members, most are over 70 years, and 2 of them even had suffered a stroke. When I want my choir to perform well, I could take just the best, smartest 5 singers. So the choir conductor comforted himself when once his performance went wrong.
December 2009
I’m giving the weak members the chance to sing solo to improve their singing. It’s no wonder that they might not perform very well. No one knows that I’m taking a risk. I have 11 members, most are over 70 years, and 2 of them even had suffered a stroke. When I want my choir to perform well, I could take just the best, smartest 5 singers. So the choir conductor comforted himself when once his performance went wrong.
December 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
An Indonesian Fairy Tale
An Indonesian Fairy Tale
Many princes, so handsome, were showing their incredible achievements, feats, university degrees, PhD’s, riches. They were competing for her hand. No, she wasn’t dazzled, awed, though one would offer her his kingdom, she didn’t care. That was not “him”. She wouldn’t marry a fortune, a great name. Someone said: “She’s a fool to reject, refuse such profitable offers which could support herself for life.”
When she once visited a village – but this could only happen in a fairy tale in Indonesia, in my imagination, in my mind – did she meet a young man who was herding his buffaloes. He was strong, so simple, so frank, so natural, so unsophisticated, so open, so unaffected, as though she saw Adam before her, who was without education, wealth, clothes, instead of a herdsman.
Except himself, he had no chance, nothing to offer, to show off to ever convince this fairy before him of his worth and he never thought of ever trying to charm, enchant her. And I pictured him when he just came out of the river sitting on his buffalo, without a shirt, un-combed hair, barefoot yet even asked whether he might kiss her. There was no prince ever dared to ask it.
She later returned and said: “will you marry me?” Dazzled, stunned, when undreamed of, un-hoped for, he was granted, offered a heavenly bride.
He took her home to his cottage, celebrated the wedding with a meal just of lalap, ikan asin, pepes oncom, (that is uncooked vegetables, dried salted fish, red roasted pie of fermented soy bean) eating together on a banana leaf with their fingers, sitting on a mat and drinking water out of a kendi (earthen water vessel) as there were no chairs, no table, plates, cups, forks and spoons. Cozy, warm they nestled in each others arms on the wooden, worn out bale-bale (bedstead). This was heaven. She was content helping him in the vegetable garden, bathing in the kali (river) or pancuran (water from a spring flowing through a water pipe) or from a well and he taught her how to do it.
“There is no electricity, no TV, telephone, no car, no newspaper, no ... She has to live in want. That’s hell.” So the people exclaimed. “Sure” she thought, “but with him near me, hell doesn’t terrify, scare me.”
And I imagined her waking up with the warble of the birds, cock crow, She saw the dew on the grass and stepped on it, enjoyed the rustle, the coolness of the wind, saw, heard the gurgling, splashing of flowing clear mountain water in winding ditches, brooklets, watched the glorious sun, the moon rise, the golden sun set, she saw the fireflies in the evening, …and her husband coming home. This was paradise. She, a City’s daughter had become a child of Nature.
She never vowed to be faithful before God, she never regretted, sorrowed her choice, though she knew she should work hard, that one day he would grow old. She was so happy just to be Eve, a lovely woman who had Adam in the “guise” of a herdsman as her dear husband for as long as life. But this is as I picture it in my mind.
Many princes, so handsome, were showing their incredible achievements, feats, university degrees, PhD’s, riches. They were competing for her hand. No, she wasn’t dazzled, awed, though one would offer her his kingdom, she didn’t care. That was not “him”. She wouldn’t marry a fortune, a great name. Someone said: “She’s a fool to reject, refuse such profitable offers which could support herself for life.”
When she once visited a village – but this could only happen in a fairy tale in Indonesia, in my imagination, in my mind – did she meet a young man who was herding his buffaloes. He was strong, so simple, so frank, so natural, so unsophisticated, so open, so unaffected, as though she saw Adam before her, who was without education, wealth, clothes, instead of a herdsman.
Except himself, he had no chance, nothing to offer, to show off to ever convince this fairy before him of his worth and he never thought of ever trying to charm, enchant her. And I pictured him when he just came out of the river sitting on his buffalo, without a shirt, un-combed hair, barefoot yet even asked whether he might kiss her. There was no prince ever dared to ask it.
She later returned and said: “will you marry me?” Dazzled, stunned, when undreamed of, un-hoped for, he was granted, offered a heavenly bride.
He took her home to his cottage, celebrated the wedding with a meal just of lalap, ikan asin, pepes oncom, (that is uncooked vegetables, dried salted fish, red roasted pie of fermented soy bean) eating together on a banana leaf with their fingers, sitting on a mat and drinking water out of a kendi (earthen water vessel) as there were no chairs, no table, plates, cups, forks and spoons. Cozy, warm they nestled in each others arms on the wooden, worn out bale-bale (bedstead). This was heaven. She was content helping him in the vegetable garden, bathing in the kali (river) or pancuran (water from a spring flowing through a water pipe) or from a well and he taught her how to do it.
“There is no electricity, no TV, telephone, no car, no newspaper, no ... She has to live in want. That’s hell.” So the people exclaimed. “Sure” she thought, “but with him near me, hell doesn’t terrify, scare me.”
And I imagined her waking up with the warble of the birds, cock crow, She saw the dew on the grass and stepped on it, enjoyed the rustle, the coolness of the wind, saw, heard the gurgling, splashing of flowing clear mountain water in winding ditches, brooklets, watched the glorious sun, the moon rise, the golden sun set, she saw the fireflies in the evening, …and her husband coming home. This was paradise. She, a City’s daughter had become a child of Nature.
She never vowed to be faithful before God, she never regretted, sorrowed her choice, though she knew she should work hard, that one day he would grow old. She was so happy just to be Eve, a lovely woman who had Adam in the “guise” of a herdsman as her dear husband for as long as life. But this is as I picture it in my mind.
December 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
God Has Forbidden Us
God Has Forbidden Us
“Oh, it’s raining. That means God has forbidden us to have an outing.” Meanwhile, God, Nature has other designs than forbidding a family to go out.
December 2009
“Oh, it’s raining. That means God has forbidden us to have an outing.” Meanwhile, God, Nature has other designs than forbidding a family to go out.
December 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
A Mother's Happiness In Telling Her Children A lie
A Mother’s Happiness In Telling Her Children A Lie
You may tell a lie, only if it is about something nice, good, so that when one day it might be discovered, he or she you lied to would be very grateful to you. There’s almost no lie that’s not hiding something nasty. There’s almost no order that’s not containing something bad, something we don’t like. A lie, an order often brings unpleasantness with it.
When our children were small and we lived in tied living conditions, Oma used to give them the best, good parts of some special fruits if we were lucky some one presents us a pear, an apple or grapes as we can’t afford to buy them. Even a grape would still be cut and shared. Oma said she liked, prefered those parts that were still left as they were over ripe, “bonyok”, spoiled. So she lied and the children believed and were content.
Yet, that was a joy, a feast, a plus for us who were almost empty pursed, a minus for the rich as they never would have the chance to ever enjoy it. Oma was even happier in succeeding to make her children believe her lie.
But today there’s no need to lying anymore. Her children are grown up and relatively wealthy. Apples, pears, grapes are abundant, eating them is not extraordinary anymore.
But till today, your daddy almost half a century ago, still remembers your Oma, his mam. When he saw half rotten, spoiled pears, he still is so naïve to believe that’s what Oma liked. He bought it and sent it to us.
We laughed for his present of half rotten pears and our dear foolish son. I don’t know whether Oma apologised for her lie.
So told Opa Johan in his e mail to his granddaughter.
December 2009
You may tell a lie, only if it is about something nice, good, so that when one day it might be discovered, he or she you lied to would be very grateful to you. There’s almost no lie that’s not hiding something nasty. There’s almost no order that’s not containing something bad, something we don’t like. A lie, an order often brings unpleasantness with it.
When our children were small and we lived in tied living conditions, Oma used to give them the best, good parts of some special fruits if we were lucky some one presents us a pear, an apple or grapes as we can’t afford to buy them. Even a grape would still be cut and shared. Oma said she liked, prefered those parts that were still left as they were over ripe, “bonyok”, spoiled. So she lied and the children believed and were content.
Yet, that was a joy, a feast, a plus for us who were almost empty pursed, a minus for the rich as they never would have the chance to ever enjoy it. Oma was even happier in succeeding to make her children believe her lie.
But today there’s no need to lying anymore. Her children are grown up and relatively wealthy. Apples, pears, grapes are abundant, eating them is not extraordinary anymore.
But till today, your daddy almost half a century ago, still remembers your Oma, his mam. When he saw half rotten, spoiled pears, he still is so naïve to believe that’s what Oma liked. He bought it and sent it to us.
We laughed for his present of half rotten pears and our dear foolish son. I don’t know whether Oma apologised for her lie.
So told Opa Johan in his e mail to his granddaughter.
December 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
A Teacher To His Ex Student
A Teacher To His Ex Student
Since you found my Home Page there’s no need for reunion, to trouble your self to visit, telephone me. Just e mail me in your leisure time. That’s a visit already. Every time you read my Home Page it’s even more than if you really visit me at home talking together.
I am what I am in my Home Page, not old, alive, young, though actually am I old or am no more. Doesn’t matter if I’m a “he” or a “she”, live in Jakarta or in Germany or France, or born in the 19th century or in the future. When you read my Home Page, we become brothers or sisters, I’m not your teacher any more who knows more, who should be respected and you are not my student anymore, not a little boy.
December 2009
Since you found my Home Page there’s no need for reunion, to trouble your self to visit, telephone me. Just e mail me in your leisure time. That’s a visit already. Every time you read my Home Page it’s even more than if you really visit me at home talking together.
I am what I am in my Home Page, not old, alive, young, though actually am I old or am no more. Doesn’t matter if I’m a “he” or a “she”, live in Jakarta or in Germany or France, or born in the 19th century or in the future. When you read my Home Page, we become brothers or sisters, I’m not your teacher any more who knows more, who should be respected and you are not my student anymore, not a little boy.
December 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Don't You Ever Be Sorry
Don't You Ever Be Sorry
As far as I remember have I never asked, begged for something. My mother chose, provided for my clothes, shoes, school necessities, when I’m married, you did it for me, our sons bought me a wrist-watch, sports-shoes, a mountain-bike, a piano, computer, my father provided some money to buy us a house and our sons rebuilt it for us into a big house. There’s still a lot I haven’t mentioned.
I said: “God, I’ve nothing to ask, don’t worry, trouble Yourself to grant me anything, ”then unasked He grants me a father and a mother, three sons and a daughter except which I can’t choose them myself. Yet I would never, ever exchange them with another father and mother, or other children how loving, good, delightful, smart they are. But I may choose you, you know? Who knows, someday I might repent and think of exchanging you. Ha. Ha. What do you say?
I have no car and go by train, bus, walk or bike and buy me an organ. Yet, am I content. I feel myself very rich.
Sure, a man may look like a scare-crow like me, but what if he were rich in thoughts and feelings. What’s a wealthy, handsome man if he were empty, hollow, barren? Think of the mango which is not pleasing to the eye but is so fragrant and so sweet. The eye may err you know? Aren’t you proud of your smart husband and who has the courage to praise himself? Don’t you ever be sorry. Now, kiss me. It’s a command.
So Opa Johan said to his wife.
December 2009
As far as I remember have I never asked, begged for something. My mother chose, provided for my clothes, shoes, school necessities, when I’m married, you did it for me, our sons bought me a wrist-watch, sports-shoes, a mountain-bike, a piano, computer, my father provided some money to buy us a house and our sons rebuilt it for us into a big house. There’s still a lot I haven’t mentioned.
I said: “God, I’ve nothing to ask, don’t worry, trouble Yourself to grant me anything, ”then unasked He grants me a father and a mother, three sons and a daughter except which I can’t choose them myself. Yet I would never, ever exchange them with another father and mother, or other children how loving, good, delightful, smart they are. But I may choose you, you know? Who knows, someday I might repent and think of exchanging you. Ha. Ha. What do you say?
I have no car and go by train, bus, walk or bike and buy me an organ. Yet, am I content. I feel myself very rich.
Sure, a man may look like a scare-crow like me, but what if he were rich in thoughts and feelings. What’s a wealthy, handsome man if he were empty, hollow, barren? Think of the mango which is not pleasing to the eye but is so fragrant and so sweet. The eye may err you know? Aren’t you proud of your smart husband and who has the courage to praise himself? Don’t you ever be sorry. Now, kiss me. It’s a command.
So Opa Johan said to his wife.
December 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Who Is Poor?
Who Is Poor?
‘Poor’ in my personal dictionary is someone who always begs, asks, has no selfrespect, no selfconfidence, is not independent. The fruit vendor, the news paper boy, the housemaid, a blind man are independent honorable people though they might live in a hut or sleep in a shed.
“Ask, and God will grant you” something like that is written in the Bible, Yet they’re not lazy, spoiled, they’re dignified and don’t humble themselves with asking or begging.
So said Pak Arif.
December 2009
‘Poor’ in my personal dictionary is someone who always begs, asks, has no selfrespect, no selfconfidence, is not independent. The fruit vendor, the news paper boy, the housemaid, a blind man are independent honorable people though they might live in a hut or sleep in a shed.
“Ask, and God will grant you” something like that is written in the Bible, Yet they’re not lazy, spoiled, they’re dignified and don’t humble themselves with asking or begging.
So said Pak Arif.
December 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
A Mother's Grievance
A Mother’s Grievance
I reluctantly told one of my daughters that almost nothing is left of the money she monthly provided for my motherless grandchildren. It was as though I had to humble myself for an alms. And she chided me: “I just recently gave it to you.” I took care of them. Oh, and there was a lot so needed, not just food.
A mother could raise ten children even were she poor, but ten grown-up children couldn’t care for one old poor mother.
So she bitterly said.
December 2009
I reluctantly told one of my daughters that almost nothing is left of the money she monthly provided for my motherless grandchildren. It was as though I had to humble myself for an alms. And she chided me: “I just recently gave it to you.” I took care of them. Oh, and there was a lot so needed, not just food.
A mother could raise ten children even were she poor, but ten grown-up children couldn’t care for one old poor mother.
So she bitterly said.
December 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
I Sincerely Hate Her
I Sincerely Hate Her
Opa Johan’s wife has a, foolish, illiterate housemaid. “Oh, she is so obstinate.I’m tired of reproaching her. How I sincerely, dearly hate her” she said laughing to her husband in jest.
December 2009
Opa Johan’s wife has a, foolish, illiterate housemaid. “Oh, she is so obstinate.I’m tired of reproaching her. How I sincerely, dearly hate her” she said laughing to her husband in jest.
December 2009
Never Ask Your Lover: Do You Love Me?"
Never Ask Your Lover: “Do You Love Me?”
That is if you don’t want to hear a hesitating, reluctant, very disappointing, cold, dry: “Sure, certainly.”
When someone really loves you, you never, ever have to ask this; he will marry you even without begging him: “Marry me.”
December 2009
That is if you don’t want to hear a hesitating, reluctant, very disappointing, cold, dry: “Sure, certainly.”
When someone really loves you, you never, ever have to ask this; he will marry you even without begging him: “Marry me.”
December 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Still Drawn Towards Feminine Beauty
Still Drawn Towards Feminine Beauty
Could I have known before of what I now know on my 80th year I should have warned you before the blessing of the church that I’m still drawn towards feminine beauty. Though would I know this, I wouldn’t have the nerve to say so. You might be frightened and you wouldn’t marry me.
And it is so foolish to celebrate a wedding feast on the beginning of a life’s voyage as though it were a succes already, when I remember our quarrels, hate, sufferings, torments, miseries, … more than half a century sharing together, I wonder why you still stay with me and don’t run away. Ha, ha.
So said Opa Johan to his wife..
December 2009
Could I have known before of what I now know on my 80th year I should have warned you before the blessing of the church that I’m still drawn towards feminine beauty. Though would I know this, I wouldn’t have the nerve to say so. You might be frightened and you wouldn’t marry me.
And it is so foolish to celebrate a wedding feast on the beginning of a life’s voyage as though it were a succes already, when I remember our quarrels, hate, sufferings, torments, miseries, … more than half a century sharing together, I wonder why you still stay with me and don’t run away. Ha, ha.
So said Opa Johan to his wife..
December 2009
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