Ode to My Mother

You know in movies, when the main protagonists are losing their loved ones, how they’d lament and wish they could spend one more day together, and then cue some sort of tear-jerking orchestration. I’ve always thought that those kind of scenes were a tad too melodramatic.

How wrong was I.

Apparently, there’s nothing like losing your family, mothers, fathers, sons or daughters, sisters and brothers. It really leaves a hole in your heart like no other.

Forty days have gone since my mother passed away, yet the grief and the sorrow still lingers. Especially since, she left us so suddenly. None of my family was prepared of her being gone. She was just so healthy and cheerful in that morning.

Anyway, so there I was, in our family living room in my hometown, one of the more unreligious person you’d ever find, reading passages from the Holy Quran. I did sometimes read the whole translation curiously, because truth be told, I was doubtful of the relevance of that particular verses. However, I kept reading them knowing that she would be sad otherwise.

I wrote a piece in my blog about my father a while back. When he found out about it from my in law, I was told that he was so touched he had tears in his eyes. And I know deep down my mom probably wondering when I was going to write about her. I was going to, truthfully, but somehow it got postponed. Then all of a sudden, she’s not here anymore. I am disappointed at myself so much for this.

My mother was the real ambassador of our little family. She was fluent in five traditional languages, and got along very well with the neighbors or organizations she’s into. The one who single handedly kept everything beautiful in our home. Everything just seems so drab and empty now that she’s not among us anymore.

If I have even an ounce of creativity in me, pretty sure that it belongs in her gene pool. It’s just I don’t have her tact and grace in social life.

My father and I talked the other day mourning the fact that two most social members of our ever so decreasing family, both have gone now. I on the other hand have always been built like him, timid and awkward when socializing with other people.

I know that one could get carried away exaggerating facts when talking about one’s family. However, my late mom and late sis were indeed very well liked throughout their life. The many people that visited us during their memorial service were a testament to that. I’ve got to thank them for their prayers, hopefully it will somewhat summated to my inconsistent and unreligious way of praying for her.

Forty days have gone and here’s an ode to you, Mom. I’m just throwing the sentiments out in the air, hoping that it will reach to wherever you are now. I’m truly sorry I didn’t write it sooner, but know that you always live in my memory. Me, Dad and Fitra miss you so much …

Argh there goes that tears again …

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.

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.

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.
  

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.

Of Losing Family

PS: Friendly advise, if you're not in the mood for anything somber I suggest you skip this, because it's one sad story.

Today would be my late sister's 29th birthday. Yuni passed away seven years ago, just 12 hours before my wedding, after months struggling to battle cancer.

Out of her request, me and my then girlfriend decided to get married earlier in hope that she gets to see her brother tied the knot. Alas it was not to be. 24 hours before, dad called from the hospital saying that she's in critical condition, and that we're losing her. My mum and other sis have to fly back home in a hurry.

We had my uncle be the witness for the wedding. Right away after the reception me and wife flew to Makassar.

Yuni was this very easy going and enthusiastic girl. Quite the opposite of me and my youngest sis, Fitra. She was the light that shone the brightest in our little family. We were so sure she was going places. Winning singing competitions and made good grades in her school. It’s unfortunate, she still had so much to look up to in her future.

Her indomitable spirit and bravery was the reason my father put a lot of hope during the painful chemo treatment. Always be the one with tons of anecdote and jokes to tell. It is quite drab and empty for the rest of us now that she's gone.

The number of friends attending the funeral is a testament of how close she was to her surrounding. Years have passed us by and those dear friends keep visiting her final resting place each Hari Raya. I'm very moved by their loyalty.

I imagine my funeral wouldn't be that crowded, being a very introvert person all my life. Sean Connery said it best in Finding Forrester, "Losing family . . . obliges us to find our family. Not always the family that is our blood, but the family that can become our blood. And should we have the wisdom to open our door to this new family, . . . we will find that the wishes and hopes we once had . . . for the father who once guided us, for the brother who once inspired us, . . . those wishes are there for us once again."

I have my own family now, and in addition, I also have very few close friends who I consider my family, even though being a closed book that I am they might not know it.

Happy birthday Sis.

Of Father and Son

I read somewhere that people generally are divided into two kinds, Bosses and Workers. This has nothing to do with Kiyosaki’s Cash flow Quadrant, where he states about the four kind of workers: Employees, Self-Employed workers, Business Owners, and Investors. The first statement I took (from a particularly forgettable book) just to make my next paragraphs sounds credible.

I had a sister who will most probably end up to be the first kind, but my father and I are definitely the latter one. As genuine workers, we have a huge trade off for our job and financial security by "losing" our chance to become rich quickly (Unless we win a lottery or something). Dad worked as an employee far in a Celebes remote area for Aneka Tambang, some kind of state owned company.

I remember he wakes up every morning and work long hours each day, and always be a hard and dedicated worker without ever being rich.

“At least we make an honest living Heru”, that’s what my father used to say. Yeah, he is an honest and straight as an arrow person. I’m not really sure if I were to be on his position I wouldn’t take plenty advantages from the perk he had during the 30 long years of work in the company.

I still remember like it was yesterday, my mom used to complain about how things are so expensive and we don’t have anything special in the house like our neighbors who had a nice sofa and kitchen set or their son playing with expensive gadgets.

Dad now is already retired and stay in Makassar, along with his gold wrist watch as a token of appreciation from his former company. Not content with nothing to do all day, he decided to open up a ‘not so convenient store’ in our home.

Using my old room and opening up spaces here and there, the shop was ready to sell anything from shampoo sachets to gallons of mineral water. When I was back at home during the last holidays I watched in tears as my dad while sleepy, patiently dealing with a restless junior customer buying candies with a torn 100 rupiah note.

Watching the store and dealing with the many kind of customers is quite an art. You have to be all smiley and helpful and sometimes content with a few being slightly ignorant. Living in the big cities where ten thousands of rupiah is virtually next to nothing, I used to be a little careless with cash.

Something I picked up during my picket time in the shop is that you really have to learn to appreciate money, because you have to work really hard earning every cents.

There’s a popular belief nowadays (with money being the new god) that employees and self employed workers are the worst position to be in. My father may never get rich working this way, but I’m sure that he is happy and proud of what he achieved in his life. How he managed to provide decent education for his son and daughters and still be there for us whenever we needed him.

It was 1991 when my high school selection process began. He drove me with his motorcycle as far as 230 kilometers all by himself. I also recall the day he was so disappointed when I decided to quit military academy to join my uni, yet he keep his loving support through the years.

Well, I don’t know about Rich Dad and Poor Dad, haven’t read it. But I love my Dad, rich or poor.