Count Our Blessings Or Curse Our Fate

Count Our Blessings Or Curse Our Fate?

How beautiful. a woman’s hair which strays from its comb, how sweet a flower which peeks over a neighbor’s fence. Clinton, the U.S. President, according to the American Press, has strayed from his vows during his marriage. This was the journalists’ Christmas and New Year’s present to Clinton that he will remember all his life.

Despite his marriage, his age, Clinton is still sensitive and not blind to the beauty and appeal of women. And it’s very possible that many beautiful women glance stealthily at him. Even if the U.S. President has never been unfaithful, at least he might have fantasized about having an affair.

Fortunately, he is just a human being, not a superman or a god. Because he is no saint, he knows his weaknesses and limitations well and acts as a human being. How could he understand others if he never faces trials or goes astray because of luring “forbidden apples”? Even a hermit could be tempted by a beautiful goddess.

A poet once wrote:
Since I saw her, I think I have been blinded.
For wherever I glance, I don’t see anything, but her.

Well, life would be gloomy, harsh and not humane at all if police officers, government officials, judges and artists were perfect men or robots.

Forbidding every man from straying is like cutting a branch which peeks over a neighbor’s fence. But cutting the branches doesn’t mean that they will not peek over the fence again. Human beings cannot be framed by the definitions of scholars. They cannot be confined by cultural walls, norms and rules.

It’s sad for President Clinton who is handsome and manly. If only his eagerness, ardor for women weren’t so large and could be limited by the “fences” set out by his wife as his American society requires. If he were a man born in King Solomon’s age, he could have had a hundred wives. Having a love-affair is protested by his community, let alone having ten wives.

We know that planet Earth is full of beautiful, charming and warm women. Have we to count our blessings or to curse our fate?

The Jakarta Post January 8, 1994,
From Jayakarta. Original Title, Bill Clinton And Women

December2010

The Greatest Wonder

Imagine a rose as though equipped with an invisible lab within, processing exquisite perfume, a certain green for its leaves and red or rose for its flowers while each part of the plant is alive. A rose never errs as to have an orchid for its flowers.

And that is so easily processed and in such a short time just out of dead earth, air, water and sunlight, which has no color, no perfume, no wood, no stem at all. This is the greatest wonder. Our foremost labs aren’t able to process and get the same results just out of earth, water, air and sunlight and never will. And what’s even more wonderful, unbelievable is, that a plant, - not just a rose - can propagate new life. An animal, man can procreate a new living individual in a similar subtle way.

Meat is produced in an invisible mini factory within the cow, just by feeding, providing her with grass, water, air, sunlight. Man isn’t able to produce meat in a lab or factory. It’s not man that produces meat and milk, and its bones and teeth and eyes and feet …, but the cow.

From Jayakarta, October 27, 1994

December 2010

The Battle Of Rudy And Gunalan

The Battle Of Rudy And Gunalan

There was a night of anxiety for Rudy’s family.
There was also a night of anxiety for Gunalan’s family.
There was a loving father’s, mother’s prayer for Rudy.
There also was a loving father’s, mother’s prayer for Gunalan.
There were our people awaiting Rudy.
There also were their people awaiting Gunalan.
There were frightful, dreadful almost killing moments for Rudy.
There were also frightful, dreadful almost killing moments for Gunalan.
There was a tear falling down for Rudy.
There was also a tear falling down for Gunalan.
So, hail to Rudy.
But also, hail to Gunalan.

For triumphant or defeated never lessens the heroic quality of a hero.


After the fiery battle, Gunalan in an interview said: ”I thought that I had the chance after winning the fist set with 15 – 8 and leading in the second with 7 – 1. But Hartono was as cool as ever. Before the match I said in fun, ‘Don’t you ever scare an old man’. I almost did the opposite. Yet, I am also very happy. I came to him and he said in the bahasa: ‘I’m just lucky’. Well don’t be mistaken about Rudy Hartono. He really is a champion. May he have an 8th time victory in All England in succession next year.” From Medeka.

Both knights saw, recognized their opponent’s magnificence, splendor as revealed in the fight and were amazed.

March 1974

December 2010

Int'l Gamelan Festival

Int’l Gamelan Festival

English Version by the Jakarta Post February 7, 1996

Watching western women in sarong kebaya and men in blangkon, (traditional dress) playing gamelan, (traditional “orchestra”) in the International Gamelan Festival at Prambanan temple in Yogyakarta recently on television, I felt myself transported to the future.

“Where is Indonesia?” asks a tourist.
I reply: This is Indonesia.”
“Is it? These are skyscrapers like in Tokyo. That is the Hollywood Inn, the Thousand And One Night Amusement Center. I eat sukiyaki, pizza, hotdogs, pears, apples, grapes. I drink Coke, root beer. I listen to disco music. Where are the rice fields, the tropical forests prided by Indonesia? This is certainly not Indonesia but another country.”

“It is true, I am not joking. The authentic Indonesia with its forests is extinct. Now it is westernized. The blond hair you see is just dyed. If you want to see the real Indonesia you must go to …” and I show him a dot on a map, close to the equator. “There you will find Indonesia in miniature where the original culture is respected and conserved.”

I wake up from my dream with a jolt. What if some day we have to learn our own culture from foreign experts, if the authentic Indonesian tropical forest is no longer but somewhere abroad.

Somebody says: “We have no self respect.”

The Jakarta Post February 7, 1996.

December 2010

Once A Year?

Once A Year?

What a pity. Would you observe to love, appreciate, be nice to, forgiving, honor, remember each other only once a year?

Look at our Mother day, Father day, Valentine day, Birthday, Heroes day, All Souls’ day, Pets day, International Peace day, New Year, Idul Fitri, Christmas, Easter, …

I can’t wait for these special days. I’d rather forget all these days and be good, kind, forgiving any day when I’d feel like it. So said she, si upik (call name of a young girl).

December 2010

Leisurely Reading

Leisurly Reading

Leisurely Reading is for old, yet still very young people. You're never too old to be young. So said a song.

December 2010

Delicious Foods, Heavenly Drinks

Delicious Foods, Heavenly Drinks

There is another way to very delicious eating and drinking, by far more delicious than what is served, offered in restaurants and eateries. I insist that the most delicious foods and freshest drinks can be the most ordinary, even bitter foods and drinks as well.*

Eating warm ketela (cassava), ubi (yam) or ground nuts roasted in the ashes of a campfire can be very delicious eating. Or one should walk or cycle leisurely in the evening and drop by somewhere to buy tahu pong (Soybean-cake) while hearing its gentle sizzle, the peaceful buzz of the burner and eat it warm from the frying pan. Or you should also buy roasted corn, watch the glowing cinders, breathe the appetizing roasted flavor, hear the lively spluttering and popping in the fire, then eat the corn slowly, sitting or squatting in the flickering surroundings of vendors, on the side walk.

Hear the lonely whistle of the kue putu vendor at night, eat the “rice-cake” warm on a leaf, or drink warm sekoteng (ginger-like drink). Perhaps you wouldn’t hear the kecapi (harp-like instrument) sounds today. Hearing its soft plucked strings, the sounds of chirping crickets, the hooting owl in the open air at night would be even a greater delight than listening stiffly in concert halls. Sitting at ease, eating or drinking at ease, accompanied by nature’s sounds, a fire-fly, undisturbed by debts, guests, appointments, glaring city-lights, beneath a starry sky, one would forget all the arts, philosophy and dinners.

Drink cool water from the kendi (earthen water vessel). Call the mbok pecel, the middle-aged woman -vendor, who carries a broad tray of cooked vegetables on her head like a sombrero. Eat pecel served on banana-leaf with your fingers sitting on the steps - never sit on chairs, unless you can nestle yourself comfortably by drawing your feet up on to the seat -, sit on the floor as children, kampong (village) and Japanese people do, or sit on the grass or perch on a boulder on the bank of a stream when you’re picnicking.

The nicest. freshest, strongest drink you could get at the roadside in the shade of a tree from a charming jamu vendor. She is as fresh as a mountain-breeze and carries her basket in a slendang (shawl) on her back, with bottles of bitter-sweet-hot drinks, serving her customer on her knees with a grace, no geisha or stewardess could ever rival.

An artist painted the most delicious food and coolest drink just as common folk-food served on a leaf and a cool squirted drink from the kendi (earthen vessel). It is served to a squatting man by a lovely Bali-woman sitting behind her low table as food-stand on the sidewalk.

Omar Khayam, the Persian poet, needed a loaf of bread and a jug of wine when his lover was with him. Though in a wilderness, he’d dine as in paradise.

Such are the delicacies that far surpass the most delicious, expensive foods and drinks offered in the most famous restaurants, the grandest feasts and I’d say even the banquets of kings.

Rich flavors of eating in the open air, the foretaste of watching, attending, breathing, hearing the food being prepared and cooked. Tastes of eating at leisure, ease and privacy, free from worries and sickness. There’s sweetness in sharing one’s food with a lover.

Subtle tastes, rich flavors, exquisite sweetness no cook, no appetizer or ingredient ever could add, turning the most ordinary foods and drinks into the most delicious foods and heavenly drinks.

They are within the purse of all and for anyone to enjoy. Yet, money can’t buy them, for each one of us would have to depend upon his, her own “recipe”.

The Jakarta Post, May 27, 1986

*Remember, this is Jakarta some 30 years ago.

December 2010

Eve In Our Time

Eve In Our Time

Does it make a difference
Between a promise of faithfulness
In our youth or before the altar
Or unspoken in a kiss?
For you, Adam, 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.

December 2010

Surpass The Most Delicious Food In The World

Surpass The Most Delicious Food In The World

“Do you know the most delicious food in the world, Arif?” asked Upi.

“Yes, certainly, I do. Food that’s served in the restaurant called: ‘Feeling Hungry’. Just some rice, sambal (concocted chili), tahu and tempe (fermented curd beans), fresh vegetables would make a divine dish. Drink water out of an earthen water vessel. perched on a boulder, accompanied by the sound of a rushing river, a cool breeze, eating at leisure, not disturbed by guests, debts, appointments, no tooth-ache and beside me … do you want to know who?

“No, it’s not you, Upi. You usually pinch, never kiss me. Yours’, … what’s yours’? ’Your kiss’” he whispered, “would surpass the most delicious food in the whole world. Ha, ha, ha!”

July 1996

December 2010

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.

December 2010

On An Exhibition

On An Exhibition

And there was a most wonderful, majestic, stately mountain surrounded by dark, heavy, angry clouds, a grand painting in the traditional Chinese style. But on the exhibition was also a little Chinese “picture”: perhaps a weed with a tiny single flower, so tender, so modest, so pure, so cherishing …

That was what the painter saw: unlimited in beauty, even in what is small, unnoticed, so common, an ordinary sight for our eyes. Just a few strokes of his brush were eloquent enough to render this.

1977

December 2010

Ade's Christmas Gift

Ade’s Christmas Gift

“I’m sorry, I can’t come singing this time. My leg awfully hurts.” Ade telephoned her choir master just an hour before the Christmas Eve service began. He was downhearted. She was his “locomotive” in his choir. Now they would sing without her, - try, make the best he can with the others.

Then during the warm up he was so happily surprised to see Ade hobbling coming in. “Thanks God” he said inwardly.

After the service the choir master said to her: “Thank you, We sang very well. That was your Christmas gift for me and us, I never would forget” as he imagined her pain climbing down the stairs and walking to the church with a hurting leg.

December 2004

December 2010

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.

December 2010

An Interview With Hoyer Larsen

An Interview With Hoyer Larsen

I dreamt I was in Atlanta and interviewed Hoyer Larsen, the Danish badminton champion who became a finalist in the Olympic Games.

“Suppose God asks you what you would like He should do for you in this final.”

“Choose your opponent you like,” God said. “Which. Rasyid, Joko, Alan, Arbi, Gunalan, Yang Yang, Han Jian?"

“I take Rudy Hartono” answered Larsen.

“Why Rudy?”

“Rudy is one of the greatest, one of the very best badminton players in the world. It is an honor to play against him. “

“I will help you and make the supporters side with you? said the Lord.

“I don’t care of supporter’s support."

”Do you want Rudy to lose in this match?” God said.

“I never prayed You for failures or bad luck of my adversaries, opponents, I never prayed You to give me the victory, although I would be very proud if I could win, defeat him, the best, strongest player in the world.”

“Well, What is your dearest wish, which I will grant you in this final?” God asked.

“I, Larsen don’t want to be backed up by supporters, the referee, linesmen. If I ever may wish – then, if it isn’t too insolent – wish, You don’t interfere, meddle with who shall be winning or losing this match. Hartono and I both want to be proud of winning, without any one, or God aiding in this match as far as we still have our self respect.”

From Suara Karya, 11 Juli 1996

December 2010

No Matter How Old You Are

No Matter How Old You Are

As a fruit, that’s green, hard, pungent before, turns mellow, fragrant, sweet, so, you, Christy, have grown into a lovely young woman, You got more smiles and don’t feel, act awkward as girls sometimes are, do. Then you still would grow more beautiful into a woman, warm, strong and wise.

No matter how old you are, as long as you’re capable of love you’ll be happy and never become an old woman. You would stay forever young. And it is similar for every woman, every man, you know? Stop loving except you want to be an old woman soon.

So wrote Opa Johan to his granddaughter


December 2010

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

December 2010

Adam And Eve

Adam And Eve

And Adam awoke
And in enchantment saw he Eve for the first time.

And Eve mirrored herself in his enraptured eyes
And for the first time saw her ravishing beauty.

And Adam had given her his souvenir.
And she had received it, his child.

December 2010

This Is Heaven

This Is Heaven

“This is Heaven, said father while tapping on his pocket” told 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

December 2010

If God Grants You Another Chance

If God Grants You Another Chance

“Suppose God asks you whether you would repeat this life if He grants you another chance. Are you sure that you could improve it and have a happier life?” asked Arif.

“Yes I would, rather than be your girl-friend. You are the most crazy, meddlesome, awful creature, in the world.” said Upi sweetly.

“I wouldn’t. What if you were reborn as si Mamat. What a disappointment, disillusion. How fortunate that you (we all) will never have such a chance. I’m happy to be born as Adam.”

Then Arif whispered: “Aren’t you, happy that you were fated to be born as Eve?”

“Are you nosing about my business?” said Upi laughing.

July 1996

October 2010

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

December 2010

Fit In Harmony Together

Fit In Harmony Together

A long shadow of a man and a woman in the moonlight is before me. How they fit together in harmony.

It is the shadow of myself and a woman, my woman. A man among men is no man, a woman among women is no woman, but …………….a dreary desert, dark night without stars.

December 1976

December 2010

Old Portrait Of T i e n

Old Portrait Of T i e n

Tien was a bit crazy, silly in the eyes of people. Just got Rp. 200.- (that was almost 50 years ago) as “Cinderella” for some days, of which Rp. 100.- was sacrificed to buy three apples and some oranges. Two apples and some oranges she gave wholeheartedly to her “colleagues”. She had no one who cares for her except Mother Nature.

She had no home but she always found a way to crawl somewhere in and had a lodging for the night. She worked so hard that she sometimes nodded to the merriment of her co-housemaids. Every time she awoke with a start. Yet, she had been a teacher before. But no one wanted her. The only one who wanted her, her “prince”, stole her money by borrowing and not return it.

Tien was as a weed, whom no one wanted. She’s “hell” a fury but also a blessing. She got poor, simple fare, but that cheap, worthless food was perhaps tastier and nutritious: The fish head, shrimps head, the chicken head and feet (ceker they say}, frogs spine, no coca cola’s, no white polished rice but brown rice. She slept on a bench without mattress and pillow, mosquito net, did rough, course work and without being pursued, these treatments had become a blessing in disguise.

She sleeps anywhere as sound as ever, has a keen appetite, is strong and healthy, has good teeth, though having no recourse to a dentist, forgets her worries almost immediately and harbors no hate, ill will. Those are her riches, her treasures.

Certainly, Mother Nature loves all her children. Every dark side has its sunny side.

December 2010

Bali And The World

Bali And The World

“If he has peace within him, Bali deepens it. If he has beauty within him, Bali enriches it. If he does not carry both within him, he will not recognize them here and he will go away unhappy, as he came.” (The Jakarta Post, April 29, 1986).

Well, I don’t want to be blessed with what is called peace and beauty, if they keep other people that haven’t, doomed from sharing in the happiness. I’d rather stay doomed to be unhappy with the people.

Having had my say to the “world”, I’ll be happy and regain my peace of mind.

The Jakarta Post May 12, 1986

December 2010

Funny Sights

Funny Sights

A father taking three children for a ride on a scooter, two sitting behind and one standing in front of him, isn’t an uncommon sight. Four passengers on a scooter. But when they even took along their “ugly” dog into the bargain, sitting – with eight legs – crammed on the narrow board of the old two wheeler through the bustling roads to share their fun and danger, it must have been an adventures ride, perhaps better than in a comfortable motorcar.

The other day I also saw a couple beneath a tree as I wandered through a park. They were foreigners. The young man was peeling a pine-apple. He worked at it conscientiously. At last he hardly had anything left except its tasteless “spine” to offer his sweetheart. Yet I guess that it must have tasted sweeter than had they had the fruit served well in the Hilton Hotel.

Here is an occasion for foreigners to learn from us, not from our professors, but from our fruit vendors.

The Jakarta Post December 31, 1986

December 2010

Unpardonable Blundering

Unpardonable Blundering

There was a picture of a beautiful necklace that won an international award at Milan, (J.P. March 29, 1986), but I’d vote for the lovely wearer. Seeing her dazzling eyes would be much more fascinating than a world-awarded necklace, the glittering fire in the biggest diamonds, the most precious stones and fire-works, as the radiant sun is to an electric bulb.

The jury should be fired for unpardonable blundering.

The Jakarta Post April 8, 1986

December 2010

The Torture Of Choosing

The Torture Of Choosing

To be compelled to take only one out of many of our favorite dishes on offer, to be forced to choose only one out of two or three of our favorite television programs broadcast at the same time. How can one enjoy what one has with the thought of missing out on all the other ones?

A mother would say: “It would be a cruel God that asked me to choose only one of my children to be saved or to choose only one to be sacrificed. How could I? All of them are of the very best. All my children must be saved, if it can’t be that way I’d rather die.”

How wretched to marry only one person when one has more than one Valentine. And I think of Bill Clinton. Why? Blame the Creator who made him, us that way. We are all capable of loving more than one person.

There’s no worse punishment to him and his faithful wife than for him to be forced to confess his very private affairs publicly before the whole world. And I must add, who can claim, pride himself to be without a stain and be a better man than he is? Most of us harbor secret thoughts and commit similar acts in the imagination where even Kenneth Starr wouldn’t be able to catch us.

Then I remember Pak Arif’s way of thinking. Every time I see a waringin (banyan tree), I remember he used to say, that tree is the best among trees. When I look at the sirih (betel vine), that plant is the most beautiful among plants. When I eat durian, that fruit is number one and jambu, nangka (jack fruit), mangosteen and rambutan … all of them. There’s no one fruit that’s number two since I so very much like them all.

“What if I were chosen to be a member of the jury at a beauty contest?” Pak Arif teased his wife.
“Well I suppose you would have to proclaim each one of them your queen.” She retorted, adding, “He certainly is very faithful, for I have never been able to catch him “wet”. Happily for him and his wife, since Pak Arif could never be considered jury material for a beauty contest.

We should be grateful that there’s not only one best in the world. Our Creator certainly didn’t make any mistakes or errors.

The elephant, the deer, the fox, the squirrel, the bat, just name any creature. Each one of them is of the very best, the most extraordinary creation. So is the melati, the kenanga blossoms, the lotus, the rose, the orchid and any other flower or blossom.

Bill Clinton, though in love with Hillary, couldn’t resist Monica Levinsky, and neither could she resist him. Choose your mother? Choose your father? “Take Monica. Ha, ha, ha.” Si Upik suggested.

Ah, how nice, how fine, how happy, when we are not trapped by being compelled and obliged too choose only one of the many we most like, cherish or love. To be freed of the torture of choosing, loving the best out of the very best. Men and women and creatures and things alike.
That’s what I remember Pak Arif told me.

Having One’s Cake And Eating It

The Jakarta Post, September 20, 1998

December 2010

The Vagrant’s Song

A vagrant singing, carrying his precious cartload, a sleeping girl:

With you beside me,

Living, sleeping in my cart;

Right there’s my palace, my paradise.

With you beside me,

The richest man seems poor to me.

The girl is mumbling in her sleep:

With you beside me,

Am I honored as a queen of queens.

With you beside me,

Hell doesn’t terrify me,

Nor do I wish to go to heaven

Save with you.

 

 

December 2010

Lovely Weeds

Lovely Weeds

Being a pedicab driver is as honorable as being a pilot, although he only pedals up and down the roads and doesn’t roam the skies as a pilot does. Besides, he keeps himself strong and healthy with daily exercise, is his own master and in a way a little entrepreneur and king. He gladly rides his nonpolluting vehicle, which is his pride, his treasure, his makeshift home and bed.

No profession or occupation is so low that it should be regarded as dishonorable, as it doesn’t cause one to become an “insect”.

Yet pedicab drivers, sidewalk vendors, scavengers of used good,…, have been regarded as weeds or as a disgrace, that put the image of the metropolitan city to shame. They have been weeded out, hunted off the roads.

Although weeds can become over abundant, in fact even the most innocent living things as birds, squirrels and butterflies can become a great harm, when they can multiply themselves unchecked. So does any inordinate increase, even of beneficial things such as motor vehicles, factories, skyscrapers, … But this can be said in honor of the weeds.

Weeds don’t need to be planted, don’t need any care and can thrive even in barren conditions with hardly any soil needed. They can keep themselves alive, - potted plants, can’t -, soften, freshen barren dusty sidewalks, decorate borders of ditches and waterways, cover, drape neglected walls and waste land with their lovely greenery.

Since they are uncared for, they might grow untidy like long unkempt hair or a jungle. But this could also be said of roses, water lilies or any other plant as well.

Although weeds hardly ever come into a place of honor, such as a vase, a bouquet, a pot or a garden, it doesn’t make any difference. They’re nonetheless still beautiful. We just can’t see their beauty. We’re rather impressed by prices, outward dimensions, showy forms and colors.

It takes ages to be cured of this “blindness”. Then a day will come when we will be able to honor and respect those whom we regard as weeds, as the Japanese who wisely honor and respect their geishas, or as we honor the Sado (horse-cart) or an antique motorcar from extinction instead of extinguishing them like outdated, shameful pedicabs. Although we can buy modern ships, yet the traditional Phinisi has become the pride of the nation.

Weeds shouldn’t be weeded out, but trimmed. A weed is like a lovely dissonance in a richer harmonious setting. They’re equally blessed with the Creator’s kiss.

The Jakarta Post, October 28, 1986

December 2010

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, am allowed to 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/December 2010

Lovely Sights

Lovely Sights

Seeing the “rambutan Aceh Lebak” tree with plenty of colorful fruits, abundant as Bougainville flowers. Seeing lake Pamulang rippling as a beautiful giant carpet. Seeing storks slowly sailing, high up in the sky. Looking at the full moon from below a tamarind tree, … Suppose I were an artist, I’d like to paint them.

Happy to be welcomed by hundreds, thousands crème-colored wild flowers along the path-way. How pure, how fair, how fresh as a glorious morning. I name it the “Morning Glory” of Indonesia,

Yet, lovelier is the flower I met on the hill in Cinangka. Greeted with a charming smile as in a dream. Not dressed as stewardess, not educated as university student, not as Mona Lisa in a frame, not sitting in a luxurious Mercy, bare footed, without slippers, no make-up and just living in a bamboo hut. That’s, Eve, as jamu (bitter-sweet-hot drinks) vendor.

As a lotus flower in muddy waters, Eve is the most lovely, charming sight.

From Media Indonesia 23 Desember 1992

January/December 2010