The Boss

The Boss


Hansel, my little doggy doesn’t move out of my way, he triumphantly doesn’t stir, stays or lies where he is. I have to go around him, the scoundrel.

February 2011

On Prohibitions

On Prohibitions

“Don’t climb the wall. What if you become paralyzed ever afterwards, as my father’s friend after his fall.” So said Ann to me.

“I’m always feeling fine climbing the wall when I’m cleaning the rain-drain from fallen leaves on our neighbor’s roof before. It’s for the sake of my trees, lest they should be cut down if he complains. But ever since our daughter said it, I’m feeling guilty when I’m still climbing the wall, making one become insecure and afraid to fall.” pak Johan told his wife.

“Why harbor such negative thoughts when she cares for your well-being?” said his wife.

“There’s no prohibition to sky-diving or rock-climbing, which is far more dangerous than climbing just a wall if one acquires the necessary knowledge, training. Well, A Soek, our servant when he was about seventy years, braved going down the well in the night without a rope and ladder to save a cock that had fallen into it, while we young boys didn’t have the nerve to do so. Which is the young and which, the old?” pak Johan replied.

“Since Ann warned you not to climb up and down the stairs to recover from your rheumatism, didn’t you feel guilty when you secretly disobeyed her? But I’ll exercise you so, that you’ll not only be able to run up and down the stairs, but climb up and down Gunung Putri hill and be two hundred percent cured, if you want to. Who is having negative thoughts?” said pak Johan.

“Except to protect, safeguard others from harm, perhaps to regulate the traffic, prohibitions - don’t climb, don’t touch, don’t play in the rain, don’t do this, don’t do that - make even children behave like timid, weak old men and give birth to a feeling of guilt, transgression, misdemeanor, without any wrongdoing. Suppose our grand-child wants to play with a match box, rather than forbid, scold or beat her, I will tell her how to use it safely, what harm can be done, or just keep the matchbox out of her reach.

“Were I a teacher I’d say: ‘Go on cribbing if you can do it successfully, but when I catch you, you’ll get nil or I’ll challenge them with an open test and the students can, may look up in their books and use a computer’.

“So suppose you want to come in but I don’t want it, I just lock the door, instead of writing a ‘‘No Admittance” sign, ha, ha, ha. I can’t force, prohibit others not to desire, not to love or hate, what they do desire, do love or hate, can you?” pak Johan teased his wife.

April 1999

February 2011

On Being Rich

“Well, the richest man in the world is Bill Gates. Don’t you want to be as rich as he is?” Si Buyung teased si Upik. “He can buy an island, have his own private airplane, helicopter, breakfast in New York, dine in Paris and buy himself a queen and a kingdom., if he wants to.”

“I don’t care what he has and what he does. Why envy him.” replied Si Upik. “Would you rather trade Sonya, your sweetheart for his riches? I wouldn’t exchange my eyes for his wealth. It’s only a pity that stories on the poverty of the rich are hardly ever published.”

“Imagine a doctor practicing till after midnight almost every day. Even though he might make a lot of money, he must be very poor in regard to enjoying his spare, leisure time. When does he want to start living? Before he realizes he’s become old, weak and sick. That must be some kind of poverty of the rich.” said she.

On the contrary, despite being poor in terms of money and possessions, Pak Arif is certainly very rich in terms of his time. He ensures that every day or almost every day is a great day, a holiday, a feast of surprises of sheer delight and joy.

This is the case even while he is doing his chores, learning or exercising his feet, arms, voice, eyes or teeth. He’s always aiming to outdo or surpass himself, rather than others, and busying himself with whatever he loves, likes or considers best.

“When anything happens to go wrong, never lose your wits,” he says. ”You hardly ever can lose. You can almost always improve on what you did before. I met a woman without arms, who could handle a sewing-machine and nurse her baby.”

Pak Arif certainly wouldn’t sell his way of life for all Bill Gates’ wealth.

Good health is regarded one of the greatest riches by my sport’s teacher. Nearly 70 years old he still has a good appetite, perfect teeth, good eyesight and a strong voice. His body is still supple and I believe he can still run from Jakarta to Depok some 30 km.

For those kidnapped or those being kept as hostages, even all the world’s riches amount to nothing compared to one’s life and freedom.

Where as the wealthy and the rich are hailed and praised by the press, the “riches” of a poor man have been composed into verse in Gershwin’s opera. This is what I remember Porgy sings about:

I got plenty o’ nuttin’ An’ nuttin’s plenty fo’ me

I got no car, got no mule, I got no misery.

De folk wid plenty o’ plenty Got a lock on de door,

‘Fraid somebody’s a going to rob ‘em while dey’s out a makin’ more.

What for?

I got no lock on de door, (dat’s no way to be)

Dey kin steal de rug from de floor, Dat’s o keh wid me.

‘Cause de things dat I prize, Like de stars in de skies, all are free.

“Well, is it worth anything?” asked Si Buyung.

“Though one can have them for free, nonetheless, they are priceless. Just imagine, without the sun, the moon, the stars, the sea, the fresh air, the mountains, the streams, lakes, woods, flowers, birds, animals, fish, our brothers, sisters, our mothers, fathers, our sweethearts, our eyes, our health, our freedom, the world would become dull, dreary, cheerless, a hell and collapse.

“Without Bill Gates’ wealth we would still live, laugh, be happy and might have heaven the whole day long, you Dumb-head.” Which is Upik’s way of saying “Dear Brother.”

The Jakarta Post November 2, 1998

February 2011

The Mouth Could Be kept Shut But ...

The Mouth Could Be Kept Shut But …

Every one should be regarded as a good person, as long as there is no proof of the contrary before the court. That is what is meant by “Presumption of Innocence” as far as I know of.

Well, the mouth could be kept shut as not to blame, slander, accuse people, but who could prevent when these feelings, thoughts enter into our hearts or mind? More over, the prosecutor, plaintiff openly accuses someone according to proofs which are not yet proved before the court.

Pak Arif doesn’t gossip, tell tales of others, for, every time he was going to reveal bad things of someone, it was as though he was uncovering his own. Then he stopped telling, became silent and suddenly burst into laughter and doesn’t continue his narration.

“Telling bad things of someone behind his back is slander Praising someone to his face is licking someone’s boots. Certainly am I forgiving as I am not a better man than any other, said Pak Arif.

If we did something which would, could damage the good opinion of ourselves, for instance, we forget to return a loan and raises doubt about our integrity, should we then be offended?

From Jayakarta, May 16, 1997

February 2011

On Being Free

On Being Free

There’s the joy of going to the Taman Ismail Marzuki Art Centre. We listen to a music recital outside the concert hall, me and her, just sitting relaxed beneath a lantern besides the pathway as we could also hear it softly, exquisitely in the open air.

I don’t have to come in formal dress, tight shining shoes, take a taxi, I just come on sandals, lightly clothed, take some snack with us and we enjoy eating it at leisure. We don’t have to talk, to comment, to shake hands with people, politely clap our hands and we‘re so free to stay or go, to listen or not listen when it’s boring us.

There’s even a greater being free. When people think, fancy that I’m a great art lover, and send me an invitation, then, I for a long time hesitating between going or not going, - as I am feeling forced to go as not to reward the kind attention of those who send me the invitation with a disappointment - I take courage, leave the cards, forget about the arts, take my bike and pedal slowly, leisurely to enjoy the evening, stop somewhere at the Monas Park and buy me warm tahu pong (fried curd bean).

In my mind’s eye I see the people in the theatre where I also would be “entrapped”, sitting stiffly, talk all the fuss about nothing, basa-basi so we say in the bahasa, just clever talk, ceremony. Now am I far away from it, so free, also free from the fear to disappoint those who very kindly send me the invitation, to celebrate my won freedom with eating tahu pong, with my self, my thoughts sitting on the sidewalk, charmed by flickering pelita lights (oil lamps) of vendors beneath a glorious starry sky.

How happy and free is the mother duck with her lovely ducklings resting in the shade beneath an only tree but freer, is the julung-julung baby fish in the sawah (rice field) water, almost infinitely free, so free, unbounded, unconscious of time, place and worries.

1977

February 2011

Forbidden Fruits

Forbidden Fruits

Well, suppose there were no forbidden fruits then there will be no such thing as falling into some temptation, as fruits are free for anyone to enjoy. Or, if we should have forbidden fruits, keep them out of reach, then no one could steal or eat them. No one would be tried.

Suppose any one was free to marry without having to take refuge to awe inspiring marital certificates, vows and promises then there’s no falling into some temptation of another love affair. Rather than claim an inhuman “you’re mine”, better speak a wonderful, warm and free, “I’m yours”.

Can we force, forbid people not to love, desire, what they do desire or love?

Each being, any creature should be matched as nature ordained. We neither can force a cock to be honorable and faithful to one chicken only, nor force a pigeon pair to be unfaithful and be separated from each other.

No forbidden fruits for all creatures, except for human beings, so creatures don’t, can’t sin. This is what Pak Arif thinks.

March, 1999

February 2011

No Absolute Goodness

No Absolute Goodness

I always remember our people of our country to be warm and wonderful. Once, as evening neared, far from home I became worried as nowhere was there a country inn in the village. Fortunately, a peasant gladly took us, my wife, two little kids and I into his home for the night and even shared his food. It was dark in the room, we had only one bed for the whole family and had to go to the bank of a rushing river in the night, - there was no toilet - and yet we all felt fine. It was an adventure and we really were very grateful.

Another time I dropped by to watch a very old toothless farmer working in his field, when a young woman, perhaps his granddaughter, brought him his food.. “Just come and sit down, have a chat and let’s share this food together.” he invited me. And I imagine how good it must be, to have one’s food almost every day served as though on a picnic. Or what about being surprised with a bunch of fresh red colored rambutan as flowers, by two young girls just taken from the tree, tired and thirsty after running in the country? That was certainly the most refreshing of the most refreshing drinks.

Indonesia is ranked as one of the lowest, internationally, but I don’t believe other people to be better than we are. Who can pride himself on being without fault? I remember coming too late at the office and going home earlier. Who has never felt being obliged to satisfy someone’s request, to repay a debt of moral goodness as Indonesians say? If by chance we receive a gift of bananas, we certainly won’t forget to return him or her with oranges or a pine apple. And who has never treated his children first, before others? What is wrong with this? A mother hen would rather forgo her food for her chickens. It’s natural to think of our children first, than our relatives, our close friends, community and the nation.

I even can’t trust myself to resist the offer of those luring, luscious forbidden fruits. Why search so ardently for someone who is without a moral stain? This is merely for those who believe themselves to be above a fault to prove their own superiority.

“When we have a bad system and flawed rules, people are prone to bribery, collusion, nepotism. Rather than educate people’s morals, being a watchdog of people’s secret unlawful deals, better devise better ways, better systems to avoid it”, comments someone. “Suppose payments could be arranged through bank accounts, perhaps there would be less occasion for bribery. If the president is limited to a short period in office, he would have less opportunity to abuse his power and authority.

“In a system with a free exchange rate, possession of foreign currency does not make a person an outlaw, but in a rigidly controlled system, foreign money savings are forbidden. Anyone who keeps hold of his foreign exchange is seen as a criminal and scoundrel. This system is fertile soil for bribery and open to a black market in foreign exchange.” He said.

I remember Sir Talfourd’s saying, “Fill the seats of justice with good men, not so absolute in goodness as to forget what human frailty is.”

Man is certainly not a divine being, nor is he a superman when he falls or fails to some temptation of irresistible, luring, forbidden fruits, except perhaps he’s made of air, wood or stone.

The Jakarta Post, March 8, 1999

February 2011

Opa Johan’s Baby Kitten

“It’s a baby kitten, that couldn’t hardly crawl.” Opa (grandpa) Johan told his wife. “It crawled on the pavement seeking after its mother but was lost. Instead, it wanted to follow me and it fell through a narrow opening of a sewer cover.

“I’ve never felt sorry, you know? But this time I was feeling bad. Why did I leave her alone on the side-walk? I hardly could stand her piteous crying for help.

“How could I rescue her as only my hand could come in through the narrow opening? If only its crying could be heard here and there but she is not seen. Unable to lift, to shift the heavy sewer’s concrete cover, I went home, waked up Boy and returned taking an umbrella and a rope but Boy wasn’t coming.

“’Pak, ada anak kucing kecemplung di got.’ there’s a little kitten trapped in the sewer, I said to a vagrant, passing by, asking for help. ‘Biarin aja.’ Let it be. He said indifferently.

“I gladly would give him or someone Rp 10 thousand if he could free the baby kitten. But who? Where was the young man who always cleaned up our garbage and readily would help us? I tried to fish her with my rope, my umbrella, hoping she would clutch it, but in vain, not knowing where about to “fish” as only her voice was heard anywhere around.

“Well, I’m not superstitious. I don’t believe in wonders and miracles. There was no hope whatever she could be saved. Then, unexpectedly came Boy and Heru, Rocky’s driver, passed at the same time. They eagerly helped and successfully raised and opened the heavy cover.

“Do you remember the disaster, accident with the nuclear sub marine Kursk of Russia? I imagined the people on land couldn’t eat or sleep, or work when they think of the threatening fate of the entire crew of dying slowly. So would I feel if my baby kitten couldn’t be rescued, wretched!

“When people succeeded to open the entrance of the ship, all were dead. Slowly drowned dead. When the sewer cover was lifted, my baby kitten luckily, is still alive and saved, despite the cold, wetness, fear during more than an hour.

“Certainly, your husband is the happiest man in the world. Aren’t you proud of him? Ha, ha, ha.” He said to his wife.

March 2001

February 2011

Musing On "Bacaan Waktu Santai" Or Leisurely Reading

Musing On “Bacaan Waktu Santai” Or Leisurely Reading

We regret that your book couldn’t be published. There are too many writings similar to yours” said the publisher perhaps meant to console, to comfort. Certainly, there’s no man who wouldn’t feel disappointed, discouraged or then he must be a God or a super being.

“Don’t you lose heart” says a song. So I comfort myself. Every time you’re rejected, you’re going towards the better. You are better informed. Your book design will improve. It will have a jacket and illustrated and besides, you will know, how to protect your book with a copy right. So I started to reassure, console myself.

“Bacaan Waktu Santai” or Leisurely Reading still hasn’t broken the record of Chicken Soup For The Soul which is 33 times rejected by publishers. Yet, this book became one of the most read books in the world. Why be downhearted?

I then remembered Pak Arif saying:”Thousand failures I willingly endure.” You will be hardened against blows, then there’re other ways to publish your book. Do you fear to fail, to be disappointed, being hurt, just sit down, don’t publish? So I said to myself.

To give monopoly to a publisher and sell my copy right? Certainly not. As he could restrict or stop it’s publication. I’m happy even without any money remunerations if that could make readers enjoy it, when that could make me share my inner feelings and thoughts with others, even it be only one. Didn’t you say so before? Too bad, when someone just makes a copy of a piece he likes, he could be sued to pay a penalty as is often written in the opening pages of a book. I heartily would permit even a publisher to have them copied provided it were not for business purposes. Every writer would be happy when readers enjoy his writings as is a cook who is happy when people enjoyed his cooking.

Being rejected wouldn’t make the writing less or worse. And what is the advantage, pride when your book was published backed up by well known names, a hired reviewer or you implore, entreat the publisher as though your book is of no worth. Isn’t it this that one should be ashamed of? It wouldn’t make your writing the better. You certainly are successful, though rejected by publishers. Aren’t your writings your most invaluable riches? At least you wrote it for yourself. You didn’t yield to people’s, publisher’s tastes, standards, did you?

“The rejections by publishers is turning into engaging thoughts.” said si Upik. Sure I inwardly said. Out of pain and suffering, new, fresh flowers are blooming, so I hummed Not as paintings, my writings are always with me. It’s sad when a painter has to part from his works he so loves and never sees it again after having it sold.

Moreover, you could always publish it yourself. What’s wrong with that, what would you lose, be ashamed of? So I assured myself and there’s no wound left, I didn’t remember, feel, I forgot, where the sore place was.

From Media Indonesia, December 16, 1999

Note

Now have I published it in the internet. It certainly is not as could be done by a publisher with the support of professional editors, printers, correctors, illustrators, distributors, as I must do this all myself as a layman.

Yet, works remain the same, published or unpublished, praised or blamed. Valuations fall and rise. So I comfort myself

November 2007

February 2011

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

February 2011

Sweet Home

Sweet Home

“I want a small house, a big garden. Its walls pastel colored, low seats, low tables, soft-lighted sleeping room, curtains like this, the kitchen like that, bath-room and toilet … I need a lot of things to have my home nice, cozy and comfortable.” so said the future bride.

And she looked up in the magazines concerning interior design or visited model houses, but the most important thing she couldn’t find in the books and model houses. And I then remembered someone saying: “A house, a palace could be bought but not a home.”

“Not in a golden cage, but in my nest of woven grass, warm and cozy among my baby chicks, that’s where I’m home,” said the Manyar bird.

“I’m home wherever my master is” said a dog.

“Among my books” said the professor.

“In the water” said the fish.

“Anywhere there’s Eve” said Adam.

“Where my children are, even in hell” said a mother.

“So, where, what we or whom we most love are, right there’s our home, our paradise, the place we yearn for, where we’re feeling very rich and the happiest in the world. A small hut would turn into a home. The couch., mattress, a mat would become the softest, warmest bed. Just the smallest corner would seem roomy and a little food would never be too little, as not to share it with each other.” So said Pak Arif.

“How so?” asked si Upik.

“Just imagine to stay or live with someone we hate. The finest place would be like hell. Tasty food would taste bitter, a large house would seem small, plenty of food would seem little, as there’s no food, much enough, no place, large enough to share it with one another.”

“Greener grows the leaf, Sweater breathes the flower, Brighter shines the day, When love lights up thine eye.” said a poet.

From The Seasons, Haydn.

From Jayakarta, December 10, 1997

February 2011

Opa Johan May Have A Poor Appearance But ...

Opa Johan May Have A Poor Appearance But ...

Opa Johan may have a poor appearance from the outside but from the inside he is a very rich man. He could almost find beauty anywhere, enjoys what he does. He sees, hears, reads the same as others. Yet, he could find beauty in reflections of leaves on his wristwatch, on a window pane of a car, their shadow on a wall, their outlines against the sky, in waterdrops as diamonds in the sun on it, in a flame of a candle, in the artistically rising smoke of a burning joss-stick, in warbling, twittering birds, in water babbling, splashing, gurgling, Enjoy seeing a mother duck with ducklings on the water, a mother chick with little chicks shelter beneath her wings, watch an eagle, herons sailing in the air, a rimpling lake, ants running, chasing excitedly, see colorful buni berries, eat durian, ... He could mention pages.

“I don’t want heaven. I’m just lucky not to be born in bad times, war. This life on earth is more than OK, so wonderful, so fascinating,” he said to me.

And I comfort myself with my blog-book that also has a poor appearance from the outside, yet, I dare say, is also rich in thoughts. Beyond my  imagination my blog-book is realized, made now. I have previewed my blog book. I need not wait till I’m 90  in 2020 or 100 years in 2030.  What a happy surprise! I’ve no fear of plagiarism as my thoughts are not sale-able, as no one would, could sell them. You could have one but I would dissuade you, for the price – printing cost – is relatively high and my blog-book is far from a good-looking book of a professional publisher as I myself am editor, publisher. Yet despite of it am I still proud of. But if you still insist to have one, go ahead, contact  the Blogbooker Inc. who printed ‘Leisurely Reading’ and don’t you ever be sorry afterwards.

But that was as I imagined it, for I could not pay, transfer the money according to their payment regulation. However, I’m not worried, disappointed, as now I can find another blogbooker who would be willing to receive a money transfer to their account.

March 2011

Evacuating To Other Planets

Evacuating To Other Planets?

To the people of our earth!

Birth control. One child each couple not two or more. Our world population would drop after just a few generations.

When one day we would succeed by birth control to limit the world population to less than 500 million after a relatively “short” period of a few generations, - considering the time elapsed of perhaps a million years to reach just a 500 million people of the world – then there’s no problem of climate change, pollution, green house effect anymore, no COP-13 needed in Bali.

At that time we could each have a hectare of land. Adam and Eve had the whole earth for themselves and the “jungle” of concrete, asphalt, cement would be broken down and restored, recreated back into a paradise.

What is the sense of evacuating to other planets as we ourselves are the perpetrators, generators of our own disasters, leaving our earth in a sorry state?

December 2007

February 2011

Monas Park*

Monas Park*

Trees planted in Monas are now growing into shady woods, There are such little charms as wandering leisurely through it as through Nature’s Chapel, treading on golden acacia pollen, hearing de woods resound with choirs and echoes of singing insects, seeing the green leafage of the bamboo, or the King Palm burst into showers of blossoms, seeing the lace-like silhouette foliage against the sky, watching the floating clouds pass by like subtle thoughts or feelings, hearing the busy chatter and twitter of hundreds or perhaps thousands of Jalaks (Starlings) and sparrows high up in some tall mahogany tree at dawn and on their return at sunset, breathing the fragrant soft scented air of woods and blossoms, … How cool its shade, how fresh the morning breeze.

I’d even found a “boiling” spring from some underground broken PAM water-pipe, making lovely shallow pools of unusually clear water, then gently flowing further like a rivulet. In it were tadpoles, water-snails; an occasional fish was sporting among the grass and weeds as water-plants; while delicate damselflies were hovering, perching and swaying on its leaves as though on fancy trees and bushes along its banks. It’s funny, no one cares to see it. It would be fine if we could have some intentional “leakages” made instead, as to create more permanent springs, pools and streamlets, at least for birds to drink and frogs and dragonflies to breed.

There is a stately young waringin, but no deer to graze and rest there, coconut trees but no squirrels to play hide-and-seek; woods, fields without chameleons, big tree-spiders, forest-ants, fireflies, grasshoppers, chirping crickets, cicadas that sing in the breeze; ponds without a duck-family or water-birds, frogs, fish, water-lilies; no flowers that should invite bees and butterflies and not to forget the little snails, looking like fairy-tale sledges or tiny sailing boats, sliding and sailing up and down on stalks and leaves. How I wish them to be there.

It’s people that are doing most of the harm as they flock or swarm like ants, leaving much dirt and rubbish behind.

Someday, Monas should become Jakarta’s pride, growing so large in area by then that it would include Lapangan Banteng, Istiqlal mosque, the Cathedral, Imanuel Church, the Palace and the Ciliwung river flowing through it. Perhaps we’d see the storks and herons visiting Jakarta again as in former times; sailing, gliding and vanishing away as in a dream or the close of some wonderful song.

Indonesia Times, July 8, 1986

*This was in 1986

February 2011