Of Doodling

At first, I thought it was only me. But if you were elementary schooled in Indonesia during the 80 and 90’s perhaps you are familiar with it too. I am talking about the formulaic recipe of drawing Indonesian scenery.

At one point or another we probably drew bright blue sky, two mountains and a sun, green rice field to the left and right of an asphalt road. The variations generally on the shading technique, additional hut and car, birds, and the lamp post.

I asked some of my friends in the office, and they confirmed it. We had fun joking about it afterwards. It was pretty nostalgic and brought back recollections of our childhood.

There was this program called ‘Gemar Menggambar’ on the telly hosted by the late Pak Tino Sidin. All of us have a very fond memory of him. It was so fascinating to see him brilliantly create illustrations from some simple lines and curves.

He also had this session where children all over the country send their works and given comment by the good man. He’s the one coined the ever popular phrase, ‘Yak Bagus’. Definitely The Must See TV show back then and we’d be hard pressed to name any of today’s offering as inspirational and educative as that.

Back to the scenery drawings, just like other aspects of public schooling back then, they were all too rigid. During Suharto’s three decades in power indeed there was a vast expansion of public schooling at primary and secondary levels, alongside a significant growth in private education.

The New Order however required public and private schools to teach the same nationally mandated syllabus to all school children. National history along with the Morals of Panca Sila were compulsory subjects, right to the way we dressed and cut our hair.

I’m not saying this is necessarily bad; it probably has its own merit. There’s a tie that bound us all together as a nation. But on another level it killed creativity and suppressed individualistic expression during the times when school kids need to be more expressive and imaginative.

This probably has an indirect effect on our ability to accept and embrace differences. The one official history is, without a doubt, essential in uniting the diverse Indonesians. The doctrinal curriculum on the other hand eliminated any disputes between classes or ethnic groups; social and religious conflict was focused towards the Dutch and Communism.

Critical discourse of issues and alternative interpretations were frowned upon. The social classroom functioned to curb knowledge of difference. Yet the root of conflicts and tension between differing groups were brewing silently in the background. After The New Order collapsed, this tension and conflict has reared its ugly head on plenty of occasions.

When I was little, I used to scribble a lot. I can’t see a white paper or a blank wall without the need to doodle something on it. My parents bless them, luckily allowed me to do just that at the expense of the living room. My drawing teacher though once rebuked me because I drew Superman and Batman on a class assignment. Although I was unhappy, I get back to the usual standard of scenery drawing in no time.

I certainly hope teachers nowadays are astute enough to let little children be as creative as they want to be. Many Tino Sidin, Affandi, Basuki Abdullah, or more could possibly emerge from amongst them.

Of Success and Happiness

A couple of weeks ago, some old high school friends took a trip back to Magelang to inspire the ‘would be graduates’ currently in their third grade. It has been a tradition for sometime now and I’m proud to say that the bond between alumni and the high school is as strong as ever.

I was told that the event was a big hit. A student came to contact me online via one of those social networking site and told me how impressed they were at their older brothers. It’s hard not to be impressed really, amongst the alumni were a vice president of Danamon, members(?) of the honorable KPK, several successful entrepreneurs, air force pilot of the F16, and others holding important positions in some elite organizations at a very young age of thirty.

The student then went on to ask me, what I do for a living and tidbits about my career so far. It was a harmless naive curiosity, yet when juxtaposed with the above, I have to admit that it got me thinking for a bit. When I did mention my occupation, I don’t know if it’s insecurity kicked in or something else, but I could’ve sworn that his reaction was like, meh …

Parading successes of some alumni would do a world of wonders to motivate the students. I certainly hope it will not give a false sense of security among them and thinking that success will come for granted. Life outside the dormitory could be pretty harsh. Even the best and the smartest of alumni had to work hard to get to where they are now.

I also believe that success is a relatively loose term and that in life it's no longer solely linked to privileged or even overseas academic venture, as it once was. Nevertheless, I understand that society at large has its own yardstick to measure success. In the end, most things come down to money. Sad but true. It is still traditionally associated with these five things: beautiful spouse, elite professions, luxurious cars, lavish houses, and expensive hobbies.

I can safely say that I have none of those, well except perhaps beautiful spouse (I had to put this one in, otherwise no dinner for me this week). I am at my early thirty now and while some of my colleagues have set out to do stuffs that would make people around them proud, I had to dig deep to really find things that would stand out from mediocrity.

This usually don’t bother me that much as I’ve accustomed to the fact that there are people who could make things look easy and sharper at responding to the general public demands of success. Or just plain lucky, but you gotta make your own luck in life.

As it happens, I stumbled on a TV program some weeks ago, a motivator, went on to say that The Biggest Mistake a person could make is to aim low and then achieving the target. As I watched there and saw the large audiences nodding in unison, I wondered, have I been one of those? While I can see where he's getting at, I also remember thinking, so what?!

However, add that factor to some nonchalant questions from my junior, and several events that happened during the last holiday, I began to seriously muse on things. Although, true to the form, after questioning my philosophy, instead of actually aiming higher and planning to pull them off, I blog my way out of it. I suppose it's inertia of protracted custom where predictability carries its own comforts.

In my defense (as if I need to), success does not equate happiness. When I look around and look behind, I think I’m pretty happy and content with the way things are in my life. Cynics may cite that I’m easily satisfied, or worse, making the biggest mistake by aiming too low. I’m the only one who knows where I came from, the limitations and the road blocks, my effort all this time, and my contribution to my family and people around me.

Thinking back, it may be simplified over as; have I been a worthy son and a worthy friend? Have I been paying my duty, taxes and brought about benefit to the society?

I could have done better, there’s no question, but when it comes down to that, I could have done a lot worse too.

Sense of Humor

What makes us laugh really? The easy answer would be; something funny. Although one could also questions what defines which are funny and which ones are not. The definition differs between each person with time and place as a variable.

A psychopath like Joker might laugh at the scary sight portrayed in the face of his victims, something that most normal people wouldn’t find funny in the slightest. Racist people may lol at some racist jokes which a lot of decent people would be offended by. An atheist would rofl at something considerably slanderous to some and vice versa.

Moreover, something that is funny usually comes surprisingly. The laughing meter might drop the next time it appears second time around. Public farting loudly in a college dorm obviously would be funnier than at some point in a family funeral.

It is tricky to learn when and where one should do or show anything funny.

Humor is different though. It’s a noun, which simply means an ability to provoke laughter and provide amusement. That means ‘sense of humor’ is a capacity to appreciate and experience humor.

Muslim’s sense of humor has been a topic of discourse in many places. So much so that Hollywood deemed it worthy of a dedicated film. The title is “Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World”. It’s not a totally bad attempt, several low key sarcasm, interesting dead-pan delivery, and explains bits and pieces about what is considered funny for some Muslims especially in India and Pakistan.

Albert Brooks plays as himself and lightheartedly insult not only at himself and his non-famous career but also at world’s inability to understand why some Muslims have trouble to laugh at the jokes from the western world.

Fascinatingly, Mr. Brooks, the leading actor in the movie, is of Jewish descent. They’re renowned for their self-deprecating high sense of humor. I don’t mean to stereotype (but I already did so might as well continue) yet since this is a good stereotype I hope no body would mind.

One of their strength is in the knack of finding humor even in the most adverse moments. For thousands of years they amass a wide range of jokes laughing at their oppressors, problems they’re having, themselves, even their relationship with Their God.

The ability to laugh at one self is probably something us Muslims might want to learn. It really pains me to see the over reaction by some of us in the events of an attempt of humor by some party in the west mocking the ‘barbaric and stupid’ Muslims.

Question: How many Muslims does it take to change a light bulb?
Answer: None. Muslims just sit in the dark and blame it on the Jews.

We should just laugh at these harmless or even the more offensive jokes and use it as impetus for self improvement. The extreme responses were probably just what they needed to bait. We have to learn that humor is not just about playful confrontation; it is also an amusing way in which people can recognize the tragedies of life without getting too depressed.

Although on flipside of the coin, sensitivity for ‘laughing at’ us probably required at the other side of the fence. I’m not talking specific about laughter and jokes aimed to ridicule Muslims, but to all group of people, especially sensitive issues such as religion, race, and sickness.

At least personally I hope they won’t do it too often. We might want to remember that for some of these easy targets, life is depressing enough without having certain high brow artists or some random party making a mockery of something they hold dear.

Certainly we haven’t been too deprived of other avenue of humors and entertainments to the point that we have to laugh at other people’s expense most of the time. It would be totally discouraging if people started to make fun of down-syndrome for example.

I myself laugh a lot. I laugh at children’s antics and smile at their cuteness. Banters between friends made me spill my tea to the keyboard, so probably am guilty of too easily amused. That’s why aged PC jokes still work well for me. Mr. Bean, Donald Ducks, Tom and Jerry continue to make me rolling on the floor laughing, so do other conventional comedy like Seinfeld and The Office.

Although I understand completely that: to each their own.

PS: Selamat menjalankan ibadah puasa Ramadhan bagi umat Islam.

Of College Graduates

In some alumni gathering by my university, there’s several sessions of seminar by older members. Usually they’re business owners or directors of some ‘big’ national company. Their grief was most of the same concerning the younger generation; that is the lack of ‘ready made’ graduates from our educational system in general.

They claim that most of the new intakes are awkward and not necessarily skilled to perform even the entry level in their organization. It is arguable whether this is a hyperbole or not, considering most of these so called ‘big names’ were once awkward new graduates struggling to impress their bosses too back in the day.

Perhaps it’s a valid criticism. With them able to step into the highest ladder of their own respective company means that they have proved themselves, therefore they have earned the right to pass judgments.

In reality though, state owned schools and universities in Indonesia very rarely teach practical and technical skills to their students. They are usually aiming their curriculum to produce individual capable of future learning and develop their own internal ability to perform non specific tasks, broad in general yet merely scratching the surface.

We can’t really fault the institution. In the understanding that ‘society’ is a massive and complex system with complicated interconnections between many subjects, consequently it’s not academic to direct the teachings to exceedingly specific channels. Unfortunately not many of their students realize this dilemma.

An easy example in the computer science education is regarding the many programming languages within the industry. Universities usually have classes that teach the basics and logical foundation of the entire programming languages popular in that period. They can’t be specific teaching in depth PHP and MySQL to all of their students. Who would know for sure that PHP will still be used in three or four years ahead?

The other factor would be that their professors are not well resourced to master all those different programming languages and following the ever-changing trends in the business. They probably feel they were not paid enough to do all that. Hence they simply teach the basics, the ones that will not change much overtime.

Back in the seminar, case in point they were using was of ITB and Binus. In recent years the growing trend absorption level of employment proved that Binus’ graduates were relatively more ‘ready’ than their competitors from ITB on computer science and informatics. For information in Binus they were taught that specific proficiency right from the bat.

The same thing happened in Architecture. ITB graduates, compared to Parahyangan University, in entry-level job would have more difficulties adapting to mundane drafting tasks. This is due to different approach in their curriculum. In my days of studying, we focused a lot on design methodology, history of architecture, rule of reporting, and evolution of style, instead of ‘how to actually draw’ using pen or CAD.

In fairness the professors may argue that they’re not preparing us to become mere coders or drafters, nevertheless in actual fact the industry requires graduates to pass three or even five years struggling with coding and drafting works before they can apply the bulk of knowledge they learned in the university. In the long run it may prove otherwise, yet that is still depending on plenty of other factors. It is a conundrum really.

Here we are talking about one of the better state university in Indonesia. I cannot speak too much about other leading institutions such as UI, UGM, and ITS. I figure they are just about the same.

Students who are motivated and ambitious enough would learn that specific extra curricular skill set themselves in their own time. Even though this may hamper their effort to attain good marks but in the long term it will help them greatly in the working arena.

So it’s no strange that one new graduate with perfect marks in his/her diploma would struggle to perform real entry level jobs in a company. They study all the time and forget to mingle with their friends in student’s organizations. In working place, teamwork and social soft skills would definitely help them a lot to find their feet.

There’s an unhealthy difference of paradigm between the educational society and business world in relation to the term ‘ready made’ and ‘qualified’. This shows a wide gap between those two planes, how detached they are one to another. Some institutions have acknowledged this and bridging the two worlds early by involving relevant business professionals in their organizations.

Conceivably that is also one of the reason more than one million of university graduates in Indonesia currently unemployed. This staggering statistic was the headline in national newspapers last week. They are probably smart full of knowledge yet very few able to translate it to practical level.

I think it’s high time the Education Department to worry more about this phenomenon instead of spending too much time choosing sound card brand of their department’s high end lap top that they’re going to ‘pinch’ by the end of this year’s budget.

My last trip back to Bandung showed that my alma mater have changed some of their education model. There's some buzz about the place and the word ‘techno-preneur’ is bandied around a lot, whatever that means.

Many Kinds of People

For the past six months, we’ve been tremendously helped by our maid. Bu Sri is her name. She is around forty years old and obviously quite an educated widow. She dressed up well, wears glasses, and her mannerism is different from conventional domestic helper that we know of.

In fact, one of our neighbors thought that she’s the owner of our house and we actually rent the room from her. We told them she's an aunt. It feels like she is.

In a nutshell, we like her, so much that we’ve raised her salary twice in this short period.

Alas, just like every good story, there’s a complication. Apparently, Bu Sri, has an ogre of a brother. He is forty something brute of a man, a corporal in the army, and built like a bulldozer. Since the first time we meet him a while ago, we’re not that impressed with his behaviors. Always with sleazy innuendos, kinky stories, and often comes up unannounced when we were not at home.

It gets more intriguing for the fact that Bu Sri has quite a sum of savings from the pension of her late husband. She has earmarked that savings to build a house for her daughter, who’s married, and currently living with her in laws.

It seems that the big brother, being a twat person that he is, wants a piece of that stash. He asked her to buy him a Scorpio motorcycle and when she rejected that absurd request, he pushed Bu Sri to the floor so hard; she got bruises all over her arm and knee. He then stormed into her room and stole her hand phone (the one that we gave her) and important letters including savings book and pension papers.

We knew all this when we saw the giant tosser fled out of our house and we found her crying in her room. She told us all of the stories and we were just so incensed. According to Bu Sri, the man has been a bully all his life. She was beaten to pulp at least twice already, yet there’s nothing she could do about it. My wife consoled her that night. She’s asking permission the next day to leave for her hometown Magelang, taking care of the stolen documents.

Several days later, the lovely brother came to our house. I didn’t let him in, so he asked to speak from outside of the fence. The huge bastard told me that Bu Sri is no angel herself. He said that she’s been stealing from us a couple of times, some money, little stuffs like belt and bags and gave it to him. He came over to our house to return the stuffs, not the money mind you.

This however confirmed our mild suspicion. Some weeks ago, I found out that my wallet has been changing places and I was short fifty thousand rupiahs. Ira also lost an envelope with some money in it. Since those were isolated incidents and concerning small amount of money, we didn’t think much of it. On the other hand, we do think that because the thick plonker was asking for money all the time, she had to do what she did.

Back to the dastardly brother in front of the porch, the sodding man gave me an ‘ultimatum’, we have to fire Bu Sri, otherwise he’ll come back with his police friends and we’ll be in the world of trouble.

In the name of jumping elephant, what an unbelievable nerve! I was having none of that and asked him to leave immediately. He scurried away with his bike, and gave me a nasty look that would scare little children before he vanished around the corner. Clearly, by his minuscule dimwitted logic, if he has to suffer not to get a bike, his sister should also suffer.

When we confronted this with Bu Sri, she cried and plead to us not to let her go, she has no other place to stay. She said that she hopes to stay with us even if we don’t pay her. Of course, we won’t be doing that.

A few moments later, the charming brother called my wife and said that he’s not afraid to die, he’s an army trained for confrontation, and he is ready to be fired because he’s been working as a bodyguard to a famous artist. We were just laughing to hear all that. This is shaping to be reminiscent of a soap we get to watch on the telly.

I guess that is what you get when you gave a shallow immoral person a gun, train him to kill without giving proper education and value to live in a civilized society. The man is a remnant of a barbaric time and we were surprised that those creatures exist in our midst.

Not on an entirely different theme, we went to Bandung last week. I’ll write some journal about the trip later. I’d like to talk about something else for now.

We stayed in a hotel near our old campus and enjoyed a memory lane roaming around Dago area. Just like any other visitors from Jakarta, we were shopping like there’s no tomorrow in the plethora of factory outlets scrambled around Bandung. The prices are just so good, we ended up with dozens of paper bags by the time we’re finished.

We checked out of our hotels. Given that there’s still some time before the travel bus arrived, we decided to have a meal at Suis Butcher, one of our favorite places when we’re in college. With hands full of goodies, I accidentally left my hand phone in the hotel lobby desk.

After a good one hour then I realize that something was missing. I was totally stunned with the thought of losing that phone. Ira immediately called my number and some woman answered. She’s the receptionist from the hotel. The lady ensured us that the phone was safe in their hands after one of the bellboy found it. We were so relieved and slightly surprised at the same time.

I rushed to the hotel with a taxi. I received my cellular with glee and thanked the person who found it several times. I gave the man some money as a reward, yet he refused to take it. I did force it in his hand though eventually. Rahmat is his name and I’ll never forget him. In this day and age, there are some honest people left around us still. If the bellhop were bent, he’d have a cool three to four million cash in his hand straight away.

I shared this story with some friends in the office, and all of them shared almost similar experiences. One left her phone in Breadtalk’s table and was returned intact. A friend left an ATM card inside an ATM machine, yet losing no money and got his card back. This truly made me feel good. It brought back my faith that there’s hope in this place. Not all of us are twisted. Not all of us are corrupt.

These contrasting stories however were a lesson for me. Not to be too trustful yet not to be too bitter and cynics towards others. I remember the movie Crash, which we like so much. There is wide spectrum of antics people could do to one and another depicted brilliantly in the movie. Even the most crooked can have an angelic moment in their life, and the noblest person can have a bit of evil in their heart. After all, we’re only people.

Selamat Ulang Tahun Indonesia

Kami cinta dan bangga padamu. Semoga di hari-hari ke depan bisa menjadi lebih baik lagi.

Of Public Squeaking

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.

Of Children in The Streets

Several times I’ve observed some children who sing in the bus mixing some Christian and Muslim songs in their play list. I wonder if this is a street smart trick to broaden their target market or somebody teaches those poor kids random songs with them oblivious about the true meaning of the lyrics.

Anyway, I have a mixed feeling to see children wandering around dangerous places at night and hop from bus to bus earning cool cash instead of studying for school. Obviously, earning some fifty thousands a day is far more attractive than reciting names of national heroes or counting obscure algebra formulas. However these children probably do not realize that they are losing their golden period in life.

After watching some documentaries and observing around all these years I can conclude that most of the kids are not doing it for food or books. Instead, they spend their money for glue to sniff, cigarettes, and some kop a feel from cash strapped hookers on the street. It broke our hearts to see two underage girls squatting and smoking under the Casablanca fly-over the other night.

The documentaries also show that almost always there’s an adult behind these kids activities, a Fagin-like character from Oliver Twist, who end up with larger portion of income from these innocent lads. There have been accounts of child kidnapping, and later on exploited as beggars and performers in the street. And I figure it’s not too hard to sway some of the other youngsters from low income family to go and work for them. Such is the lure of green and the unattractiveness of school curriculums

On the other hand, we’ve got our National Education Department incapable of providing cheap and affordable education despite having been allocated around twenty percent of our national budget. Where were all that money spent is a different issue altogether. 1,200,000 students all over Indonesia stopped their education because they could no longer afford it.

The question now is; what can we do as an average Joe? I realize it could be hard to resist reaching for our pocket when some doe eyed little children staring at you asking for some spare change. However, I would suggest there are other and probably more effective ways to help without encouraging them to be on the street.

I guess it’s supply and demand, when fewer people handing them easy money, there won’t be as many Fagins roaming about the place. They’d probably be back hoodwinking adults in no time, but that’s relatively better than abusing naive little children.

Becoming foster parents is one of the better ways to contribute. People can do it directly by adopting child from a poor family, or, indirectly by donating some amount regularly to several noted organizations specialized in helping educations for unfortunate children. Alternatively, we can also look at our surroundings, the janitors and the office helpers. We usually help them when the holiday is near, such as Lebaran or Christmas, but I’m guessing they also need us most when the new school year begins.

So instead of me overburdening my waist with carbohydrates, I reckon once a week reducing two intakes of those tasty J.Co plus Breadtalk and assign them to better causes. Once every semester we’d take a look at their school results and with regular talks to their father we’d know the progress they’ve been doing over the years.

In Indonesia there are several organizations working to bridge the donators and the families in need of education fund. Some are focusing on children in the streets of Jakarta, providing community schools and temporary home stay, such as Dilts Foundation. The others are stressing their effort in poorer and under-developed provinces of the country, like GN-OTA for one, while YCAB mainly deals with adolescents struggling against drugs and narcotics. I have several friends who can find more lucrative jobs anywhere else but dedicate their skills for YCAB promoting drug free culture amongst teenagers.

There are various other groups with similar noble deeds, nevertheless it’s always better to pick one with better track records, accountability in audits, and complete information. Here are some of the recommended organizations out there:

• GN-OTA (Gerakan Nasional Orang Tua Asuh)
  Bimantara Lama Building 5th Floor.
  Jl. Kebon Sirih No. 17-19
  Jakarta 10340
  Phone: +62 21 390 0900
• Dilts Foundation
  Jl. Swadaya I No. 11, Pejaten Timur
  Pasar Minggu
  Jakarta 12510
  Phone: +62 21 780 5134
• YCAB (Yayasan Cinta Anak Bangsa)
  Jl. Surya Mandala I No. 8D
  Jakarta 11520
  Phone: +62 21 5835 5000
• Annisa Indonesia
  Jl. Cigalontang No. 10
  Singaparna, Tasikmalaya
  Phone: +62 265 546 240
• Sampoerna Foundation
  (Although please note that Sampoerna is a Tobacco Company, which presumably could have ulterior motives, this is entirely up to your judgment call)
  Sampoerna Strategic Square
  Tower A 27th Floor.
  Jl. Jend. Sudirman Kav.45
  Jakarta 12930
  Phone: +62 21 577 2340
• Update courtesy of Mbak Katadia:
  Mandalawangi
  

Of Recap and Roundup

A dear friend asked me last week about the apparent lack of update in my blog. I jest and said that, apparently, my life is not ‘that’ interesting. We both laughed.

Come to think of it, my life is indeed so ordinary. There is not much going on, which is something that I’m always thankful for. Changes usually throw me out of balance and I’ve always been slow in adapting to any major transformation. If my life is a movie, it will be one without sub plot, action and twist. Mind you, I’d welcome any sub plot if it happens to be a rendezvous with Jessica Alba, or something of that sort.

Speaking of changes, several colleagues in the office will be leaving to pastures new, looking for different challenges. I applaud and am happy for them all. I may have been here for far too long. It’s been four years to be exact. The fact that the people are extra nice and there’s no malicious office politics is something that will be difficult to replicate anywhere else.

Feeling curious, I recap things that have been happening around in these past weeks.

First, the company announced that I’m one of two people in Jakarta branch with the 'best performance' for this quarter. I got an iPod for it with my name engraved in behind (that means I could not sell it). Twice already, they have been handing out iPods for the winner. However, I feel there are other people deserve this more for their hard work and dedication. I certainly hope that someday everybody will be getting one.

Maybe this was some sort of reward for my ‘loyalty’. Actually, I’m the second oldest person in this branch, which is an alarming fact in itself. There was a photo of my wide grinning mug circulating in Petrolink International email. It was mildly embarrassing because I look so much fatter than my boss who was handing out the prize.

Second, I was so happy to reclaim back the domain name Rishardana.com. I had it from 2000 to 2004, but due to being out of town, I was late to transfer the extension fee. Some domain trawler held it until recently. Now it’s back in my hand and I’m psyched! I will put some of my portfolios in there.

For some bonus, the hosting company also included a free domain name, and I chose Negeriku-Indonesia.com. This will be a website of all things Indonesia, from travel accounts, places to go, articles about art and culture of Nusantara, and some other touristy stuffs. Finger crossed it will be useful for people who wants to visit this country.

Third, last week, we went to Senen flea market to buy some second hand books. We ended up with four large plastics full of books, mostly architecture and visual art stuffs. The place evidently has been in huge decline, plenty of stalls are closing. There’s not many people enjoy reading second hand book these days. Admittedly, it is far more pleasurable to buy books from large luxurious shopping malls where there's no danger of pickpockets and harsh store keepers.

Fourth was food wise. We ate at Ta Wan Restaurant twice these two weeks. Once at MM Bekasi branch and the other week in Setiabudi Building one. The porridge was divine and at good price too. Eleven thousands rupiah for a large delicious extra yummy three-flavored porridge bowl is definitely a bargain.

Fifth was about the movie. Three weeks ago, we went to watch The Dark Knight with colleagues and their family from the office. My wife had just arrived from Malang by train when we rushed to the theater; with large suitcases and bags full of crispy crackers, we struggled to find our seat. We missed a good thirty minutes from the opening sequences, so we decided to watch it again the following week.

This time in Bekasi’s very own XXI. Alas it was choc'a'bloc full of children and families, which was surprising because TDK is a very dark, violent, and disturbing production. Perhaps people misinterpreted the image of comical Batman from previous sequels.

It was good fun, very much different compared to watching movies in Jakarta. They closed the XXI lobby so hundreds of people trapped in between the gate and the escalator. When they did open the door, people were kicking and screaming towards the ticket box. It reminds me much of my days in Bandung. Lot of babies crying midway through the movie, teenagers taking pictures and chatting about, and twice the studio stopped to change reels. Splendid!

Well, there it is folks, round up events for the last two weeks. Have a nice weekend to you all.

Of Mosquitoes

Rewind back six months ago, we were living in this small rent studio in Pejompongan. For around seven years there’s hardly any mosquito manage to sip our blood.

Almost every night we could sleep soundly bar isolated events where the neighboring couple was fighting and throwing some dishes or some teenagers decided to play guitar loudly in the hallway.

Those were some simpler times.

A couple of months after moving to the current home, it was actually not bad. We managed to suppress the little suckers and hold the fort with some anti-mosquito sprays. These skeeters were just a mild nuisance easily thwarted with simple claps and flick of hands.

We did not know who made the order but some guy from the county then fog the area, we presume this was to prevent the dengue fever that has been spreading around lately. However, apparently, this measure barely drove those pesky insects away for a while, and then somehow back with a vengeance while inviting their families with them.

Conspiracy theorists would claim that this scenario was set in motion by those huge insect repellent industries. Spreading the baby insect all over the place. Alternatively, it could be that the dry season has arrived and it is in fact a mating season for these annoying bloodsuckers.

My wife is the one who suffers the most. She could hardly get any sleep in recent weeks fighting a losing battle against the sneaky invaders. Small drop of blood spattered all over the walls and floor are proves of how fierce the skirmish went.

I, on the other hand, could sleep anywhere as long as there is a pillow around. However, with a sense of camaraderie I also woke up sometimes to spray pesticide around the house. This in turn would make me all drowsy and lethargic at the office during the day.

If malaria or dengue fever did not kill us, I reckon these poisonous fumes from the many brands of pesticides would do the job later down the years. Besides, all these sprays in the end would create mutant and super breed of mosquitoes running amok impervious against all insect killers in the market. What a scary thought.

So we scourge around the shopping centers to find better and safer ways to deal with the pest.

We inspect some ultraviolet light specially designed to attract and electrocute mosquitoes. We also bought some high frequency emitting apparatus that claimed it could repel bugs away in a 25 m square area. There is that racket thingie, which some friends assure us it could be deadly to any flying insects.

We tried them all at once.

Now things are getting better, we are back to our normal resting cycle and snoozing peacefully at night.

You Snooze, You Lose

Tiredness crept in mercilessly the other night; I slept in a taxi on my way home. The cab driver already missed two toll exits when I woke up. I had shut eye for merely five minutes and by then we were so far away heading for Bandung.

Grouchily, I asked the cabbie to find the nearest exit and look for a return way home. I felt I’ve explained it clear enough about our destination. Alas, he claimed he is new. That is like the joker card in the Taxi world, what more can I say. It was also partly my fault to fell asleep at the wrong time.

I ended up paying four times the usual fare. I couldn’t stop kicking my self later that night.

I remember when we’re just arriving from Paris in Milan. It was three in the morning due to Easyjet excellent service; we arrived at the airport and used a bus for Central station. For a city as big as Milan, the Central was peculiarly dead at that early hour.

Some random Albanian refugees wandered aimlessly from bench to bench. We briefly chatted with a few of them. They seem harmless yet we were alarmed. My wife and I found a bright enough spot and sat there for a while, waiting for the Metro to start operating.

We had three suitcases packed full of the gifts we bought from our previous trip. There were several other passengers sitting around us.

Suddenly someone screamed something in Italian, and as if out of nowhere, three cops came barging in towards our location, and grab a suspicious looking young Albanian. They took him into custody in handcuffs. People were pointing angrily towards the thief and some chosen Italian words were flying towards the man.

I remember thinking in Jakarta he’d be beaten to pulp, or he would not get caught at all (no disrespect to Police here).

We felt safe afterwards. Amazed by the quick reaction of those cops and were pretty sure no one would be dim-witted enough to try anything funny. Lulled by that false sense of security my eyes were getting heavier by the minutes.

I am so sure I was dozed for no longer than one minute, when suddenly I realized one of the suitcases was gone. Anxiously I scrambled towards the exits looking for any sign of the perpetrator but they have disappeared.

With a lot of difficulty, I talked to one of the cops explaining our situations. He shrugged his shoulder in that famous Italian way and believed there’s no hope at all for us to find that bag. He was full of empathy assisting us en route for the Metro when it’s opened.

What a pity really, that bag was full with goodies. Although, in retrospect, we are still thankful that it was not the other bags, which held our laptop and personal data.

It was an annoying blip of an otherwise wonderful trip. Note to self: be careful where and when you’re sleeping.

Crown Jewel of The Equator

I'd really appreciate any comment, suggestion, critique and feedback on this entry. It is a work in progress and I'm hoping to replace all the photos and the articles inside with my own once I get to visit every spot, finger crossed.

Testing Comment System

Hi, Sorry for this. I'm testing the new comment system from Disqus. I think it's kinda cool, you might want to try it on your blog too.

It may be a hassle in the earlier comments, but the system will remember your and visitors' previous data, so we won't have to type our credential anymore. The good thing about this comment system is the direct reply to each post in a threaded manner. It's more user friendly if I may add.

I haven't been able to post anything lately, things are a little hectic at the office front.

I think I'm losing my hearing a little bit due to constant loud music from iPod. Recently, the world seems to be slightly muted. This can be pretty convenient in Jakarta's horn blaring madness. However, during the last office meeting I have to ask a colleague to repeat his question twice, which was embarrassing.

With this progression I'll be losing it completely in near future. Maybe I should put this on my 2009 new years resolution.

I've got a casual comment from a friend the other day about me posting one too many personal stuff in recent journals. I am inclined to agree with him. I'll write some more about Sulawesi and Indonesia in the coming days.

Feel free to leave your comment in here, and thanks for stopping by. In the mean time let me leave you with another personal stuff while we're at it, picture of me and my workstation.

Sight of a Woman

I barely escaped an accident this fine morning. Apparently, my ojek driver was totally distracted by sight of a woman in her translucent nightgown sweeping near the roadside. The driver likes what he saw too much, he missed an oncoming sedan from the opposite corner.

Our bike kissed the sedan face to face. I have to admit both drivers were pretty quick with their reflex. By chance, we all escaped with hardly a scratch. The only thing left was the exchange of angry words from both party. I can laugh at it now, but I’m guessing things won’t be this funny when we break a bone or two.

Now that's what we can call a defined beauty, if one could cause a traffic accident while performing house chores.

A while back, in my omprengan commute, a gorgeous woman in her twenty something sat by my left side. It’s very common to sleep during the whole trip, so did this young lady. Probably because she was still too tired, she slept like a baby and used my shoulder as some short of cushion to her pretty head.

Being a gentleman that I am (cough), I did not shrug her off. However, the temptation was killing me, as her hair was this nice smelling coconut-y. Moreover, you know that high percentage of women’s pheromone coming from the top of their head right? Therefore, you can guess that I was stuck between a rock and a hard place (no pun intended).

I touched my finger in search of the wedding ring to remind myself that I am married. Alas, the ring wasn’t there. I forgot that we had to take it off due to my swelling fat fingers.

So, anyway, I started to occupy my mind with more important and worldly topics. Starvation in Sudan, difficult physics formula, which I scarcely remember any, deadlines looming in the office, and finally I take solace in my favorite subject, footballs and gadgets. I lingered with those thoughts for a while and suddenly we almost arrived in our destination. One hour flew by that quickly.

The young woman and I exchanged polite smile as she departed off the omprengan. I wonder if she did that on purpose. Argh no way, I scolded my self; I am way past that glory days.

Speaking of sight of a woman, we have this consultant guest comes to our office every once a while. She’s a foreigner in her mid forty. She always wears this very low cut see-through dress and has been the talk of the office for sometime now. We can tell that she seldom wears any bra, but I can’t tell you how.

Whenever she speaks to me, I had to look a little bit higher than her eyebrows. I set my eyes just about the top of her forehead. As you know that, our cone of vision spanned approximately around 45 degrees right? That’s how I managed to slalom my way out of staring at her cleavage. She probably thinks I’m a geek, a prude or something.

Apologize for this rather lewd post, my friends. [tongue=in cheek] I’ve just found new respect of life from this near accident in the morning [/tongue].

PS:

• Ojek is a motorcycle taxi used in Indonesia for short distance travel
• Omprengan generally is a mini van type of car, like Suzuki Carry or Daihatsu Zebra. Two sit in front with the driver, four in the middle, and six in the back. It's not a formal mode of transportation, just like ojek.
  

Of Crossroads

Someone who shall remain nameless (pssst, unless you click on this link) tagged me the other day. The title in question is ‘What age do I wish to get back to, and why?’. Friendly word of caution, this entry will be very personal. I might bore you to death; quickly skip it while you still can.

Well, I haven’t heard anyone actually invented the time machine as of late, but if some one did, I would love it if they beam me back to 1994, when I was merely a skinny naïve 17 years old teenager.

In a classic Twilite Zone style, I’d like to correct a couple of choices I made on that particular year. 1994 was a major crossroad in my life, time of big changes and frequent soul searching. I might have wound up in a completely different place altogether in my parallel universe and here’s why.

Right after high school, frantic tests and college applications came thick and fast. I managed to complete the whole Military Academy tests and barely passed. I was already inside their camp and munching those horribly brittle rice and sandal like meat.

Two weeks have gone when I received the news that I got in STT Telkom’s list for Information Technology faculty.

Frankly, it was never my intention to become military personnel. It served plainly as an alternative just in case I didn’t get through anywhere. I was already disillusioned of living inside a dormitory for three years. Another four years would definitely drive me insane.

Therefore, I made up my mind and plead to flee out of the camp. Got me a good slap in return from a two star general no less. Darn it, I toughened my heart; even with a bruised cheek at least I got out.

Just to let you know, I was all alone during this period. My family was hundreds of miles away and communication was minimum at best due to pricey long distance call. I took a bus from Magelang to Bandung for the first time and process the administration to enter STT Telkom. There’s a horrific tale involving some transvestites when I stepped my foot in Bandung soil, but that’s another story.

I rented a room near the campus. It was so cheap I had to sleep on top of the praying mat. To take a bath one needs to sweat first, drawing bucket of water out of a well. Because the fee to STT Telkom was rather expensive, I needed to cut some cost in other places. Those were some rough days.

Several weeks later, the newspaper listed names of people who got through the UMPTN. My name was among the fortunate ones. This was very dilemmatic for me, Architecture Engineering of ITB; a government-subsidized institution was a lot cheaper than STT Telkom. It’s not too shabby either way.

I was inclined to stay at Telkom knowing IT and Communication would be a hot property in the future. However, I sincerely doubt I’d enjoy sleeping on that dingy floor and showering with some dodgy water, as the well mostly covered with mildew and some sort of fungus.

Once again, I made a decision to take my money uptown and gamble towards the elephant campus of ITB. Found me a decent enough room and immediately meeting my soon to be best friends from class of 94. There, for six long years, I was succumbed by landscape sketches, rendering, and building designs. Truth be told, I was not very good at it.

As you probably have known, currently I am not working in the Architecture field at all. During the last nine years, IT has been my bread and butter.

Now what if and this is a big if, back then, I stick to military academy, or the IT Faculty of STT Telkom, where would I end up.

With the time machine given to me by this tag, I’d be able to go back and capture a glimpse of things that may have come to pass, shall I chose the other paths, the road not taken.

Perhaps, looking back to our past might encourage us to be thankful, for our own ‘here and now’.

PS:

• Told you it’s very personal, hope I didn’t put you off and you’ll still be visiting this site next time.
• As with the custom of tagging, I’ll pass this flaming torch to five other bloggers. Their name and address shall be posted in here in coming days. First, I need to confirm that they wouldn’t mind being tagged.
• UMPTN is a test to enter state-owned universities in Indonesia. A lot of luck involved in getting pass that.
  
• Here is the link of the page where I was tagged, if time permits please read it also, good stuff.

Of People and Their Suit

Several weeks ago, I met an old friend. We were sort of best buddies way back then. Since junior high, we went to different high school. After a good 18 years, we meet again in Jakarta. He was always of the brash kind, never shy to speak his mind out of anything.

The meeting went as usual. Although, there are some excerpts of the conversation that was rather disconcerting for me. Here it goes:

Him: Do you go to the office everyday dress like that, Her?
Me: Yep, why?

Him: I don’t know, don’t you think people won’t look down on you?

This was where I felt slightly uneasy. I may not be a very trendy person. However, in my opinion, there’s nothing too wrong with the way I dress. Regular cotton shirt, black pants, no ties and suit but everything was quite clean and comfortable.

Therefore, I ask him to elaborate.

Him: Your bag! Isn’t that akin to what high school kids wear? And, why would you have to fold your sleeve like that? I don’t mean to brag, but when people look at me, they know I meant business. They always think I’m the boss even though I’m only a supervisor in my company.

I was just smiling, completely devoid of any answers on how to respond to that. I was also not in the mood to argue.

Anyhow, I guess it’s perfectly normal that people judge a book by its cover. It happened to us plenty of times, in the mall for example. There’s an apparent distinction of treatment when I walk in wearing a casual dress compared to strolling with a power suit. Sales suddenly started being friendlier and the security guys loosen up.

I just didn’t expect an old friend to be that superficial. He even had the temerity to ask how much I earn in one month! Well, he may look like the boss but perhaps tact and discretion is not his forte.

If I’m being honest, I have been guilty being rather superficial too from time to time. The reason I bought my current gadgets because I wouldn’t want to be the guy who comes in a reunion (be it high school or college) with the lamest hand phone.

It would help a lot if I could just rent suits and gadgets whenever I need it. That way gaining respect would be much cheaper.

On a different note, my wife and I were in an angkot the other day. The driver was this reckless young punk who drives like a drunkard. We spent a good five minutes cussing the driver and praying for our life when all of a sudden the driver stopped.

Afterward he stepped out of the angkot and crossed the road. He then gently took a blind man’s hand and slowly guided him to the other side of the road and under the bus shelter. He even gave that poor blind man some spare change.

This driver was a young chap, with hair like a Mohawk and a torn t-shirt with Rage Against the Machine written on its dirty top.

Me and the missus were sitting there silenced and just stared at each other. Apparently, we have underestimated the man. Although, subsequently, the now highly esteemed driver went on with his brutal way of driving. We didn’t use any bad language this time, we were just praying.

Up until now, I have to remind my self, time and time again, not to judge a person by their dress, their gadget, or by their haircut.

PS:

• Angkot is an abbreviation of Angkutan Kota (City Transportation Mode). Usually it's an MPV Cars such as Toyota Kijang colour coded and numbered based on directions.
  

Of Watching TV

The description of couch potato suits me very well. I spend more than half time of the week to watch any kind of stuff from that idiot box.

I used to read a lot, not anymore.

Although I’m OK with watching the TV by myself, it could be fun watching it with the wife. She is not the type who asks who is the bad guy in The Matrix, however she has a pretty eclectic and difficult taste of her own.

Friends, Scrubs, and Desperate Housewives are certainly her picks. It’s not difficult as they have ‘chick flick’ theme written all over them. Not that I don’t like them, mind you.

I have managed to make her mildly interested in The X Files, by picking some of the best episodes from the saga, which have nothing to do with the main story arc. The X Files for me still reigns as the best program of all time.

Prison Break was a gamble, and it largely succeeded due to the fact that Michael Scofield is a pretty good looking chap. The story being totally intoxicating was also helpful. She was hooked and became a major fan of the series since day one.

She hates 24 and The Office with a passion, while I love both of them with a passion. I mean, Jack Bauer kicking major butts, need I say more? Also, the cringe worthy antics from David Brent and Gareth Keenan are some of the most hilarious comedy in the business.

She’s still lost on Lost. Every time I watch the award-winning sci-fi, she goes browsing over the net or watching some sinetron on terrestrial TV. It is very difficult for me to explain the beauty of flash back and flash forward method they intricately use in Lost. In addition, the love triangle between Jack, Kate, and Sawyer, what’s not to like?

For her, Grey’s Anatomy is just another Melrose Place. For me the interrelationships between the characters serve merely as a spice for the complexity of drama that touches patients and doctors when dealing with a matter of life and death. Granted there’s one too many McCheesy moments in between, but there are riveting storylines in most episodes.

House MD is just brilliant, there’s no question about it and she agrees.

The genius diagnostician’s sarcastic way of dealing with his patients while solving some of the mysterious medical cases ala Sherlock Holmes is indeed the greatest show around these days.

With the three CSI series, there are no problems.

It’s just a matter of who’s the best between Gill Grissom, Horatio Caine, and Mac Taylor. I picked Grissom while she’s smitten with Horatio, which is mind boggling in it self. Because I’m totally fed up with Caruso’s ultra cool way of putting his sunglasses while staring blankly in slow motion.

Yesterday though was a major coup in our TV watching history. I managed to literally drag and shackle my wife to watch Dexter.

I’ve been telling her how awesome this new series this past two months. She just won’t budge. Not only because the star is that quirky gay dude from Six Feet Under, but the opening sequences involving Dexter grinding someone’s skull opened.

Yes, Dexter is a serial killer. Nevertheless, he has a code, a moral fiber, which has been instilled on him by his late foster father to channel his urge to kill, into something worthy for the society.

Not often I can say that people may relate to a sadistic serial killer. However, Dexter, I am sure will be able to steal your heart and in the end cheer for him when he sticks that 6 inches blade in the chest of his victims.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a gory stuff alright. It’s definitely not for the squeamish kind. In fairness, there is humor inside, albeit a dark one, with perfect comedic timing from Michael Hall.

If you haven’t watch it, I suggest you do. You will be entrapped in an absorbing story and end up wanting to see more from our friendly neighborhood serial killer.

Now I only need to rack my brain on ways to get my wife watching organized sports programs.

Of General Sudirman

Baptism by fire is what we call it. Every year our high school orders the students to march 40 km following the footsteps of the Late General Sudirman during our struggle for Independence in 1948.

It was a gruelling task. We stopped only at nights and slept in some tents deep inside the forest. Yet we marched on, motivating each other all the way. We were only young and full of spirit.

To be honest, I didn't really understand the true meaning behind the whole trip at that time. It dawned to us all right, but somehow it got lost due to tiredness and naivety. In my recent surge of patriotism (pardon the sarcastic tone), I started to learn more about this great man and why he's considered as one of the best sons these shores ever produced.

Sudirman is the first Commander-in-chief of Indonesia Armed Forces. It is an even greater achievement considering he was merely 30 years old when President Soekarno appointed him in 1945.

Just like Capt. Miller (Tom Hanks) in Saving Private Ryan, Sudirman was a simple schoolteacher. He got his reputation when he organized a guerilla attack against the British and the Dutch in Ambarawa, forcing them to move away towards Semarang.

Back then, in a vacuum of power after Emperor Hirohito acknowledged defeat, the British and Dutch army tried to wrestle Indonesia as their colony once more.

The recently declared independence made thousands of young men euphoric. They fought hard and long against enemy with a more powerful arsenal. However, these are young untrained fighter. There was an urgent need to elect a leader to coordinate the battle.

Fresh out of big combat, and in control of the largest soldiers with weapons seized from the Japan, Sudirman was chosen unanimously by his peers. Those days were very different. People are able to cooperate with each other and the spirit was awe-inspiring.

It was an interesting choice, because Sudirman have this very unimpressive appearance. He was a thin and quiet man. Yet the other commanders saw in him a mental toughness, charisma, and bravery exceeding that of his compatriots.

Theodore Friend who wrote Indonesia: Peoples and Histories describes him as having "A strangely blended samurai discipline, Marxist disposition, and raw courage." It’s quite a fearsome combination of characters.

“I do love peace, but I love freedom so much more!”
That is the code Sudirman lived and die for.

That quote maybe overused in recent decades, but I always shiver at the thought of those words coming out of this once great General. Just like my eyes glistening every time I watched the end of Braveheart when William Wallace shouted out “Freedom!”

Tuberculosis hampered Sudirman’s effectiveness in battle. Because he was so important to the army morale, his men had to carry him on a legendary palanquin, walking through a hidden route from Jogjakarta to Magelang for hundreds of kilometers. Imagine the hardship. Those men who carried him on their shoulders are also heroes in my eyes.

On the 29 January 1950, Indonesia lost one of her greatest defender. He was buried in Jogjakarta where the government bestowed the National Hero status he thoroughly deserves.

Now I know why my high school ordered us to walk through his footsteps. Now I also know why almost every city in Indonesia have a major street named after him.

PS:

• Jejak Langkah Panglima Besar Sudirman
  

Mom & Pops Store

Trying to avoid post power syndrome, my parents decided to open a tiny Mom & Pops Store following their retirement. It’s rather fortunate that we have a corner house back in Makassar. Soon after finishing renovation the little store ready to sell random stuffs from butter and eggs, to tooth picks.

They were running pretty OK during the first couple of years. Since Dad still has his pension from Aneka Tambang, the store merely serve as something to keep them occupied. Not much profit taking, they don't open in late hours, and the customers are mainly our neighbors.

Recently, as the effect of globalization, lots of Multinational Corporation opens their business everywhere. The result was evident in the wholesale and retail industry. Its growth brings plenty of employment opportunities, generating income for the government, and doing pretty good at moving the wheel of economy in these difficult years.

The flipside of the coin is the expansion of these behemoth businesses engulfed lots of smaller establishments like The Mom & Pops Stores in many places.

Take an example from the tug of war between Carrefour and Hero group. In their effort to increase their business, they open branches far into the rural areas. This ‘invasion’ will eventually swallow millions of small business that has been striving in the neighborhood.

Let’s face it The Mom & Pops Stores tend to cost a bit more due to their inability to purchase a million shampoo at once from the principal distributor. Many people including me prefer anonymous shopping for a lot of things at once. We have to admit that walking in the cool aisle surrounded by gazillion selection of almost everything makes shopping a lot more comfortable.

Recent survey from AC Nielsen shows that people, especially in the big cities, prefer shopping their groceries in modern shopping centre. Traditional markets have count that hundreds of shop closed each year. That would mean, even though plenty of employment opportunities arise from supermarket and hypermarket chain, there are many business closed as the indirect result.

I think it’s about time government regulate the license of opening store chain in hope to level the playing field between major players and the little people. We might want to remember that when we shop in large chain store our money goes to some rich CEO who already makes hundreds of billions rupiah. Not that it’s wrong, mind you.

One thing that could keep these smaller ventures is if and when they can excel in their uniqueness: Their closeness to their market base and customer. The hospitality of the owner is important to keep people coming back. They maybe are 100 or 500 IDR pricier, yet the personal touch, the small talk, and the warm welcome are what separate them from the cold shoulder people get in huge retail store.

If they can keep their edge, they might survive this onslaught of free trade.

We are a bit lucky because my mom, bless her, is a very hospitable woman. It helps a lot to keep the Mom & Pops Store afloat, at least for now.

PS:

• The picture above is of David and Goliath's tale.
• A colleague in the office has Mum who cooks delicious cake.
  Please visit her blog if you want to take a look and maybe order some tasty and yummy cake.
  

Quo Vadis Democracy?

My mind was perplexed reading about Hillary Clinton’s 20 million USD of personal debt. Now there’s this call from Obama asking his party member to donate their hard earned cash for the already wealthy Clinton family.

Further reading about election, I found out that around 200 trillion IDR from the national budget would be used for 33 Governors and 473 Mayors and Regents Election.

That is an astronomical amount of money by any standard! We can build a lot of schools and hospitals in the entire archipelago for that bewitching sum.

Moreover, the number merely represents the formal cost of election. We can be sure there’s a lot more invisible outlay during the campaign process.

One easy example is; for any candidate to step forward, he or she would have to pocket endorsement from the local parliament and party. These are not free. One article mentions that the going rate is around 75 million IDR per endorsement. That means the candidate would have to provide capital in the range of 1 to 3 billion IDR.

There is no guarantee that after spending that money they would end up victorious. Consequently, they would do 'anything' to maximize their chance of winning.

It’s obvious that as soon as they win, first thing they would do is to make sure the capital they’ve spent will return some handsome profit. That’s not a good news for their constituent.

Usually people who benefit from this scheme are their inner circle. Now that’s why there are plenty of middlemen circling around government projects. Like any good vulture they are.

During our process to learn democracy, we also harbor potential conflict. Any sort of differences will be nurtured and escalated into a weapon for the candidates to win these gullible people’s support.

Almost no parties are able to lose gracefully. Maluku, West Java, and South Sulawesi are some of the cases proving this.

More often than not, the candidates are a collection of sleazy politicians and dodgy religious characters. Hence, for us it feels a lot like choosing the lesser evil.

I wonder what happens in other country. Is there any true democracy around?

From my understanding of American brand of democracy, their policies mostly influenced by lobbyists and wealthy industrialists (weapons and oil). People who back up the politicians financially in the first place.

The difference is most of its citizens are educated enough not too fight in the street during a campaign.

I understand that democracy in Indonesia is only young. I’m not suggesting that we should scrap the system altogether. However, any discourse about an alternative civil society in the end would prove whether democracy is the one and only proper way of nationhood.

After doing some research, we can divide the alternatives into two categories:

Anarchism; this includes Anarchist-communism, Anarcho-capitalism, Anarcho-primitivism, Libertarian socialism, etc.

Authoritarianism; are Autocracy, Aristocracy, Communist state, Corporatism, Despotism, Dictatorship, Monarchy, Theocracy, etc.

None of the above sounds too promising.

How about Pancasila’s type of Democracy, is there such a thing? This is the task for our bureaucrats and technocrats to ponder. When they have finished pondering, I’d hope they enlighten us little people. As, in my observation, very few of us live by the way of Pancasila these days.

Maybe democracy is indeed expensive and we all have to pay for it, at least for now.

In the mean time, we can always muse and blog.

Pomalaa

Two years ago out of boredom, I look up and tag some special places on Google-Earth. Surprisingly the data is still there and wikimapia.org. Seeing all these places from above is like seeing through a porthole into our past. Where did we grow up? What is it like now? How did it shape us as a person?

I was born in this very remote and dusty little town called Pomalaa, south east of Sulawesi. Primarily it is a ferro-nickel mining complex for Aneka Tambang, a state owned company. It’s a rather calm and peaceful little city with around 2000 families.

That’s my old house in the center of the picture. We had a spacious backyard, and we grew a lot of plants. Papaya, mango, rambutan, and bananas are among others. Naughty monkeys from the forest behind our house steal them fruits from time to time. They were pretty smart.

Elementary school was over at 2 pm. I usually shepherd my two goats around the neighborhood looking for leaves of Kembang Sepatu (hibiscus rosa-sinensis) for them to eat. My handsome and sprightly dog always kept me company, keeping those goats on track.

One night all of a sudden a giant snake from the dark forest ate those goats.

We were woken up over some noise from behind the yard. When my dad turned on the flashlight, we were all shocked to see a python the size of a trunk entwined and ruthlessly strangled the poor animals. It injected some sort of poison into the goat’s buttock like a scene in one scary movie.

Oddly, the snake wasn’t injured at all when dad use a regular machete to cut it over and over. Like it’s impervious. Only when our neighbor came with his Toraja machete they can wound and scare the snake away.

The goats were all fried, blackened and dead. It was quite sad really.

Many kinds of snakes had been frequently spotted in the area. Apparently, in the past the housing complex was one large swamp.

Apart from occasional horrors, my childhood in Pomalaa was quite fun. Us little kids, playing Tarzan, dives into the muddy river. Weeks went fishing in the sea with The Wajo people. In addition to many more adventures.

Anyway, it is nice to be able to observe the dusty little town grow. Now there is a lot of golf course opened around the housing complex. It seems that, the good people in Pomalaa found a new hobby in that ‘trendy’ sport.

Well, that is a little bits and pieces of the place where I grew up. Good job Google for the excellent application. Have you tagged your old houses? Here is the URL to do so.

Tangkuban Perahu - Sangkuriang's Forbidden Love

There was this gorgeous babe living in the Citarum’s riverbank. Dayang Sumbi was her name. She has a hobby of knitting beautiful stuff for her father, The Emperor.

One day her tool fell down and rolled outside the house. Out of laziness, she swore to the Almighty that whomever kind enough to bring her that precious tool back, she would give a fantastic reward.

The promise was to marry the person if it was a male. If it turns out it was a female, she'd make a sister out of her.

Anyway, as it happened, a male dog named Tumang came to her aid. She collapsed and fainted out of shock. However, as she is one proud chick with integrity, she kept her promise.

It was quite sketchy on how they consummate their marriages, but some months later a handsome baby boy was born, with five-finger and all. The odd couple decided to give the boy name Sangkuriang.

Sangkuriang grew up into this agile teenager and a pretty good hunter too. He and the dog hunt together all the time. At some point, they met this fat pig and decided to hunt her. It turns out that this fat pig was Sangkuriang’s grandmother and Tumang hesitated.

There’s a rumor circling around animal kingdom that the Emperor dated this pig for a while, back then. I know things are a little weird but please bear with me.

Because Tumang didn’t want to run the pig down, Sangkuriang saw red. Out of rage, he shot his arrow towards Tumang. The brave and loyal dog died instantly. He cut Tumang to pieces and brought back the poor canine for his mother to cook.

Upon learning that the menu of the day was her beloved hubby, Dayang Sumbi fainted again. As soon as she gained consciousness, she yelled at Sangkuriang and banished him, forever.

Sangkuriang limped out of the kingdom and walked all the way to the west. The teenager met many dark wizards and gained plenty of great magical power. He has changed into an awesome and dashing warrior.

Years of traveling around the globe brought him back to the kingdom near Citarum River. He was intrigued to hear about the story of the hottest lass in the village. He then met her and electricity sparked all over the place. The chemistry was apparent as they were instantly attracted to each other.

After some romantic date by the countryside, they decided to get hitched. It was gonna be the biggest wedding of the era.

When they’re about to do it, this woman, who turns out to be Dayang Sumbi, notice the birthmark on Sangkuriang’s neck. She screamed and kicked Sangkuriang out of the bed. A ‘No’ means ‘No’, said the bewildered woman.

Dazed, horny and confused Sangkuriang zip his pants and asked her what he should do to win her heart back. Seeing a way out this, Sumbi smile and said that it would be divine if they could make love inside a large boat roaming a huge lake.

However, the stipulation is both the lake and the boat has to be made in one night and one night only.

The adrenaline rushed towards Sangkuriang’s head and he dashed toward Citarum River. By his great magical power, he summoned thousands of minions to dam up the water stream forming an enormous lake. He summoned another thousand for good measure to build this large and strong wooden boat.

Confounded by the latest development Dayang Sumbi racked her brain for counter measure. The morning has yet to come and both the lake and boat is in near completion. Using her cunning feminine instinct, she decided to take matters into her own hand.

She and some of her sorority sisters made some racket and woke up the village roosters. They also put large orange sheets into the eastside made it look like the dawn has arrived. The roosters cock-a-doodle-doo and all hell broke loose. The thousands minions scrambled to their hidings and left the unfinished tasks in tatters.

Sangkuriang saw red again. Seething out of his lost, he kicked the large boat far away to the sky. With a loud bang it landed up side down.

Thousands of years have passed; the upturned boat was covered in thick layered dirt, trees have grown on top of it, forming a mountain. The locals now called it Gunung Tangkuban Perahu – The Mountain of Upturned Boat.

Whatever happened to Dayang Sumbi and Sangkuriang no one really knows. Some said that Sumbi runs to a cave and turned herself into a rare flower. While Sangkuriang, our very own Oedipus, walked and vanished into the west.

Of Music and Me

I’m a little embarrassed by the fact that my first dabble on music was of NKOTB. To be fair they have the right stuff to make a pimple-faced teenager like me hangin' tough amidst the awkwardness of puberty.

To compensate the lameness factor, I also forced my self to listen to some Sepultura and Metallica. Let’s just say parents and neighbors weren’t that impressed.

As I grew older, Bon Jovi and Guns n’ Roses starting to rule my airtime. The love was and will always be there for these two juggernauts of rock. Everlasting tracks like ‘Living on a Prayer’ and ‘November Rain’ are pure and simply the major ingredients that made life ever so exciting.

In fact, I got so hooked up with Bon Jovi back then. It’s the sole reason I flunked my Mechanical Technical class. I skipped the final exam with my partner in crime, and we ride all the way from Bandung to watch Bon Jovi’s concert in Ancol, Jakarta.

Pity the gods of rock n roll decided that we have to experience flat tire mid way. Baked banana and cheese was the only solace we found in the cold Puncak Bogor. Swell.

College years, Acapella and vocal groups were all the rage. Wooing girls in my class with pale imitation of Boyz II Men and sitting in circle with friends playing guitar to the tune of White Lion and Nirvana. Those were the days.

With the advent of mp3 format, music is getting cheaper and easier to obtain. Now I listen to everything. Well, all except probably dangdut.

A quick glance at my ipod, apparently the most frequent song I’ve played is Corinne Bailey Ray’s ‘Put Your Records On’ and surprisingly the soundtrack of Legends of The Fall by David Foster. Been listening a lot to Take That’s ‘Rule The World’ (haha yeah laugh away), Daughtry, and the breathtaking collaboration of U2 and Mary J Blige in ‘One’.

Let me be honest and admit there are times when I want to be a musician myself. Let the broomsticks and shower-pad be my witness. Every so often out of sheer madness, I think I can pull it off.

We had a rock band in college but only have the guts to perform on one small faculty occasion. It was a blur for me so I don’t remember much abut the performance. All I remember was we played GNR’s ‘Estranged’ and I think I missed some of the lines out of nervousness.

It was horrendously humiliating. Yet it’s worth it, if only to remind us to find another career path far beyond music.

Tana Toraja - The Land of Magic

Photo by Kal Muller

Back in my hometown, our neighbor is from Tana Toraja. Two of their eldest sons are about my age, so we sort of grew up together. They’ve been telling me stories and legend about the magical and mysterious Toraja. Stories that still fascinates me to present day.

How dead people walk themselves to their graves. Buffaloes that keep fighting long after they have been beheaded. Sending death to enemies via magic and enchantment. Their machete’s magical prowess, able to cut even the hardest of material. And many other tales. In all probability, none of it was true. Nevertheless, they have been imprinted in my mind arousing curiosity and interest.

In junior high, some friends and I visited this mystifying land. A trip that’s worth so much for all of us. We didn’t know it back then, but I can safely say now that Tana Toraja is without a doubt one of the most beautiful places this country have to offer.

We spent four days in a small dusty town called Rantepao, slept on top of a wooden floor in my friend’s old relative house. We were clueless back then. Thinking of it now, it’s such a shame digital camera was invented only recently.

The magnificent scenery with layered step of rice fields, buffaloes, river, and blue jagged valleys in the distant is very difficult to illustrate with words. When the sun starts to appear, everything was so delightful.

OK, I will not bore you much with description, because to be honest it was a while back and I have forgotten some of it. Here are some pointers though if you want to visit the place.

Tana Toraja is a region in South Sulawesi, Indonesia. The nearest town is Rantepao and to get there is not effortless. If you have arrived in Makassar (South Sulawesi capital city) with plane or ship, you will need to take one more trip using smaller plane. This will be a rather rough flight so better brace yourself.

If you decided to use buses instead, it will be around 8 to 9 hours including some meal stop. When I say buses, I meant some sort of MPV cars like Toyota Kijang and or Daihatsu Panther. This is also going to be rough, but plenty of good-looking scenery along the road.

For people who do not like the hassle, I suggest using one of those travel packages where all is included. That way you will not have to risk getting lost or loosing your cool. Please be a bit patient though because foreign language communication with us Indonesians could be rather tricky.

You can come to Toraja in any months of the year; the high season is July to August. However, it is better to come off season, as things are cheaper and lots of accommodation available. There are very few good hotels around but there are many budget inns. They usually use the name Wisma.

Toraja’s architecture just as any other Indonesian vernacular is a thing of marvel and worth another different post altogether.

Photo by Kal Muller

This may sound silly, but it’s better if you come when there’s a funeral going on. Toraja people make a festival out of every death. Some even make it into international coverage. Funerary rites will have this elaborated ritual called Ma’badong (Lament for the deceased) complete with buffalo fighting and ceremony to put effigies to a sacred hill.

A magical place, indeed.

For more information about Toraja please read the following links:

• My-Indonesia.info
• New York Times
• TorajaNet