Continuing a tag from Mbak Anita, with a theme of “Age That I Wish to Get Back to and Why?” I insist on returning to the year of 1994. That year saw a mixed blessing for me indeed. There were so many things that I would just love to do differently. The following story is one of them.
Indonesians around my age bracket must be familiar with the term Penataran P4. It is basically a short one week course during Suharto era, which is a requirement in every formal institution, such as university and government offices. The upgrading course revolved around guidance to better understanding and ways to implement Pancasila, our national foundation.
For years, it was mostly lip service and used as formality, yet it came with certificate and all, so some circles deemed it was prerequisite to continue entering the institution. I am not going to talk about the sheer comedic value of the whole process. That has been done to death since reformation in 1998.
To make things short, one of the fundamentals about P4 was that every participant must write and explain an essay about the thirty-six formulaic precepts of Pancasila. The early phase of the sessions was held in a class of around thirty people. Therefore, it was not exceptionally daunting for me.
In fact the professors was rather impressed with my essay and speech, they appointed me to become one of two keynote speakers on the latter phase of the course, which will involve hundreds of participants in a huge hall. Later on, I suspect that perhaps they had something sinister going on behind the appointment.
OK, so there I was, on the podium feeling all handsome and important, in front of many new and smart graduates from all over the country, completely oblivious of the impending disaster that will soon follow.
My essay was about the dual role of Indonesian Army in preserving Pancasila as the sole foundation of Nation principles (yes, please don’t laugh too loud). Little did I know, there’s no love lost between the military and the students ever since 1966. As I went deeper into the topic, restless faces and rumblings began to color the proceedings.
It all erupted during the questions and answers session. I was like a standing duck at the center of the hall with students taking turn sniping loaded questions one after another. I returned some of the flak with interest, some insult and name-calling began to fly towards me. Not a very wise move on my part, I must say. At this point in life, I was a hotheaded inexperienced brat.
Sometime during the barrage, I glanced haplessly to the row of professors, begging them to wrap this nightmare. However, they seem to enjoy the occasion and chattering among themselves. How cruel!
After a good one hour, finally the moderator stopped the seemingly endless session and let me limp down the podium to my hot seat, amidst condescending and piercing stare from the participants. As if it was not humiliating enough, the next speaker, a girl (whom I became good friend months after), got a standing applause from the audience. I buried my head beneath the books.
Now you can understand why I am just itching to go back to the year of 1994. Ever since that infamous incident which lives long in the folklore of my class, I shun public speaking like a plague. I also had to endure some time under scrutiny of some seniors who thought I was an Intel for the military.
I am sure that the esteemed professors knew full well about the animosity between campuses and the army. If they were asking me now to be the keynote speaker, I’d probably tell them to shove it where the sun don’t shine.
Indonesians around my age bracket must be familiar with the term Penataran P4. It is basically a short one week course during Suharto era, which is a requirement in every formal institution, such as university and government offices. The upgrading course revolved around guidance to better understanding and ways to implement Pancasila, our national foundation.
For years, it was mostly lip service and used as formality, yet it came with certificate and all, so some circles deemed it was prerequisite to continue entering the institution. I am not going to talk about the sheer comedic value of the whole process. That has been done to death since reformation in 1998.
To make things short, one of the fundamentals about P4 was that every participant must write and explain an essay about the thirty-six formulaic precepts of Pancasila. The early phase of the sessions was held in a class of around thirty people. Therefore, it was not exceptionally daunting for me.
In fact the professors was rather impressed with my essay and speech, they appointed me to become one of two keynote speakers on the latter phase of the course, which will involve hundreds of participants in a huge hall. Later on, I suspect that perhaps they had something sinister going on behind the appointment.
OK, so there I was, on the podium feeling all handsome and important, in front of many new and smart graduates from all over the country, completely oblivious of the impending disaster that will soon follow.
My essay was about the dual role of Indonesian Army in preserving Pancasila as the sole foundation of Nation principles (yes, please don’t laugh too loud). Little did I know, there’s no love lost between the military and the students ever since 1966. As I went deeper into the topic, restless faces and rumblings began to color the proceedings.
It all erupted during the questions and answers session. I was like a standing duck at the center of the hall with students taking turn sniping loaded questions one after another. I returned some of the flak with interest, some insult and name-calling began to fly towards me. Not a very wise move on my part, I must say. At this point in life, I was a hotheaded inexperienced brat.
Sometime during the barrage, I glanced haplessly to the row of professors, begging them to wrap this nightmare. However, they seem to enjoy the occasion and chattering among themselves. How cruel!
After a good one hour, finally the moderator stopped the seemingly endless session and let me limp down the podium to my hot seat, amidst condescending and piercing stare from the participants. As if it was not humiliating enough, the next speaker, a girl (whom I became good friend months after), got a standing applause from the audience. I buried my head beneath the books.
Now you can understand why I am just itching to go back to the year of 1994. Ever since that infamous incident which lives long in the folklore of my class, I shun public speaking like a plague. I also had to endure some time under scrutiny of some seniors who thought I was an Intel for the military.
I am sure that the esteemed professors knew full well about the animosity between campuses and the army. If they were asking me now to be the keynote speaker, I’d probably tell them to shove it where the sun don’t shine.
