simple pages of klak

In the best 'pose' of the children

2012-01-08T01:16:00.000-08:00

How many times, in a day, you see children? How many times, in a week, you interact with them? Answers will be vary. Have kids on your own, most probably you have to deal with them every day. A teacher? Monday to Friday.

Again, how many times in a day, when you are surfing the magic world of internet, you stumble upon some pictures of cute children with all their cheeky grins? Crying, playing, laughing, bathing, eating, sleeping. And in second, you found yourselves, like me, going, 'Aaaaah...' with eyes softened and eyebrows curving down. They are just so adorable, aren't they?

Images of children are everywhere. TV (most ads now use kids, even for product that children don't use or has nothing to do with children), radio, newspaper, magazine (how many magz are now dedicated to 'smart and sensible' parents? With glossy pages of proud good-looking mom and dad pose with their kids in oh-so-adorable-outfits), pamflet or business logo or NGOs' reports (from the appeal for war-torn kids in Afghanistan to NGOs' new hips of smiling African girls), and of course, your daily supply of online media.

On my facebook, I have some friends who are (recently) taking role as mothers (and it seems that the number grows exponentially every year, higher speed and soon I'll be attending christening rather than wedding -alone *sigh). Everyday, there'll always be two or three of them post pictures of their children doing stuff. Cute!!! I have to admit, although sometimes it gets too much. One of my friends irritates me (no I don't storm it out at her) by posting almost every single move of her son, from getting up in the morning, sleeping peacefully, crying, fighting, eating, sitting idly after eating, opening the gifts. Really, the same expose MJ's children or Surie Cruise would get, had the paparazzi be given full access. Oh ya don't forget mum's comment to stuff the context!

But why bother? Surely 6yo Bonnie is her son? It's not like all these moms are trying to do harm to their children. And it's facebook, where your friends are supposedly people you know, right? So what's the harm? Most comments on the pics came from close friends (because only close friends bother to sneak into your page hahaha). No weirdo would going to copy the pics and what? distribute? using them for dodgy stuff? Well, god forbids so, but who knows?

But no, my argument against posting your cute ones pics on facebook is NOT based on rare-but-it-does-happen act of phedophils. It's about privacy, that your kids are individual who have rights to privacy, just like you, me, your husbands, and billions others adults. Want something solid? Well, the Convention on the Rights of Children (as contestable as it is) stipulates the children's rights to privacy. And CRC, my friends, is the only human rights convention, all the countries have signed and ratified (except, our beloved US and Somalia).

Contrary to some would insist, children do understand privacy, although not in mainstrem-adult-way of defining or understanding it. Children, too, have their comfort and private zone. Remember, the time when you have that cheesy flowery diary with that smell of cheap-soap and you'd rather die than someone (esp. parents) have a look and read it?? That's privacy. All the secrets things that children hide (although parents insist on openness and honesty). They might not be things that matter for adult (how many times as a kid, your parents laugh at your best kept secrets when you were eventually game enough to share it?), but they do matter to us as kids, no less matter than they are to your children.

In current social media, privacy is a big and constantly debated concept. New social media like facebook or twitter that connect digitally-literate people of all ages (as you can always defy your age. my two youngest siblings, age 10 and 12, have facebook), and share information captured in words and pictures to all your friends. And they are there for only Mark Zuckenberg (and few others) knows how long. In facebook, with current higher privacy setting, you can control whom you share information with, and if your friend mind enough to pay you the luxury of courtesy, they'll tag you and inform you when shared information are posted. And you can either reject it or not. Although, what happen if they're not sensitive enough (some ppl think they own the complete rights to shared pictures just because their faces are also captured)? Similarly, adults are considered well-informed of the consequences of their presence in public spot or at least, when someone take your picture. Taking someone picture in public spot is another issue to discuss, something that I don't have enough knowledge.

So, imagine 1 yo old daughter and I, as a happy proud mom just want to share the joy of me having her to my friends. Facebook is the place, isn't it? And how, being mindful of the my daughter's privacy, do I ask for her consent? After all, she's only 12 months, the only word she can utter is 'mommy'.

No easy way. Back to CRC, acknowledging that children might not have all that it takes to make sound decision (this is too, debatable) considering the complexity of decision one can make sometimes, CRC provides the (overly-abused) principle of 'the best interest of the children'. This principle, although contestable and vague, is probably the only venue of guidance I can think of now. This principle lends space for adult to make decision for children, done in the manner of utmost consideration of (1) children's opinion and (2) their best interest. Assumptions are the one who make decision, knows better and has good intention. Remember the way your parents said to you, 'This is for your own good!' That's it, they're using the same justification, i mean, principle. But again, the principle begs the question of interpretation. Adult and children, no matter how close is their relationship, have different interpretations. And not to mention, the difficulty in defining 'interest' and measuring the scale of 'best'.

Best interest of children and their opinions. If your children are smart enough to comprehend the internet (and what it means by mommy putting your singing pictures in her facebook), ask their opinion or rather seek their permissions!! If your children, are too young to understand or for some other reasons cannot understand, think twice, deeply! Would this picture embarrass my son? Now, three years or thirteen years later? If I were him, at his age (or later) would I be happy if someone share my picture in my swimmer to 600 others people that I don't know (think hundreds times if you are a narcissistic person)?

Sounds too much, or too progressive. Not really. Children by the age of 4 or 5 can understand that anything with their image on it is, to some extent, their possession. They have opinion of what to do with it, which pictures are okay to show to people (not the one I wore that stupid bunny outfits), and to whom. So chances are, three years from now, the picture of your 1 yo daughter will still be accessible (remember no one knows how long facebook and internet keep all our information) and they might disagree on your decision putting the pics on facebook. After all, it's the token of their lives that you are sharing, something that they have full ownership of.

-that way, next time i procrastinate by flicking your children's picture, I don't feel guilty hehehehe-

Dear Clara

2011-11-10T15:25:00.000-08:00

Clara!

I don't know if it is your story or if it is your writing, or may be both. But, your e-mail is remarkably riveting and engaging, as evident from the passion with which it is written.

T is going through a phase which is not very different from what you are going through - strange land, huge opportunities, new relationships, uncertain future. It is natural for people in the school to see both of you and form their own understanding of where you both are in terms of your academic careers. As for you, it is important to recognise the signs of competition, and to acknowledge the feelings and frustrations that accompany them. Instead of having to score points to assert dominance within competition, one can go a long way by saying to themselves that they have nothing to lose. Your life is ahead of you, many opportunities are ahead of you, and competition can only make your life better if you are able to handle it healthily by seeing opportunities through them. I always use the analogy of the government and the opposition. You govern your life. Outside competition although, can influence your life which you govern. Whilst most governments tend to defend their point of view by justifying their views as better, a good government takes the criticisms and challenges as opportunities for shaping and expanding their vision. There is nothing here for you to prove, nothing to defend, nothing to lose and a hell of a lot to gain. So use this T episode to identify what you have learnt through this, and utilise it to shape your vision for your life. It could even include simple things like: who are my real friends? How do I learn to handle competition effectively? How can I handle situations without running away from them, denying them or sweeping them under the carpet? etc etc. I think you are learning lots through this, and I am very optimistic that you will learn more as days go by.

Coming to your questions about me. Yes, I am applying to Oxford and Cambridge for a Master’s degree which will eventually lead into a PhD. My topic of research will be to expand on the God/humanity/creation interrelation in the Old Testament scriptures, focusing on psalms, proverbs, Ecclesiastes and Job. I will certainly be applying for scholarship, without which, I will find it very hard. I stare at Sophie's world every day. It is on my bed, begging to be read. I have been getting 2 hours sleep each night of late, which is why Sophie continues to wait for me. The same applies to Le Petite Prince, which is why I am kind of looking forward to the Christmas holidays.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts on the simplest things. I love to read and hear your stories, and I never see them silly. As a matter of fact I feel privileged that another person's experience can inform and influence my own life. So you and your stories are welcome as ever.

Good luck with all your preparations for Fiji. Have a blast.

The Piano Man

Dear Piano Man

2011-11-09T21:43:00.000-08:00

Dear Piano Man,

Not sure why I write this email. Maybe because I feel guilty letting our catch up time consumed with my silly stories (and oh that good 15 mins of me crying my heart out and losing all my guards). and I do want to hear your stories. But thanks anyway

So, what's happening in your life? You told me you're applying for PhD? Where? Which universities? What's the topic of your research? Are you applying for scholarship too?Did you read all the books I gave to you? Sophie's world? Le Petite Prince? If so, how do you find them? Is there any interesting bit? Guess, for me those two fictions significantly framed my world views, my narratives (although, the narratives, of course, are constantly changing)

Hmm, alright, guess I know now why I'm writing email to you. I need to talk to someone, someone... you. Today has been of a bit of emotional turbulence. I met with my professor who helped me finding and arranging my internship in Fiji (he even arranged accommodation for me, such an ace!!)He introduced me to some members of the organisation that I'll work with. It was nice and good.

Then he told me that T came to him and asked him to endorse her internship. Guess I was a bit irritated because of that. Feel like I couldn't escape this girl. And my prof hinted something like, 'I smell you both are so in competition with each other'. Hate that!! I mean now the whole school knows. I just feel it’s inescapable now, everyone will compare us. and I am not strong enough not to resist to be consumed in this pointless comparison and competition.

I am so afraid that I would lose my track, and ability to actually 'be here' and enjoy things that I have. I guess in competition, you always look forward to score points, to affirm your advancement against others. This is so pointless and will hinder me to have a genuine interaction. It turns my 'friendship' with T into self-serving interaction to satisfy a selfish and egoistic affirmation of fragile self-definition. Maybe i don't really have a friendship with her since the very beginning. I don't know

Well, now I feel better. I've put it into words and I can observe my feelings. I feel lighter and I guess I can start building up my effort to get out of this silly frame.I just feel sad, for the fact, that what I thought was a real friendship or at least what could have been a real friendship is probably a fake one. Will there be any real friendship? how could you tell? Will there be any sincere unselfish relationship? how can you tell? All these things with T make me even more sceptical. I felt I've been fooled.

Anyway, now I don't know whether I should hit the send button or not? (click it actually). I decided to send it, for I would like to believe, friendship can happen

Have a good day

Cla

Narratives and advocacy

2011-11-05T21:33:00.000-07:00

It was slightly out of expectation. Policy Advocacy would not provide their devotees with practicalities of advocacy. There would not be tips and tricks in effective persuasion. Rather, it taught us different attempts to make sense advocacy, to dissect it and its assumptions, to look beyond what is seemingly an obvious matter. Before, I always thought that advocacy was straight forward. Advocacy for me was demonstrations, strikes or boycotts. Advocacy is telling the reality that your government is too blind to see! Indeed, they are examples of persuasion at play. However, advocacy is more complex and subtler than those examples. One thing for sure, advocacy is so pervasive in our lives that we are actually advocates, often unconsciously.

Yesterday, I met my boyfriend and talked about the military violence that is happening in West Papua, Indonesia. I told him how paralysed I felt for not being able to do anything. His suggestion is for me to start gathering support from Indonesian students and plan a protest. He suggested that I should write articles, to persuade the Indonesian Student Association to release an official statement to the Australian and Indonesian media. The key, he said, is to wait for the right moment, when the condition gets worse, to execute all the strategies he mentioned. Aha! That's what John Kingdon's calls 'window of opportunity'! All the strategies he formulated are perfect examples of persuasion as 'manoeuvres' of an advocate. He understood that I, an ordinary student, do not have a 'claim to a hearing', a prerequisite of Kingdon's policy entrepreneur. Organisation like the Indonesian Students Association and the media will help me to grab attention. Intelligent as he is, he never heard of Kingdon’s eloquent idea of policy entrepreneurs. But we can see how ideas and practical ways of persuasion are every day’s conversation. One grieve observation is, often to ‘sell’ your cure you must wait until your patient is about to die. Is that a justified trade-off? How can we tell the right moment to push our prescription?

Come to think of it, what he did is an advocacy in itself. He was persuading me of what he thought was the best ways to advocate my cause. He was performing an advocacy on how to execute my advocacy. The way he did it was to appeal to my reason or ‘logos’. He laid out the argumentative analysis of how those moves he suggested are the best ways I could possibly exhibit. He also has that ‘ethos’ dimension as an ex-journalist in Australia. He knows how the media works and to utilize it. Add to the ethos his charms and we can tell now whether I was convinced or not.

The question then is how to persuade the bulk of mainstream Indonesian students to support my cause to stop violence in Papua? Their ignorance frustrates me. For me, it is obvious that what happens in Papua are human rights violation, developmental failures, and structural discrimination by the state. The evidence is crystal clear. How could most people be blind to those facts?! The answer seems to lie in the narrative approach on advocacy. In fact, the concept of narrative significantly changes my understanding of policy advocacy.

Politicians often say, ‘Let me tell you a story’. Indeed, to understand the policy, we need to ask the story first. Narratives help us make sense of a problem by encompassing and interweaving disjointed ideas and values and justifying the decision and policy action (Feldman et al 2004; Fischer 2002). In doing so, narratives blur the boundaries of personal stories with grand theme of a policy and the grand narrative of identities. In narratives, we find a complex interaction between the personal, professional and the public stories. Narratives serve as lenses to filter the ingredients of our construction of 'reality' and truth; so called facts and evidence. Facts and evidence only serve as justification for our narratives; ideas of ‘reality’.

Born in an activist family, I have a different narrative from most of my Indonesian peers. My father was a labour activist during Soeharto era. He told me stories of workers who suffered under Soeharto’s policies and his military atrocities. When I was 12, my father told me that my grandfather, his father, was murdered by the military in 1967 because he joined the communist teacher’s movement. So I grew up with deep antagonism toward the government, the military and the dominant narrative of Indonesia as a national identity and a nation. My story is part of the big narrative of struggling victims of government, including Papuan rebels (or heroes?). Now we see how my narratives shape my previous understanding of advocacy. Individuals are the culmination of public and personal stories, a dynamic negotiation of many interrelated narratives.

In advocacy, often we need to change the narrative which neither easy nor quick. We need to persuade people to step outside their narratives in order to observe and analyse the narratives onto which they attach personal stories and public roles; to identify and question the assumptions of the plots and values embedded in the grand story. The next step is to convince them that our counter-narrative is worth adopting; that this version of reality will make sense of the problem, and solve it.

In Papuan case, this means questioning the grand narrative of Indonesia. What is Indonesia? Who are Indonesians? How did we come to this idea of Indonesia? How do ideas of Indonesia shape my personal story, my identity and political stance; my opinion on Papuan issues? What is my version of Papuan story within the story of Indonesia? The advocacy continues by offering, and convincing people to adopt the counter- narratives where Papuan rebels are the brave protagonists against cruel authorities; that current ideas of Indonesia and being Indonesian are misleading and need to be redefined.

Most people will refuse to confront their narratives, let alone change them. To question our narrative is dangerous, both at individual and collective level. At personal level, it shakes our self-definitions and construction of reality; the meaning of our personal lives and roles in public domain; our identities. At collective level, it disturbs our foundation of our imagined collective identity, collective actions and its ways of making sense of our changing environment.

At this point, I am so perplexed. If policy heavily depends on narratives, where that leaves advocacy? How to change deeply pervasive narratives? If evidence, truths, facts are instruments of our narratives, what can justify such advocacy to convince others that our narratives, thus our ‘reality’ and evidence, is better (or more real)? Policy Advocacy course leaves me incompetent in answering those provocative questions; questions that might never be answered, or maybe, should not be answered.

Home: A sanctuary of life

2011-10-28T18:55:00.000-07:00

what is home for you?

Is it a place? For most, we associate home with a concrete building with walls and roofs, with door of which we own the key to enter in. It's stood somewhere where we can point in the map. It has address, either a geo-wise or social-wise direction (33 Antill Street, or next to the church which pastor was accused of having an affair).

Is it a person/persons? Family, friends, partners, kids? We say people at home to refer to our families. When we say, "I miss home", often what we mean is, "I miss my family, my comfort zone, people who love me and accept me the way I am, people who mean much to me".

Is it a memory? Good, sweet, comforting, securing, encouraging, warm, upsetting? childhood memories? the cute guy next door? when you and mom baked new year's cake in the middle of night? your dad planted a kiss on your forehead? that first kiss with your crush? all the giggles with your friends? maybe

What reminds you of home? A smell? of your mom's favorite perfume, of your dad's body odor, of restaurant next door spices, of cheap coffee-to-go, of minyak kayu putih, of a rose. A taste? of a tea, of beef rendang, of Indomie :D. An image? A song? A chant?

There's a sense that home should be a fixed entity, be it a place, a person, or a memory. A reservation that remains still, where we can resort, if we get tired of the ups and downs in life. It's always there, somewhere definitive of which we are all equipped with familiar maps and direction. So if Sally gets upset about something, she only needs to think of that sweet memory of her 17th birthday.

I don't know, I am not as lucky as Sally. I have bits of all those things, at the same time, none of them. I don't feel belong to any association with home. Medan, it's no longer feel home to me (come to think of it, I wonder, if I ever felt Medan my home?). Jogja, hmm, it's always there, its door always opens. Once I forced it to be my home, tried to shape it, change it, tailor it to my definition of home. I lost. Jogja doesn't feel like home yet, I always want to come back. Tokyo, I don't think it has a place for me there and vice versa. Canberra, it's comforting but don't feel belong here.

Family, friends? Well, I am an emotionally independent person. I love them, truly. I just don't feel like coming back. I miss them sometimes, but honestly, what's more important for me is for them to live a happy, fulfilling, peaceful lives without me. I'll love them from a far, sincerely.

So what's home for me? Life for me is a journey of constantly refined destination, it's about getting there not being there. I guess if home is where your heart is, it's within me all the time. The life is my heart. My home is on the road, the path, the journey I take. A moving sanctuary of life.

1 Anno Canberrae

2011-06-04T23:36:00.000-07:00

It's one year in Canberra (2 days ago, more precisely)

So much has happened since June 3rd 2010. I think a year in Canberra has offered me many opportunities to learn so many aspects of life, not only in academic stuff, but more importantly real life lessons.

I've met so many people from different backgrounds and I cherish each of them, even the one who did some harm to me. I think, each person life has brought to me, taught me essential clues that I should learn to proceed my journey.

I lost some good connections. The distance between me and some people were widened for better. It's a difficult lesson to understand that, sometimes, things are better left abandoned. I guess, it's a part of knowing when to let go, when to fight for maintaining the relationship, and when to change the relationship. Knowing that sometimes things and relationships take on their nature courses, and there's completely nothing wrong with that.

Nevertheless, I also have been trying to maintain good relations and to connect and interact more genuinely, less selfishly, with many once-strangers: a lovely perfectionist lady in Islamabad, a skeptic yet hopeful Vietnamese girl, a sarcastic yet encouraging academic adviser, a patience atheist-biologist, an arrogant yet gentle musical theologists, an enthusiast Chinese faith-seeker, a coffee-addict Egyptian girl, an ex journalist who is obsessed in Indonesia, a friendly yet muscly Pakistan, a helpful Bhutanese guy, and an Afghan boy who couldn't stop laughing. These are the people that Canberra has kindly introduced me and I hope the list will keep on going. Interacting with people and listening to their stories are, for me, the way to celebrate life that I am forever grateful for.

For these people, the lessons they've been teaching me, for many other reasons, and for people and lessons to come:

to Canberra, I say thank you
to God, I say thank you

and to these once-strangers, I say thank you, friends :))

The Pain of Silence

2011-05-01T04:53:00.000-07:00

Pain comes in silent, and we suffer silently.

It was an usual sunday morning. Some new faces at church except the fact that there were tw0 young people who would re-affirm their faith, and one guy -the piano player- who would become the member of Australian Uniting Church. I personally, don't really understand the implication of being a member and don't really see the points of reaffirming your faith in public.

In the beginning of the sermon, I went outside, gathered couple of kids to play with. Oh well, we weren't actually playing. I didn't have any plan for them. So it was kind of impromptu things. I decided to tell the story of the Good Samaritan. I am not a bad story teller, if I should say so, :D. I asked them to imagine the case where they passed a street, found this half-naked-tortured man while they were in a rush to meet a beautiful lady (note: the kids were all male, note: please don't allege me suggesting sexual attraction too early). They gave quite honest and logical answer. One said he didn't know what to do, while the other said that he would call his waiting friend and explained the situation. Well done boys!!!

As we were about to wrap up, a man came out of the church and talked to one of my boys. I listened something like, 'I'll meet you soon, don't worry'. I interrupted and asked the man of what was happening. He said that he needed to go to hospital or called an ambulance as he had this pain in his chest. So I asked to sit and called 000. To sum up, in less than 10 minutes, an ambulance came. The man was examined and monitored and he had arranged his relatives to take care of his son (some people who were in the church as well at that time). The kid was a bit disoriented after that. He was quiet during our sunday school but I could tell that he was a bit confused of what happened at that time. After the worship finished, the ambulance took off and brought the man to the hospital.

All these things happened pretty quick and calmly, almost inaudible by those in church. No one in the church noticed, let alone asked what the hell was an ambulance doing in front of the church. We called an ambulance, the kids were a bit terrified, ambulance came, paramedics diagnosed him, monitored him, took him off. And within the same place, about 80 people prayed, listened to the sermon, reaffirmed their faith, sang hymns, chatted, exchanged news, and felt refreshed.

For me it feels like, each of us suffers our own pain and we are suffering in silence. Quietly the pain seeps into our life, sometimes not by our own choosing. In some contexts, those who are close to us, might feel our torments to certain degree, but no matter how close they are, our miseries are properties of our isolated being.

In contrast, happiness is most of the times louder than misery. Look at the celebration of royal wedding. We shout, we sing, we scream, we laugh, we clap sharing the joy. Maybe, just maybe, outvoiced by our celebrating sound, some people or even the supposedly happy bride and groom, were crying in their heart.

The sound of our joy has successfully covered the quiet voice of crying people in Syria, Libya, the silent agony shared by those who lost their loved ones in Alabama. It's always the case that those who win the battle will roar, and those who lose will surrender in the inexpressible and unspoken state of defeat.

As the world keeps on moving, the earth keeps on rotating in silent, undisturbed by the fact that each of us suffers the unpronounced, inarticulate, aphonic grieve and anguish, in silent.

Sahabat - Prolog

2011-04-22T17:27:00.000-07:00

Sahabat

Saya memutuskan untuk menulis blog dalam bahasa Indonesia lagi karena topik yang satu ini, sahabat. Sulit sekali menemukan padanan kata sahabat dalam bahasa Inggris. Mungkin saja karena bahasa Inggris saya masih amburadul dan saya belum sepenuhnya mengerti makna yang terkandung dalam kata-kata seperti friends, buddy, mate, pal, dan sebagainya. Sahabat, hanya satu kata, tujuh fonem yang menangkap begitu banyak adegan dalam perjalanan hidup saya.

Bagaimana persahabatan dimulai? Apa yang membuat saya memutuskan untuk memanggil teman saya ini sahabat? Mungkinkah persahabatan berakhir? Kapan dan bagaimana? Ah teman, saya pun tidak mengerti. Apa yang saya mengerti, saya adalah orang yang berbahagia setiap kali saya menghitung sahabat saya. Sahabat saya tak banyak, tak perlu banyak, cukup untuk berbagi kesedihan, dan melipatgandakan kebahagiaan bersama.

The Social Solitaire

2011-04-20T18:02:00.000-07:00

How do we got from here to there?

Some people walk, some drive cars, some ride bikes, some, like me, take buses

Bus, a means of transportation, a public transportation, more precisely. This is a mode of mass transportation that I use here in Canberra, or even back then in Indonesia. Although, the buses here are ten times better than those in Indonesia. Cleaner, more punctual, safer, and more comfortable.

It is times that I spend getting on the bus, sitting alone especially by window, looking outside, watching the road, people and things, passing by when I usually contemplate on my days and my life in general. Of course, it wouldn't be complete without my favorite songs played like soundtrack of a movie; like I am in sort 0f clip with glimpses of my past appearing and dissolving.

But it is that very damn songs that I would curse today (I have to curse at least one thing in a day, otherwise I can't sleep). So, what makes me get agitated by these songs in our iPods??

Because it eases solitary, it creates distance, it alienates us from the rest of passengers in the bus!! Each of us, lonely passenger get on the bus, greet the driver (hi, how's it going? good thanks), take the most comfortable seat where no one sits next to us, put our baggage beside us so that no one will try to sit next to us, plug in those two tiny speakers into our ears, and ignore the rest of the bus. I say we since it's not only me, but most of the passengers.

I imagine, like 100 years ago, there was no public transportation. Every one of us, at least every family might have had their own horses or carts, or whatever. How about poor families? I reckon either they had to walk, or they had to ask for rich neighbour's favour to pick them up, to drop them off, preferably those who are going to roughly the same direction. They must've know each other so during the journey, they were most likely to talk to each other. You know, who will get married, how's your grandson, that the priest had an affair, etc. They didn't mind talking, maybe because they had not invented iPod back then, or even Sony Walkman. They had to talk, to make the journey bearable.

However, as people get smarter, get more fragmented and things are commodified, we invented our own talking friend, our own comfort in the journey. Cell phones, books, iPods.

If bus is going to take us through the same journey, even the same destination, why would we not want to know who are those people taking the same path. Hey, you're listening to music too, maybe we're actually listening to the same singer? Do you like Jamie Cullum? Or maybe, we've been to the same place? Have you been to Tokyo? Or maybe, we want to do the same things in the future? Sky diving, anyone? Or maybe, we just had a crappy trashy day? Ah, same here!

But no, instead of changing our seat to sit next to our fellow passenger, we change our mp3. Instead of listening to their stories, we raise our mp3 volumes. Instead of talking to them, we sing to our songs (worse, we just do lypsinc). Sometimes, it really looks pathetic!!

How do we got from there to here?

We are human, we are wired to interact, we can't stand silence for too long, we need sound!! But we are also built to seek control, to manipulate environment for our own satisfaction. That's why, we find that sound from other human being are, most of the times, annoying (probably because they just talk about themselves, silly stuff, inessential and insignificant). We are not able to know what kind of 'music' will we hear from them in advance. Not like iPod where you can customize 'your talking friends' and skip, delete, remove some of the songs when we feel they don't serve our interest. With human, we can't really control their voices, the volumes, the pitch, the pace. We can't mute them whenever we are tired of them, we can't fast forward or rewind, we can't skip, we can't stop them as we like. Hence, the iPod and those two tiny wicked speakers.

And we call it civilization. well, well....

Garden State

2011-04-16T21:29:00.001-07:00

Right, I'll write it down while it's still floating on the stream in my brain.

Garden State

Oh God, where have I been for so long??? I knew this movie for so long but never really sat and watched it. I was lured by other movies with great reviews, huge ads, sensational trailers, top actors, bombastic plot and such and such. I put it aside, later on...later on.

So, last night I finally got to watch Garden State. It's a gem, a small and simple one. Not a big and sparkling diamond. It's a small deeply glowing onyx. Like when you are out fighting for Louis Vuitton sale and your eyes catch a glimpse of lonely small handbag sitting on the corner of the shop. Fall in love, you move away from the crowd and slowly approach the lonely fellow. You take it, 60 percent discount of Louis Vuitton doesn't matter anymore, go to the counter, pay for it, and walk out of the store. Your steps feel so light. That kind of feeling!!

I'm bad at giving summary of a movie. I think you'd better go to imdb.com or rotten tomatoes to get a good synopsis. Here's the link

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0333766/synopsis

The movie is full of quirky and exaggerating stuff but to my surprise I don't find it weird or bizarre. You feel like, hang on a sec, that thing could really happen. In fact, I did fantasised about a shirt made from wall paper. Or yeah I did random tap dancing in front of some people.

There is one scene that I really love. The spin bottle scene, where Andrew (the protagonist) sits on the couch and watches all his friends moving, dancing, kissing, drinking, like a martian. Everything was so normal yet so out of place. He is part of the space and story (it's his life, after all) yet it feels like taking a sneak peek into someone's life. Ever feel like you find all the routine normal things sound/look/smell/unfamiliar?

I think it encapsulates the whole movie. A martian who is originally coming from earth. Andrew came back home, it should feel like home, but it doesn't, but it's still home. It should feel like a funeral, I should feel sad, but I don't, but it's still a funeral. I should feel like me, but who is me?

Garden State for me is about being 20 something human; a lost one, lonely and disoriented. It's about redefining home, be it place, people, memory or just feeling. It's about comfortably sinking oneself in feeling, be it pain, love, happiness, fear or anger. It's about embracing your present life, whatever it means, whatever constitute it, whatever there is to it. This is it!

Andrew Largeman is lost, lonely, and disoriented in his mid 20s. However, he chose to feel whatever life brings (even if it's pain), and chose to move on (to wherever it may be), and be at peace at home (whatever form it takes).

For me it resonates to what I have been thinking and feeling about my life. If life is a road, I feel like living in a detour. But hell, yeah, I will eventually get to wherever I have to arrive, it might take a while and yes, detour is a beautiful sidetrack of life :))

For Clara

2011-04-15T22:02:00.000-07:00

Allow me to write about thing that might sounds a bit bragging. It really is nothing. I mean this is the thing that some people post in their walls, write in their statuses, and you wish that there is a 'Like I Care' button to click!!! I am fully aware of this. But, trust me dear readers, I just feel happy, simply that's what i feel now. And I just want to jot this moment and freeze it in words. So, in times where I find everything is bleak, this simple kind of happiness might sip back into my heart and light the days!! So please bear with me!

Well, recently my days has been so gloomy and lonely. I think I can blame the changing weather partly for my misery. Canberra has decided to test my mood and I, so far, lost points. It's really cold, windy (strong, freezy, and dry), and cloudy as well. Like 3 days ago, the temperature plunged into 5 degree. Hello, I thought we're still in the beginning of autumn here!! And along with falling leaves, falls does my mood. I have a terrible SAD (Seasonal Affected Disorder) or winter blues (only it's fall, not yet winter). That's why a lot of suicide attempts are done in winter.

So, you can imagine how it feels to find a small package addressed to you at 9 am in the morning. You haven't had any breakfast, still in that pyjama where you can hide yourself in, a thick and long socks, bedhead hair, unwashed face and you opened your door and looked down at your feet, found this small box with your name written on it!! Trust me, it feels like summer in June (we're talking about southern hemisphere here).

It was a thank you gift from my professor in ANU. She is so damn sweet and considerate!! Like three days ago I emailed her (she is by the way, in Norway now on sabbatical leave) to ask about internship opportunity. She replied and gave me some contact numbers (I've contacted them, no reply yet, finger crossed!!). She then asked my address for a completely different things. I didn't ask for what but I gave her. So, the thank you gift is the 'completely different thing' she mentioned before.

For some background, this lecturer named Sharon Bessell is the main reason I chose Crawford School ANU. She has done an extensive work on children in Indonesia (and also in Fiji and Australia). She teaches Children and Youth Policy in Crawford (but not this year, hopefully next year when I'm eligible to take elective courses, children and youth policy will be offered once again). I think, Crawford School is the only school of public policy that has particular course in children, other university has that under department of social work which kind of far from my background in politics. So, yeah I chose Crawford and got to meet and know this amazing lady.

She is really friendly and approachable. Her lecture is really interesting and engaging (she was one the guest lecturer in one of my current courses). She is the kind of person who enters a room of indifferent people and can melt the ice, people just feel her warmth and radiant. Trust me, it's not only me who says this. My academic advisor actually adores her! And it's hard to get a genuine compliment for this academic advisor of mine, even if you're a professor (he likes to mock our director and some professors =P)

The reason for this thank you gift is that I helped her as an interpreter in her workshop about a month ago. She asked me to help her and hell yes, I immediately grabbed that offer. It was a very rewarding activity. I actually the one who should thank her for giving me that opportunity. I did learnt a looooot!! I'll write another post on that workshop. And moreover, I am paid for that, so this gift is a personal appreciation.

I am happy.

So, let me for the first time ( it feels like a first time) embrace this small, simple happiness and feel genuinely happy without thinking,'ok, so what is exactly you want from me?'. It's not grand, it's not overwhelming like a big wave crashes the rock. It's just a simple act of kindness that seeps into your heart like a small river flow :))

Economic for Lover-1

2011-04-13T19:03:00.000-07:00

My Economic Way of Thinking Exam's Question

1. Give an example of sunk cost and show how it should be used in decision making

Sunk cost is retrospective cost in the past that has been incurred and cannot be recovered or traded. In making decision, one should not take sunk cost into account (it should be ignored).

Example
All the time, energy, and resources that you've spent in building relationship with your partner should not be considered in making decision whether or not you break up with your partner. All gone is gone. Don't cry over the spill milk

p.s : I did wrote that as my answer. My lecturer must be proud of me; applying economic concept to relationship issue.

The Piano Man

2011-04-10T05:54:00.000-07:00

I have this urgency to write at the time when I should revisit all the tutorials for tomorrow's exam. But who cares! The best feeling in life comes when you do things you shouldn't do *grinn. The worst, though, is regretting as the consequences roll back to you, but it's not for now, so why bother ?!

Have you ever watched the eyes of a piano player when her/his fingers are dancing on the tuts? Well, for me, most of the times my puppy eyes will be closed. It's something I can't help, just automatically. For sure, I can't close my eyes when I still learn the notes. But I can guarantee you, the minute I got the tune and melody in my head, my eyes retreat and wander around in other realm, the world of that particular music.

Music, for me, encapsulates most -if not all- of things that happened in my life.

I lost my mom when I was 8. She's the one who first taught me how to play. I would play the song from hymns as she gently wept and withered in her bed. I played, my eyes were closed.

I met my mentor in life when my father was searching for someone to continue to teach me play. He did not only teach me Mozart and Bach (of course Chopin and Beethoven), but he taught me how to believe in something that I put away along with my grieve. He taught me how to play God, a minuscule part of the Providence and I closed my eyes.

I met my life I knew now when I was playing an organ in a church. A man came and praised my playing. He offered me a place in Uncle Sam's big house to play music there. My heart pounded, my eyes were open big. My father said no, it has to be medicine or engineering. My heart broke, my eyes dimmed, I played alone.

I keep on playing, people keep on showering with compliments. None of them know, each tuts I press, it brought me a glimpse of memory, of things that continue to stay with me, forever. Like the changing of one tone to another, the melody continues, I know in my journey of life, as one phase fade sout and the other unfolds, my eyes will be closed,
but my heart will remain open.

That was very beautiful. Did you just make it up while you were playing? with those closed eyes?

In a motion

2011-04-09T23:55:00.000-07:00

In the middle of nowhere
find traces of milky way
out there, somewhere in nowhere

it is the loudest silence
so dim, it shines,
so wide, it confines

even a dog's bark
suddenly has a profound meaning
it adds something to the nothingness
yet, it remains empty

What can be contained in half of a second
of a reality and of a memory?
a falling star, probably?

and how does it end? or does it end?
does the end sacrifice itself to the beginning?
does it matter anyway?

the road ahead keeps unfolding itself
as the ahead molds into the passing
it keeps on fading out

and we, in a motion, always in between
the has and the shall
never arriving, never ever leaving

the destination is the ground beneath
to where we are attached,
yet forever moving.

what can be contained in half of a second
of a reality and of a memory?

Ending is the New Beginning. Is it?

2011-02-06T23:24:00.000-08:00

Move on, or maybe it will pass eventually???

There are certain things and times in life where we can draw clear line between ending and beginning. When is your semester kicking in? When is it ended? When did you meet your partner? When were you born? When did your grandpa die? and so on.

As human being, we live through uncountable phases. We may, with the help of logics (or method of thinking, knowledge, whatever you may call it) simplify the phases. Early birth, infant, toddler, childhood, teenage, adolescent,adulthood, senior, -and of course ends with death (well, unless you believe in life after death). It depends on your perspective, you can end up with hundreds way of dividing life in stages.

But life (and here you can replace with reality) is never as simple as we want it to be. There are phases of life that are blurry, hazy, and indescribable. There are stages that we aware of after we grow out of them. There are even, some of us, or some of the stages, who would never realize that we've been through some episodes of life.

Maybe that's the point. How can we realize an episode, a stage, a level, a step, a room, a boundary, without start and end point? Maybe, not realizing it is the best attitude toward life maturity process. Blessed ignorance, the other saying goes.

I am no blessed ignorance (somethings that I really need to learn!). Call it thoughtful, reflective, or just absurd complex, I am 'it'.

So this year 2011, is the beginning of my new semester for sure (oh think about thousands of words that I should write d'oh!), and also new kind of life. Not totally different with what I had before, but still they're not the same.

To begin with, I broke up (yeah, I can hear sound of protest in my head, some even yell ungrateful bit*h). Well, blame me! I take my responsibility. Yep, it's me who ended it. I'm a selfish, arrogant, prideful, egoist, snob girl. I am lousy, not the kind of girl who you should consider if you are contemplating serious relationship. The credits for our four years something relationship should all go to him. I spiced the journey, he drove and struggled with the road, no one dealt with the destination: we got lost. Then we rushed to our maps and look, we have different ones now. How come? I don't have any idea. So, thank you it has been a nice trip, but I'm sorry, I'm heading somewhere else and so are you. I gently got off the car.

We' re cool, we try to be as grown up as we can be (sometimes being adult not equal to being rational). We still share whatever happens in life, still chatting, still texting, not much of a difference. Of course, we cut off those sweet words, or public display of affection. However, since we rarely had them before, it doesn't feel different, like there is nothing really change (so fundamentally what we had is just a deep care for each other with some sparks of physical attraction to legitimately call it 'relationship'). I still care for him, that's one thing for sure!

I moved from previous house, that 's something I should consider as part of new life. Things didn't go very well, not as well as I expected. The need to belong to a piece of shelter is so damn crucial that I had to leave despite all the consequences and emotional turbulence incurred. My new house I share with two aussie guys. One is doing PhD in art, the other is a public servant who like to watch Charlie Sheen's Two and a Half Men (I can be the half man :-) ). They are clean and simple. There's no constant 'what-will-they-think' kind of tension in my mind. Life with guys, if you don't like the way they do things, just spit it out in a civil way. No offense, no talking behind your back. No drama

Talking about drama, I recently saved myself from two of them. Well, they hadn't been developed into drama yet, but close. I managed to pass. I don't need this, and I stopped them there. I'll elaborate it other posts (if I can force myself to =p ).

So, in the end of this writing, I just want to say, as a human sometimes you need to stop and say to yourself, this it what I call an end (be it relationship, be it activity, be it addiction, be it status quo, or life as a whole) and move to the new beginning. The new start might constitute a small part of your cosmic life, while the other parts keep moving on, not arriving to their own ends yet, or it can be your whole life, it really depends on the way you see it. The point is to move on by renewing things or maybe you don't have to. Don't read my blog for advices in life :D.

Where Little Things Count

2010-07-25T04:50:00.000-07:00

Canberra... what a city

I don't really know how I'm going to write about Canberra. I've been here for almost two months. I came to know where to find red hot chilli pepper, where to buy the cheapest groceries, when to throw organic waste, that thou shall not predict the weather and so on and on. Nevertheless, this city somehow remains in a distance from me.

Obviously, Canberra is small city with road that goes round and round in circle (well, people say you can't help it, this city is designed for politicians :p). Not much to do here, compare to, well basically almost all cities in Australia. There are not so many shopping centre which is somehow good. The night clubs are full of drunken teenagers leaving sunday mornings colored with some cheap alcohol bottles. We have only bus as inner public transportation which happily run for like once in an hour from 9-4 on weekend. And don't get lost in working hours here especially in the housing areas, there is no human being to ask for direction.

I live in a small house, near the bus stop (which is very important point of taking this house), near the city (so I don't have to worry about getting home late, again, on the weekdays), near the ANU (but still, having Crawford as my campus, I must walk for about 25 minutes from bus interchange). But for me the best thing of my current home is the bicycle path. It is away from the road, along the creek, among the green grass, and trees, simply beautiful. The thing is it becomes very dark to cycle after 7 pm and you don't want to bump into a possum, right?

However, well a big HOWEVER, this city is somehow fascinating and interesting. Start using your intuition, and then you'll notice many wonderful things lie beneath its solemn and still existence. It is the city, where you must sensitize your senses to enjoy its beauty.

Recently, I was trying to find some art workshop or classes (to make me have a good 'couture' feeling :p ). I could not find it anywhere even by typing keywords like workshop in google. But gradually, I came to understand that I need a new strategy to unfold the mystery of Canberra. So I started looking all over again by first searching for local community centre, museums and galleries, or even local festivals. Then, from that enquiries, I continued to seek small classes they provide. And I found them. They do exist. Eureka!!!!

The other day, I went to Cockington Garden in Gold Creek Village. It's sort of a garden where many of miniatures of houses and buildings around the world are exhibited. It is fairly interesting, but even more so in spring, I think. However, what struck me the most is their tagline, 'where little things count'. These words sound even more true, when my friends and I explored the neighborhoods. The village's full of small shops with so many little, tiny, sweet, and delicate stuffs mainly made by Canberran artists. You cannot spend just a day to really savvy all those tiny lovely goods they made.

A day there made me realize that sometimes to connect with this city, I have to stop a while, be still, open my eyes, unfold my hands, breath slowly, immersed myself into the surroundings, and let it reveals its beauty.

I believe Canberra has many things to offer to people come by, if only they stop looking with their own direction. It's a long way to really justify my thesis and I only have two years to test myself. But, I think I've made a good start to take a glimpse of it.

"Like the first dewfall, on the first grass" Cat Stevens, Morning Has Broken

"I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much"

Landon Pigg, Falling in Love in A Coffee Shop

"Stand by your man, cause after all he's just a man" Tammy Wynette, Stand By Your Man

"On my way home I can remember every new day" Enya, On My Way Home

"The long day is over...." Norah Jones, The Long Day Is Over

A Family Can Be Found Anywhere

2010-05-06T01:22:00.000-07:00

A family can be found anywhere

A home can be build anywhere. One can build it inside a small classroom or a confined computer room. You can build it in a noisy and hot food court or maybe a cozy study room

It can be inside a tall and proud cobble stone building

A family can be of anyone

It can mean 4 brothers and 8 sisters, and 1 big uncle :)

A brother can be anyone

For me

He can be a vulcanologist turned to seismologist who taught you to appreciate every single moment. He can be the guy who always sit by the door and drink any kind of Ultra Milk. He can be bald, and skinny, and a fan of Slipknot. He can be the one who promised to biketracking with you. Well, who knows when you will meet him :)

He, of course, can be funny and talkative and silly and helpful at the same time. He can be a person who likes to have Indomie for breakfast. He can be a very good leader, who handle most of the managements from working with your visas and karaoke. So if one day you met him, please remember that he didn't like to wear any watch or accessories.

Sometimes, he can be the boy who surprised you with his singing talent!! You'll never think that any MOFA's employee can sing a good dangdut. That man can be your brother too. You have to be careful because he can be so humble and at the same time, proud of his photocopying capability!! If you find a government man who showed good sport to every condemnation, then you've found him.

He can be an architect-wanna-be who tried to savvy that damn Freudian Psychoanalysis. He can be very open and a good listener at the same time with Singlish accent and Sundanese here and there. He can be the person you can always talk to, from how to save your relationship to tricks on crossing the street. Maybe you'll find him telling dirty jokes, if you're lucky.

A sister can be anyone

For me,

She can be a modest pianist, arranger, knitter, and singer. She can be someone whom you have so many things in common with, from idolizing Satoshi Tsumabuki to adoring Try Tone, from not wanting to do master in Japan to sea food and nasi goreng teri medan lover. She can be, like you, an IR apostate and hopefully find rest not so far from sociology :)

She can be a too-good-looking-to-be-a-lecturer lady who tried to prove that her daughter diet is anything but worse than those fat chubby kids. If you find a woman who told you that the best job she ever had is flight attendant then you know you've found this wonderful sister.

For sure, she can be a real good civil servant who deals with biofuel, God hears her!!! She can be the person you met in Karaoke always with good marks and up to date songs (who the hell is Taylor Swift???!!!). You can always tell her, when you see a woman so passionate and so lively when arguing something really matter to her. That's her!!!

She might be a little bit silent and calm but be patient and you'll hear extraordinary comments coming from her mouth. She can be the person who always have this take-it-easy-lah style, no need to rush, never hustle. Then when you see her, presenting her thoughts, you will understand that this kind of sister is not easy to find.

She can always be a lot older than you but with an evergreen smile. She can be the person who you will always nod everytime she asks you something. You'll go miles for her errands, in return for delicious dinner :p. A woman who always win debate on population and vocabulary game, that sounds like her.

Oh yes she can be a person who sometimes you wonder how come she knows so many things. She can be a woman who will give you a positive critics, appreciation, and little compliments now and then, never with any hesitation. If you wonder where all the candies gone, then surely she's around you.

She can be what you called breeze and calm wind. A little bit shy and coy, one you can never think to have two kids and your question will be,'How come you stay slim?' That very fine lady will answer you nothing but her beautiful smile will keep you quiet. Ah, if you meet her, please on behalf of me, ask her to dance.

She can be a girl you envy for having a good english and unique eyes. However, you can do nothing but to love her, since she is a big fan of Alanis, like you!! She can be that very person who shocked you with her laughing, like every little joke is so hilarious. So when you find someone giggle with you at the same time, you know whom you've met.

A big uncle can be anyone

For me,

He can be a sarcastic teacher who gets less and less hair everyday. He can be so expressive to the point he will run amock out of class but like to avoid emotional situations. He can be the one who desperately taught you to well pronounce participatory and got mad every time you say 'mention about and discuss about'. He can be the teacher who told you that you are the brightest ones, that you shouldn't underestimate yourselves, that you shouldn't expect that every western people is as smart as him. He can be the teacher who left you with so many silly quotations that you'll remember by heart. If you heard a bald man said amusingly,'KAMU LAGI!!!!' then you know it's him.

and me,

well, like my friend once said, a family is shawl and I'm just a thread.

A family can be found anywhere

and you will amaze how simple it is

For me,

there were unfolding arms

mine and theirs

They opened their hearts

I opened mine

and that's all the difference there was.

No Worries, Mate!!

2010-03-16T20:37:00.000-07:00

And so it is,
It's gonna be that smallest continent where a bulk of young Indonesians were sent to study and hopefully back for good. It's Aussie, mate!!!

It was kind of surprise. I was in Jakarta, escaped from all the hastiness of life. Ah no, my boyfriend was going for some interview for India scholarship. Intimidated by the rustic and cruel image of our capital city, he asked me to accompany him. Seeing the chance to escape a while from my mundane life, I agreed (he paid half for my travel cost, I have to say, not to make me sounds cheap :p).

After the interview, we went to meet his friend and his friend's friends, had some dinner which was amazingly expensive, thank God I didn't have to pay for it :p (again, not that I'm cheap, I just have had better). By that time, one of their friend whom I also knew, said that she had been accepted as an awardee for ADS -which she already knew from before the interview phase she wouldn't take it- For this matter, I think I will write other post.

Anyway, I was asked then. I was surprised since I thought that the result would be announced no earlier than March. Fraud, that was my first thought. But that was it, the result had been announced. I wasn't happy with the prospect to be an awardee of ADS. I didn't know why possibly because I was still fascinated by Europe particularly studying in Erasmus University, Netherlands or maybe I haven't prepared myself to re-separate again, for another long distance relationship. I was accepted, for good or for bad, at least for that time.

Somehow, as I recall my memories back before the announcement, I remembered what my heart felt when I watched the movie Australia. Even today, every time I watched the trailer, listen to the OST especially By The Boab Tree, my heart melt, and my body shiver. Yeah, Hugh Jackman plays the protagonist there and I have to admit his charm contribute largely to make me mesmerized.

When I first watched the movie, I felt drown to the dessert, savanna, the bush, and the boab tree. The boab tree particularly is one of the reminiscence from The Little Prince novel. I long to see the tree and touch it. Though I tried to deny it, another voice told me,"you'll be in Australia'. And it came to reality.

Now, I'm quite overwhelmed by all the preparations, and stuffed by the sentimental feeling of goodbye. Oh no, I'm starting to cry :(

But like Australian's popular saying, no worries, mate.. no worries...

Hope for The Flowers

2010-01-15T20:46:00.000-08:00

(This) Next Year, Baby

2010-01-05T00:05:00.000-08:00

du du du du

Here some of my 2010 resolutions

HUH!!!! Who are you kidding, Junkie? You are not even in the same constellation with the planet of commitment, strong will satellite, and the orbit of resolution.

1. I will not pay any fine or sanction.

Lame..? Yes, indeed. I ain't gonna save the world by being the most punctual subscriber. But who care, all resolutions in the first place must be selfish. I'm gonna save my pocket from burning to nothing

2. I will involve in a good part time

Means some well paid-lots-of-fun-carefree-flexible-good-for-CV- work (haha)

3. I will be a devoted prayer

Practically increasing my quick and routine prayer of 3 minutes to well, 30 minutes. Oh wait it, that's intimidating, say just 15 minutes (Oh God, what will we chat about? My life? You're going to get sleepy, it's totally mundane)

4. I will travel somewhere in Indonesia

Not my hometown, not around Jogja, not getting lost in Jakarta especially the jungle of Glodok. Somewhere remote, exotic, wild, inspiring, bla bla bla bla, and CHEAP

5. I will finish my story (any of them)

What were them? The fisherman and the kidney girl? No... I think it was the genie and the camel? No.. no... no... one of them is kind of fishy, involving some Koi or Goldfish. Oh well, there are still 360 days to remember those unaccompanied minors.

6. I will gain 5 kgs

HAHAHAHAHA. That's exactly why I am the worst person ever making resolution !!! Impractical, impossible, lack of feasibility, wishful, you mention it!!!

7. I will make more resolutions next year

and this year resolutions will be at top list of my next year resolutions with a very high probability.

Hey, I already told you I'm a masochistic skeptic right?

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERY ONE!!! HOPE You were not drunk when writing this year resolutions :)

And So This Is Christmas

2009-12-22T20:24:00.000-08:00

Friend: 'Any plan for Christmas?'
Me : 'Nope. I think I will just go to the church'
Friend: 'Same here. Maybe I should just clean up my room, watch Sang Pemimpi. I also want to go for star gazing'.
Me: 'I guess it might be good, to have a real 'silent-night' Christmas'

It's christmas time and all around we can hear those typical Christmas songs played over and over again. O Holy Night, God Bless Ye Merry, Gentleman, in one CD with Last Christmas. Well, it maybe a loss or it could be a gain, when artists created Christmas songs without any philosophical thought on the born baby (arbitrarily celebrated on 25th December). Songs like Blue Christmas, All I Want For Christmas is You, Last Christmas, and even Christmas Song and Jingle Bells. They are nice songs with nice tune and they make you miss your family and beloved ones *snob.

It is a loss. Those songs simply put Christmas as a mark of seasonal holidays and celebrations. As a child, I think of Christmas as a time for shopping, gifts, new clothes and shoes, decorated trees, illuminations, a short speech of some short biblical prophetic verses and of course holidays. As a teenage girl, I welcome Christmas with anxiety (am I wearing perfect gown?), whimsical thought of mistletoe, unique card greetings, hectic and haste for extravagance parties and ceremonies, and maybe a little bit of (just a bit) of contemplation.

While now, I embrace Christmas (again) as a mark of the end of the year, and (again) holidays. It's the end of my contract, my job, and the beginning of series of wandering journey to come. It's the time to call all families (including the long ignored ones), emails writing, to delete messages from my cell phone inbox, to 'pay homage' to church. It's the time for some bogus 'love' celebrations, for some kids perform dance and drama for the sake of big grin on the old folks faces and sometimes for routine caroling. It's not wrong, though.

Since weeks ago, my friends has been ringing the ultimate question 'What do you plan for Christmas?'. I have been asking it too. So where's the savior, where's the sacrifice, where's the humility of being a mere human, where's the contemplation of grace, where's the praise for Divine humbleness? Where's the baby Jesus? If you're lucky you can find him on your church decorations, still lying on the manger.

It seems to me, we lose some Christ in our Christmas. Christ is only present in the wording: Christ-mas

The songs are not to be solely blamed. No, it's just a tiny part of this whole thing (I don't know what to call it) of worn-out, tiring Christmas. I can find some orientalism here :). It's totally pervasive. It's everywhere. It's your decorations, it's your longing for winter (most of us never even see snow shower, and many will never have the chance), it's your feeling of lunatic loneliness (is Christmas designed to be the time for family?). And its mine as well. But to condemn those pervasive 'western' cultures (you may call it) is the same pathetic orientalism.

So, anyway, what's the gain? Well, I can give you a long list of how fun it is to have this kind of Christmas. Holidays, new clothes, gifts. But that's what you call our loss, you may protest. That's it! I am driven to think of all those losses simply as my negative perspective (I have to admit, I can be very cynical -most of the times-). For now, at least, by realizing those losses (which came from my negative perspective) I come to the part where I start to think over the whole ideas of Christmas.

And so, my first attempt will depart from the above conversations between me and my friend. "I guess it might be good, to have a real 'silent-night' Christmas". It was (I'm 99% sure) a silent night. :)

ANYWAY, Happy Christmas and Happy Holiday, everyone!

~Welcome To Our World, by Michael W Smith~

Tears are falling, hearts are breaking
How we need to hear from God
You've been promised, we've been waiting
Welcome Holy Child
Welcome Holy Child

Hope that you don't mind our manger
How I wish we would have known
But long-awaited Holy Stranger
Make Yourself at home
Please make Yourself at home

Bring Your peace into our violence
Bid our hungry souls be filled
Word now breaking Heaven's silence
Welcome to our world
Welcome to our world

Fragile finger sent to heal us
Tender brow prepared for thorn
Tiny heart whose blood will save us
Unto us is born
Unto us is born

So wrap our injured flesh around You
Breathe our air and walk our sod
Rob our sin and make us holy
Perfect Son of God
Perfect Son of God
Welcome to our world

A Good Investment

2009-12-21T20:16:00.000-08:00

One day, I went somewhere on vacation with my fam. This conversation was happened while we were riding the narrow road among plateaus, green pasture, hundreds small houses. It was between my mom and my youngest sister Audy (10 years old).

Audy: This place is amazing !!! (amazed and wowing through the window). I wonder if there's any place more wonderful than this one.

Mom: Sure lot! You haven't place your feet on more than 4 provinces yet and that's only in Indonesia.

Audy: Yeaah! That's it, Mom!! I'm gonna get rich someday and travel all around Indonesia.. no...no... all around the world (showing greedy grin)

Mom: Money doesn't grow on tree! Study well then!! Maybe you can bring me somewhere around the globe (was trying to motivate my idly Audy)

Audy: (after a few moments of silence) I know now!!! You made many kids of your own so that when they grow up, you can take a lot from them. Travel here and there, buy this and that. So I understand now, that's what parents think of. But I ain't gonna fooled (snuffled). Sorry Mom, my own is mine!

Mom: (shrugged) You're not really a good investment (smiled to my pop who grinned, really did enjoy the conversation)

And so for me, that short conversation epitomizes the whole bunch of scholarly discourses, discontents, debates, and dialectics on children and childhood. Is kid a mere investment to her parents? Are children important because society invest a lot on them, on their childhood?

Or could it be that there no such thing as investment in childhood, it is just nothing more than investment in adulthood? Since children are matter because their potentiality of being the next adults (to work painstakingly to pay for parents pension :D )?

I'm gonna write about it
...someday...

#I'm not any better investment too :)

*picture

Celebrating My Stoic Aunty

2009-12-01T18:27:00.000-08:00

I have a big big family especially from my mom's side. My mom is the eldest of 9, with 5 sisters and 3 brothers. So, I have 5 aunties, and 3 uncles (really, I wonder how much stress my grandma endured all of those years).

All of my 5 aunties -all of them- had their own special times baby sited me and my siblings. Some for consecutive 4 years and more, others just for several months. One by one then, they left my house to do some real grown up works and got married with children. Now they all have their own families....except the youngest (who in fact not to be called young anymore, she's 31 next January).

She's the boldest, the most independent, the most carefree, the most enjoyable aunty one can ever hope to have. She's just 8 years older than me. So sometimes I call her by name -and add aunty at the end of my sentence- and she calls me Klak -my popular public name ;p- not Rara or Clara like the rest of my families. It's just like having a big sister.

I remember when I was 5 or 6 years old, I stayed at my grannies for couple of days (my parents went on family business or something). While I was there, she didn't go to school. I asked her," Why don't you go to school? There is no holiday. Other aunties are going." She answered me," I have special holidays in my school." I just nodded. Those couple of days I played around with her, making fake stupid biographies of other aunties, doing some traditional "inai" pedicure, looking for caterpillars and put them on a jar, I never saw them meta-morphed into butterflies.

Living in Jakarta since 2002, she earns her life by teaching English for kids and I assume she is wealthy enough for happy-go-lucky life (not really an assumption, everyone in my family knows she has big amount of saving).

Nevertheless, she never drown into luxurious life she can afford (in some measures for Jakarta dwellers). Her biggest dream is to travel around the world. Well, classic it may sounds, but that's what her saving is for. She went to Germany once and has made Berlin her starting point to conquer the earth.

The most enjoyable aunty she is.
I dance with her, I laugh and mock people with her (I mock her, she mocks me), I wander the city with her (and got lost in that cobble stones jungle) and daydream while eating ice scream with her. Where to borrow money, where to sleep, where to ask for help is unquestionably her.

And above all she always has this combination of stoicalness while at the same time she exhibits capacity to treasure all the fun, all the downs and ups, all the pains. Any certain condition as worst as it gets, as good as it gets, never gets the best of her.

I wonder if it's related to her being the youngest of 9. She was born when my mom reached age 18. I bet she was exposed to a hell amount of growing up issues of her 5 sisters and 3 brothers, ranging from teenage drama queens to that foolish hormonal lunatic songs of my uncles. So she used to play around alone.

Just like last week, when she text messaged me:

"Kla, how are you? We get series of blackouts here. I was just visited by Jehovah's witness, so I told him/her I wanted to go on some business. But I don't know where to go now. The class is on holiday hahahahaha"

and I replied "Repent, you sinner!! hahahahaha. O y I'll be having TOTAL 1st interview, long way to France.Pray for me, will y?"

and she replied with her stoic tune as always," Yup, I bet there are many sins written on my face. I always pray for you -see I'm already repent-. Got to go now, heading for nowhere"

She once told me, she came from a land above the sky - a sky country, a sky kingdom-. Part of me didn't believe it, but other part want to know the story. So I listened to her own made fairy tale (I even asked, is drink jar in sky country different from what we have here on earth?).

and I guess she has taken me believe that she came from a land above the sky.

An Omen

2009-11-15T17:48:00.000-08:00

My mom was short messaging me 5 days ago
She said," Don't you worry the heavy and weary load. As long as you stick to the right direction, you'll surely arrive at your destination"

Aaah mommy how did you know?

The day before she even called me right before my tears started to fall. Right after I asked Lord, why so much pain, and whined that I don't have anyone to turn to. That's when my cell phone rang.

It was my mom, saying she couldn't sleep because she felt that there was something wrong, and that very something was on me. A clairvoyance, and every mother is a clairvoyant, they say once. I believe in such things and that such thing is beyond my life's triviality. As I recall I never experience a clairvoyant unless you categorized whimsical thought as one of these. But here it is, a sudden call from my mom (she accused me that I failed the TOTAL GS interview ... aha!! another clairvoyant to be revealed by the end of Feb 2010).

From womb to tomb, they say. A child is attached to his/her mother, physically in her womb for a certain times, simulating the same heart beat which will follow them till the last earthly resort, the tomb.

Well, as for the conversation, I, of course pretended that everything's alright least to make her worrier. I talked about my boring job, another sudden responsibility from my professor. But she knows me too well. I think she sensed my perplexity so she suggested me to do some serious writing, not to hunt job (I know, she wanted me to find a descent job, but she didn't even mention it). Writing... gee...my mom really knows her daughter.

I miss her...

Death and All His Friends

2009-11-12T18:49:00.000-08:00

Death is a distant rumor to the young. ~Andrew A. Rooney

Introducing Pak Jumari, a clerk who has been working for UGM for more than 20 years. He's now counting down his pensioner time. Pak Jum doesn't have much work to fuss about (not like me :p ). He arrives at 7 o'clock, opens all the doors, switches on all the ACs, and does some mere cleanings. Occasionally during the day, he goes to the kitchen to do some dishes while chatting with one or two friends. Sometimes, TURT (Households and correspondence) will call him to do cleanings in other part of this big office. But most of the times, I find him lazying around or sleeping.

There's one thing Pak Jum frequently do in which I find I begin to develop a curiosity. Going to funeral. It is so often that one of his friends or relatives calls him (I handle all his calls now, like his own secretary) to inform that another friends or relatives of them died and are buried. He then will begin to give me a iffy explanations and lame details, and off he goes!

Sometimes, I wonder how many funerals can one attend during one's life? Well as I can recall during this 11 months of working here, Pak Jum had attended 10 funerals more or less. One funeral for one month. I remembered, it was probably in the mid of April, when Pak Jum attended 3 funerals in just two weeks. WOW!!! The deceased were his neighbors and it involved some ordinary mystical belief -a sort of competition between nearby cemeteries-.

Anyway, though I sometimes sceptically accept his reasoning for leaving the office -which might be an excuse for him to skip the day I suspect (but who can blame him -his work is totally mundane-)- I feel myself unable to forbid him to leave, or to just question his excuse -even if I want it, even if there is a solid ground to suspect him. In his age, no one can question a reasoning of one friend's death and funeral to take a day off.

Death, die, dying, dead, in Pak Jum age, are trite events and wordings. I think Pak Jum has accustomed to death and with every respect to him, Pak Jum might have lived it to the point where it resound nothing extraordinary. Is it had to be related to age? Well, though I have to admit that every one, each of us, lives our life with death floating in the air, aging makes one is prone to sickness, casualty, degradation, and therefore nearer to death.

Ah, this is quite a scary topics, but as someone says ( I forget who), you haven't lived until you think of death constantly :)

* picture

Take A Bow For You

2009-11-12T01:56:00.000-08:00

Life is crazy
and you've been living it so well

you do the jump with borrowed skateboard
learn the geek softwares and to plug the LAN Cable
you even master the red hat linux
and show your own tofu- salad dressing skill

you study 14 different lessons in a week
biology, math, physics, sociology, and party
you survive more tiesan 20s too-sweet-birthday cake
and manage your chin up for forgotten birthdays

so congratulations
you need to take a bow for yourself

you prove yourself able to accomplish all the deadlines
while keeping up with the news and the gossips
and when you screw all the tests
you hold on to yourself

in your life that somehow went nowhere
you retain from killing yourself
even take time to be a devoted blogger
life's like a messy room, but still you find a place to sleep

so congratulations
you need to take a bow for yourself

you buy the needles, do the knitting
and give a sweater to beloved one
the one you soon realize philandering
!! but somehow you chill out and enjoy your ice cream time

you pass all the hots and cools
flu, fevers, measles, and some psychosomatic symptoms
with or without Prozac

so congratulations
you need to take a bow for yourself

you lurk yourself inside cabinet
to meet your schizophrenic need
but never let away for too long your breath

yesterday someone hit you
and others hissed behind you
life is so rough and so 'grrrr'
but that's what those self-help books for

so congratulations
you need to take a bow for yourself

you do the aikido and research well
and your friend got invited to the government gala dinner
while your ex enjoying the sight of big apple
you pass jealousy and hatred
with or without tear

you survive all the lust world serve you
without losing your sanity and desire
and miyabi doesn't get the best of you
you've done your self definition so far

so congratulations
you need to take a bow for yourself

learn how to not over do make up
to make a diorama for some reasons you wonder why
learn how to sing in a choir to savvy the state of world's security
learn how to survive never-ending job interviews
to force a smile when the answer is sorry
learn how to best adapt to awkward situations
to recycle worn out dating series

learn sometimes life's so unkind
and your journey stuck in between reality and dream
that you blew out so many good changes
and ended up with wrong choices
maturity doesn't resound anything real to you
and your parents keep nagging at you
but you manage to survive those rounds

so congratulations
you need to take a bow for yourself

we need to take a bow for you
shall we ?

The Road Less Travelled

2009-10-08T21:25:00.000-07:00

They say take the road less travelled
but I walk the road you've walked
and I feel no regret...
I feel no regret...

I wowed my self with big Ben and Yo
let the memories froze in Prambanan

Never been I so mystified
but the ruin Taman Sari and big smiled Dey
gave me precious pictures

I sang my heart out
when I rehearsed the grieving tune of Bach
Oh I remembered the smiles and the frowns there in Kota Baru
and I cried out

I learned life can be so mean
from yellow walled tiny room in Tri Edhi
and friends, they might not always be true

But I healed as my life went on
I found my rhythm
singing along with Billy and Joe
walking our step down every corner's of UGM

and friends, I met some more
dancing like we knew it
leaving traces in Depok Beach, Kaliurang,
and I left dreams in their li'l comfy room

I glanced the beauty of art with Sondy
through the jungle of Beringharjo
I embraced the carefree of life with Vera and Nova
jumped from one simple pleasure to another in that small Gallery
Silly things I did with pimpled Lina
eyed all our crush on the pavement faded away
and episodes of prozac matters with sweet Vini

Along the road Godean, I squeezed my self
with calm Deta and funny Nael
somehow I'm always able to recall the moment

I was full of wonder
I danced so slowly
love's not for me for now, I thought then

Somehow, the red rose found a place
it was around 6 o'clock pm and dark
somewhere around Sosio Yustisia blocks
with his helmet put on,
I believed cupid live in Jogja

From the series of Rp. 10.000 movie in Mataram
to one simple sneaky kiss behind painted canvas of an exhibition in Societet
From melancholy feeling of Angkringan Sendowo
to grandiosity of Ambarukmo
From good food exploration
to rally of Daendels street of Kulon Progo
From lovely white sand beaches of Gunung Kidul
to mountains of Sleman

270506 05.55 5.9 6234
The moment I was woken up by the rumble earth
and for the fragile of human, I cried and grieved

To Sketsa Sagan fam,
they'll have my biggest grin
for teaching me to chill out life a bit
and knitting around with Poyeng

then I found new home
next to dearest Inong, Tati, and now Uli, Ribka, and Rina
with heart open, I learned new lessons in Karang Wuni
from understanding a hard life of Ardel
to tricks to live with over-audible neighbors

Some lessons I took
from the streets in those days under your dim lightbulb
Tugu, Jetis, Mirota
ah...little children on the street
craving for Aibon and food

And that old old malioboro
which often I wandered alone
rejuvenate the ups and the downs
the empty and the full
the high and the low
the loves and the hates
I have for the city I dwell in

and those benches in Vrederburg
will always be my refuge
my rendezvous with the soul of the city kept in my heart

Happy Birthday Jogja

Crappy Writings 1

2009-09-29T22:29:00.000-07:00

If love is a religion, then we are all on-off apostates.

Well, we had a fight last night. Ok, not really a fight with melodramatic words or flood of tears or with raising pitch voice. It was just (at least for me), an attempt of heart to heart discussion which turned out to be a one way communication with bitter resume for both.

It was all about misunderstanding. How I felt I've been misunderstood and yes, it works also for him, he felt he's been misunderstood. So much for nearly 4 years of relationship.

It leads me thinking how fragile is one relationship. It grows cold, turns out sour, and at some points you wonder where all those happiness gone. I witness many couples broke and failed, I was one of them or maybe I will be (for good or bad) another victim of bad relationship (or it'd better be said, the persecutor).

I saw one of my neighbor came to my mom, cried all day and without even asking anyone, I understand the reason why. What else other than philandering husband. I see friends trapped inside self abusive relationships going upside down like a super rollercoaster, spending liters of tears and an amount of tissues. While some are (trying hard to be) happy with their demanding partner. Some got deceived and fooled. Options left, closed your eyes and learn to numb it, live it, or bang!! head on out the door.

I am no better off.

While I don't have right to judge, it seems to me relationship (and so called love) is much too complicated to comprehend. For me, most of the times, to get along with someone you (think you) love is like to open a pandora box. One could never know what's inside. No matter how deep you (think you) know that person, gamble is one of the facets you face. Hopefully, you bet on the lucky card.

More over, people changes whether you like it or not and in other ways they remain the same, no matter how bad you want them to change. Today's good boy might surprise you some day. Who knows, maybe your lover is a devoted masochist? Will you brave enough to leap or walk away or you just let him get others to satisfy him? Extreme example, but then again you'll never know.

Maybe there is some differences between worn out relationship and love-drain. Probably they are two things with similar symptoms. Worn out relationship is just like saying "I love him but I'm not in love with him" (quote from Vicky Christina Barcelona). While love drain is living in a relationship like a zombie. If you ever watch "The Hours" you must get the idea. You act automatically not naturally. You put aside your emotions. Both however can be fixed (well, most of the times).

Anyway, though you have to gamble a lot or a few, though you will never know for sure, I believe in every relationship you will find some space to improve whether yourself, your partner, or your relations or hopefully all the three.

So, life goes on, and love is our lifelong job. No matter how bad you want to take days off, you'll eventually get back to it.

Some Q&As about Street Children

2009-08-05T19:01:00.001-07:00

Many of you might have some questions about street children but probably you don't know where to ask. Or you might want to help but don't know where to start. Well, to give you some brief explanation, here I post questions one of my dear freind Cher Soon in Singapore had asked me and of course, my answer to his.

Cher Soon:
Clara! I just dropped by ur blog n i have to say u take amazing pics!
I'm really curious abt those street kids.
Can u tell me more about their situation?
R they mostly orphans? abandoned by their parents?
or come from disadvantaged families?
do they need financial help? or more of motivation to get back to school?
Tell me more!

Me:
Thx u Eddie. Sorry for my late reply, I had to dig a bit for your answers.

Well, kids on the street is a complicated issue. It's hard to figure out their numbers, their exact characteristics, even up until now, we don't have one solid definition bout them that we all may come to agree. Street children in different countries or towns have different nature though they may share some similarities.

As for street kids I have encountered, most of them come from poor families, often worsen by disfuctionality in their families. Some are run-away kids who don't feel themselves fit into society, school, or their families, few are separated and abandoned and practically "orphanage" , some are simply on the street with their families.

Some children are on the street for just a few hours and still go to school, but most of them drop-out, not finishing compulsory education. So it's not surprising many of them are ililterate and those who can read, have a low interest in reading books or even newspaper.

They do need financial help. But financial help alone will not be helping at all. Arita for example, the girl you wrote a postcard to, was receiving scholarships but it didn't work. Her parents wanted her to keep begging on the street while schooling. Not having enough energy to do both, humiliated by her friends at school, finally she gave up school.

Money matters and it hurts you when you have this kid willing to get back to school and you don't have enough money to send him. But it takes more than money.

Some of them aren't interested in continuing their education. Since they find out that they can make a lot on the street. They get used to the freedom, the glue-sniffing, the drugs, and so on. The hardest part is to change their "street-mentality".

I am now running a project called "Library Box" aiming to provide access for street children to good, variative, interesting books. It will be easy and portable, so they can read books right on the street while doing their activities. In the long run, we hope as they begin to fancy reading, they will have more interest in getting back to school. I have to admit, it's a long journey, and just collecting few books is already a pain ^^. Don't worry I'll survive

I've written enough I guess. If you have another questions, feel free to ask me anytime. And gud luck w/ ur job hunting.

Take Care Eddie

p.s may I post your questions and my answers in my blog. I think it's quite informative.

Simple Things

2009-08-05T00:16:00.000-07:00

"Oh, simple things where have you gone...?"
Well, they are not far, actually. I found some in Gunung Kidul (literally means Southern Mountain, part of Yogyakarta), precisely in Baron Beach.

These tiny beautiful creatures just simply exist there without being annoyed by the crowds below, or people rushing, or the sound of waves, nor they annoy anyone. Seeing them, somehow makes me think, in this huge universe overwhelmed by its complexity, someone bothers to keep them unharm and thus let them share their simple beauty. It must have been A Providence. They are small yet beautiful and they take no care of the probability that no one would ever admire the beauty.

While, man.... ah they think they are too great for this whole universe, yet they are the most vulnerable creature ever made. Money they have cannot even buy protection these little fellows own without a penny. Then... even with the angels cry... they, the human, die in a blast.

What keeps you going?

2009-08-03T21:10:00.000-07:00

Don't you ever feel like quitting something you've started but somehow you just keep doing it? That's what I feel right now. Well, it's not like I really want to quit and abandon everything, I am tempted to take a pause for a while. But instead of taking a period of hiatus, I find myself continue doing all those things even in a more agressive way.

Those things include contacting people I've long ignored, persuading them to donate their old books and mags, urging some peoples to submit their writings, calling and asking things in nearly self humiliating way. Some went smoothly, while some turned out to be useless failed attempts. But again, I can't help myself to quit.

The reasons? Well, I can't think of any exact explanation for this almost-self-destructing habit (oh ok not a habit). It could be workaholic (who am I trying to fool?), or inner passion ( I hope it's not) or simply I just can't find reasons good enough to make me quitting.

Of all those things I'm doing for street children for example, I have to confess that they didn't solely come from my compassion for them. I mean I love them to some extent and sometimes my heart breaks to see them on the street, the place they don't belong to. But what I feel for them is quite complex. A mix of pity, compassion, refusal, indifference, pain, and anger. I might have came to a point where I get used to them. I'm starting to see them as a common part of my daily activities, my prayers, my works. So common, I slowly forget the first time I got a kick out of the pain looking at their eyes.

So what keeps me going the most is probably the willing to do things right, the urgency to get things done, to make what I've started matters for others but above all, for me. And I haven't arrived there yet....

Stigma, Hambatan untuk Berkawan

2009-07-31T00:51:00.000-07:00

Writer: Ardi Nuswantoro
Contributor: Chandra Siagian
Edited by Clara Siagian
will be published in 1st ed. of Rumah Impian Buletin
english translation to come ^^

Stigma, Hambatan Untuk Berkawan

Stigma adalah pencelaan terhadap karakteristik personal. Sebagai tahap awal bagi munculnya marjinalisasi dan diskriminasi, stigma menjadi sebuah hukuman berat bagi mereka yang terpaksa mempertahankan hidup di jalanan.

Belakangan, anak jalanan di Yogyakarta semakin menjamur. Kemunculan mereka menambah semrawutnya lalu lintas kota dengan wujud dekil, kostum kotor, dan bau yang kadang tidak mengenakkan. Jalan-jalan raya dipenuhi mereka mencari uang di jalanan dengan berbagai cara seperti menjadi pengamen, pengelap kendaraan, penyemir sepatu, penjual koran, bahkan beberapa disinyalir menjadi penjaja seks komersial. Lalu bagaimana masyarakat melihat keberadaan mereka?

Meningkatnya jumlah anak jalanan setiap tahun ini diakui oleh Aris Merdeka Sirait, aktifis Komnas Perlindungan Anak dalam wawancara dengan Radio Netherland beberapa tahun lalu. Data Dinas Sosial Kota Bandung pun memperkuat kenyataan ini. Pada tahun 2007 menyebutkan angka 4200 untuk jumlah anak jalanan terdaftar di kota ini. Tahun 2008, jumlah berlipat ganda menjadi 8000 anak. Secara keseluruhan, berdasarkan data tahun 2003, jumlah anak jalanan di Indonesia secara keseluruhan mencapai lebih dari 50.000 anak.

Lain Bandung, lain pula Jogja. Meskipun jumlah anak jalanan di kota ini lebih kecil, pertumbuhannya tetap saja mengkhawatirkan. Dinas Sosial memperlihatkan data lama jumlah anak jalanan Jogja yang mencapai 245 anak pada tahun 1997. Setelah krisis ekonomi terjadi, jumlah ini meningkat tajam mencapai 1373 pada tahun 1999 (hasil pendataan Tim Asistensi kerjasama Universitas Atmajaya Jakarta dan Departemen Sosial). Data lama tersebut memperlihatkan pertumbuhan anak jalanan yang mencapai 500 persen ketika krisis terjadi. Artinya, kemungkinan pertambahan akan selalu ada mengingat beban hidup yang harus ditanggung setiap keluarga miskin kota juga semakin berat setiap tahun.

Lepas dari tanggung jawab orang tua, berbagai cara lalu dilakukan anak jalanan untuk mempertahankan hidup. Beragam cara mulai dari pengamen, pengelap kendaraan, penyemir sepatu, penjual koran, bahkan penjaja seks komersial adalah cara yang biasa dilakukan untuk mencari sesuap nasi. Tentu saja, cara tersebut adalah cara yang dipandang rendah oleh sebagian besar masyarakat.

Soal tempat berlindung, bermacam jenis tempat pun mereka gunakan. Sembilan puluh satu kantong anak jalanan hasil survei Dinas Sosial tahun 1999 adalah tempat berlindung yang memperkuat stigma. Lihat saja, mereka berlindung di emperan toko, kuburan, rumah kardus, terminal, stasiun, bahkan lokalisasi. Dari cara hidup seperti ini, stigma pun muncul dan berkembang.

Stigma yang muncul seakan membenarkan berbagai teori tentang stigma sosial. Berbagai literatur memperlihatkan bagaimana karakteristik dan tingkah laku personal adalah modal utama stigma. Melirik kembali pada karakteristik dan tingkah laku personal anak jalanan, maka wajar jika kemudian stigma muncul.

Lalu seperti apakah stigma anak jalanan di mata masyarakat ? “Anak jalanan itu jorok, kotor, gatrus.terjerumus ke dalam dunia gelap gitu” kata Karib, Mahasiswa Psikologi UGM ketika ditanya tentang anak jalanan. Pengakuan tersebut setidaknya mewakili berbagai stigma negatif yang berkembang dalam masyarakat tentang anak jalanan. berpendidikan, kurang kasih sayang orang tua,

Menjadi anak jalanan bukanlah hukuman seumur hidup. Dengan bantuan dan fasilitasi dari berbagai pihak, anak jalanan bisa keluar dari dunia gelap mereka. “Kalo mereka dikasih kesempatan untuk berkembang bisa jadi baik kok" ujar Karib menyelipkan harapan.

Pendapat serupa juga dilontarkan oleh Wani, Mahasiswa tingkat akhir Fakultas Hukum UGM. Wani mengungkapkan bahwa semua anak jalanan memiliki bakat unik. “Bahwa bakat anak jalanan yang difasilitasi akan memperbaiki kualitas hidup mereka.” ujar Wani. Pengakuan Wani dan Karib ini memang menyelipkan harapan bagi anak jalanan.

Harapan Wani dan Karib membenarkan survei yang dilakukan oleh Christian Children Fund terhadap sejumlah anak jalanan. Menurut CCF, 70 persen anak jalanan yang mereka wawancarai masih memiliki mimpi untuk menyelesaikan bangku sekolah. Sementara itu, 60 persen anak jalanan masih bermimpi untuk meninggalkan jalanan. Namun stigma memang sudah terlanjur menjadi diskriminasi. Alhasil, kesempatan anak jalanan untuk melanjutkan kehidupan normal dibayang-bayangi dan dihambat stigma masyarakat.

Stigma adalah perlakuan yang terlalu menghakimi bagi anak jalanan. Dengan stigma, anak jalanan secara tidak langsung telah dikeluarkan dari struktur masyarakat. Anak jalanan kemudian dilihat sebagai makhluk asing atau ekses sistem sosial yang sebenarnya tidak diharapkan kehadirannya. Padahal, jika ditelusur lebih dalam, anak jalanan bagaimana pun juga adalah anak-anak, dan stigma telah berperan sebagai pembunuh karakter bagi mereka. Stigma yang melekat dalam jangka waktu panjang akan mengalami internalisasi, sehingga korban stigma pada akhirnya akan melihat dirinya sejalan dengan stigma yang ada padanya. Begitu pun anak jalanan, yang notabenenya masih berada dalam usia perkembangan menuju kedewasaan.

Bagi masyarakat, stigma yang berkembang akan mempengaruhi respon masyarakat terhadap keberadaan anak jalanan. Lebih jauh, program dari berbagai LSM pun akan tersendat ketika masyarakat enggan berpartisipasi. Sementara itu LSM pun kerap menggiatkan kegiatan yang hanya bertitik tolak dari pemahaman stigma yang sempit dan hanya bertujuan memperbaiki pandangan negatif masyarakat. Di sisi lain, stigma juga mempengaruhi respon anak jalanan terhadap berbagai program yang dijalankan. Setidaknya, penolakan dan ketidakpercayaan adalah respon standar anak jalanan.

Berbeda dengan Wani, Asri berpendapat lain. Menurut mahasiswa Psikologi UGM ini, anak jalanan muncul salah satunya karena eksploitasi orang tua. "Makin banyak anak jalanan, karena makin banyak orang 'murah hati', yang membuat orang tua mereka mengeksploitasi itu" kata Asri. Pendapat Asri ini kemudian dibenarkan oleh Slamet, penarik becak yang sudah hampir 15 tahun mangkal di perempatan pingit. Menurut Slamet, beberapa orang tua sering terlihat menunggui anaknya mengemis di perempatan. “Bahkan ada juga yang bapaknya punya motor bagus tapi anaknya disuruh ngemis” kata Slamet[1].

Di jalanan, banyak para pengguna jalan yang kesal terhadap keberadan anak jalanan. “Mereka mengganggu lalu lintas. Anak-anak jalanan yang masih kecil menjadikan jalan sebagai tempat bermain. Jika tertabrak lalu pengguna jalan yang disalahkan” ujar Wakijan[2], seorang tukang becak tua di Jetis. Menurut Wakijan, kecelakaan memang sudah terjadi beberapa kali di perempatan tersebut.

Pengguna jalan seperti Slamet dan Wakijan mungkin sudah tidak asing lagi dengan kondisi seperti ini. Menurut Slamet, beberapa anak jalanan yang masih kecil memang sengaja diperalat orang tua untuk mencari uang. “Biasanya mereka ditunggu orang tua” ujar Wakijan. Keadaan ini tentunya sangat memprihatinkan mengingat anak-anak hakekatnya memiliki hak untuk penghidupan dan pendidikan seperti yang tertulis di Konvensi Hak Anak yang telah diratifikasi Indonesia sejak Oktober 1989. “Mereka hanyalah korban orang tua yang tidak bertanggung jawab” ujar Wakijan menyesali keadaan.

Sebagai tukang becak, Slamet mengungkapkan kekesalannya terhadap anak jalanan yang beranjak dewasa. Hal ini beralasan karena sebagian besar anak jalanan yang beranjak dewasa kemudian menjadi preman. Slamet menyayangkan otak dan tenaga kuat mereka yang sebenarnya bisa dipakai untuk memperbaiki hidup. “Anak muda yang berpikiran sehat pasti memikirkan jalan bagaimana keluar dari jalanan” ujarnya.

Menurut Slamet, sudah menjadi pemandangan umum di Pingit jika setiap malam preman-preman nongkrong menghabiskan waktu mereka. “Mereka hanya luntang-lantung ke sana kemari tanpa tujuan yang jelas. Mereka hanya senang hura-hura. Jika ada uang lebih, mereka minum-minum, lalu masyarakat pun terganggu” ujar Slamet yang mulai jengah terhadap keberadaan anak jalanan.

Perbedaan umur memang kadang kemudian menjadi pembeda karakteristik anak jalanan. Anak jalanan yang masih kecil memang memancing simpati sebagian masyarakat. Seperti diungkapkan Asri, anak jalanan kecil tampak sebagai korban tidak bertanggung jawabnya orang tua. Sementara itu, keberadaan anak jalanan dewasa terkadang memunculkan kekesalan tersendiri. Seperti pengakuan Slamet, anak jalanan dewasa hanya memperlihatkan kemalasan.

Stigma masyarakat terhadap keberadaan anak jalanan bukanlah tak beralasan. Pengakuan beberapa orang telah menegaskan stigma anak jalanan. Akan tetapi, benarkah anak jalanan adalah anak nakal, kotor, susah diatur, korban orang tua, dan sampah masyarakat?

[1] Slamet – parsidi – tukan becak pingit 1970, temanggung, 15 tahun mbecak

[2] Wakijan – tukilan tukang becak jetis, 1943, gunung kidul, 30 tahun menjadi tukang becak

The Way They Bounce Back

2009-07-30T02:39:00.000-07:00

"Once you label me, you negate me" Søren Kierkegaard

Today is quite a day for Ratih. She and her friends will be performing a unique musical performance in Taman Pintar; plainly but in creative sense called Musik Kaleng Rombeng. Ratih joins the rehearsal at the back yard of her school SDK Mangunan –a school best known and praised for its different approach in educating school kids thanks to its founder Romo Mangunwijaya.

With great enthusiasm and bashful smile, Ratih recites their singing, Ondel-Ondel and Cublak Cublak Suweng. They say they will meet and on stage with Dik Doank in Taman Pintar and seeing a public figure in real version is a lot for Ratih. The teacher interrupts and asks them to sing and gyrate to the music –only to make Ratih and her friends go blushing. Nothing, not even a slightest clue leads one to infer that Ratih was a street girl a month or so before.

Ratih is not the only one there. Introducing, Adhi and Kido who are already back to school a year ago. The boys and Ratih are in their 5th grade this year. This might be meaningless for many of us who regard schooling is no challenging matter, so predictable it is we take for granted all the process one must gone through to pass a semester. But for Adhi and Kido, a year pass in a school is a remarkable story (though they still have so many years to complete compulsory education).

Kido for example had to live and move from street to street for years before met his life-changing opportunity that is back to school. Having lived years practically without education, Kido had to work out his lacking of knowledge compare to that of his other classmates. Not a brilliant student but he managed to prove himself and was able to rose to the middle rank of his class.

According to Adhi and Kido’s former teacher, Bu Rumei, the kids were by no means a trouble for her. Different from her expectation, the boys were far away from wild adjective, even at first they seemed to be timid and in a closet. When being asked, Adhi who once cried in the first week of school, answered simply that he was ashamed especially for his background on the street. He saw himself in a negative way, pretty much similar with those stigmas labeled by people –wild, unworthy, dirty, no future and whatsoever-. The longer you live with those stigmas stick to your face, the deeper you internalize them, and the more you believe you are what they say you are.

Not all the stories are heartwarming. Nesa, for example had gone through series of in and out schools and counsellings, only to return to the street –a place she said to be where she belongs-. She was yearning for freedom she experienced on the street. Could it be that the freedom she longed for is nothing but free from internalized stigma? “I am different. I don’t fit in the school. I was once free but in school they tried to put rules on me. In the street, the kids don’t care of what people said” she said. Sometimes the victims can turn the sense of labels upside down to become their own pride and justification.

So what can be done to make a successful school-comeback for street children? From her experience, Bu Rumei mentions several important points. The first is no other than self-will from the kid. Going back to school isn’t something we cannot force unto them. The initiative might come from outside but the kid has to believe that going back to school is their ticket for a better life. Bu Rumei finds it in Adhi and Kido. It is their self-will that would encourage them to survive the process. Next is the cooperation between the host or promoter (sanggar) and the school. School must be equipped with sensitivity to take into account the kid individual characteristic and be ready to give a comprehensive personal approach, equal with other children. While the host or promoter must be prepared to help the kids coping with the lost years that supposed to be spent in house not on the street. Good communication between the promoter and school and regular supervision are also a must.

The good news is their street background doesn’t necessarily bad. It turns out that other kids are attracted to them since they have musical ability such as playing guitar and singing, thanks to years of “mengamen”. The teacher also considers them to have more responsibility and independency, one step to great leadership. This might be the reason why all the three are selected to perform in Taman Pintar.

But as music plays both the major and the minor keys, school also brings the good and bad form of humanity. Although most of her friends in school are kind and friendly, some still keep speaking ill of Ratih and turning their back against her. “I don’t know why. I always try to be kind to them but they keep hissing ‘street kid’ behind my back” Ratih complains. It’s probably nothing more than kids’ rivalry or some kids acting drama queen, but somehow it is quite an issue for Ratih. Maybe time will tell why, or maybe Dik Doank has the answer in Taman Pintar... maybe.

Little Girl on the Green

2009-07-30T02:38:00.000-07:00

Amerasians, left in Philippines

2009-07-30T02:37:00.000-07:00

Amerasian

Babay na sa adalah olokan yang sering dilontarkan ke anak-anak Amerasian. “Selamat tinggal, Ayah” begitulah kira-kira arti olokan tersebut. Terlahir dari ayah anggota militer Amerika Serikat di Filipina dan ibu asli Filipina, tak membuat hidup lebih baik bagi anak-anak Amerasian ini. Sebaliknya perbedaan ras yang mereka miliki menjadi sumber stigma yang harus mereka hadapi.

Saat ini di Filipina diperkirakan terdapat 52.000 anak-anak Amerasian yang tidak memiliki klaim atas ayah biologisnya di Amerika. Hampir seluruhnya hidup dalam kemiskinan. Sebagian besar hidup bersama ibu kandung mereka yang merupakan pekerja seks komersial. Yang lain tak lebih beruntung, mereka hidup sebatang kara karena banyak wanita yang mengandung anak Amerasian membuang anaknya segera setelah dilahirkan. Stigma yang dilekatkan pada ibu dan anak tersebut membuat mereka sulit untuk memiliki hidup yang berkualitas.

Kemiskinan yang parah menyebabkan hampir seluruh dari mereka turun ke jalan. Dengan begitu, anak Amerasian adalah 1/5 bagian dari 250.000 anak jalanan di Filipina. Data ini dikeluarkan oleh Pemerintah Filipina. Sementara banyak lembaga non pemerintah memperkirakan ada lebih dari 1 juta anak jalanan di negara dengan populasi mencapai 84 juta jiwa. Hingga hari ini, Filipina memang negara yang memiliki populasi anak jalanan terbesar di Asia Tenggara.

Anak-anak Amerasian terkonsentrasi di daerah-daerah yang dulu dijadikan basis militer AS terutama masa Perang Vietnam hingga kira-kira tahun 1995 (pangkalan militernya resmi ditutup pada tahun 1991) seperti Olongapo, Angeles, Clark, dan Subic Bay. Kota-kota ini termasuk kota yang tinggi tingkat eksistensi anak jalanannya. Tidak ada dari anak-anak ini yang mengenal ayah biologisnya dan sebagian besar dari mereka tidak akan pernah mengenal ayahnya.

Berada di jalanan dengan warna kulit dan tampilan fisik yang berbeda membuat anak-anak Amerasian rentan terhadap stigma dan perlakuan diskriminatif. Jika keadaan anak jalanan di Filipina saja sudah sedemikian buruk, maka anak-anak Amerasian mendapat perlakuan yang jauh lebih buruk. “Souvenir Babies” “G.I Babies” atau “Half-baked Americans” adalah olokan yang sering diterima oleh anak jalanan.

Di antara anak-anak jalanan, anak Amerasian perempuan berkulit putih acap kali menjadi sasaran pelecehan seksual hingga pemerkosaan. Beberapa lagi masuk dalam kegiatan prostitusi yang akhirnya menciptakan siklus setan yang tak terputus. Sedangkan anak Amerasian berkulit hitam, seperti yang dialami saudaranya belasan tahun lalu di Amerika, juga sering menjadi sasaran diskriminasi dan kambing hitam. Terkadang mereka juga menjadi korban diskriminasi dari keluarga mereka sendiri di Filipina.

Fenomena ini sebenarnya tidak hanya terjadi di Filipina. Di Vietnam, Korea, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia dan Jepang (terutama Okinawa). Hanya saja, berbeda dari “saudara” mereka di negara lain, Amerasian di Filipina tidak memiliki klaim kewarganegaraan Amerika yang diatur melalui undang-undang. Dalam Amerasian Immigration Act disebutkan bahwa anak-anak yang lahir dari ayah Amerika di Cambodia, Korea, Laos, Thailand, atau Vitenam memiliki hak kewarganegaran Amerika dan hak berimigrasi ke Amerika. Filipina tidak termasuk dalamnya karena Filipina bukanlah daerah operasi militer dan bukan daerah perang.

Usaha untuk membentuk lembaga untuk membantu mensejahterakan dan mereunifikasikan anak-anak Amerasian di Filipina juga ditolak oleh Kongres Amerika. Alasan mereka didasarkan pada kenyataan Amerasian di Filipina adalah hasil prostitusi yang tidak bisa dijadikan klaim legal. Beberapa organisasi non profit berusaha memperbaiki keadaan mereka dengan membangun program santunan. Lobi yang dilakukan oleh PREDA Foundation misalnya berhasil mendesak US Aid Agency mengucurkan 2 juta dollar Amerika untuk perbaikan hidup anak-anak Amerasian. Namun, disinyalir oleh PREDA Foundation, hanya 650.000 dollar yang tersalurkan. Sehingga walaupun membantu untuk jangka pendek, program-program seperti ini sering kali tidak memadai dan tidak mencapai sasaran.

Miskin dan terabaikan, mungkin kata-kata ini yang tepat menggambarkan kondisi anak-anak Amerasian saat ini. Pun begitu, selalu ada harapan untuk kelompok-kelompok terpinggirkan seperti mereka. Salah satunya seperti yang diberikan oleh Microsoft Corp. Microsoft memberikan beasiswa total 5 juta peso bagi Amerasian yang membutuhkan. Selain itu, kebijakan diskriminasi positif juga sedang digodok oleh pemerintah bekerja sama dengan perusahaan-perusahaan untuk menyediakan lapangan pekerjaan bagi anak-anak. Namun, untuk sementara agaknya sebagian besar dari mereka akan terus miskin dan terabaikan.

Little Street Boy

2009-07-30T02:34:00.000-07:00

Little Street Girl

2009-07-30T02:32:00.000-07:00

What I've Been Thinking About Emancipation

2009-07-30T02:31:00.000-07:00

These are some of the thoughts:
1.More female in more social role.
Our society to some extent needs a balancing approach in many aspects of life; which has been overly dominated by man culture. There are roles/jobs that are best done by women for their femaleness. Some jobs require accuracy over speed, content over ambition. Our bureaucracy needs to be more sensitive, more listening, more empathy. Again, is to balance, not to be dominating. Since woman generally has more femaleness that man, inevitably she will have a certain different approaches from what man has. But this is just a quick generalization; some men may have more of female strong points over women in common (that also work otherwise).

Yes, caring and nursing are probably more suitable for woman than man. Fighting and shooting are done best mostly by men. But, why not a female fire fighter if she meets all the requirements like strength, energy and others. And so what if a man being a nurse as long as he is capable of caring and treating.

2. We need a fair labor division
Every work needs person in charge of leading, and other to assist. It doesn't imply that a leader should be a man, and woman is only capable as an assistant of male leader. Sometimes I think we've been too long underestimating the capability of women as well as underestimating the role of assistants. Both, woman and man can take both crucial positions (since one role is nothing without the other). As long as they meet the expected result of the role.

3. Emancipation is not domination in disguise
This emancipation thing has feared men along history because they think they'll have their wives lying on the couch watching TV while they ended up in the kitchen sink. I, personally thing this shows how shallow their thinking is. But no.... I won't let my future husband does the dishes (OK... maybe sometimes). I know (like all woman knows) that most wives did the housekeeping better than their partners and husbands were good in plumbing and nailing things.

Just don't limit your expectations. If somehow you find your wife is better at painting the walls while you do perfect laundry, why not do what one best at?

4. Redefinition of so called “Kodrat”
One of comments I received from my previous notes is that Kartini aimed for educating women to do best in their duty as a woman, which are bearing and educating kids, cooking, and other housekeeping.

While I don’t want to argue about Kartini’s ideas and what she implied, I kind of annoyed by this sexist female-male duties.

First it implies that all woman; all of them should build own family, bear several kids, and hopefully dedicated their lives to raise good civilians. OK..... I myself want to get married, have kid one or two and raise them. But, not all women share my dream; that KB’s dream. Some women don’t want to have own family, don’t want to get married, don’t want to raise any too (ever or yet!). They just have different dreams that might be so peculiar, so odd that it is to be called “menyalahi kodrat”.

Think about nuns, think about hermits, think about persons like Mother Teresa, and think about some women of the church who committed to celibacy. Well, practically they are stepping out of so called woman ultimate duty. But no one ever condemned them since they are taking religious responsibility. You may say they are doing God’s business but again what we call God’s business is basically service; a public service. So how about a female environment activist who decided not to get married or have any child in order to dedicate her life for her work. She is contributing something for our society, right?! Just like those nuns.

What we perceived as Kodrat is sometimes misleading. The same can be applied to man. Is man ultimate duty is to be husband, father (biologically)?? Well, if the answer is yes then we must think over the roles like pastors, monks, and so on.

Kartini, riwayatmu kini...

2009-07-30T02:30:00.000-07:00

Seorang teman mengajak saya untuk jadi tamu 'on air' di sebuah radio swasta Jogja. Temanya tentang perempuan atau wanita (sama sajalah kecuali anda seorang fanatik diskursus kajian budaya), menyambut Hari Kartini yang secara tak resmi (tak tertera di kalender) diperingati besok 21 April. Bingung karena bakal disandingkan dengan beberapa orang yang CV-nya lebih menjual dari saya dan hmm... mungkin suaranya jatuh lebih empuk di telinga pendengar. Namun, ok-lah sebagian dari saya berkata kenapa tidak?!

Hari Kartini... basi dan klise? Mungkin sekali, saya tidak bisa bilang tidak setuju. Hari yang telah dilumatkan hanya sebatas seremonial dan simbolisasi monoton tak berkembang. Yang paling sibuk di Hari Kartini adalah anak-anak TK setengah dipaksa berias dan berdandan ala ibu darma wanita dengan kebaya dan wiron. Yang laki-laki sama saja bedanya mereka memakai pakaian untuk laki-laki. Dan anehnya ini diamini sebagai upaya menanamkan semangat perjuangan Kartini. Sungguh tidak masuk akal. Selain anak TK, ibu-ibu pejabat juga akan sibuk membuat acara yang sama sekali tidak substansial dengan memakai kebaya baru tiap tahunnya. Demi memperingati Kartini katanya. Yang terlihat oleh saya hanyalah pameran dan kompetisi busana yang semakin mempertegas prejudis bodoh, wanita hanya bisa bersolek!!

Saya tidak anti bersolek dan tidak anti kebaya, nyatanya saya memakai kebaya di dua kali hari kelulusan. Perempuan perlu cantik, kenapa tidak. Tapi bukan "perempuan-perlu-cantik-saja" yang dewasa ini disempitkan dengan serangkaian indikator khas inferioritas negara bekas jajahan; putih, tinggi langsing, rambut lurus (sebagian diwarnai kebule-bulean), dada besar dan menonjol, hidung mancung, dan lainnya. Apa yang terjadi di Hari Kartini semakin memperkuat hal tersebut. Memang dia terbungkus nasionalisme, tapi lagi-lagi nasionalisme sempit dan sedikit munafik yang diwakili oleh kebaya dan baju adat lainnya. Kita kan sedang merayakan semangat Kartini bukan Bhineka Tunggal Ika.

Kartini memang dalam tiap foto yang kita miliki tentangnya memakai kebaya tapi karena di eranya, kebaya adalah pakaian sehari-hari, casual wear!! Hanya saja kita biarkan visual kita mendikte pikiran. O itu Kartini dalam kebaya, jadi memperingatinya haruslah dengan kebaya. Salah besar!!! Saya yakin Kartini tidak akan keberatan dengan perkembangan busana (mungkin dia sedikit mendukung pula karena memakai kebaya atau baju adat manapun sangat merepotkan). Dia pasti tak mengapa bila kita memperingati semangatnya dengan memakai jins dan kaos biasa. Perempuan bukanlah apa yang dipakainya bukan??

Hari Kartini... dari penamaannya saja hari ini sangat bertendensi mereduksi maknanya. Ok kita cukup bangga hanya ada satu nama pahlawan dalam hari-hari besar Indonesia dan itu dipersembahkan pada seorang perempuan. Namun, coba pikirkan betapa sempit kata Hari Kartini tersebut. Pikiran kita harus berpikir dua kali, mengingat Kartini lalu mengidentikannya dengan semangat emansipasi perempuan. Itu pun kalau Kartini mengaungkan itu di pikiran kita. Kebanyakannya yang pertama terlintas setelah mendengar Hari Kartini adalah imaji dan fotonya dengan sanggul dan kebaya Jawa dan ini terus menerus direproduksi dan dilatenkan melalui perayaan semacam tadi. Inilah akibatnya terlalu mengidolisasikan figur. Yang tertinggal hanya foto dan atribut bukan tulisan, bukan pemikiran.

Coba bandingkan dengan 2 Mei, Hari Pendidikan Nasional adalah hari lahirnya Ki Hajar Dewantara dan tidak dinamai Hari Ki Hajar Dewantara, kalau tidak peringatan 2 Mei akan menjadi parade orang-orang memakai songkok. Atau 10 November sebagai Hari Perang di Surabaya bukan Hari Pahlawan, bisa-bisa semasa sekolah setiap peserta upacara diwajibkan memakai pakaian militer dan memanggul senjata. Bisa gawat, karena hari indoktrinasi nasionalisme dan patriotisme semakin sempit menjadi hari indoktrinasi militerisme. Weleh...weleh...

Jadi, bagaimana seharusnya Hari Kartini itu menurut saya? Pertama, bagaimana kalau menyebutnya Hari Perempuan saja atau Hari Kesetaraan? Lebih kena sasaran, universal, mudah dimengerti, dan sulit dipusingkan dengan atribut-atribut tak penting (paling tidak sampai masyarakat kita kembali ke hobinya dengan simbol dan atribut). Kartini (lagi-lagi menurut saya) tidak akan keberatan bila namanya perlahan-lahan luruh seiring terserapnya citra dan ikonisasi dirinya dalam sebuah semangat emansipasi yang menebal.

Yang kedua, bagaimana kalau di tingkat TK, kita sudahi saja pemakaian kebaya dan parade pakaian adat itu? Pindahkan ke Hari Kemerdekaan (itu juga dengan catatan tanpa paksaan, namanya juga merdeka -jadi catatan juga untuk pakaian rapi lengkap setiap upacara 17 Agustus) atau buat hari lain, Hari Budaya atau apalah (lagi-lagi tanpa paksaan). Cukup anak-anak TK baik yang perempuan dan laki-laki mengikuti acara masak bersama, atau mencuci baju bersama, atau main bola bersama, atau memaku pigura bersama. Acara-acara yang bisa memusnahkan konsep pekerjaan dan gender role yang seksis dan diskriminatif.

Tingkat sekolah yang lain juga bisa menerapkan hal yang sama. Berkunjung ke dapur restoran misalnya, melihat begitu banyak koki berkelamin laki-laki atau mewawancarai ibu-ibu tukang parkir, mas-mas perawat, bencong, atau apalah. Banyak hal bisa dilakukan untuk meruntuhkan bangunan gender yang mengekang itu. Atau dari pada sekedar menghapalkan nama kumpulan surat-surat pemikiran Kartini, mengapa tidak membaca, menganalisis, mengkritisi, dan mengapresiasinya?

Sehingga, habis gelap terbitlah terang...

God and other things equal to it

2009-07-29T21:57:00.000-07:00

Menyimak comment-comment manusia facebook di note adek saya Chandra, saya jadi ikut bertanya-tanya tentang Tuhan.

Susah-susah gampang memang mempertanyakan definisi Tuhan. Dengan apa kita menanyakannya? Karena pertanyaan pun sudah mendefinisikan. Kata tanya yang dimiliki manusia, semuanya berfungsi membatasi jawaban. Dengan membatasi jawaban paling tidak kita telah mendapat gambaran bahwa Tuhan bukanlah selain dari maksud kata tanya itu.

Tuhan itu apa? Berarti merujuk pada sesuatu/hal. Apa membatasi eksistensi. Tidak akan ada pertanyaan apa untuk sesuatu yang tidak pernah diketahui atau diimajinasikan manusia.

Tuhan itu siapa? Ini malah lebih jelas. Berarti Tuhan adalah person dan singkatnya memiliki personality atau karakter

Tuhan itu mengapa? Dalam pertanyaan ini berarti Tuhan adalah sebuah kausa (walaupun dari segi bahasa susah melogikakan pertanyaan ini)

Tuhan itu bagaimana? Bagaimana berfungsi utama menanyakan cara. Di sini Tuhan artinya sebuah proses atau kegiatan atau mungkin keadaan yang memerlukan jawaban deskriptif.

Tuhan itu kapan? Jelas, dengan pertanyaan ini, kita membatasi Tuhan adalah sebuah peristiwa

Tuhan itu di mana? God equals place. Ada yang bilang di surga, di atas sana, di jiwa ini (seperti kata Ebiet G Ade), di tiap benda (seperti yang diyakini agama-agama Timur).

Tuhan mungkin adalah topik perdebatan yang paling tua yang sampai sekarang masih diperdebatkan dan akan terus diperdebatkan. Bagi saya, perdebatan itu saja sedikit banyak sudah menjelaskan Tuhan. Hanya saja kita sedang mendefinisikan sesuatu yang dari awalnya kita anggap di luar manusia. Sang Maha. Untuk mendefinisikan maha, kita perlu sebuah maha konsep, maha kata, maha kalimat sehingga terbentuk the ultimate definition.

Sayangnya manusia hanyalah manusia, bukan maha tapi mere -belaka-, sehingga tak memiliki ke-maha-an yang lain. Dengan ukuran manusia, konsep manusia, kata manusia, kalimat manusia, yang relatif sekali itu, masing-masing kita mendefinisikan Sang Maha. Bayangkan saja anda harus meraba sesuatu yang luar biasa besar, tinggi, dan lebar (seperti sebuah pahatan di dinding raksasa). Yang bisa kita raba hanya sejangkauan kedua tangan kita.

Lalu bagi saya, jika semua hal dan eksistensi di semesta ini bermula dari titik kecil, bertumbuh, dan runtuh kembali ke titik terkecil, titik terkecil itu saya definisikan Tuhan.

Wisuda dan Pak Guru

2009-07-29T21:50:00.000-07:00

Akhirnya saya lulus dan datanglah upacara itu. Wisuda kawan, wisuda. Wisuda berarti menghadapi tetek bengek yang sama sekali tidak esensial karena tanpa wisuda pun saya sudah lulus. It’s the ceremony thing. Wisuda sebenarnya bagi saya lebih berarti hajatan untuk membanggakan orang tua secara seremonial dan sekalian ibu dan bapak akan datang ke Jogjakarta. Maklum selama empat tahun di sini belum sekali pun disambangi keluarga.

Sedihnya, ibu saya terancam tidak bisa datang karena masih menunggu jadwal diklat untuk sertifikasi guru. Jadwalnya masih belum jelas dan bisa saja diumumkan beberapa hari sebelum hari wisuda saya. Jadilah saya gregetan menunggu dan berdoa tiap hari sembari mempersiapkan diri untuk kecewa ibu saya tak bisa datang. Buat ibu saya yang guru sertifikasi itu penting. Dengan sertifikasi itu ibu saya diakui secara profesional sebagai tenaga pendidik juga diakui dan diberikan hak-haknya terutama tunjangan profesi yang besarnya sama dengan gaji pokok.

Sebenarnya guru harusnya tak perlu menunggu dan melewati proses sertifikasi untuk mendapatkan pengakuan profesionalitasnya dan kontra prestasi yang selayaknya. Ibu saya termasuk beruntung, dia masih punya akses untuk mengikuti diklat sertifikasi. Dia juga beruntung menyandang gelar strata satu sehingga lebih mudah untuk mengikuti proses sertifikasi. Namun kemudian benak saya melayang ke ratusan mungkin ribuan guru yang hanya lulusan SPG (setara D3) atau malah hanya lulusan SMP dan SMA. Beberapa dari mereka ceritanya terdengar melalui media.

Miris melihat masih banyak pengajar yang bisa dibilang “mendadak guru” karena keterpaksaan keadaan. Sebuah potret pendidikan Indonesia yang carut marut. Ironis karena sering kali guru-guru dadakan yang mengajar karena keprihatinan ini justru lebih memiliki dedikasi daripada yang menyandang gelar-gelar keprofesionalan. Sulit membayangkan guru di pedalaman hutan Tapanuli yang aslinya adalah penjaga sekolah mendapatkan sertifikat pengakuan profesionalitasnya. Sementara itu begitu banyak guru terutama terutama sekolah negeri yang mapan di kota sebenarnya dedikasi dan profesionalitasnya perlu dipertanyakan dengan mudah mendapatkan sertifikasi. Tak bisa mengajar mungkin, tapi tak mau mengajar, seringkali ya.

Akan tetapi, cerita guru di Indonesia bukanlah sesederhana guru hitam dan guru putih. Ada guru abu-abu yang berdiri di tengah pragmatisme hidup dan dedikasi profesi. Mereka berjalan dengan mengkompromikan kedua hal tersebut. Seberapa condong mereka ke satu sisi itu relatif dan kembali ke interpretasi orang yang melihat.

Adalah Pak Din guru agama saya sewaktu SMA. Dia adalah guru yang paling intens berinteraksi dengan saya maklum saya gini-gini dulu sekretaris Persekutuan Pelajar Kristen di sekolah negeri yang paling bergengsi (karena banyaknya anak pejabat di sekolah saya) dan paling kacau balau di Medan(juga karena banyak anak pejabat). Dia juga adalah guru yang paling saya benci, yang saya paling tidak hormati di antara banyak guru lain yang saya juga tidak hormati (dulu saya arogan sekali tapi believe me I had good reasons for that). Bagi saya dia adalah simbol ketidakbecusan guru dan sekolah saya. Guru agama kok korup, kok mengeksploitasi murid, kok makan kas organisasi, dan kok kok lain.

Pak Din seringkali menggelapkan sejumlah dana yang dipasrahkan kepadanya. Tak ada rincian pengeluaran dan tak pernah bersisa. Padahal itu uang rakyat, persembahan anak-anak yang mengikuti ibadah. Pak Din juga acap kali mengeksploitasi organisasi kami demi mendapatkan rupiah. Pernah ketika kami akan mengadakan retreat dia memaksa kami menganggarkan dana untuk honorarium dia sebagai pendamping sebesar 500.000 atau dia tidakakan membubuhkan tanda tangannya sebagai pembina. Lima ratus ribu tidak sedikit mengingat selama empat hari tiga malam retreat itu berlangsung, dia tidak ada di retreat kami.

Saya kesal, ingin berontak, dan sekaligus tidak berdaya. Semakin sering saya berinteraksi dengannya semakin saya kehilangan respect dan semakin saya membencinya. Saya lalu bandingkan ibu saya yang juga mengajar setingkat SMA. Dia tidak pernah memakan uang apalagi memanipulasi apa pun untuk uang. Seringkali dia harus mengutang kepada salah satu paman pengusaha toko buku untuk asupan buku bagi murid-muridnya.

Saya ingat pernah suatu hari ibu saya yang hamil tua pulang naik becak membawa setumpuk buku-buku yang diikat tali. Buku-buku itu dari toko paman saya yang karena ikatan saudara memberi potongan harga yang lumayan. Sebenarnya buku itu tersedia di sekolah tapi harganya lebih mahal (which is confusing me) jadinya ibu saya mencari alternatif cara lebih murah menghadirkan buku untuk murid-muridnya. Buku itu akan dicicil oleh muridnya selama satu tahun ajaran tapi akhirnya selalu sama, hanya dua puluh persen dari muridnya yang akan membayar buku itu lunas di akhir tahun ajaran.

Saya ceritakan Pak Din ke ibu saya, berharap ibu menyetujui dan kami bisa sama-sama mengutuki pak guru saya itu. Alih-alih mengiyakan saya dan membandingkan dirinya dengan Pak Din, ibu malah menegur saya. Hidup guru itu susah, katanya. Gajinya sedikit sekali tapi tuntutannya tinggi.

Ibu saya menganalogikan gaji guru setara dengan gaji kondektur bis tapi dia harus rajin beli safari dan buku, makan di kantin yang lumayan mahal, belum lagi lipstik dan sebagainya, sementara kondektur bis tak perlu baju bagus dan buku. Guru berjuang dalam wadah yang juga menjual image dan citra pada tingkat tertentu dan tentu saja membangun citra perlu biaya.

Mendengar penjelasan ibu, saya lalu menelusuri riwayat Pak Din. Ayahnya juga seorang guru agama jadi rasanya profesi dia sebagai guru bisa jadi paksaan dari ayahnya. Sewaktu saya kelas tiga, Pak Din baru saja diterima sebagai guru tetap berpangkat IID, sebelumnya bertahun-tahun dia hanyalah guru honorer. Anaknya dua orang yang mungkin lahir dari pertimbangan ekonomis sementara itu istrinya seorang ibu rumah tangga. Ketika saya bertandang ke rumahnya, saya semakin terenyuh.

Rumah Pak Din kecil dan sempit. Anaknya yang juga adik kelas saya menempati ruang kecil yang disekat triplek sedangkan dia, istrinya dan anak perempuannya tidur di satu kamar yang kecil. Menurut pengakuan teman yang dekat dengannya, Pak Din tak pernah mengundang rekan-rekan gurunya datang ke rumah. Namun sebaliknya dia menyesalkan sedikitnya anak muridnya yang berkunjung ke rumahnya. Mungkin hanya di depan muridnya dia sedikit bisa tampil apa adanya atau mungkin itu suatu bentuk penghargaan murid yang dia harapkan?

Perlahan-lahan seiring kedewasaan saya, saya mulai memahami sikap Pak Din yang pragmatis dan oportunis. Saya juga tidak protes ketika ibu saya menyelipkan uang lima puluh ribu ke kantong Pak Din karena sudah menunggui proses ijazah saya. Saya juga tetap ingat permintaannya untuk membelikan istrinya daster dan saya menolak uang penggantinya.

Kehidupan kadang kali tak sesederhana yang kita bayangkan. Saya percaya ada begitu banyak jawaban dan alasan untuk pertanyaan kecil yang kita ajukan. Bagi saya Pak Din adalah cermin proses pelapangan batin untuk pertanyaan-pertanyaan yang jawabannya tak seperti yang saya harapkan. Pak Din adalah cerita pergulatan seorang guru dalam hidupnya karena saya yakin alasan utama perilakunya karean dia juga ingin melihat anak-anaknya lebih baik dari dia, melihat anaknya memakai toga di podium ITB sana.

Divine Inequality

2009-07-29T21:48:00.002-07:00

“No matter how a person strives for it, the conditions of life can never be perfectly equal. Even if by misfortune, such an absolute dead level were attained, there would still be inequalities of intelligence, which coming directly from God, will never escape the laws of man”

Alexis de Tocqueville

I would say I agree that there is such given inequality in life. Those who believe in the existence of God would say it is divine intervention or preordination while those who do not believe may say it is a matter of fortune.

Some people are born blind, others with incurable syndrome, so it is not just inequalities of intelligence but also physical inequalities, mental inequalities and other issues. These inequalities lead to inequalities of treatment from other people, society, and state. This in turn means different treatment, different chances, and different choices to some extent.

There are, however, situations and contexts in which people with different needs should be treated equal. For example, in a democratic election all citizens despite their race, gender or religion have the same right to vote. There are also other basic rights for every citizen that need to be fulfilled.

But to think of a community or society or state that gives equal treatment to every single one of its members, is a utopian idea. To imagine a state in which fire department recruits paralyzed citizens to be the fire fighters is somehow unacceptable. On the other hand government of states also need to make a positive or reverse discrimination towards disadvantaged groups inside society. Affirmative actions that favor some groups sometimes need to be adopted.

At the same time, what we perceive as equal treatment sometimes is misleading. To govern, every state needs simplification. The result of this simplification is categorization of citizens with regard to taxation, conscription, and other issues. Partly as a result of neglecting the very identity of its citizens. Thus a person with lower income may have to pay the same tax as person with higher income (it is more obvious in middle-class society).

The question is do we really need to achieve a perfectly equal life. Do we need to be treated equally by state? There is a hidden trap in the idealistic view of equal treatment because sometimes the best way to treat a person (even sometimes in socio-political context) is by considering his or her background and aspects of life. Besides that society also needs some degree of competition to increase the quality of life for all and to some extent, inequality encourages this competition.

In the end, the world has witnessed failed attempts from state to create perfectly equal communities. Former USSR and the Great Leap Forward in China can be reminders of how tricky and sometimes tragic it can be when a utopian equal society ideal taken into force.

The Riddle

2009-07-29T21:48:00.001-07:00

Few days ago, I watched a movie, The Resurrecting of The Champ. Surpirisingly the movie was great. I didn't expect though Samuel L. Jackson plays on it. Bandit recommended it, so... it was a recommendation from person who watched LOTR 5 years afterwards.

But anyway, it moved me indeed. I'm starting to ask again the ultimate question. What's life after all? How do you want to spent you time on earth?

In that story, Josh Hartnett plays a mediocre sport journalist, Erci Keernan, who is shadowed by his father, a legendary radio journalist. Both, they specialized in covering boxing. Intimidated by his father leaving him and his mother alone, he grew up into a man obsessed to be an idealistic father. A hero in his son's eyes, Teddy.

It wasn't easy. He never got a shot until one day he met a bum who claimed to be a legendary boxer, Battlin' Bob Satterfield otherwise known as Champ. Eric befriended with him and wrote Bob's story

But just like Bob's saying, you'll never know when the next punch come, Eric's triumph ended too soon. Just days after his greatet achievement published, Eric found out that the guy he wrote about was a liar. Champ wasn't whom he said he was. He was Tommy Kincaid, nobody's boxer who had been impersonating Bob for years. Bob himself died 20 years before.

Eric's sky fell apart. He failed to be a hero for Teddy. He was a mere boaster. He built a big empty castle to gain Teddy's admiration and the story of Champ was his biggest lie.

To regain his integration and Teddy's trust, he wrote an apology, putting back the pieces of puzzle to where they supposed to be. It was hard but no other way.

So, again, what's life? We set up goals and put our best for those goals. Is life just a bulk of achievements you made during your life? Just like a where you run and jump over lots of poles or barriers and end up just exactly where you begin. It's feel like eating a piece of a cake time to time without ever knowing, ever seeing the whole cake, or even ever realizing why you eat the cake?

I always consider life as a journey. Now, I'm picturing nobody but myself at the edge of my path, the end of my travelling. Will I be satisfied? What kinds of regrets will I have? Will I ever know what on earth do my journey worth travelling for?

Well, in the end it's the only riddle that's matter. That no one knows till one finish the line. The riddle of life

Rashomon

2009-07-29T21:41:00.000-07:00

Sewaktu saya berkesempatan mengikuti pertukaran pelajar selama setahun di Universitas Tokyo, Jepang, saya mengambil kelas Japanese Literature. Salah satu kegiatan kelas adalah menonton film yang pada waktu itu adalah film Rashomon karya Akira Kuroshawa. Untuk pertama kalinya saya menonton film ini walaupun berkali-kali film ini saya rekomendasikan kepada banyak pelanggan Sketsa, sebuah rental film tempat saya bekerja dulu.

Anyway, film itu bercerita tentang proses pengadilan tepatnya hearing process dan fact finding (legally context speaking) sebuah kasus pembunuhan seorang laki-laki dari kelas atas. Ada beberapa orang yang menjadi saksi. Tojamaru seorang perampok terkenal, istri korban, seorang tukang kayu yang kebetulan lewat (kalau tidak salah) dan si korban sendiri. Ya! Si korban sendiri atau tepatnya arwahnya.

Tojamaru, istri korban, si tukang kayu, dan arwah korban, mereka semua diminta untuk memberi kesaksian tentang peristiwa itu. Masing-masing punya versi sendiri dan tidak ada yang bisa membuktikan bahwa versi yang satu benar atau versi yang lain salah. Masing-masing kesaksian mereka berbeda di bagian yang mereka anggap penting. Bagian-bagian itu menggambarkan harga diri, kehormatan, dan integritas sesuai dengan interpretasi posisi sosial mereka masing-masing; perampok, lelaki bangsawan, istri bangsawan, dan seorang tukang kayu miskin.

Semua kisah ini diceritakan oleh si tukang kayu kepada dua orang temannya (salah satunya seorang biksu) di kuil Rashomon (kuil besar di Kyoto) waktu hujan deras. Tukang kayu bersikeras bahwa versi Tajomaru, istri korban, dan korban adalah bohong. Dia melihat semua kejadian dengan matanya sendiri. Singkatnya dia tahu kebenarannya dan karena itulah dia juga berbohong di pengadilan. Dia tahu seluruh cerita dan dia tahu ke mana perginya pedang kecil bermutiara indah milik istri korban. Ya… ke tangannya karena itulah ia berbohong di depan pengadilan.

Tiba-tiba suara tangis bayi menghentikan pembicaraan mereka. Seorang bayi terbungkus kimono mahal tergeletak di sudut kuil itu. Salah satu teman tukang kayu tadi dengan cepat segera bergerak dan merampas kimono mahal yang membungkus si bayi. Tukang kayu dan biksu marah dan mengutuk perbuatan si teman tadi.

Temannya tadi menjawab, "Apakah aku lebih buruk dari orang tuanya yang membuang bayi itu? Semua orang sekarang bertindak sesuai kepentingannya sehingga mereka bisa bertahan hidup. Kalau begitu apakah aku salah? Apakah aku lebih buruk dari kau, seorang pembohong dan pencuri? Kau apakan pedang kecil berharga itu, huh?!" Kira-kira begitulah perkataan si teman tadi. Lalu dia pergi meninggalkan biksu, tukang kayu, dan si bayi.

Tukang kayu lalu berusaha mengambil si bayi dari tangan biksu temannya. Tapi si biksu tak lagi percaya, pandangan matanya menyiratkan kecurigaan penuh.

"Anakku ada enam, satu lagi tidak akan masalah bagiku" kata tukang kayu. Raut wajahnya menyiratkan ketulusan. Pupuslah kecurigaan si biksu. Sembari minta maaf dia menyerahkan bayi itu ke tangan si tukang kayu.

"Aku memang orang yang terendah dari yang terendah" katatukang kayu. "Tidak, setelah bertemu denganmu aku melihat secercah harapan di dunia" begitulah jawab si biksu. Lalu si tukang kayu pun berlalu sambil menggendong si bayi disambut matahari yang kembali bersinar seusai hujan.

Itulah kira-kira inti dan akhir dari film Rashomon (di versi prosa, ending yang terakhir tidak ada. Itu semua hanya tambahan dari sutradara). Semua yang menonton film itu bisa mengerti bahwa di adegan terakhir tersebut sutradara ingin menyampaikan sebuah pesan. Pesan bahwa walau dunia memang buruk dan semakin buruk, kita masih punya harapan. Orang-orang tidak seburuk yang kita sangka dan mereka semua masih memiliki kebaikan di hatinya. Hujan deras pun akan selesai dan matahari pun akan bersinar lagi. Pesan itu sangat jelas tergambarkan di film tersebut.

Yang membuat saya shock dan kaget adalah seorang teman berkata bahwa dia tidak melihat adanya pesan seperti itu tergambar dalam film tersebut.

"Aku tidak melihat sutradara itu menyampaikan pesan tentang harapan di film tersebut. Semuanya kabur dan penuh dengan keputusasaan" katanya.

Saya kaget karena menurutku pandangan objektif manapun akan dengan jelas melihat pesan tersebut tergambarkan. Mengapa teman saya ini tidak? Apakah kesinisannya terhadap kebaikan manusia sedemikian menguasai dia? Bahkan optimisme yang sedemikian jelas tergambarkan pun bisa terlihat kabur bahkan hilang dari matanya? Apakah dia hanya berusaha melihat dari perspektif lain? Saya takut dan menggigil seperti ada hembusan angin dingin melewati tengkuk saya.

Seperti inikah sosok-sosok yang menghuni bumi ini sekarang? Bagaimana bisa berharap mereka melakukan kebaikan tulus dan memiliki harapan bila untuk mengenalinya saja mereka sudah tidak sanggup lagi. Di film sekalipun dimana pengembangan karakter, ruang, dan waktu yang dibatasi. Bahkan teroris dan bencana alam tidak semenakutkan kenyataan dingin ini.