Of I La Galigo

Not a great deal of people aware that the world’s longest literary work is not the Harry Potter series. That title belongs to the unheralded piece of an ancient scribble named I La Galigo. It is a vast epic and stirring saga of heroes, forbidden love, gods versus demons, and the eternal battle between good and evil.

Some sources even mention that it’s around twenty times longer than the Homer’s Odyssey. It’s estimated at 6000 folio pages, related to events from pre-Islamic, 14th century Bugis, South of Sulawesi, Indonesia. Would make a good read during my or anyone's boring commute.

During my study of Bugis Architecture I found myself more fascinated with reading about Sawerigading than the actual concept of local building (not that they're half boring, mind you). Sawerigading is the main protagonist on this giant story arc. Apparently he traveled to places no people ever step on, after falling in love deeply with his twin sister. Of course this incestuous love is strictly prohibited even in the times of the Gods, and he ultimately have to marry another woman.

It was said that this ancient chronicle consists of dozen of episodes, using wide range of storybook technique called flashback and foreshadowing. Now that is interesting. People in South Sulawesi are long known for their tradition of history writing using ‘Lontara’ – some sort of papyrus or fan.

It’s unfortunate the local humidity often times ruin these past writings. Very few have survived and shockingly preserved not in local museum but in European Libraries. Evidently they were quite valuable amongst European scholars back then. I remember one Sherlock Holmes story involving one Bugis manuscript.

When I was a kid, we have this rented villa, we always use during the school holidays. It was on the street named La Galigo in Makassar. I wasn’t aware of the significance until my findings in the Library many years after.

Some time ago there’s several article in national publication regarding an around the world performing art directed by Robert Wilson which featuring a cast of 50 Indonesia's finest performers. Some said it is a hit. Reading about it made me warm and fuzzy because it was about the land where I was born, Sulawesi.

Here are some links with information about I La Galigo:

• Indonesian Article in Sinar Harapan
• PDF about I La Galigo

Update - after doing some follow up research I found one article from The Time Magazine:

• Puttin' on the Myths
  

Of Coming Back

Almost 2 years have past since the last journal. A lot have happened but to be honest I'm not sure they'll make a good reading. The last couple of weeks however, something tickled me to do this time consuming and not necessarily productive blog trawling. My life was sailing along real fine, now I'm starting to miss deadlines and end up arguing some insignificants with strangers over the internet.

Blogging for me is a pretentious habit. Often times I was trying too hard to look cleverer than I really am. Using some big words and pseudo intellectual analysis talking about things beyond my pay grade. There, see i did it again. Looking back to what I've written so far sometimes embarrass me, it's not even funny.

Those were the days huh.

Wish I could just write something for private, for archiving sake. When I get older, as something my kids will read to me in my death bed. But then I argue myself, where's the fun in that? It's a lot nicer to write something that some people, even in small number, could read and relate to.

Mind you, I used to have a journal (ehem diary) in junior high. Putting all the name of girls I fancy inside. My late sis (bless her) stole and read it. I knew I should've wrote it in magic ink. Well, let's just say, paranoia has haunt me since.

Indonesian blogosphere though has changed a lot this few years. Encouraging to see the variety of quality and quantity posts by fellow countrymen. Some prominent names has risen to the fore and maintain quality for years. There are some cliques, elites who hounds off in packs those daring to voice dissenting opinions. There are people making real money out of blog and there are skeptics. A national convention in the name of Indonesian Blogger Party even held successfully a while ago. Things are looking promising.

Along with my trawling madness I found one particular blog which air my exact feeling about a lot of subjects, it's scary, only he put it in a much cooler fashion and far more articulate. I would have give you the link, but I’m afraid you'll just stop there and never return.

Phew, finished my first post. For your information, I wrote this on a non air-conditioned commute. We'll get into that later. Here's hoping for more journal to come.

Dilemma of The Five Legs

Chicken porridge is one of my favorite dish and for the past 11 years I have them for breakfast on a regular basis be it when I was in Bandung until now working in Jakarta. They are usually provided in some mobile food stalls ingeniously named kaki lima (five legs) patrolling across the streets from rural urban area to the shadow of skyscrapers in the central business districts, offering various kinds of food and drinks or even cigarettes and boozes.

The term Kaki Lima were given because some say that they seems to have five legs (if you count the owner’s) observed from a distance. But another source argue that Kaki Lima was a phrase given to the five feet pavement between the building and streets in the city which were supposedly for people walking.

Now this is where the dilemma begins, as I ponder the fact that my favorite chicken porridge stall has moved his dolly near a garbage shoot. I was slightly reluctant eating my albeit delicious dishes amongst sea of flies and the invigorating smell of landfill site.

As the nature of kaki-limas to operate in a lane where it is theoretically reserved for other functions, they’re often deemed as an intrusion for the public facility and city regulation. Another point is that, most area in Jakarta still has no proper sewage system, while the habit of these kaki-limas is to chuck their waste to the gutter and is one of the contributors for the clog in sewers all around the city (though not necessarily the sole reason of flooding in Jakarta if rainy season comes).

Because of the aforementioned grounds, several times a week there are inspection and raid held by the city task force to the thousands of kaki-limas. Occasional corruption happens here, where as a opposed to being chased like animals, the kaki-limas just offered bribes for the officers so that they walk away with their notorious loudspeaker. This is very unfortunate for the kaki-limas because even though they have bribe one task force the other would follow suit, yet still there is no guarantee that they could operate everyday, especially when the big fishes, aka the really important officials (minister or president) pass their street.

Illusion that everything still clean and under control is still the best option for these boot licker officials.

Some of the raids was totally inhumane though, I even saw it with my own eyes how these people were hunted down and kicked, their cart and dolly was shredded apart, or taken custody as a ransom for larger sum of money. Beauty versus poverty, what a pity. I know it is important to have a beautiful city, yet it’s been widely known that majority of the Jakarta citizen is poor. And I really believe that kaki-limas could be one of the solution to increase independency and entrepreneurship amongst the people. Last year alone thousands of new unemployment flog the city and it’s better for them to become small entrepreneur than beggars or even thieves.

I realize that it is not been easy, for example if you have a five feet pavement along the street, all five feet will be filled with cart and dollies if a certain measure not taken. Plenty of traffic jam has been caused by the expansions of these informal sector, yet from my observation, this is the fruit of the government’s policy to only pay attention in building malls and plaza for bigger business yet ignoring city plan for smaller enterprises and ventures which proven to be of a much larger quantity and in correlation with larger scale of population.

Middle class citizens like me can only afford eating regularly in the streets. You try to look away when they wash their platters hastily in a suspect looking bucket near the gutter. Or pay no attention when the piece of cloth they use to clean the dish fall to the brownish paving below, but find it hygienic enough to still use it. I remember at early weeks I stayed in Jakarta having to endure plenty of food poisoning before I became immune to them nasty germs. Hopefully no long terms effect damaging my poor sensitive stomach.

Dang, I’m gonna have to find me a new chicken porridge.

The Fame Game

Ain’t living in the internet era is a grand. People can always do some online test, and put it in their blog, journal, site, or whatever and proclaimed that they’re this and that. We bypass these thousands of years proven tradition of socializing. Back when people judge and mark us by our ability to perform and act in real life. Now we can always tick some boxes and easily claim that we are a benevolent leader, a charitable creator, a great kisser or summat. We do it colorful and frequent enough people might starting to believe it.

I wonder why we do it. I guess so that when we’re online and check our inboxes, we can see the little flashing icons. And we go, all right, messages. People apparently need that. It's very important for human beings to feel popular and well liked amongst a large group of people we don't really care for.

Everybody like to think that their life is worthy of a story, of a sitcom or even movie. Everybody think that what they've going trough should be put in broader audiences and be appreciated and applauded. This is in no way a bad thing. It can be a very good phenomenon. Again I drew parallel that back then someone became famous because they were special. Now people are considered special just for being famous. That is why everybody would do just about anything to be famous, even on the internet. We have these Most Famous Friendster, Multipliers, or whatever networking website there is. And we admire them and think that they are special because hey, he’s got 500 contacts you know ;) That’s quite a special achievement.

Oh by the way, this is an auto critic mostly directed at me (and some other distant net user far far away from my contact list) and in no way directed at you, my friends who sometimes visit my pages. And I humbly appreciate you coming and comments on some of my rants really. Please do come again soon :) I enjoy your company and thank you.

Of Cancer

A short message early in that morning from my sister deliver the ill-fated news. One of our closest aunt has passed away after months struggling from cancer. I was deeply saddened because it’s just no more than two months ago she was bursting in tears hugging me tight on her wheelchair when I visit her during my holiday. She could barely moved at that time, her usually lively and cheerful self has gone.

Their son Rafi, is often seen as a replacement son for my father and mother, because I’ve always been away from home since junior high. He is about my age and have a very pleasant demeanor about him. Always handy and willing to help us and others, be it friends or relatives. For example when my mum was sick while my dad was away, he always be the one who took her to the hospital even late at night taking care of everything. Especially during the passing of my sister, how he was the one running errand here and there helping my family. Don’t know how to thank him enough for that. Sometimes I pity the fact that I am so far away from family especially during these hard times.

I remember the day when I reluctantly have to get back to Jakarta, my late aunt and family (who live nearby our home in Makassar), woke up early in the morning and then walk me to the car as we head to the airport. I recall saying how we’ll meet each other again next year and she replied with an Insya Allah remark. It’s happened that this time God didn’t permit us to meet again. May she rest in peace, and God give strength to her family in this time of grieve.

This very morning Leysus - an Indonesian comedian has also passed away of cancer. So did Bastian Tito, the author of Wiro Sableng yesterday. It all made me realize once more how cancer is truly a deadly illness. Like a bad luck or a stray of typhoon landed in our back yard. Nevertheless, lately the media coverage has confirm my burgeoning suspicions about formalin and all sort of hazardous preservatives addition to our daily food. Usually when I bring this to any conversation, people would just dismiss it as hearsay and unfounded rumor. Well, in the interest of self preservation it’s always better for us to watch where and what we eat and drinks, because we never know.

It’s a shame and somewhat irritating really how some people’s lack of respect to other’s health, and I fully support all the institutions who finally investigate this formalin gate. I mean, for one, the package of the substance has already marked with red skull and the word ‘danger’ typed in bold red, if it’s not complete ignorance then I don’t know what else to call it.

It’s been one sad journal. A poem by John Donne perhaps suitable at this moment, because although death is a certainty to all, maybe we can take strength from the courage showed behind these verses.

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

Little House on the Prairie

Life isn’t just all about the endings, is it? It’s a series of continuous moments (unless probably when the judgment day has come obviously). So when we see Tom Hanks and his son finally meet Meg Ryan on top of The Empire Building, or when Hugh Grant rush to the conference room and admits to Julia Robert about being a daft prick, I really would like to know what’s next lie waiting for them. Perhaps we can come back ten years later, are they squabbling a lot? Are they still together? And many other question ones can conjure up their minds (But please none of those dimwitted sequels around).

So when I got me a call the other day from a lady with a nice voice saying that my loan application to their bank is approved, I was overjoyed. I’ve been dreaming about this for so long. Having a home of our own, albeit it’s a small one and situated at about one hour from whence I’m currently working. As the Chinese would say, a journey of thousand miles started with a single step. Well, this is my single step forward.

It was not that easy applying for the loan. Plenty of work papers need to be filled. The Primary Tax Number for one and how to convince the previous owner to let us copy his Ownership Certificate was just among several tricky things we face along the way. Good thing the Bank’s marketing staff happens to know a member of my wife’s family. We really received gargantuan amount of help from him. Imagine, we’ve got our approval notice in less than a week.

My wife is such a great saver. If it were up to me, we’d have end up with zilch amount in the bank, for I was such a reckless spender. But thanks to her crafty and strict expenses management policy, we had enough to pay half the House and save some for renovation and furniture.

Many people said that the price really was a bargain, plenty of offers in the table, yet because the owner is residing in Surabaya, it’s rather difficult for them to reach any agreement. My wife flew all the way to Surabaya to convince the family that we’re the right buyer for them. Kudos for her, she managed to persuade them to come to Jakarta when the contract signing date arrived.

It’s not all well and dandy though; we still have to face the moving on thing, which is going to be a real bitch. Facing several squabbles deciding what color to choose for the paint, what kind of coffee table and sofas to fill the living room. How to be more docile facing the commute every day from home to the office is one of the daunting prospect lies ahead, and many more. Hopefully that will not take the joy out of our new start, as I was saying, life is a series of continuous moments.

When I was a little boy, I loved to watch Little House on the Prairie every Sunday for years. We have our own little house now, and South of Bekasi is our new prairie.

Durian and Tiramisu

Having a lil smidgen of extra money from some moonlighting activities afford us a bit of durian party at home, during the weekend. That juicy and extra sweet fruit isn't one would call a delicacy, as the aftertaste seems rather too strong for some people especially westerner.

Knowing how to pick the right fruit always becomes a tricky part. Luckily the guy who assisted us yesterday really knows his stuff as it turns out the quality of the fruit we bought was top notch. Us Indonesians prefer the balance between the bitter and sweet flavors, which signifies the perfect state of ripeness for the King of Fruit.

The poor taxi driver on our way home probably still busy trying to wipe that strong aroma from his car even tho’ we’ve already double bag ‘em neatly. Hope that extra thousands we spared him could lighten up his mood a bit hehehe, well most likely not.

Some said that people with high blood pressure traditionally advised to avoid durian due to its rich content of cholesterol. That is possibly why today I’m feeling a tad high, drunken of the many curd-like flesh I’ve consumed yesterday. Silly me, I should have drink some water directly from the skin after that.

Speaking of high blood pressure, I was not any smarter several days ago. Ever since I was curious of what tiramisu means in Sleepless in Seattle (you know when Rob Reiner told Tom Hanks how chicks dig it, at first I thought it was some kind of secret Japanese delicacy), I always find myself craving about that famous Italian dessert.

One particular article in a magazine three years ago listed a few places that serve delicious tiramisu in Jakarta. My favorite would be Allessandro Nannini as they dish up a perfect (at least for me) balances of fullness that rich cream, ladyfinger pastry, and strong aroma of cocoa melts in your mouth.

It is hard to describe how tiramisu taste like. It’s sweet and creamy, yet it doesn't taste too sugary, and it doesn't stay in your mouth long enough and just make you crave for another bite. It tastes just absolutely delicious.

The best I ever had would definitely be when we we’re in Il Carminos Trattoria. Heaven in my mouth would be an overstatement, I guess. But it was pretty close, especially as it was free, with the regular fancy office dinner every Thursday night our boss treated us.

Well, in short I gotta work hard to earn that smidgen of extra money so we can afford more durians and tiramisus in the future without having to rob any bank.

Hyperbolic, hehehe I know, told ya I’m a little bit drunk.