Jakarta, Jakarta...how we have been cruel to thee...

Living in Jakarta, is like having sex with someone so ugly yet so skillful in giving you the orgasm that gets you addicted. You can’t stand the face sometimes, but you can’t get enough of her touches, her kisses, even her foul smelling breath.

How many times have we been so schizophrenic about this city?. Let’s see. How many times have we cursed Jakarta’s polluted air?. Traffic jams, especially on Friday nights?. The piles of garbage?. The flooding sewers in the rainy seasons?.

At the same time, what praises we have also uttered. The lights are beautiful from so and so building!. XYZ restaurant is so marvelous!. ABC mall is exciting!. Blabla salon has skillful hairdressers!. Naninanina has gorgeous clothes!. Sale, sale!, let’s catch them before it’s over!. And so on, and so forth. At almost every corner of the city, you reach your orgasm, your ecstasy, your cloud 9, whatever it is.

Every now and then, there is always a new place to visit. “A creative lifestyle and entertainment” I read one ad on one of the crossing bridges at Jl. Rasuna Said. And there you see, the same brands of restaurants and what have you. In my eyes there is nothing creative at all in those names, but hey, this ugly bitch called Jakarta is skillful, remember?. You will walk in every single place feeling good that you have been there. Again, there you are. Reaching your ecstasy. You have seen, and also, been seen.

So I wonder sometimes, what are we complaining about, when we are complaining about this city?.

I have been living here my whole life. I have never known what it’s like living in others. Yes, two years in Melbourne but I would not call it ‘living’. I would call it ‘stopping by and trying to blend in’.

I have to admit that I, like many of you, have uttered the same curses to the same things that you have cursed. It is hard not to see the ugly face of Jakarta.

But, today, I laughed at myself. I laughed at those of us who still curse this city, while at the same time we ask it to continue servicing us. What horrible manners!.

I drove from Menteng to my house this afternoon. Passing through Jl. Rasuna Said just about the right time it was beginning to be packed with traffic. And oh how I laughed at us.

How could we curse the traffic when we could actually make a difference?. I looked at the bikers passing by. I admire them. Up till now it is still an idea in my head – to bike from house to office. It is not a long journey either!. And yet, so many reasons not to do it. What a shame!.

Or have we thought of car sharing with neighbours?, relatives?. I think even I have to think long and hard now.

As I played with that thought, two cars in front me, I saw someone throwing away his cigarette butt to the road. What?!. And we complain about the sewers getting stuck?. Yes of course we all know those sewers and drainage systems have crooked constructions, but, what have we done to make sure they are not getting more crooked?. Don’t people know that for every single garbage they throw out of the window, it contributes to the pile of garbage in the sewers and drainage systems?. Not to mention how it then pollutes our already polluted beaches?.

It is sad to see that many citizens of Jakarta actually treat their own place of living as a garbage bin. Don’t they know that it is like saying they live IN a garbage bin?. Yuck. Forget about blaming the government for it, not everyone has to clean up after us.

As I got stuck in the middle of traffic, I looked at the office buildings. Hey, you guys, who complained about PLN (our beloved electric company), have you ever thought of switching off the lights in the office as you walk out of its door?. Yes, PLN has its fault. But, we contribute to that, too, ladies and gentlemen. Have we been responsible in using up energy?. Looks like, we have not, by the looks of how many floors with lamps on in the buildings, whenever I happen to pass Jl. Rasuna Said at 10 or 11pm.

I pity Jakarta. This city is tired. Of being exploited because it is so good in making us feeling good about ourselves. Of being cursed yet at the same time never been given a chance to ask for help from any of us. Nor have we ever cared enough to lend a hand to this tired ugly bitch.

In fact, she is not ugly at all. It has its charms, so let’s stop calling it ugly (I should stop calling it ugly….and should some people who I know have called it ugly). What are we without Jakarta?. Jobless, really. Unless you can create opportunities somewhere else, shut up. As long as we still hang on to the body of this tired old lady, why don’t we just be kind to her?. Before we curse on anything about this city, let’s stop and ask ourselves, what have we done to help it.

And hey, many of you have mistress. You call it Bandung, Yogya, Makassar, you name it. Our family calls it ‘The Cocoon’. Go to your mistress on the weekends, or whenever you want. And when you come back, stop complaining. And be kind to her.

Have a good weekend!.

(RIRI)

Menggugat, atau digugat, cinta?

Lolita.

Saya nonton film ini tahun 1998. Dibintangi oleh Jeremy Irons dan Dominique Swain. Ceritanya tentang Prof. Humbert Humbert yang jatuh cinta berat pada anak induk semangnya. Dolores Haze, atau Dolly, atau Lolita, atau Lola. Dia lalu menikahi si induk semang demi selalu dekat dengan Lolita. Ndilalah si istri kemudian menemukan buku harian sang profesor yang isinya adalah segala impian dan keinginannya sebagai laki-laki kepada perempuan, yang notabene adalah anak remajanya.

Si istri marah, merencanakan melarikan diri bersama anak perempuannya, tapi lalu ia meninggal karena tertabrak motor tidak jauh dari rumah mereka. Merdekalah si profesor, dan ia berkelana dengan Lolita, berkeliling Amerka, dan bertualang atas nama cinta.

Sejak nonton filmnya, saya tertarik untuk membaca karya asli dari Vladimir Nabokov ini, salah satu dari beberapa karya sastra yang paling berpengaruh di dunia. Beberapa minggu lalu, akhirnya saya selesai baca novel terjemahannya (oh kapan ya novel-novel berbahasa Inggris bisa lebih terjangkau harganya....mimpi dulu deh). Dan, saya jadi kasihan juga pada Prof. Humbert Humbert.

Dalam ilmu psikologi, ada label yang diberikan buat orang-orang seperti si profesor. Pedofil. Hiiii....sebagai seorang ibu yang mempunyai anak perempuan, saya selalu merinding kalau membaca berita-berita yang berkaitan dengan kelainan yang satu itu. Tapi, membaca Lolita, saya melihatnya dari kacamata yang berbeda.

Lolita ditulis dengan menggunakan sudut pandang si profesor. Betapa ia menderita karena secara tiba-tiba kehilangan pujaan hatinya saat ia remaja. Dan bayangan sang pujaan hati itu yang ia bawa sampai ia dewasa, sampai akhirnya ia merasa bertemu lagi dengan sang dewi dalam bentuk seorang Lolita. Tapi itu jadi perjalanan cinta yang berujung tragis. Sang profesor terjebak, terkungkung, tersiksa.

Sampai akhirnya ia berhasil berkelana dengan Lolita selepas kematian ibunya, Prof. Humbert tahu bahwa ia tidak pernah memiliki hati Lolita. Sementara ia mencurahkan segalanya untuk sang dewi, Lolita memperlakukannya sebagai gudang uang. Lolita ternyata juga tidak sepolos yang Prof. Humbert kira – hubungan seks sudah dikenal oleh gadis kecil itu. Dan akhirnya, yang saya terjemahkan adalah, Prof. Humbert-lah yang dimanipulasi oleh Lolita, dan bukan sebaliknya.

Ada satu masa di tengah pengelanaan mereka dimana Prof. Humbert sangat ingin Lolita juga mencintainya seperti ia mencintai Lolita. Tapi Lolita tidak pernah merasakan hal yang sama. Dan meranalah Prof. Humbert dengan perasaan curiga dan ketakutan, bahwa satu hari, Lolita akan pergi meninggalkan ia sendiri.

Akhirnya memang Lolita berhasil melarikan diri dari Prof. Humbert. Dan bertahun-tahun si profesor merana menahan perasaannya, tidak menemukan lagi sang dewi dalam anak kecil manapun yang ia lihat. Sampai kemudian ia mendapatkan surat dari Lolita yang ketika itu sudah berusia 17 tahun, sedang hamil, miskin, dan membutuhkan uang.

Prof. Humbert datang menemui Lolita, dengan masih membawa cintanya. Masih berharap Lolita akan kembali, membiarkannya mencintainya, dan berharap Lolita satu hari bisa memberikan cintanya. Tapi Prof. Humbert harus pulang dengan tangan hampa, lagi, sendiri.

Di bagian ini saya tersentak. Tiba-tiba mata saya berkaca-kaca membayangkan si profesor melangkah gontai dengan wajah tertunduk. Sekali lagi harus kehilangan cintanya.

Can you imagine feeling that way?. Watching the one you love slipping away, turning her or his back on you? Not caring for what you are feeling for her or him?.

Memang buku ini bercerita tentang seorang pedofil, yang dari kacamata kita, abnormal. Tapi, perasaan yang dipunyai Prof. Humber juga sangat normal kan?. Itu perasaan yang kita semua bisa miliki. Dan pada akhirnya, novel ini untuk saya adalah bercerita tentang cinta yang menggugat, atau digugat, oleh si perasa cinta itu. Pedofilia atau tidak.

Saya bukan akhirnya memihak pedofil dan bilang bahwa itu adalah perilaku yang bisa diterima. Tapi buku ini mudah-mudahan bisa jadi pengingat buat saya, bahwa yang kita lihat sebagai abnormal juga punya sisi-sisi yang normal. Dan pada akhirnya abnormalitas atau normalitas itu selalu relatif.

(Note saja. Waktu saya cari informasi tentang Lolita, dan saya ketik di google, saya jadi nyengir sendiri melihat hasilnya: beratus-ratus pornographic site. Setelah membaca novelnya, saya agak sedih juga. Karena Lolita, sebetulnya cerita yang menyentuh tentang cinta dan kesendirian. Hanya karena bungkusnya tentang pedofilia, lalu terkesan sangat seksual. Padahal di novelnya, penggambaran hubungan seks antara Humbert dan Lolita itu sangat halus dan tidak vulgar. Ah manusia, memang punya daya interpretasi yang menarik :))

(RIRI)

An invitation

You were with me last nite, all nite long
You were with me, visiting all those batik workshops when dusk hit
You were there when this morning I strolled along the narrow lanes of Laweyan
and prayed in a 500 years old mosque

This is an invitation Riri…next time …



At 9:43 - a text message from Ciptadi who was in Solo till this morning.

Such a great way to start my day in the office….thinking of our possible next trip together!. And it’s made me dreamed of the days when we can just grab our backpacks and go exploring this God given wonderful world…before it quits on us.

Sometimes, when there are natural disasters, I can only pray for that. That we are still given some days, or months, or years, to see what we have not seen. To explore what we have not explored. Because those, can bring us even closer to feeling that God is good, and if there is anything bad, we bring it to ourselves.

Many times, I feel that we are racing with time just to see the places near to us.

In Kompas today, the headline was ‘Everyone Has to be Prepared’ (Semua Harus Siap Siaga). The news talked about earthquakes that will still happen. Of course, why shouldn’t they keep happening?. This earth is not getting any younger, yet its burden is not getting any lighter, either. And we keep on digging and scrounging what we can from it. So how can it stand still?.

Oh well. Cip’s message this morning did make me very happy. For the thought that we will explore some places again. Again showing and sharing with Tara what made us fell in love with some places. Hoping that she will keep those memories as we keep ours, that when those places are no longer there, at least the images stay in her mind.

Just like the way Sitinjau Lauik stays in my mind. One of the most beautiful sunsets that I have ever seen in my life, in one tranquil afternoon, sitting far from the beach on that very road. The way all the winding roads from Padang to Payakumbuh have made me dizzy, as well as made me awe for its thick vegetation, and stunning views.


An invitation. That was all I needed, to remind me how much I have not seen nor remembered well. And so, I must answer that.

Cip, let’s go. Before they are all gone, before they are all taken from us. Let’s go.

(RIRI)

Franklin – A Little Inspiration

My learning about current characters that children love started from bookstores. That was also how I found out about Franklin, the creation of Paulette Bourgeois.

We have become so much in love with this character. His stories are always so real, that it is so easy for us to make Tara learn some things about daily life just by reading her various stories of Franklin and his friends.

And one day when I needed an inspiration, Franklin came to my rescue.

A wish

It all started with a wish. That Tara grows up to be someone who pays attention to the less fortunate people given the fortunate life that she has. That one day Tara understands that for everything that she has, there is a little something that belongs to those who do not have anything.

So when she had her third birthday, we decided to celebrate that in an orphanage. We wanted her to see the less fortunate kids, and learn to share her joy with them. It was a joyful, also tearful, experience. We all enjoyed it.

Tara enjoyed it because she could play with smaller kids. We enjoyed it because we could share our happiness with those kids. Some of them never even knew their parents. One of them hugged me, and I almost fell down on my knees into tears when he looked at me and called me, “Ibu” (or mother), with such a sweet voice. And that day Cip and I knew that we would make it a habit to visit orphanage on her birthdays.

Then came 23 September 2009. Tara turned 5. The age that marked a difference. She was no longer the ‘below 5’, she is going to a different stage (and us, a different headache). I had been looking forward to this time. And I had been squeezing my brain to think of how to celebrate this day so it can be meaningful not only to us, but also to others.

We knew that we had to celebrate this big day by sharing again. So the first thing I did was to find an orphanage. My criterion was unfortunately very simple: it had to be close from home. Because I knew we would not have enough energy to go too far, since the date that we picked was close to Eid (27 September, just a week after Eid). We would just be back from our home coming trip, and a lot of other things to do after it, that I knew it would be asking too much of myself to plan something far from home.

And so I found one. After that, I wrecked my brain to think of how to make the celebration fun, for us and for those kids.

Thankfully, one of Franklin’s stories inspired me.

Franklin’s Birthday Party

We bought this one last year, with no special intention other than buying a new book for us to read to Tara as we have run out of options at home. But nonetheless, this book came to my rescue.

In this story, Franklin wanted to have his birthday at an amusement park because his friends suggested that he celebrated his birthday at a place with lots of games to play with. But of course a trip to the amusement park was too expensive for his parents to pay for, if he wanted to invite all of his friends. So his father had an idea that they built games at their backyard, complete with all the prizes to win at each game. And so they built mini-golf, fountain, and some other games at home. And on Franklin’s birthday, the backyard became an amusement park. This then became the best birthday party that Franklin has ever had, and he and his friends had a lot of fun.

I suddenly remembered this story when Tara, Cip and I were playing in Tara’s room at The Cocoon, our hideaway in BSD. That time we were playing with Tara’s play mat, pretending that it was a lake full with crocodiles, and we had to jump from one mat to the other so we would not fall into the lake. As I jumped from one mat to another, I thought, hey, why not creating games for Tara’s birthday.

So I told Cip and Tara, what if we did what Franklin did on his birthday. Why didn’t we create games for others to enjoy. They just loved the idea. And so, Cip and I began planning.

A day that has brought a smile to everyone

Then came the Big day.

We had five games: fishing, bowling, putting marbles in a glass, make your dot in the circle, and complete your puzzle. For every game, there is a prize – just some wafer or biscuit or chocolate, from the brands that kids know (and I thought, love, based on so many consumer focus group discussions that I had listened to!. There is a merit in being a marketing researcher!).

We hired an MC and a Barney clown. We asked some lovely friends to help out (ladies, we could not have done this without your kindest help!!).

We only invited some friends, just so we could meet up since Eid was just over, and also as a ‘test’ to see if this idea was really liked and could really make kids excited so we can repeat later. We asked those who could come to bring whatever they wanted to donate to the orphanage – be them books or clothes. We thought, why not make this a day that we really shared things. I did not want Tara to have her presents thinking that there are other kids who never even get anything on their birthdays.

Each kid was given five colourful coupons (they were just simply colourful post its – oh well, I just ran out of imagination!), that they could use at any game. And they just loved it!.

And it turned out to be a wonderful day for all of us.

Get your candies from the pinnata!!!

and everyone had lots of fun...

We always thought of big things to make kids happy. And yet, an idea that was so simple, could actually bring so much fun and laughter. It was wonderful to see Tara laughed so much with her friends, and her friends – old and new, to have also laughed as much.

Cip and I are not sure how much the day has imprinted an image in Tara’s mind. But we both know that she can still remember that visit to the orphanage on her third birthday. So, we trust that her grey cells had been working hard to store the memories of the 27^th September as yet another loving memory in her life. And hope, a loving memory that is associated with loving others, that one day she can extract and use in her daily life.

And I wish that everyone who was there could also keep that memory of sharing. At the end of the day, we all live for and with one another, no man is an island. Thank you for coming and sharing. May God give you a fortunate life for always.

My HUGE thanks to my lovely, beautiful hearted friends who helped preparing for this event – Sita, Erta, Dina…love you ladies!. Without friends like you, this world is an empty space!.

And I pray that God continues to grant us health, so we can continue thinking of how to make sharing fun, and to share fun to others. Everyone deserves a little help to smile.

(RIRI)

From 'The House of the Spirits' to 'Casa Allende'

It isn’t personal, everyone is responsible for his or her own feelings, and life isn’t fair.

Nico’s mantra of life. I just love it. It puts sense in this chaotic life. Though in his mother’s eyes, it is also one of the coldest look at life. But it can keep one’s sanity intact when trouble hits from back, front, up and down, in my opinion.

I took it from Isabel Allende’s novel, The Sum of Our Days. A memoir of her life that she wrote in the wake of the tragic death of her daughter, Paula.

The first novel that got me curious

I first fell in love with Allende’s work when I read Allende's first novel, The House of the Spirits. I watched the movie, and I was so curious about the actual story that when I saw the book at a garage sale, I bought it. And that was when I got curious about the author.

The House of the Spirits had such a

vivid portrait of what life was like in Chile in the twentieth century. And what was fascinating to me was also how vivid the portrayal of the spirits in Esteban Trueba’s house. And of Ferula, Esteban’s sister, who at the end seemed to live on as another spirit in Trueba’s house. The author must have experienced these things herself. And as I later found out in Sum of Our Days, Isabel Allende truly was a believer in spirits.

And apparently the book did cause her to be opposed by her family. She used ‘grandparents, some uncles, and other bizarre characters in my large Chilean tribe as models, as well as political happenings of the time and anecdotes I’d listened to my grandfather tell for years, but I’d never imagined that some people would take it literally’.

For years some members of her family did not talk to her, or avoided her. But the movie remedied the situation, as great as ‘photographs of Meryl Streep and Jeremy Irons have replaced those of my grandparents’.

And now having read 'The Sum of Our Days', I found it filled with lessons of life. From dealing with grief, to dealing with the unborn. From being in loneliness, to finding a circle of friends who you can really rely on. About surviving a marriage, or the un-married. About dealing with own frustrations and lost of ideas (she experienced a writer’s block for sometime). And there are many more lessons that I took without feeling that I was being ‘taught’, because the language in the novel was like a conversation between Allende and Paula. And what a beautiful conversation it was.

Her personal experiences that have made a mark

And I just love her tongue in cheek way of describing events in her life. My favourite was when she described the event where she was trusted to carry the Olympic flag in the Winter Games in Italy, in February 2006. It was here she met Sophia Loren, who she described as ‘from another era, very different from today’s models and actresses, who look like skeletons with false breasts. Her beauty is legendary, and apparently indestructible’.

It was also here she met Wangari Maathai, ‘who works with women in African villages and has planted more than thirty million trees, changing the soil and the weather in some regions’. Allende was very impressed with this woman, who she described as someone who ‘glows like a lamp, and I felt an irresistible urge to put my arms around her, something that occasionally happens in the presence of certain young men, but never with a lady like her’.

It was heartwarming to read someone of her current stature describing what she felt when she finally took the walk down the arena with the Olympic flag in her hand. ‘I trotted behind on tiptoe, holding my section above my head with my arm extended. I was dwarfed beneath the damned flag. Of course all cameras were focused on Sophia Loren, the eternal symbol of beauty and sexuality, and that worked in my favor because I appeared in all the press photographs, even though between Sophia’s legs’. And it was her four minutes of fame that she never wants to forget.

She has traveled a lot especially for book launches. But one of her most remembered journey, apparently was same like mine: a trip to India!. She took this trip with Tabra, her closest friend, and Willie her husband. At first she did not want to go there but her friend and husband convinced her that there was more to India than ‘devastated villages, starting children, and nine-year-old girls sold into early marriages, forced labour, or prostitution’. She also thought of Paula, who one day went to India and convinced her that ‘India is the richest source of inspiration for a writer’.

She came back home from India, fascinated. She said that ‘India was one of those experiences that mark you for life, memorable for many reasons’.

I could not help thinking and remembering my own trip to India two years ago. I only spent two days of traveling though was there for seven days, the five long days I was in a concentration camp…literally, I had to concentrate on some training while my mind was wandering somewhere else!. But up until today, those two days really left a mark on my mind. India is indeed fascinating, some kind of a psychedelic experience, that somehow lingers on my mind till today.

The Taj is just one of India's wonders that have been

imprinted on my mind...there are more...lots more

Her colourful family life

It is also touching to read how Allende has tried to ensure she has her ‘tribe’ around her. Being a Chilean who is used to a large family, she also wants to have it in the USA where she has migrated to. And it was no easy ride for her, neither for her family members.

Nico, her son, one day had to tell her that she was too much in their lives. She used to come into her son’s house uninvited, changed‘make myself scarce, and added that children must be separated from the mother or they will be infantile forever’ things in his home without approval, gave her grandchildren things that her son and wife have forbidden them to do or eat.

It was a blow for Allende. She ‘called Chile and talked with my parents. At first they didn’t understand very well what the problem was, since in Chilean families relations tend to be what I had imposed on Nico and Lori, but then they remembered that customs are different in the United States’. Her father gave her an advice to ‘make myself scarce, and added that children must be separated from the mother or they will be infantile forever’. That opened her eyes, made her realized that her son and wife (who is an American), need their space.

That story made me reflected on my own family life. We live with my mother, and it must have been difficult to be her. Trying to restrain self not to intrude and yet, somehow sometimes has successfully done just that. We have had our disagreements. And I think now we are in good terms because of two things: we have made ourselves scarce from time to time by going to our Cocoon, or traveling. I guess, distance and scarcity can really make the heart grows fonder.

I am sure when Tara is married and has her own kids, I may do the same thing that Allende or my mother has done as a grandmother. Hopefully, I can still remember her father’s advise if we ever get into disagreement, as what I have experienced myself.

Her marriage life is not without problems. They almost got divorced. They consulted a therapist and worked hard on their marriage and they pulled through. She is often asked in interviews about her secrets to maintain her notable relationship with Willie. Rather than giving a formula, she told a story when she learned something from a composer and his wife who visited her family.

This couple renewed their commitments seven times during their long life together (they were in their sixties). The composer said, “In all, we have gone through seven marriages and no doubt there are more to come. It isn’t the same thing to be a couple when you are raising children, with no money and no time, as when you are in your mature years, established in your profession, and expecting your first grandchild”.

So I guess, just like running a company where we have the strategic meeting every year to review the year before and then to decide what the next target will be for the next year, the same goes with marriage. Well, not in such a ‘cold’ thing as determining a target. But, a review, re-establishment, re-adjustment, and, renewal, is going to be needed by both parties. I kind of like that idea. Rather than having myself busy only thinking of, “What should be my next business achievement?”, I should also be thinking of, “Where is this marriage going and what should we do more or less of to still make it work?”.

That may sound easy, but with our hectic life, somehow I think we forget about asking this kind of question about our personal life, till one day we realize it’s too late to ask questions. I am hoping I don’t have to be at such point. Thanks to Allende’s novel – I was reminded.

Inspirations to other writers

And to anyone wanting to be a writer, I think reading Allende’s book is going to be quite inspiring. It is just fascinating to read her rich personal experiences turned into a wonderful memoir of life. And it is also interesting, at least for me, to know that Allende has even published a trilogy for teens. She did this because her grandchildren often asked her to create stories for them using clues that they gave to her. And sometimes, her grandchildren asked her to tell them the same story that she has told them before – which of course she could no longer remember. So one day she decided to write a trilogy of fiction, with active participation of her grandchildren in giving her clues and inspiration.

What a wonderful way to bond as well, I think. And a very good reason to start writing so you have a memory of what it was with your loved ones.

A novel worth reading

So, all in all, my verdict for this memoir is EXCELLENT. Very easy reading though at some parts the topic is actually heavy. Very nice conversational language. And the best thing is, so much that you can possibly take as a lesson in life.

I like this a lot better than any Paulo Coelho novels which I somehow found too wishy woshy, and filled with languages that are too flowery. Allende uses words that are direct, and her sense of humour is remarkable. I guess this is perhaps the result of her years of training in Journalism before she turned into a novelist.

If you are looking for some inspiration in life, try reading this novel. And then maybe you can share with me what your favourite parts were.

(RIRI)

The Backyardigans – a wealth of learning

Spoken:
Hi, I'm Pablo.
My name's Tyrone.
I'm Uniqua.
I'm Tasha.
And my name is Austin.
And we're ...

Sung:
Your backyard friends, the Backyardigans!
Together in the backyard again,
In the place where we belong,
Where we'll prob'ly sing a song,
And we'll maybe dance along.

We've got the whole wide world in our yard to explore.
We always find things we've never seen before.
That's why every day we're back for more
With your friends, the Backyardigans.


This cartoon series always open up with this very cute theme song that I just love so much.

We came across it when we searched for DVDs that Tara could watch when she was nearly 1 year old. Turned out, not only her, but I also fell in love with it. And I think this is a wonderful cartoon for kids to watch. There are many elements that kids can learn from it: love for friends, for adventure through imagination, about different types of music, different places and habit in those places.

Visually, it is very attractive. Start from the five pals: Uniqua, Pablo, Tyrone, Tasha, and Austin. Plump little animals, each with their own visual identity. Uniqua with her pink body and dots, Pablo – the blue penguin, Tyrone – the orange deer, Tasha – the yellow hippo, and Austin – I am never really sure what animal he is but I like his thick tail and cute little ears. They look so adorable with their plump body and smiling faces.

And when they use their imagination to do different activities in different places, these places are always great to see. They ‘go’ to Egypt, South Pole, North Pole, the thick forest of Kalimantan, Inca temple, Saudi Arabia…and lots of other places. They become Vikings, gold diggers, doctors, princes and princesses, knights, kings, queens, scientists…and lots of others.

What I also find very appealing is the way these friends behave differently. Uniqua is the smart one – she knows many things and can solve any problems in a calm way. She is smart but not a geek. Tasha is very girly – she tends to have the role of a princess or queen, she just loves to be the center of attention. Pablo – the oh so panicky one who walks around and around when he is panic and usually stops when his friends shout, “Pablo!”, and he will stop and say, “Yes?”. Tyrone is the absent minded one. Maybe others don’t see him as that but to me he has a sense of absent mindedness that is actually quite cute!. Austin the shy yet very practical person. He sometimes comes across as the MacGyver of the gang. He can always come up with practical solutions to things.

With different personality attached to each of these characters, the watching experience is so different. Compared to watching The Little Einsteins – each character in that show seems to be similar to one another. Everyone is a ‘do-gooder’. And many times so unappealingly too clever and smart that I lose the sense that they should actually portray little kids, with Einstein’s brain or not. The Backyardigans are different. Each has his or her own peculiarities, which make every story so alive.

And I just love the music and songs. It helps us to introduce different kinds of music to Tara. From jazz to rock’n roll, samba to bossanova, chacha to the drama musical type of music. Various types!. I have not come across one that has a similar music type to the other series. So it is a wonderful collection of not only cartoon, but also music.

Most of all, it helps Tara to grasp the value of imagination, and of friendship. I often wish that Tara could find such friends who take the group around the world with their imagination. I really don’t mind if they wreck the whole of our house’s backyard, as long as they can have fun and learn by having fun. They will learn much more anyway when they are having fun.

And Tara learns to expand her imagination by playing out each of the story that she has seen. She clutters our living room every time she does so, but what the heck. I would rather see her doing that, than busy with a portable PS and becoming a gadget freak who does not care for anything that happens around her.



In an environment where playing in the backyard seems to be replaced by playing in Timezone in the malls, The Backyardigans bring a whiff of fresh air. It constantly reminds me that no matter how small, a backyard is the closest outdoor environment a kid can explore. And one where they can make any kinds of mess without me worrying of stains on anything.

And I hope we get to see more of these kinds of series for children, and hopefully one day, made in Indonesia.

(RIRI)

In the Heat of the Day, I found You

Bourke Street, Melbourne. Where we often went to find refuge during summer

Mid-summer of 1998. It was 5pm. Melbourne had its usual 40 degrees of heat again. That heat at mid-day has left us with a misty and stuffy afternoon. So stuffy that we found it hard to breathe as we walked out of the department store where we found refuge for a couple of hours. We walked through the shaded part of Bourke Street. Too weak to actually go anywhere else. But we had no choice but going to the station. These shopping centres were closed at 5, leaving us with the only option that we tried to avoid all day: home.

And sunset would not arrive until 9. Just imagining it made us felt very dizzy. Thinking of spending the next 3 to 4 hours at home was no comfort. In this heat, home was a place of trapped heat. It was just going to make it harder for us to cope.

And there was no one at home. There was no warmth of togetherness that we so long to feel. To anticipate the fast breaking time together with family or friends. There was just each of us, caring for ourselves. But still, home we went, as we had no other choice.



We separated at Flinders Street station. My two other friends went to other directions. My train arrived first. Luckily, it was an air conditioned train. At least for the next 15 minutes, I was safe.

Reaching my destination, walking onto the heat again, was a bit of a nightmare after that short cooling sensation. But again, I was lucky. My flat was located at a street where it was shaded in the afternoon. So I walked slowly home, as I did not feel that I still had the energy to walk.

Then, home. An empty home. Not sure where my flat mate was. I walked in, and quickly slumped myself at the sofa. Too tired to move anywhere else. Lucky we opened all windows (and lucky we lived in Melbourne. If it was Jakarta maybe I would find the flat empty of our things too), so the heat was not as bad as I thought it would be.

And maybe because I was too tired, I fell asleep on that sofa. When I woke up, it was only 8. The sun still glared, but softer now. I performed ablution, and took my afternoon prayer. After that I took a bath, picked up a book, and just sat quietly in the quiet flat reading my book till it was time to break my fast.

And breaking the fast was no feast. I only made some fried chicken and stir fried veggie the day before. So I ate that left over. But, it was the tastiest, most wholesome food, that I ever tasted in my mouth. And the word ‘Alhamdulillah’ meant a lot more to me.



Alhamdulillah I could experience what it was like to fast in a country where you are not protected. People eat and drink as they please around you. There are no curtains in the restaurants (which I always find silly to do, why cover the most natural activity of human being, even in fasting month?). There is no mosque in the neighbourhood that tells you each time for prayer, so you have to hang on to your own watch.
Alhamdulillah I could experience what it was like to fast far away from my family. What it was like to wake up in that early morning, alone. And to break my fast, alone.
Alhamdulillah I got to experience fasting in such a heat. 40 degrees in almost more than half of fasting month that fell in that year’s summer. And yet, I felt a strange cool sensation in my heart.

Through these experiences, I found You, Allah. I was happy to feel You by myself. In those lonely nights, that scorching heat, the stinging feel of the sun on my skin when I tried to go out during mid-day, that food that I cooked by and for myself. All those experiences, meant a lot more to me than just mere prayers. And I was never one who was diligent with my prayers, You know that. But still, I could feel You that time, through what I did, alone. And for that, thank You.

Though I was with friends, it was also the loneliest Idul Fitri that I ever experienced in my entire life, but it was also the most beautiful one. I missed visiting my grandparent’s and father’s graves (and he was only gone two months before. You know I refused to go back home, despite my mother’s broken voice on the phone a week before Ramadhan begging me to come, because I avoided the reality of not seeing him at home during Ramadhan and Idul Fitri. Oh how I missed him that time). I missed my mother and sister and family, and yet, strangely, I felt very happy. You were there with me when my forehead touched the ground in the Idul Fitri prayer. You were smiling with me. Strangely, that was the first time I felt like crying in my Idul Fitri prayer. I guess I never really felt You. Or I was just too ignorant or too busy with myself to feel You. But that time, I felt You.


And now every Ramadhan, I remember those experiences. And every time I cannot help feeling more grateful for what I have year to year since then.

So again, thank You.


(That Ramadhan in Melbourne, was the most memorable, because I was a minority, and I was ‘alone’. Somehow the experience was ‘blown up’ simply because I was not ‘protected’. Until now I never understand, for instance, why restaurants have curtains during fasting month, when there are others who need to eat, and eating is human. Why cover it up?. Fasting, just like every other ‘ibadah’, is personal, it cannot be forced on others. Nor should we force others to bend their backs just because we are doing our ibadah. It is between you, and your Creator. And by doing so, hopefully, we find our ways to The Creator. Whatever we do. That’s my view)

(RIRI)

Kalau Proklamasi Diserahkan Pada Soekarno – Hatta..

Kalau proklamasi diserahkan Pada Soekarno-Hatta, tentu tanggalnya bukan 17 Agustus. Dan bisa jadi bukan di tahun keramat itu, bukan 1945. Orang tua akan cenderung hati-hati dan mengatur nafas, saat melihat kekacauan yang serba mendadak. Seperti rontoknya petualangan militer Jepang di Pasifik. Republik compang-camping ini, dengan segala kekisruhannya waktu itu, mana bisa menopang kemerdekaan yang membutuhkan disiplin dan komando?

Hatta dan Soekarno mempercayai perjuangan gradual, persiapan kemerdekaan secara bertahap. Para administrator dan birokrat dilatih pelan-pelan, tentara didisiplinkan, dan kemerdekaan diakui melalui meja perundingan. Apalagi beberapa hari sebelumnya, komandan militer tertinggi Jepang telah menitahkan: Indonesia akan memperoleh kemerdekaan (dari Jepang) tak lama lagi. Titah itu dikeluarkan di Dalat, Vietnam, dan Soekarno-Hatta berada di sana.

Lalu, mengapa harus menempuh resiko, dan bertualang dengan melakukan manuver proklamasi? Bisa-bisa memancing reaksi berdarah yang tak perlu, bukan? Make sense. Rasional. Dan jangan salah, bagaimanapun keduanya besar dalam pendidikan Belanda dan Jepang.

Butuh beberapa orang gila, dan biasanya mereka anak-anak muda, untuk meyakinkan pemimpin yang cenderung berpikir serba hati-hati dan kalkulatif -- macam Soekarno-Hatta -- bahwa proklamasi harus dibacakan secepatnya, seberapapun biayanya! Bagi anak-anak muda ini, kemerdekaan bukanlah tanda-tangan yang lahir dari diskusi-diskusi rasional di ruang sidang. Kemerdekaan adalah luapan jiwa. Kemerdekaan adalah pernyataan kesadaran. Kemerdekaan adalah partisipasi rakyat jelata!

Kemerdekaan juga masalah momentum. Power vacuum yang tercipta oleh kekalahan Jepang, dan keterlambatan Sekutu mendarat di Jawa, hanya akan terjadi dalam hitungan hari. Kalkulasinya sangat sederhana: bertindak cepat, atau sejarah tak akan berpihak lagi.

Anak-anak gila itu bekerja dengan serba cepat. Beberapa orang memutuskan menyekap Soekarno dan Hatta di Rengas Dengklok. Menerbangkannya secara tergesa-gesa di pagi-pagi buta 16 Aug, termasuk mengangkut keluarga mereka. Beberapa anak muda lain menanti disana: menantang debat jagoan-jagoan tua ini. Isi kepala mereka tuntas: merdeka sekarang, dan tidak menanti!

Yang lain melakukan lobi-lobi serentak. Termasuk mendekati beberapa tokoh kunci Jepang yang cenderung mendukung kemerdekaan, ketimbang menyerahkan kembali ke Sekutu. Belakangan mereka mendapati seorang marsekal simpatik yang mensuplai mereka dengan tempat yang aman dari endusan Kempetai dan update terakhir perang Pasifik Raya. Kediamannya nanti akan menjadi bagian sejarah: tempat koordinasi teknis terakhir proklamasi. Living room-nya, menjadi saksi pengetikan naskah proklamasi.

Kelompok ketiga menyisir pulau Jawa, mengabarkan rencana proklamasi yang niatnya hendak dibacakan di Jakarta. Mereka membayangkan, maklumat ini akan diikuti oleh pengambilalihan kekuasaan (dari Jepang) dan pengibaran bendera secara serentak di kota-kota utama pulau Jawa. Ketika mereka meninggalkan Jakarta 14-Aug, mereka tak memiliki kepastian: apakah teman-teman mereka di Jakarta berhasil melobi Soekarno Hatta atau gagal samasekali.
Tapi target mereka bulat dan tunggal: pengibaran bendera dan upacara proklamasi secara serentak di Indonesia, tanggal 16 Agustus. Bukan 17 Agustus..

Sayangnya, tak mudah juga meyakinkan orang tua. Apalagi jika orang-orangnya secerdas Soekarno dan Hatta. Meski kedua jenius ini akhirnya bertekuk lutut pada kegilaan junior-junior-nya, proklamasi tetap terlambat satu hari dari yang semula direncanakan. Bukannya 16 Agustus. Proklamasi baru bisa dibacakan pada keesekokan harinya, jam 10 pagi, di sebuah bangunan sederhana di Jalan Pegangsaan.

Lucunya, beberapa kota, misalnya Cirebon dan Pekalongan, gagal menerima update keterlambatan ini. Pengibaran bendera dan upacara kemerdekaan tetap dilangsungkan sehari sebelumnya, 16 Agustus.



[...]


Saya dan beberapa teman dekat saya, dalam hati selalu merayakan dan menganggap proklamasi terjadi pada tanggal 16 Aug. Dan bukan di tanggal formal yang keramat itu: 17. Ini adalah semacam penghormatan pada peranan kaum muda di tahun-tahun paling menentukan bagi Repoeblik ini: 1945-1949. Sebuah peranan yang banyak dikesampingkan, dan bahkan dilupakan. Tenggelam dibawah dominasi satu dua nama besar..

Kecuali Soekarni, Adam Malik, Chaerul Saleh, dan beberapa yang lain, Anda mungkin tidak akan pernah mengenal puluhan pemuda-pemuda sinting ini, seandainya nama mereka disebutkan di buku-buku sejarah. A band of rascals, yang ketajaman dan keberaniannya membuat mereka merencanakan dan mengeksekusi salah satu persekongkolan paling penting bagi Indonesia. Yakni kemerdekaannya sendiri.

Sampai sekarang saya bersyukur, merekalah arsitek proklamasi, dan bukan dua nama besar yang sama-sama kita hormati itu. Dalam diri anak muda, memang ada kegilaan. Di saat yang sama, juga ada kejujuran dan keberanian, yang melahirkan sejenis kepekaan akut pada momentum.

Menyerahkannya pada Soekarno-Hatta, pengumuman Merdeka bisa saja baru akan terjadi dua bulan lagi, dua tahun lagi, atau malah sebagaimana versi Belanda: di tahun 1949, ketika Konferensi Meja Bundar berhasil disepakati.

Tapi alhamdulillah, sejarah menempuh jalan lain. Jalan yang diterabas oleh kaoem moeda.

16 Agustus.
Jayalah Repoeblik! Hidup anak muda! Merdeka!

---

Dicatat dengan penuh rasa, ditemani oleh ingatan yang kabur pada dua buku yang pernah amat mencekam masa-masa mahasiswa saya: “Java In A Time Of Revolution: Occupation and Resistance 1944-46” oleh Benedict Anderson, dan “Nationalism and Revolution in Indonesia” oleh George McTurnan Kahin.

(CIP - sebuah note di Facebook tanggal 16 Agustus 2009)