Back from the Dead

The prolonged festive holiday of Eid al Fitr aka "Idul Fitri" or simply "lebaran" in my language has officially ended Monday this week, as the driver of my boss showed up at the office wishing me a belated happy Eid al Fitr.. I felt like leaving the long dark tunnel with bright lights at the end and swung back to reality.

My holiday was so so. Eating pretty good food. Spending bonus money for people in needs. Enjoying capital city's empty avenues (since 80% of the residents are migrants from other cities, during the holiday season they all went back home).

My mobile received around 100+ holiday greetings text messages from friends and relatives. It was kinda interesting to read those messages. Some were written in local languages. Some others were written in Asian English. Some others were decorated with images I could not download. A few were written in Arabic, which of course I couldn't read. Below are some of the messages:

• "Potato chip without salt is on the table
  Relationship without fault is impossible
  Happy Eid al Fitr 1428 Hijr
  Let's forgive each other!"



• "Maen2 ke kebun tebu, hati-hati ada ulat bulu
  Gak peduli Jum'at Sabtu
  Yang penting maaf-maafan dulu."



• "Mbah Juminten nguntal klopo ntek limo
  Mumpung lagi rioyo
  Kulo nyuwun pangapuro"



• "May the spiritual cleansing during this holy month
  lead us the ultimate spiritual victory we all strive.
  May u heart forgive our past errors, mistakes and misdeed."

At the Eid al Fitr day, a mass praying was usually held in an open lot. An Imam led the pray, while a Preacher gave an oration on various religious topics. Most of the times, I didn't pay any serious attention to what the Preacher said. Some interesting things happened this year, though.. The preacher's word started to tickle my ears as the person mentioned, "capitalism.. America.. Iraq.. Mujahiddin.." I was like, "Huh?!"

Talking to friends using text messages were quite fun because my-always-busy friends were not that busy during holiday. Except for one woman, who had to bend down on her knees to mop the floor traditionally. Mopping the floor of her parents' house is part of "domestic slavery" work that she had to do since the housemaids took their annual leave. She said it would be a betrayal of bloodline if she ditched the not-so-menial work. The reason was quite handsome: she believed that she would inherit her parents' house, which is worth half a billion Rups. My other good friend was stranded in her family house, somewhere in the hinterland of Java island. She trudged through a dense traffic for a full 12 hours to reach her house in the outskirt of the capital city. The holiday season with dozens of nieces and nephews and whatnots rewarded her with hair fleas!