"Tu dia ho dung mate ho.."*

Temen gue punya keluarga besar sarat rutinitas adat dan budaya. Mereka setia memeliharanya hingga jaman moderen. Kali ini ada cerita tentang kuburan. Biasanya, tentang arisan yang bisa berjalan sekian kali dalam sebulan dengan dress code tertentu yang harus dipatuhi.

"Lu tau gak.. sekalinya ke kuburan bokap mertua gue, kaga cukup tuh 200 rebu!" Ujarnya seraya menunjuk pada kembang mawar gadis manis di kantor, hasil kiriman pacar setia. "Mawar kayak gini nih.. Lalu, abis gitu mampir beli minuman di tukang teh botol.. Lu bayangin aja kalo satu keluarga isinya 23 orang. Belon termasuk anak-anaknya. Tambah bedinde-bedinde.. Kebayang dong pengeluaran gue berapa??" Dia mengaku gak mau keluar duit tiap kali ke kuburan.

Tahun ini satu tahun wafatnya mertua dia. Sang kakak ipar bertanya, "Eh kamu kan sering bikin suvenir untuk kantor. Tanya dong, berapa tuh kalo bikin kaos gambar papi?" Temen gue langsung jatoh dari kursi. "Gue cuman dikasih budget sejuta setengah.."

Sebagai tambahan, kuburan juga tempat ketemu jodoh. Dia cerita, salah satu keluarganya ketemu jodoh akibat ada dua keluarga besar sedang visite ke kuburan dan ada dua jomblo yang saling ketemuan.

Oh kuburan..

=============================

"Tu dia ho dung mate ho.." (Batak languange), means "Where would you go after you die."

Photo courtesy of sxc.hu

"suluk banyu"

A colleague at work sent me an e-mail invitation of a puppet theatre event. It's somewhere on the other side of where I live in this Asian megacity. I was kinda reluctant, but the name "Slamet Gundono" stings like a Prada Sale.

The staircase entrance of Fatahillah Museum was full with choc full of people from all walks of life and class. A 5000 litre water truck that belongs to City Park Department actually parked beside a spot that is turned into a stage. A pipe was hanged at around 2 meters high and water pours down like rain. It actually looks like a water curtain.

I thought the puppeteer (dalang, Bahasa Indonesia)was going to use that water curtain as a screen. In Indonesia, puppet theatre is staged in front of a white cotton screen. Whether you stand at the same side as the puppet master or not, you can still follow the story and see the leather puppet.



Well, there is no character or puppets being staged by the puppeteer, Slamet Gundono. Instead, it was like a theatre. I mean, a performance. I don't know how to say it. My vocabularies for arts and performance is pretty limited.. d'oh!

So, I got to see several dancers who performed below the water curtain. Gundono and his "Wayang Suket Troupe" (wayang suket means grass puppets) actually perform "Water Puppet Theatre" like a performing arts troupe.

It was an interesting performance to see, although the stage committee (either forget or did it in purpose, no idea) didn't provide enough information regarding the show. I mean, as a non performer, I was kinda lost in the midst of the performance (my language confused you guys, isn't it? oh well.. don't complain, I'm not a native!)





Then, Gundono and his troupe mostly spoke in Javanese. I was with my boyfriend who is not a Javanese and can comprehend nothing but the performing, since he used to perform in a performing troupe as well. So, as a performer, his comments was it was interesting to see (I mean, you don't get to see "water puppet" everyday), but it was lacking of information. As a performer, he said that program publications would help the audience to understand what the whole thing was about and it would help fellow performers to further appreciate whether all the body movements do actually convey the message and moral of the story.



Anyways, if you happen to be in Jakarta and is interested with cultural performance, drop by at the web site of "Jakarta International Puppetry Festival 2006", which will take place until November 18.

"show me the money"

Some says, you are what you think you are, or you are what you eat. But, do you have a price tag that defines you?

In my line of work, the professional capacity and capabilities of a person is measured by the nominal value of a project that s/he manages. Once you've handled a 10 billion Rupiah (around 1 mio USD), for sure you would like to experience the feeling of handling 20 billion Rupiah project. Then people will pay more respect.

If you went to an interview, people would ask you how much was your budget? Did you plan your own budget? How many team members do you have? How do you manage your funds? During a casual get-together dinner with friends, a leisure after-hour talk turned into "the-amount-of-project-proposal-that-I-am-working-on".

In a country with USD 3,700 GDP per capita (2005) and 27.1% of its population ive below the poverty line (1998), and had to spare at least 56.2 of its GDP to pay foreign debts, having the financial capacity to give away a 40" flat panel LCD HD TV (around USD 4,000) as a gift to a family member will surely put you on center stage.

Money. The amount that you manage at work. The fatness of your savings and salary. It seems to be a big deal. We are chewing that money. Our flesh and blood are made of it. At least that's how I reflect the recent Eid Holiday that gets very interesting.

A local newspaper noted that intercity bus illegally increase its ticket fee high above government-approved fee. The bus co-driver said, "You don't like it? You want to report it to the police? Go ahead!" And most of our holiday budget went to transportation cost.

Rice cake is a side dish made of rice cooked in coconut leaves. It's always available on Eid Holiday. A rice cake maker said that s/he no longer received any rice cake order 3 days before Eid Holiday because they are overwhelmed with the orders. The thing is, with current income rate (thanks to GDP growth?), you can find rice cake anytime of the year. Not to mention other side dishes that accompanying the rice cake.

I can hardly understood those who put all their efforts to order those rice cakes and manage to queue for hours to buy last minutes groceries to make additional dishes for the rice cake dish. Anything goes for Eid Holiday.

If the whole idea of Eid Holiday is about giving and purging sins, I'm a bit distracted by the increased sale of motorcycle near Eid Holiday. The augmented price of gasoline has caused a pretty steep increase in transportation costs. Ticket fees for land, air and sea transports increased more than 20% compared to last year's rate. That's a pretty significant increase if your air ticket cost 100 USD last year and it becomes 150 USD this year. Those who cannot afford mass transportation chose private transportation mode. The cheapest is motorcycle. Yeah, that 125cc motorbike with two wheels and nothing else to protect your body parts.

The sale of these motorbikes always increase near Eid Holiday, so does the rate of road accidents among motorbikes.

Is it for the sake of purging sins and being reborn again?
Is it to impress others?
Is it state failure to improve the wealth of its citizens?
Is it pure lust?

Anyways, show me the money, then let's forgive each other and wish happy Eid *wide evil grins*

sga*

I attended his book launching because I read most of his books. There's something about his writing that tickles me. It's a subjective thing. He's one of few Indonesian writers whose stories always set in urban settings. Compared to his peers, his works are the most published in any sorts - be that novels, comics or columns.

At that time, one of his novels was translated into English by an Indonesian-Australian foundation that pays lots of attention to Indonesian literature. The book launching was pretty festive. Wine and petit fours were flowing (I don't know since when the Indonesians residing in Indonesia are accustomed to drinking wine). A blend of literature and political crowd I'd say, since this English-translated novel has a political undercurrent.

He walked up the so-called stage; under a blinding spotlight, in broken English he apologized for being unable to speak the foreign language fluently. He went on, saying that he didn't mean to write a novel while he was writing the novel. Basically, he was just protesting against the regime through his writing.

A former human rights NGO** activist walked up to his side. It's a she, now the head of ICG*** in Indonesia. She said that his novel is an apt metaphor (gee, I like these words. Sounds so erudite ) of East Timorese suffering and its independence. She added that East Timorese have to read the book. (I wonder whether they can afford it over there). Well, I read the compelling book while the ruling regime was still there. I gotta admit that SGA has the guts to do it and yet still survived.

As I said, I didn't attend the book launching because of the book. It was him who made me putting up with the crowd there. I wanted to see the man in real life. I wanted to hear his words. His arguments. Well, he wasn't the first so-called celebrity that I had the chance to see and listen to without any mediating medium. I was somehow aware of remarks and comments a person in such capacity would make. But because to some extent his novels are part of my personal stuff (books are personal stuff to me), I was expecting something else. A personality of a regular guy.

The way he looks, the way he moves and his gestures promised a lively evening filled with jokes and stories. The way he wrote, the stories, the sentences and the style promised interesting and fulfilling debates on several issues on the novel.

I asked the possibility of translating the novel into Tetun - local East Timorese language. A silly question, of course - but I was just bridging Sidney Jones' comments earlier, as well as pointing out that similar effort have been made.***** Without any further thinking, he said it flatly, "It's okay." I was like, "WHUD?" I was gaping at him. Jones who were still by his side, somehow taking the role of an interpreter, trying to translate and rephrase my question (I refuse to speak English despite the multinational crowd, because SGA himself has stated his inability to speak the language. I saw no point in posing a question in English). After Jones' rather lengthy explanation, finally something more sensible (to my acknowledgement) came out of his mouth. When the book was launched for the first time, despite several talk shows in radios, book launching events cum seminars and the language used in the first edition: Indonesian; no soul seemed to give a damn about it. He went on saying that not many Indonesians were able to understand the story and the book itself; it was foreign readers who actually grasped the book. "I don't think there will be an impact if it were translated into Tetun." His final flat statement.

The way he talked, the tone he used, the words he spoke clearly illustrated a flat boring figure.

He seemed unable (or actually unwilling) to argue the audience who posed several questions. Most of the words that came out were: "I don't know", "It can be", "It's okay, that's your opinion".


I met a couple of journalists (gee, each invitee -most of them cultural events journalist- received a copy of the newly translated novel, which was worth Rp. 65,000.00!) and exchanged a couple of words with them. They were laughing to hear my grumble. "Well, that's him. That's how he always behaves in any book launching events, conferences, anything. Aloof, uncaring, flat, hushed."

Well, he's better off a writer then.


aksara bookstore, jakarta.
undated.


* seno gumira ajidarma
** non-governmental organization
*** international crisis group
***** see: "Seribu Kunang-kunang di Manhattan" - Umar Khayam (Yayasan Obor Indonesia). The short story was translated in several major local languages in Indonesia in an attempt to observe the capacity of local languages in interpreting modern culture.