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Wednesday, December 31, 2014

New Year Resolution: The Gift of Truth and Trust

"Hey Ary, daddy! Look at my turtle! It can spin!"
I sighed and braced myself for the upcoming reply. Sure enough, a fraction of a second later her brother started to protest, "I want a turtle too! Share with me!" I quickly made a mental note to myself to have a talk with our little girl about how bad bragging is. Yet as the car took us closer and closer to our destination (and the fighting was averted because of the virtue of children's short attention span) I can't help thinking, do I really have to talk to a six year old about bragging?

As an adult, I have had my share with flaunters and braggers. It was always unpleasant not because I want what they have, but because these braggers made me feel I am of lesser value than they are. It is hard to believe though that our little human has such malice to made her little brother feel bad about himself. What most likely happen is that she was tired from the long trip (at that point we've been on the road for 9 hours) and was trying to amuse herself, thus the plush turtle remark. It is unfair to tell her that she can't brag about her toy because her brother might be jealous, especially if her intention is only to share her feeling and excitement.

Sadly, this pure intention doesn't always come through. Time and time again we are told to keep to ourselves and not making other people jealous. That is why there are tons of memes that sneered and jeered about people who share (excessively) in social media. It seemed that with every posting and status update you made you are in danger of being labelled as braggers, which in a way worked like Miranda's Law: "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be use against you in the court of law" or something like that. It's like you can't make a move without offending other people, and for me, it is not a good feeling. I wanted to be nice but it is not fair to have my freedom of thought and speech restricted just because somebody else decided to be touchy. Which brings me to another thought: since I can't change how people perceive me, can I change how I perceive other people?

The real braggers, the malicious one that flaunt their wealth or body or any good things they have (be it in the social media or the latest family events) were pretty easy to spot. They were the ones that we would so dearly love to give a nice kick in the rump, without much thought. Their obvious intention to put our existence to its rightful place (which is below their own - at least according to them) is easily recognisable thanks to the loathsome feeling that grew in our stomach everytime these people made remarks on how better they are than us. Yet these loathsome feeling can be difficult to differentiate with jealousy. Were we upset because the person who posted his/her European trip mock us and made us feel bad because we can't even afford a weekend getaway, or is it because we are jealous with his/her luck? Were we mad because that friend in Facebook deliberately flaunting her awesome husband to emphasize how much better she was than the other women, or was it because we were stuck watching re-run of Pretty Woman all by ourselves for God knows how many time?

It is easy to spot the malicious and evil people. Yet when the offence was not that great, it is harder to  decide whether the maliciousness and evil and unhappiness come from within us or from the other people. Sometimes all we have to do is to trust people and opt to see the goodness in them; to believe that they did not mean to offend us or made us feel bad about ourselves; to understand that they just want to share their feeling and what's precious to them. Sometimes we just have to believe that the six year old just wanted to show how cool her plush turtle is. And when we can't do that, when it gets too much for us or we can't decide whether that person's intention was malicious or not, then there is only one thing you can do: turn it off. I turned off notifications/news feed of a friend that has a private jet, and another one that spend her days travelling to beautiful places. I had to do it not because they are malicious (and they are not), but because I can't cope with my envy. I feel I betray them, but it is much better than ending up hating them just because I am jealous of their lifestyle.

After the over-priced-show-and-excessive-partying-and-massive-alcohol-consumption on New Year's Eve had past, the New Year Resolution will surely follow. Do yourself and the world a big favor this time: forget about the gym and diet resolution (that you will flunk within the first few months anyway) or the vague promise that you will be a better person (and realize on the first day of the next year that you haven't change at all. This year, look deep inside you and control your own emotion. As a human that lives together we can't escape from hurting or being hurt. What we can do though, is prevent ourselves from deliberately hurting people and to accurately decide whether other people deliberately hurting us or is it our self that inflict the pain from the jealousy that we have. This year, give yourself a gift of truth and give the world a gift of trust, and see how good life can be. Happy New Year dear readers.

Friday, December 19, 2014

Pelajaran dari Belanja Online

Untuk Natal tahun ini kami (tepatnya saya) memutuskan untuk mencoba belanja hadiah lewat online. Ada dua kali pengiriman, dan dua-duanya sedikit 'bermasalah', walau ujung-ujungnya saya yang diuntungkan. 

Pemesanan pertama lewat Amazon, saya membeli dua buah buku diskon dan mendapat free shipping. Ternyata paket saya dikirim saat saya tidak dirumah dan ditaruh di depan pintu apartemen saya, dan saat saya sampai dirumah paket itu sudah lenyap. Stress kan. Saya langsung menelepon Fedex (jasa kurir yang dipakai), dan Amazon. Suami saya blang mereka tidak akan mau membantu, saya buang-buang waktu saja. Surprise, surprise. Amazon langsung meminta maaf (padahal bukan salah mereka) dan mengirimkan gantinya dengan overnight shipping. Fedex menelepon balik keesokan harinya dan bilang mereka akan mengontak Amazon untuk menyediakan saya reimburst/ganti rugi bea pengiriman. Pemesanan kedua lewat website ThinkGeek. Kali ini semua barang sampai dengan selamat, tapi alih-alih dua boneka dan dua mug saya malah mendapat satu boneka dan tiga mug. Saya langsung mengontak mereka, dan mereka mengirimkan boneka pengganti (sama, overnight shipping juga) plus saya boleh menyimpan mug ekstra tersebut sebagai 'hadiah' dari mereka. Hebatnya, mereka benar-benar standby 24/7, jadi walau saya menelepon di akhir minggu dan tengah malam pun saya tetap bisa dibantu. Wow.

'Drama' belanja online ini membuat saya menyadari soal 'hidden cost', biaya tersembunyi. Di Amerika sini banyak orang yang tidak suka dengan korporasi/perusahaan besar, dan menganggap mereka hanyalah manusia-manusia rakus yang mengeruk uang sesamanya. Walau tidak sepenuhnya salah (siapa sih yang tidak mau jadi kaya?), namun saya rasa banyak dari hater ini tidak menyadari bahwa hidden cost ini juga membebani harga akhir barang yang mereka beli. Untuk Amazon saja mereka sudah mengeluarkan (dengan hitungan harga normal) sekitar $30 untuk buku pengganti saya dan $25 untuk overnight shipping tersebut. Untuk Thinkgeek total mereka mengeluarkan $10 untuk 'hadiah' mug saya yang mereka salah kirim, dan $25 untuk overnight shipping. Padahal saya belanjanya juga cuma sedikit. Di Amerika sini kita juga bisa mengembalikan barang yang kita beli bila kita tidak suka, bahkan barang elektronik sekalipun. Terkadang barang tersebut direparasi dan dijual setengah harga (yang lagi-lagi hidden cost), atau dibuang kalau memang tidak bisa dipakai lagi. Dengan kebijakan seperti ini saya yakin sekali hidden cost/cost risk ini sudah dimasukkan kedalam harga barang, kalau tidak bisa rugi bandar kan.

Ini pasti pengetahuan dasar bagi kalian para pembaca yang ekonom atau memiliki bisnis sendiri, tapi ini pengetahuan baru buat saya. Saya pun berpikir, bukankah hidup itu juga penuh 'hidden cost'? Sama seperti kita misuh-misuh soal perusahaan yang rakus karena harga barang yang mahal, kita juga sering misuh-misuh soal orang-orang yang tidak sesuai dengan kita, padahal kita tidak tahu soal hidden cost/apa yang terjadi pada mereka sehingga mereka seperti itu. Kita sering mencibir (dengan sirik) “enak ya jadi orang kaya/cantik”, padahal kita tidak tahu kehidupan mereka seperti apa. Selalu ada sesuatu dibalik apa yang terlihat, dan kita seringkali cuma mau melihat apa yang kita lihat. Kalau mau adil, ini juga harusnya diterapkan bahkan untuk orang-orang yang hobi membully atau menyakiti orang lain (koruptor dan penghasut misalnya); bahwa mereka pasti punya alasan tersendiri untuk menjadi seperti itu. Tapi jadi ada konflik kepentingan: membantu orang yang tertindas atau mencoba mengerti sang penindas?

Dunia ini tidak pernah hitam atau putih saja, bahkan untuk yang bilang dunia ini abu-abu, abu-abu itu ada banyak macam lho. Makanya ada buku “Fifty Shades of Grey”. Lho? Tapi serius, dunia ini tidak cuma hitam-putih, dan menurut saya tidak ada kebenaran mutlak kecuali Tuhan yang Maha Esa (yang menurut para Agnostik juga sebenarnya tidak tepat). Kita tidak tahu apa motivasi orang, apa yang membuat seseorang menjadi seperti itu, karena kita tidak mengalami apa yang ia alami dan kalaupun kita mengalaminya kekuatan mental masing-masing orang berbeda. Kita tidak pernah tahu 'hidden cost' yang dimiliki orang lain. Yang kita tahu adalah 'hidden cost' yang kita punya, apa yang membentuk diri kita sendiri. Kalau kata Michael Jackson, “I'm starting with the man in the mirror/I'm asking him to change his ways...” Terkadang sangat penting kita bersuara untuk hal-hal yang penting buat kita, tapi jangan lupa bahwa langkah pertama untuk mengubah dunia menjadi lebih baik adalah mengubah diri kita sendiri. Karena seperti yang saya bilang tadi, kita tahu 'hidden cost' kita tapi kita tidak tahu 'hidden cost' orang lain. Salam!

The Warmth in A Cup of Coffee

This morning I sat at Starbucks, and again, as always, I felt out of place. People coming in and going, family laughed together over cups of coffee and hot cocoa (for the kids) and slices of cake, friends sat and gossiped merrily, and office workers/entrepreneurs carrying tray(s) filled with several cups of coffee. In my two years of living here I have gone to more coffee chains than I've ever been my whole life in Indonesia, yet still I couldn't get use to it.

Coffee in Indonesia is intimate. Or at least it is in Java and Bali, I don't really know how it is in other areas of Indonesia. It is an indispensable part of day-to-day living. Morning in our house always starts with a cup of coffee and breakfast for dad. During his working days, the coffee cup (and sometimes his breakfast too) often accompanied him in the car during his daily commute. On weekends and holidays, it is his way to relaxed. A cup of coffee, a small snack of traditional cake or a slice of bread, and the newspaper of the day, that's how he like his leisurely mornings. And most importantly, it has to be prepared by my mom. You can say that coffee-making in Indonesia is similar to sandwich-making in western society. The difference is, a woman who can make good coffee in Indonesia is usually praised for it.

When male guests came visiting, they were always offered a cup coffee. In fact, the most common greeting I've ever heard in Indonesia was "Ayo ngopi dulu" or "Come, let's have some coffee first". You could easily see friends (usually male) hang out in the afternoon or night time at somebody's house, drinking cups and cups of coffee and smoking clove cigarettes while discussing the matter of the world (that is, the village matter or other miscellaneous rumors); or you can see them doing that in warung, which is a cross between grocery store and cafe. On picnics or gatherings, people would bring massive thermos filled with coffee and tea, but most importantly coffee. Coffee, in a way, is the little link that bind the society together.

That is why, I never understand the coffee chain society. When Starbucks first opened in Jakarta (where I live) and followed by numerous other coffee chains, I could not understand why people were flocking to these places. I, for one, was not especially interested to spend a full day salary for a cup of coffee, no matter how intriguing it sounds. My wealthier friends were all into it, and often times they would buy me the drinks just so I can join them. Again, I still think it was a pretty much waste of money even though it was not my money. Moving to Bali, I finally found what those coffee shops are good for: meetings. When you want to meet (and impress) a client, there is nothing better (or safer) than to meet at a Starbucks or other coffee chain. And now in US, coffee chains are places to, again, meet with people or to work. I always think the $1.75 I paid for the coffee in Starbucks as seating fee, that is, I pay for sitting in Starbucks and got free coffee in return. Scandalous, I know.

My husband told me that my penny-pinching way was most likely came from my days of living in Indonesia. He said I remind him of his grandmother, who despite of having a fortune she can't stop penny pinching because that was how she had to live during the war period. I don't really know if that is true, because although I do have not-so-good days in Indonesia I was never hungry. It's just doesn't make any sense for me. A cup of latte costs roughly $3-4, while in the supermarket near where I live pork chop $ 0.99 per pound and whole chicken is $0.79 per pound. Granted, they are not the fancy kind of meat (organic/grass feed/GMO free/etc), but it is still a whopping comparison. Maybe because I am not much of a coffee connoisseur, maybe because in my mind food rank higher than drinks, maybe I am just weird that way.

In a way, the coffee chains in US are maybe similar to the warung in Indonesia: a place to meet and chat over cup(s) of coffee. Yet still I miss the warmth and intimacy over a cup of coffee in Indonesia, where a cup of coffee is made by hand and presented in cup and saucer, where the women would indulge the coffee while happily gossiping in the comfort of their own house or the men in the warung. I miss the honest smile and the friendly invitation "Ayo ngopi dulu.". I miss the wholesome feeling knowing that everyone can stop for a cup of coffee since it is very inexpensive (only $0.25 or so). Sorry Starbucks and other coffee chains, you are cool and everything but Indonesia did it better. Way better.

Thursday, December 18, 2014

Sudah Siap Untuk #Illridewithyou ?

Kalau baca komen di berita ini, komennya menyakitkan dan nggak enak dibaca. Tapi ada satu yang menarik: seseorang yang bertanya kenapa di Indonesia kalau Natal gereja dijaga ketat. Kalau dipikir-pikir benar juga. Apa salahnya orang Kristen merayakan Natal?

Walau saya penganut agama minoritas, saya sebenarnya tidak terlalu mengalami diskriminasi yang sampai gimana gitu. Setidaknya menurut pikiran saya. Waktu saya SD dulu ada teman saya yang menuduh saya memuja batu. Saya ingat saya tidak tersinggung, karena saya sembahyang di Pura memang terbuat dari batu. Lagipula, saya juga tidak mengerti kenapa teman-teman saya kalau sholat menungging-nungging. Jadi impas kan, sama-sama tidak tahu. Masuk kuliah saya gencar ditawari pindah agama, baik Islam maupun Kristen. Jengkel? Jelas. Tapi jengkel saya bukan dendam kesumat gitu, jengkel saya sebatas seperti ditawari masuk MLM atau asuransi. Nggak kepikiran buat saya untuk merasa terhina atau diuji oleh Tuhan, saya cuma ga ingin diganggu. Semakin saya dewasa semakin banyak cerita-cerita ketimpangan, yang konon di BUMN/kementrian kalau mau naik jabatan harus beragama Islam, yang konon izin pembuatan rumah ibadah lain dipersulit. Saya tetap saya, dan hidup saya tidak terpengaruh oleh diskriminasi tersebut.

Tapi saya nggak akan bohong, kadang sakit hati kalau membaca rumah ibadah di Indonesia diserang, atau orang-orang yang mengumandangkan anti-natal atau anti hari raya agama lain. Atau Borobudur yang peninggalan umat Buddha diakui sebagai peninggalan kebudayaan Islam. Di Bali yang punya tradisi unik Hari Raya Nyepi banyak umat non-Hindu Bali yang protes dan tidak mau menghormatinya, padahal mereka nggak disuruh ikut sembahyang, cuma disuruh diam di rumah saja seharian. Saat natal begini juga kayanya sibuk semua polisi menjaga gereja agar tidak ada bom atau serangan lainnya. Sedih ga sih? Hak menganut kepercayaan itu ada di Pancasila, tapi kenapa orang mau berdoa dengan khusuk malah dipersulit?

Entah berapa banyak teman saya di FB yang men-share berita tentang #Illridewithyou , tapi saya jadi bertanya, apa bisa di Indonesia teman-teman dan warga negara Indonesia yang Muslim melakukan hal yang sama untuk agama minoritas? Wong kasi selamat Natal saja dipermasalahkan kok, atau soal sinterklas dan rusa kutub/reindeer yang sumpah nggak ada di mention sama sekali di Alkitab. Teman saya memberikan argumen bahwa itu sesuai menurut kepercayaan Islam, bahwa mereka tidak mengakui Tuhan (dan agama) lain selain Allah. Tapi tapi tapi, kalau mbak-mbak yang memulai #Illridewithyou di Australia juga punya kepercayaan yang sama (menolak mengakui agama Islam), bukankah #Illridewithyou itu tidak akan terwujud? Bukankah wanita muslim disana akan lebih sengsara jadinya?

One good turn deserve another. Mbak-mbak yang bukan muslim di Australia itu melindungi mbak-mbak yang berjilbab walau mereka berbeda kepercayaan. Kaum muslim di Indonesia bisa melakukan apa untuk kaum non-muslim di Indonesia? Kalau masih mau 'anti', kalau masih nggak mau mengakui, coba bayangkan bila anda diposisi minoritas. Bayangkan anda mau sembahyang tapi deg-degan rumah ibadah anda diserbu. Bayangkan sekian ribu orang mengumandangkan anti agama anda. Bayangkan saat ada bencana alam yang maha dahsyat agama anda yang dituduh penyebabnya. Sakit hati kan. Sedih kan. Mbak-mbak di Australia itu tidak melihat si mbak berjilbab sebagai "Muslim", ia melihat si mbak berjilbab sebagai seorang manusia yang ketakutan dan harus dibantu. Tidak bisakah kita melihat sesama kita seperti itu? Bukan dari agama, warna kulit, status sosial atau segala atribut duniawi lainnya, tapi bahwa mereka manusia, titik.

Natal sudah dekat. Saya cuma berharap para kaum Nasrani di Indonesia bisa beribadah dengan tenang dan aman, dan bebas dari kutukan atau kecaman atau gangguan lainnya dari umat non-Nasrani. Mungkin dari sekian ratus ribu orang Indonesia yang men-share #Illridewithyou akan ada sekian orang yang menggunakan tagar yang sama untuk melindungi sesama warga negara Indonesia yang kebetulan beragama lain. Mungkin. Alangkah indahnya persatuan dalam perbedaan bukan? Salam!

Monday, November 24, 2014

Wahai Orang Picik, Sudah Diam!

Saya benci orang picik. Saya benar-benar benci orang picik. Sebegitu bencinya saya dengan orang picik sampai-sampai saya tidak bisa beraktivitas dengan baik saking emosinya saya. Padahal tinggal hari ini saya bisa menulis sebelum saya harus mempersiapkan liburan hari raya Thanksgiving, tapi saya malah sibuk ngomel-ngomel tentang orang-orang picik.

Wahai orang picik, tahukah anda kalau cadangan minyak dunia semakin menipis? Di Amerika sini orang-orang punya wind/solar farm untuk memanen energi dari angin dan sinar matahari, mobil-mobil dijalan pun ada yang berbahan bakar gas, listrik, atau hybrid (gabungan). Disini kendaraan harus lolos uji emisi, dan kendaraan yang boros bensin dianggap jelek. Alasannya sih demi lingkungan, tapi kalau dipikir-pikir ini bagus karena di masa depan bensin bisa habis dari muka bumi ini. Anda tahu kan minyak bumi itu terbuat dari apa dan berapa lama terbuatnya? Mungkin anda berpikir, "Yah, saya kan pakainya tidak banyak." Coba bayangkan sekian milyar orang yang juga berpikir seperti anda, jadi banyak kan konsumsinya? Belum lagi untuk bahan bakar pesawat, kapal laut, dan berbagai moda transportasi lainnya agar iPhone ato kopi Starbucks anda bisa sampai ke tangan anda sekarang.  Tapi bukannya prihatin, anda malah mengeluh karena disuruh membayar lebih mahal saat ini. Kepikiran tidak berapa besar biaya yang harus ditanggung anak cucu kita nanti saat minyak bumi semain menipis atau bahkan habis? Kenapa bukan dari sekarang kita mengerti untuk berhemat dan mempersiapkan hari dimana BBM tidak terbeli lagi karena memang langka/habis?

Wahai orang picik, tahukah anda bahwa asumsi harga BBM sebanding dengan penderitaan rakyat kecil itu tidak sepenuhnya benar? Waktu saya ke daerah gunung kidul April 2014 lalu saya bisa beli dua gelas air jeruk hangat dan semangkuk indomie telur dengan hanya tujuh ribu rupiah. Harusnya setidaknya harganya sama dengan harga di Jogja karena harga BBM nya sama, atau bahkan lebih mahal karena pom bensin nyaris tidak ada didaerah itu. Masih banyak daerah di Indonesia yang bahkan tidak memiliki SPBU. Masih banyak juga daerah di Indonesia yang tidak terjangkau karena minimnya jalan/infrastruktur. Harga-harga disitu mahal dan membebani rakyat kecil bukan karena faktor harga BBM saja, tapi juga karena sulitnya transportasi barang-barang. Sekedar gambaran, saya naik motor di sepanjang bagian timur Bali dari Singaraja ke Denpasar via Candidasa selama 5-7 jam, padahal jaraknya cuma 160 km. Di Googlemap sih bilangnya cuma 3 jam kurang, tapi kenyataannya Denpasar-Candidasa saja (sekitar 1/3-1/2 perjalanan) bisa 2-3 jam kalau sedang macet karena harus 'bertarung' dengan bus pariwisata. Sebagai perbandingan, si Akang saya ke kantor di Amrik sini lewat freeway 50 km ditempuh hanya dalam waktu 35-45 menit. Ini Bali lho, yang konon daerah pariwisata dunia. Perjalanan poros Makassar-Toraja juga jangan ditanya, ngeri-ngeri sedap gitu. Harga BBM memang mempengaruhi, tapi mau BBM semurah air minum kemasan juga kalau infrastrukturnya jelek tetap saja harga barang di pelosok mahal, yang artinya rakyat kecil lagi yang tertekan.

Wahai orang picik, jangan langsung menjawab: "Jangan jauh-jauh, lihat saja kesusahan orang-orang disekitar kita yang harus naik angkot dst." Memang yang jauh dan pelosok itu bukan orang Indonesia?? Kemana anda saat bertahun-tahun mereka tidak terjangkau pembangunan dan hidup lebih susah daripada si mbok tukang sayur di pasar? Iya, orang-orang kecil seperti yang ada di serial "Jika Aku Menjadi" itu lho. Kemana anda saat jembatan di pelosok terputus dan desa-desa jadi terisolir? Daripada memikirkan bagaimana orang kecil bisa hidup di kota, bagaimana bila anda memikirkan cara agar orang kecil bisa hidup makmur dan nyaman di desa. Hidup di kota jelas biaya hidup akan lebih tinggi daripada di desa. Tapi itu, lagi-lagi, sebuah pilihan. Kalau anda punya motor/mobil, maka maaf-maaf saja, anda tidak masuk kategori orang miskin atau rakyat kecil. Tanya sama dokter-dokter PTT, bagaimana susahnya hidup masyarakat di pedalaman, lalu pikir, apa iya anda pantas mengeluh? Apa iya si mbok sayur yang berhape dan bisa ber-Line ria itu pantas mengeluh? Masih banyak lho yang lebih susah dari mereka di Indonesia ini, tapi kenapa anda cuma berkoar seolah mereka yang paling menderita?

Wahai orang picik, ngomong-ngomong soal penduduk, tahu kan kalau Indonesia itu sangat besar dan jumlah penduduknya nomer empat terbanyak di dunia? Coba dihitung-hitung dulu. Dengan penduduk sedemikian banyak dan luas negara sedemikian besar, jelas saja konsumsi BBM kita luar biasa besar. FYI, penduduk pulau Jawa itu sudah setengah jumlah seluruh penduduk Indonesia lho. Tebak kemana BBM Indonesia mengalir? Apa ini adil??? Kenapa anda berteriak dan bilang pemerintah tidak berpihak kepada rakyat miskin sementara anda di pulau Jawa (dan Bali serta kota-kota bisnis besar di Indonesia) jelas-jelas mengkonsumsi lebih dari separuh jatah BBM Indonesia? Kalau yang bisa menggunakan BBM (angkot, motor, etc) saja sudah anda cap sebagai orang susah, anda kategorikan apa sisa penduduk Indonesia yang bahkan tidak kebagian jatah BBM?

Wahai orang picik, pemerintah itu penyelenggara negara, bukan pemilik negara. Adalah tugas pemerintah untuk mengelola aset negara sebisa mungkin demi seluruh masyarakat Indonesia, tapi bukan tugas mereka untuk menjamin hidup anda aman nyaman dan berkecukupan. Itu tugas anda sendiri. Pemerintah adalah bagian dari rakyat Indonesia, bukan dua pihak yang berbeda dan tidak berkaitan satu-sama lain. Anda mau teriak-teriak "pemerintah harusnya begini, pemerintah harusnya begitu" juga tidak ngefek, kalau harga harus dinaikkan karena smber dayanya kurang ya apa mau dikata. Pemerintahan ini juga baru berlangsung satu bulan, satu bulan lho, dan anda sudah menuding bahwa pemerintahan ini tidak becus walaupun isu BBM akan naik sudah santer sejak pemilu presiden, walaupun SBY sudah diminta menaikkan BBM sebelum pemerintahan baru dimulai. Satu-satunya cara anda bisa disubsidi pemerintah adalah bila pemasukan pemerintah luar biasa besarnya, baik dari pajak maupun sumber-sumber lain. Indonesia yang kekayaan negaranya habis disedot pihak asing dan pemasukan pajaknya minim jelas tidak mampu mensubsidi warganya terus-terusan, apalagi kalau warga negaranya cuma bisa protes bikin hashtag #salamgigitjari dan bukannya membantu pemerintahnya berpikir atau sekedar meringankan beban warga yang berkekurangan. Indonesia milik anda juga bung, jangan kekanakan begitu.

Wahai orang picik, apa anda tidak melihat kesamaan Jokowi dengan Anang Hermansyah dan/atau Raffi Ahmad? Sama-sama menjual mas bro. Bukan Jokowi yang 'pesan' media seperti jaman Soeharto dulu, yang awak TVRI menemani dia memancing. Justru anda yang 'memesan' media. Dengan segala emosi jiwa anda mengklik like dan share di berita-berita miring tentang Jokowi, atau share dan komen di berita-berita bagus tentang Jokowi. Tulisan Kaesang soal makan daging babi atau rokoknya bu Susi jadi headline, padahal banyak orang lain yang juga punya pengalaman seperti Kaesang dan juga merokok seperti bu Susi. Kalau anda 'eneg' dengan pemberitaan tentang Jokowi, salahkan diri anda karena anda senang mengklik dan membaca berita-berita seperti itu dan bukannya membaca berita-berita tentang daerah di Indonesia. Tidak percaya? Masuk saja ke kompas.com atau detik.com, yang berita terpopuler/terkomentarinya selalu yang bombastis dan sedap (politik, kejahatan, bola), dan jarang sekali soal kondisi daerah lain di Indonesia atau pencapaian orang-orang Indonesia. Pernah mikir ga kenapa yang sibuk ditayangkan di TV itu cerita artis JJS ke luar negeri? Kalau memang harus bikin cerita yang keluar negeri, kenapa nggak soal mahasiswa Indonesia yang menang beasiswa gitu? Atau reality show tentang kehidupan TKI (illegal) di perantauan. Biar tau susahnya perjuangan orang Indonesia di luar negeri. Tapi mahasiswa dan TKI itu kan nggak menjual, artis menjual. Berita baik tentang Jokowi ada karena masih ada yang mau 'membeli'nya, baik yang mendukung maupun yang menentang, begitu pula dengan berita buruk. Kalau mau stop ya anda yang stop membaca berita tidak penting seperti itu.

Wahai orang picik, apa anda tidak sadar anda terlihat sangat picik? Yang sampai sekolah anaknya Jokowi saja anda jadikan alasan untuk menghujat. Begini ini nih kelakuan orang Indonesia yang saya paling sebel, sikap "Elo nggak boleh lebih keren daripada gue". Cerita-cerita rakyat Indonesia banyak yang isinya "Hemat Pangkal Kaya", ini Jokowi yang jelas-jelas menggunakan kebajikan tradisional Indonesia kenapa anda hina-dina? Padahal anaknya disekolahin jauh sebelum dia maju pilpres, dan pakai uang dia sendiri pula. Anda kemarin yang ngelike dan share cerita tukang becak yang anaknya sarjana Cum Laude dan dapat beasiswa S2 ke London, anda juga pada komen "Sangat inspiratif!"; kenapa tukang mebel dan gubernur kecil di Indonesia anaknya bisa disekolahkan keluar negeri anda malah menuduh dia tidak nasionalis? Belum lagi yang ngelike cerita bahwa orang sukses (Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg) selalu berpakaian sederhana, atau yang nge-share cerita hoax Stanford University didirikan oleh Bapak-Ibu Stanford yang ditolak donasinya oleh Harvard karena mereka berpakaian lusuh/terlihat miskin. Entah kenapa buat anda cerita seperti itu 'inspiratif', tapi saat Jokowi yang melakukan anda menyebutnya 'pembohongan'. Begitu pula saat anda berkoar Jokowi tidak pantas jadi presiden karena tidak bisa bahasa Inggris, lalu saat dia pidato (padahal tanpa text) anda berkoar bahasa Inggrisnya kurang bagus dan terlalu medok, dan sekarang saat anaknya sekolah diluar negeri anda tuding tidak nasionalis (padahal anda yang meminta dia bisa bahasa Inggris juga tidak nasionalis bukan?). Anda terlihat seperti si Sirik di majalah Bobo, jelek dan menyebalkan.

Wahai orang picik, saya tidak menganggap Jokowi nabi, dan saya rasa buanyak dari para "Jokowi fanboy' atau 'panastak' atau 'Jokowers' (sebutan kesayangan anda bagi para pendukung Jokowi) juga tidak menganggap Jokowi nabi yang selalu benar. Untuk saat ini, jelas saja kami bereaksi terhadap tudingan jelek anda terhadap Jokowi. Kerja saja belum sampai dua bulan tapi anda sudah hina kanan kiri, sementara pe-er yang harus dikerjakan/dibetulkan dari pemerintahan sebelumnya (yang hampir tujuh dekade) luar biasa banyaknya. Coba kalau anda kerja baru sebulan dan tiap hari ada yang komen ke anda: "kerjamu nggak beres!" padahal proyek anda perlu paling tidak tiga bulan untuk ada hasilnya. Atau begini deh (bila anda bukan bermental pekerja), bayangkan anda masak soto daging yang baru lima menit anda taruh di panci terus sudah ada yang nyicip dan bilang "uh, ga enak!". Masuk akal nggak? Kalau anda bilang, "kesalahan harus dihentikan sedini mungkin", maka apa solusi anda? Waktu jaman saya kuliah dulu, saya tahu yang saya kerjakan itu salah (matematika /fisika/kimia/biologi) kalau saya tahu cara/jawaban yang benar, atau setidaknya cara/rumus/pegangan yang harusnya dipakai. Kalau anda cuma protes tanpa kasi solusi, berarti anda tidak tahu apakah itu salah atau benar.

Saya pernah menulis bahwa saya tidak memilih Jokowi, saya memilih harapan. Kalau anda bisa berhenti picik sebentar saja, coba pikir kenapa orang-orang sekarang mendukung kenaikan BBM. Komentar di media elektronik itu lebih dominan yang mendukung kenaikan BBM daripada yang tidak lho. Apa iya Jokowi segitu hebatnya pencitraannya sampai orang-orang tertipu dan terbius olehnya? Ataukah karena pendukung Jokowi percaya akan Indonesia yang lebih baik dan Jokowi bisa membantu mewujudkan itu? Untuk pertama kalinya saya percaya Indonesia bisa jadi lebih baik, saya percaya bahwa Indonesia bisa maju. Untuk pertama kalinya saya bisa bilang dengan lantang, saya bangga menjadi orang Indonesia. Kalau anda mau Indonesia maju tapi tidak setuju dengan kebijakan Jokowi dan pemerintahannya, silakan lho anda berupaya dengan cara sendiri. Kasi masukan, ide, usulan agar Indonesia bisa jadi maju. Tapi tolong, tolong jangan habiskan emosi dan kesabaran saya dan orang-orang lain yang ingin Indonesia maju dengan terus mengumandangkan kepicikan dan kebencian anda yang tidak beralasan di media sosial. If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. Salam Indonesia!

PS: Soal pencitraan, apa anda pikir tiap kali anda sharing sesuatu di media sosial dan interet itu bukan bentuk pencitraan? Atau saat anda nongkrong/jalan bareng teman-teman anda? Semua makeup yang anda pakai, semua baju yang anda pilih, apa itu bukan bentuk pencitraan? Bagaimana anda berpenampilan dan membawa diri adalah bagaimana anda ingin diterima di grup/lingkungan sekitar anda, yang sebenarnya bentuk pencitraan juga. Teman anda yang terus sukses karirnya bisa jadi pencitraannya di kantor lebih tokcer daripada anda, atau yang bisa bolak-balik ganti pasangan yang makin lama makin ganteng/aduhai. Anda juga bersalah untuk pencitraan toh? Anyway, kategori pencitraan yang menipu buat saya adalah model serial TV Duck Dynasty di Amrik sini, yang kesannya mereka orang kampung yang keras dan macho banget, yang nggak berpendidikan dan tidak terawat tapi orang kaya raya karena bisnis peluit mereka. Kenyataannya, mereka baru berpenampilan seperti itu setelah mereka masuk TV untuk mendukung peran mereka, sebelumnya mah mereka penampilannya orang kaya Amrik banget: punya duit dan terawat dan terpelajar. Kalau Jokowi sebelumnya penampilannya keren mampus dan suka ngabis-ngabisin duit nggak jelas (baca: sok kaya)  terus saat dia jadi gubernur/presiden langsung sok ndeso ya bener anda menuduh dia pencitraan palsu. Tapi kalau memang dari dulu gayanya begitu ya anda saja yang sensi dan sirik nggak jelas. Begitu aja kok repot 'Ndro.

Monday, November 17, 2014

Ngangkot di Amerika dan Harga BBM

Karena harga BBM di Indonesia naik, saya jadi ingin sharing cerita saya ngangkot di Amerika. Soalnya salah satu argumen orang yang misuh-misuh dengan kenaikan BBM adalah karena pemerintah Indonesia belum bikin transportasi masal yang layak seperti di negara maju. Padahal, di Amerika sendiri ini yang saya rasakan transportasi masalnya tidak bagus-bagus amat.

Waktu saya baru pindah ke Amerika, saya bangga sekali bisa memahami cara naik bus disana hanya dengan browsing-browsing di internet. FYI, si Akang saya saja tidak paham cara naik bus karena dia kemana-mana selalu naik mobil. Setelah saya mencoba-coba naik bus, baru saya paham kenapa dia malas naik bus: lama dan tidak tepat waktu. Busnya sendiri sih tidak ada masalah ya, selalu terlihat rapi jali dan lumayan bersih; waktu nunggunya yang sengsara. Jarak dari apartemen saya ke mall atau perpustakaan itu cuma 15 menit naik mobil, tapi naik bis bisa 45 menit. Belum lagi kalau kebetulan ketinggalan bus, bisa 20-30 menit lagi menunggu bis berikutnya. Dan kalau kelewatan haltenya, siap-siap jalan kaki ke halte sebelumnya, yang bisa sekitar 500-800 meter jauhnya. Jadi malas syalala kan kemana-mana naik bus. Ini di Orange County lho, yang konon salah satu county/kabupaten paling ciamik di Amerika; dan halte bus nya terletak tak jauh dari apartemen saya.

Waktu sempat berkunjung ke Arizona dan New Mexico, transportasinya lebih parah lagi. Di Arizona masih ada bus, tapi hanya melayani dalam kota saja dan itu pun tidak menjangkau banyak tempat. Lokasi tempat kami tinggal itu sekitar 2.5 km dari supermarket terdekat, jadi kalau jalan kaki lumayan gempor. Ini pun ternyata hitungannya sudah lumayan, karena banyak daerah elit yang posisinya lebih terpencil lagi. Main ke rumah keluarganya Akang itu bisa 30-45 menit di jalan saking jauhnya, padahal hitungannya satu kota. Terbayang nggak sengsaranya kalau tidak punya mobil? Di New Mexico bahkan lebih parah. Kami berkunjung ke Magdalena yang terletak di dekat VLA (Very Large Array, kumpulan satelit yang jadi backgroundnya film Contact dan video klip Bon Jovi dan berbagai hal keren lainnya), dan sama sekali tidak ada transportasi umum disana. Boro-boro transportasi umum, pompa bensin yang lain saja bisa sampai 30 km jauhnya.

Waktu kami tinggal di Los Angeles, transportasi umumnya sangat baik (menurut saya). Si Akang yang biasanya malas naik bus pun jadi ketagihan naik bus. Bukan apa-apa, parkir di Los Angeles itu susah dan mahal, jadi memang lebih murah naik bus. Tapi setelah agak lama tinggal disini baru saya ngeh: tidak semua bagian Los Angeles terjangkau bus, dan subway pun tidak terlalu luas jangkauannya. Lagi-lagi, keterbatasan armada dan kemacetan dalam kota membuat naik bus tidak menyenangkan. Bus yang biasanya muncul tiap 15 menit bisa baru muncul tiap 30 menit di jam sibuk, atau muncul lebih cepat 5-10 menit dari jadwal sehingga penumpang yang sudah pede bakal on time harus menunggu bus berikutnya. Oh ya, tiap weekend biasanya ada detour untuk rute bus dalam kota, dan banyak penumpang yang baru ngeh saat membaca pengumuman di halte bus. Kalau santai-santai sih tidak apa-apa, tapi kalau lagi terburu-buru tidak cihui kan?  

Yang paling bagus dari Amerika buat saya bukan transportasi masalnya, tapi kondisi jalannya. Bahkan yang konon kota kecil pun jalannya masih lumayan bagus dan tidak menyakiti mobil. Naik mobil antara Los Angeles - Arizona yang sekitar 787 km itu butuh cuma 6-7 jam, sementara Jakarta-Denpasar yang sekitar 1200 km itu butuh 24 jam lebih, pakai bus yang ngebut maut saja bisa sekitar 30 jam. Contoh lain, disini jarak 50 km itu bisa ditempuh (tanpa macet di freeway) sekitar 30-45 menit, dan ini tidak ngebut maut ya. Teman saya pernah bilang, di Amerika freeway itu mudah karena dataran Amerika yang luas dan relatif rata (tidak banyak pegunungan). Kalau dilihat soal kondisi geologi, memang benar bahwa Indonesia lebih menantang; tapi fakta yang tidak bisa terbantahkan adalah semakin bagus infrastruktur maka semakin mudah melakukan pemerataan ekonomi dan penekanan biaya-biaya. Jadi kalaupun BBM naik atau turun, hari raya atau hari biasa, tidak ada lagi alasan harga-harga naik dengan semena-mena.

Buat saya, hal yang harusnya kita pikirkan saat kisruh soal BBM ya itu tadi, bagaimana membuat pasar stabil jadi harga BBM naik atau turun tidak ada pengaruhnya. Seperti yang saya gambarkan diatas, di Amerika sendiri (yang BBM nya naik turun sesuai harga pasar) transportasi masalnya tidak super friendly. Masih mending di Indonesia, masih ada ojek dan/atau transportasi pelat hitam lainnya. Jadi, argumen yang menyalahkan pemerintah soal BBM dengan bilang bahwa pemerintah tidak bertanggung jawab karena tidak menyediakan transportasi masal yang memadai menurut saya tidak valid. Hal yang paling mencolok dari Amerika adalah kesiapan infrastruktur mereka, jalan-jalan raya yang membentang dari satu sudut ke sudut lainnya dan mencakup hampir seluruh bagian di Amerika. Bagaimana dengan Indonesia? Pariwisata yang bisa dibilang nyaris tanpa modal saja banyak sekali dikuasai orang asing, apalagi produk-produk buatan ibu pertiwi seperti bahan tambang dan hasil bumi yang membutuhkan modal besar untuk 'memanen' dan mengeluarkannya dari pulau-pulau terpencil. Dana subsidi BBM bisa dipakai untuk pembangunan infrastruktur ini.

Buat yang masih sakit hati dan bilang kalau pencabutan subsidi BBM berarti tidak berpihak pada rakyat kecil, tolong diingat kalau saat daerah lain menikmati subsidi BBM, harga BBM di Papua bisa mencapai Rp 50,000 seliternya. Tolong juga dihargai usaha pemerintah yang memang serius menaikkan dan melakukannya dengan cepat dan efisien, dan bukannya tarik ulur seperti jaman presiden-presiden yang lalu. Dulu-dulu tanggal kenaikan harga BBM diumumkan jauh-jauh hari, sehingga kenaikan harga barang dan tarif transportasi jadi dobel: saat baru 'akan' sudah dinaikkan, saat sudah naik ya naik lagi. Walau batal naik (demi rakyat ceritanya) tetap saja tidak ada usaha menurunkan harga pasar. Yang sengsara masyarakat juga kan? Indonesia saat ini ibaratnya seperti keluarga buruh yang berusaha bertahan hidup dari penghasilan mereka, dimana penghasilan tetap namun biaya hidup meningkat. Cara tercepat agar bisa bertahan hidup ya dengan memangkas biaya yang tidak perlu. Banyak orang yang rela hidup sederhana demi kemajuan dirinya sendiri (kuliah, modal usaha, kesehatan, etc), kenapa Indonesia tidak bisa?

Kita tidak bisa memisahkan diri kita dengan pemerintah. Kita tidak bisa bilang "saya rakyat" dan "kamu pemerintah", karena pemerintah pun sebenarnya bagian dari rakyat, dan sebagai rakyat kita punya andil dalam pemerintahan. Adalah tugas pemerintah untuk menyejahterakan rakyatnya, namun rakyat Indonesia juga harus berhenti bersikap manja dan minta sedikit-sedikit disuapi oleh pemerintah. Kita adalah satu. Satu nusa, satu bangsa, satu bahasa. Kita adalah Indonesia. Silakan gigit jari kalau masih mau ngambek, tapi jangan lupa kalau kita tetap satu Indonesia :)  

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Abstinence and Soberness: Being a Woman in an Anti-feminist Country

Here we go again....

Unlike the viral cat-calling video, not many people were amused with this one. It was badly made, they say, and the acting was just terrible (the drunk woman and the actors). And being drunk without any help is not a big thing, especially in LA where you can see people wasted in almost every corner of the street. Still the article pressed the issue: women should not be taken advantage of when they are not in control of themselves. Newsflash, fellas: in this world, people with disadvantage get taken advantage of every single time. The rich milked on the poor, the healthy trumped the sick, the sober prey on the drunk. No news here.

If by this time you already think I am an anti-feminist and doesn't support my fellow women, you may be right. Nevertheless, let me tell you a story and maybe we all can learn something about it.

I come from Indonesia, born and raised in the capital city of Jakarta. Women who drink or do non-marital sex are frowned upon, and virginity is considered (at least when I grew up) an absolute must requirement in order to find yourself a decent husband. Coming to America, reading all the news and seeing some proof firsthand, I realize that here sex and drunk/alcohol goes side by side and is somewhat one of America's favorite past time activities. It was so popular that even the slightest idea to control it (especially for women) were met with a loud chorus: "Don't take women's right! Don't victimize the victim!" and such and such. But is it really that bad to do a little more of self control in these matters?

In Indonesia, alcohol is expensive. It is unthinkable to gorge on a can of beer when with the same amount of money you can get a filling, healthy, and balanced meal. Local beer and cheap alcohols were associated with the lower social class, and any kind of drunkenness is frowned upon and considered as 'bad seed'. Men in the villages still gather and get drunk sometimes, but it was more of traditional gathering and not something to be boasted. Again, people who wish to have good social standing in the society generally does not indulge himself in alcohol. I've been to youth gatherings during my university years where the boys got cheerfully drunk, but even then the girls were not allowed to drink much. As restricting as it sound it actually helped the girls and again, it showed how girls are put in a higher level than the boys (people with good social standing a.k.a the nice ones do not get drunk). 

How does this help me as a woman? Since alcohol is not a 'hot item' and such, I rarely seen women drink uncontrollably, and my friends that did were well in their twenties and already have a source of income. I do not feel the peer pressure to get wasted on alcohol or correlate alcohol with fun. To enjoy alcohol is an option made fully realizing that my society will most likely look at me in the harsh light. This means, only the adult women who are capable in thinking sober and can actually be responsible for their own action gets to 'touch' alcohol (a.k.a get wasted). True that there are still young girls, especially from the lower socioeconomic status or those who aspired to be 'as cool as the westerners' that abuse alcohol; but it was not an option for the (somewhat prude) middle to upper socioeconomic status. I considered myself lucky in this matter, because I can choose my vice. When I drink it was because I want to and not because the society forced upon me that alcohol is cool, and I was able to drink responsibly because my society forced me to be responsible for myself.

The same goes with sex. I didn't have sex until my early twenties, and even then I had to persuade my partner because he think pre-marital sex is sinful. Pre-marital or non-marital sex is something that you confess in a hush-hush and told in shame, that is if you ever had the guts to tell anyone about it. I enjoy making my friends think I am such a vixen, but even so I never tell a single breath to anyone about sex with my partner(s). Again, this means I had sex when I was physically and emotionally ready for it, and not because the society tells me so. My society's view on the sacredness of the sex also led me to have pride and dignity on my body. The only few times I did non-committal sex made me feel violated instead of empowered. It was fun, sex was always fun, but in no way I could emotionally enjoy having someone use my body just because they can.

This article is in no way saying that we women shouldn't drink alcohol and have sex as much as we want. This article is trying to say that maybe, just maybe, making responsible decision (a.k.a controlling yourself) when it comes to sex and alcohol is not such a bad thing after all. Getting drunk and having sex when you are (somewhat) adult may not be much different than when you are a teenager, but at least the older you get usually the more responsible you would be towards your body and on making sensible decision. And yes, we are responsible for our own action. For a country that take gun rights seriously for the citizen's own protection, I am surprised that Americans instead choose to trust their safety when they are drunk to the hands of their fellow citizen. It is such a contradictory, isn't it? 

This issue matters to me because I have stepchildren and I am toying to have a child of my own. I want them to experience life in the fullest, to do things because they wanted to and because they think it is time for them do so and not because their surroundings deemed that they are ready for it. I want my daughters to be proud of their own body and my sons to be respectful towards the woman's body, and this can only be achieve when they can take their sweet time with it instead of rushing to it because they think being a virgin is not cool. We talk and talk and talk about the rape culture, but we do not see that maybe, maybe it all happen because these kids are not ready for it yet the society tells them they are. And for the adult feminists out there, isn't protecting a woman's dignity more important and more empowering than just forcing our rights? Getting wasted and having as much sex as one want is not empowering, or making us equal with men; but making a responsible choice in regards to sex and alcohol is. It is actually a very sane thing to do, regardless of the gender. For some reason though, any remarks about women shouldn't put themselves in compromising position (drunk, sexy clothing) was almost always met with the chorus "Why does women always get victimize?" and "Blame the perpetrator, not the victim!". No sane man would walk unprotected in a criminal-laden area of Los Angeles, or climbing a snowy mountain without proper warm clothes, so why women are so special? What is so empowering about expecting the other gender (a.k.a men) to 'behave' instead of taking action on ourselves? Isn't that mean that we women are still on their mercy?

In the end, if we take the woman factor out, the video above is merely a video of people trying to take advantage from their fellow human. Yes, she is a woman. Yes, she is drunk. Yet the essence is the same. Criminality happens, bad people are abound. That is just life, that is just world. Women shouldn't be raped just because how they are dressed, or be raped or treated violently for any cause. But you know what? So does men. And each day, maybe each second a person is being wrongfully/maliciously treated. Our crusade shouldn't be about women vs men and vice versa. Our crusade should be against humanity in general, the competitive and primitive part of us that instinctively wanted to devour the weak and made them our prey. This is our true crusade. This is what we should fight for.

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Hey You in The Mirror

Hey you in the mirror
Why are you so sad? Why are you so blue?
I could see the lines in your face
And the pain inside your heart
You don't need to hide it from me
You can't ever hide it from me
For I am you, and you are me
And whatever you feel, I feel it too

Hey you in the mirror
I remember the times when I was happy
You've never seen a more beautiful smile
Nor felt a more joyous feeling
I shared those moments with you
And how we love those moments!
For I am you, and you are me
And whatever I feel, you feel it too

Hey you in the mirror
Look at me, look at me in front of you
The one person who understand you
The one person who could feel you
The one person that will never leave you
The one person that is yours truly
For we are one another
And whatever we feel, we share it with each other

Hey you in the mirror
I know you are sad right now
I know you are lonely right now
I know you feel you don't belong anywhere
I know you feel you will never fit in
And maybe, you know, maybe you are right
I know this because I am you
You know I know because you are me

So rest your back in the mirror
And know that I got your back
And even if the mirror breaks
You will still see me in the sparkling clean glass window in shops
You will still see me in the dirty puddle in the street
You will still see me in the reflection of your cool pair of sunglasses
I will never leave you, and you know this is true
Because we are meant to be

Hey you in the mirror
Rest up, take a breather
Cuss and cry, sob and shout
Let your feeling out
Do whatever you need to get it out of your system
Until the time that you are ready to smile again
I will be with you throughout the grim and grin
And baby, I got your back
I always do.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

The Day I Died

I died that day. I can tell you every vivid details of what had happened, and why I ended up being among the dead like I am right now. You don't want to hear about it? Well I really don't care. I would tell you all about it anyway and you will listen. That's what bartenders are for, goddamn. You got other customers, you say? Well honey, this is no bedtime stories. Feel free to do whatever you want, but just pretend to listen. Now pour me another glass, will you?

How old were you when you first saw the sea? Too young to remember, eh? You lucky dawg. I first saw the sea almost a year ago, and I still feel like crying. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my whole life. The blue water with the streak of white wave. The cool sea breeze with the scent of salt and foreign lands. The warm sand that massages my feet. The sunshine that warms you to the soul. My god,  James; it is the most beautiful thing ever. I pity you for being robbed of that first impression, really. There is nothing like seeing the sea for the first time and fell in love with it. What? Your name is Jonathan and not James? Well, same difference.

I have lived all my life in the arid mountain. You get to see a whole lot of cactus and ocatillo and pebbles and sands, and lots and lots of dust. I remember the song we used to sing when we were a kid: “In the shade, in the shade of a saguaro, you and I can't find relief”. That's exactly how it feels like. All the little things thrive there in the mountain: the scorpions, the spiders, the mice, the rattle snake; yet we people have to deal with it the hard way. The dry weather would parched our lips and skin, and water is scarce to say the least. There is nothing to see or do there, not that there is anything we would want to do after a tiring day in the sun. I worked as an office clerk, and after work and dinner all I wanted to do was to retire to my bed with the fervent hope that the swamp cooler would actually work for once. I can't believe I lived that life for so many years. Then it all began. 

My husband's friend invited us for a week vacation in his beach house here at Mission Bay. I don't know much about him because he had already moved to California by the time I met my husband, but apparently they were really good friends at that time. I had my doubts, mind you. I was reluctant to drive eight hours to an unknown land and have to share a house for a whole week with a complete stranger. Despite the hardness, I was so used with my hometown and the comfort of my own house. My Ma is from the mountain too, and my husband is from the nearby city. We would go to Tucson now and then to visit my husband's dad, and that's about as far as I have been in my whole life. I wanted to tell my husband to decline the invitation, but I felt selfish for even thinking about that. In retrospect I think I wanted to go as well, thus the silence. I should have said no.

On the designated day we started our road trip to California. It was a pretty sunny day, and I could feel his excitement rubbing off on me. The bags were safely stowed in the trunk, we have a little soft cooler filled with cold drinks and snacks, and our MP3 player was stocked with at least 100 songs to accompanied us in the road trip. We were all prepared and all set to go. The road trip itself was amazing, I've had never seen such vast land and such long long road. The windmill farm took my breath away, they were so huge and majestic! And the rocky mountains that looked like it's made by a giant who decided to play with a bunch of pebbles, it was just gorgeous. It felt like we were in an old episode of Star Trek. And after the mountains came the lush greeneries of San Diego County, such greens that I have never seen in my whole life. The shops and the cars and the people, all looked so noisy and crowded and interesting. I was scared, I really do. I felt so out of place with my jeans and boots among these people who barely cover themselves, and I wanted to ask my husband to return immediately. I didn't though, and we continued our trip.

I couldn't tell you how it feel to be there at that time, when I finally subdue my fear and discomfort and just give in to the stimulation. All of my five senses were awoken, and they were wildly enjoying themselves. The pastrami sandwich we had for lunch cost us $15, which was roughly the amount of money I spent on grocery shopping for two days in our hometown, but it was such a treat! I have never eaten anything as delicious in my whole life, and the difficult name and explanation like stone ground mustard or Russian slaw, for me, justify the whole experience. The vacation house was decorated in white and had all these pretty ornamental sea shells and bleached white starfish, a balcony for each level of the house (total three levels), and was located only a short walk to the beach and an even shorter walk to the bay. The bay was beautiful and looked like the lake we visited one time in Arizona, even though this one had more sailboats and paddle-boarders and the water was definitely colder. But the sea, ah the sea. It was surely love at first sight. The water was colder than I imagined it would be, even colder than the bay. The seaweeds and kelp were no beauty as well, and the seagulls were intimidating. Yet the sea was beautiful and magnificent. I fell in love with her.

In the house, my husband's friend Mark greeted us and gave us a room for ourselves in the second floor. To my relief there were two other women and another couple joining us for the vacation, they were all Mark's friends. All of them chatted easily, even my husband, but I was too shy to say anything. Such a meek little mouse! I could only smile shyly and nervously holding the glass of wine they have given me, while everyone was already on their third glass or more and looking more lively than ever. My husband was appointed as the chef of the day, and even though we have made barbecue for so many times before, it felt really different to be among those lively beauties. We, I mean they laughed and joked around and were so joyful and merry, so confident with themselves and loving the hell out of their life. After dinner we all walked to the bay to see the fireworks, huddling and playing tags on the sandy beach which we all ended up in some sort of a pile just before the fireworks, too sloshed out to untangle ourselves and just laughing uncontrollably.

The next day we all went out to the beach, this time I was in my first two-piece ever, courtesy of Mark's friend Miranda. She was a beach wear designer and insist on giving me one of her work so I can get a 'healthy glow'. I was embarrassed at first, but the look on my husband's face was priceless, and so did the intense gaze from Mark. I felt powerful and in control. I loved it. The women, delighted with their new toy A.K.A. me, taught me everything they know about their life. They taught me about their gluten-free diet and vegan lifestyle, they taught me about matching accessories and shoes and dresses, they taught me how to flirt and win attentions. As the days went by, my skin became darker and my confident grew stronger. The little meek desert mouse have transformed into a genuine So-Cal girl. Another drink please, if you have time, so I can finish the story.

Don't get me wrong, I resisted the changes at first. I was uncomfortable with the amount of money they spent, or their wasteful habits. They insisted on the healthiest food possible, but a whole bunch of those went to the drain or stored for an eternity in the leftover boxes inside the refrigerator. They insisted on keeping the earth 'green', but they kept on buying these purified water in the bottle instead of reusing their old water bottle with tap water. They talked confidently about themselves and boasted their adventures and lifestyle, but they get super insecure when they saw somebody dressed a tad nicer than they are and would end up bitching about that person while buying another 'bling' to comfort themselves. It was all a facade, a rat race to ensure that they were better than others. Oh I could see that all right, I could see that as clear as day. Yet even though the logical me hated all of those things, even though the sensible me kept on reminding me of the comforting life I have back home, I still wanted to be a part of them. I wanted to be a part of these beauties, these attractive creatures-by-the-sea that were everything that I was not. Here, fill my glass. It won't be long now.

On our last day, Mark threw a party for us all. Miranda dressed me up in her sexy red dress, and Kerry – Miranda's partner – did my hair and makeup. I felt like Cinderella. We danced and laughed and had a good time, and then Mark suggested that we hit the club. Everyone agreed except my husband, who said he'd rather stay home and rest for our long drive tomorrow. Miranda cheekily asked if I would be driving tomorrow, and when my husband said no, she announced that she would 'kidnap' me for the night to everyone's laughter. I should have stayed home with him, but I wanted the night to last a little bit longer. There would be no more crazy dancing and joyous laughter in our desolate little home in the mountain, I told myself. I wanted to live the dazzling life just a little bit more before I return to my dreary old existence. Before we all went out my husband hugged me a little bit longer than usual, which should already be a premonition. I hugged him back and kissed him and told him I'll be back before midnight. We both knew it was a lie.

We went to so many clubs that I couldn't remember how and why we ended up losing the remainder of the group, and it was just me and Mark in his car. Mark was driving us through a beach side parking lot  when Miranda messaged him, saying that she and the others were already at home. I nervously smiled at Mark and told him we should be heading home, I didn't want my husband to be worried. He said OK, but asked that I should allow him a few minutes enjoying the quiet beach at night. So I did, and we walked to the edge of the water and sat there in silence. My phone rang soon after, it was from my husband. Mark pulled the phone away from my hand before I could answer it, and pushed it into my purse before he gently kissed me. The split second felt like an eternity for me. I should have slapped him and demanded to be brought home immediately. I should have cried for being violated in such a way. I should have cussed myself for allowing myself to be violated from the first place. But instead I kissed him back. Our kisses became stronger and more passionate as we hungrily devour each other in the reek of champagne and expensive cigar and in the comfort of warm sand, all while my phone rang. And that is when I die. 

It was already past two when we returned home. I took off my dress and went to bed, but my husband didn't even flinch, either he was deep asleep or pretending that he was asleep. When the dawn broke I saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me and caressing my hair. His bags were already packed, but mine had not. He already knew what will happen. He kissed me over and over again, and between his tears and silent sobs he said “I love you sweet angel, I love you so much”. I cried with him, but I have made up my mind, and he knew it. He left shortly after while everyone was still asleep. Silent tears were streaming down my cheeks as I heard his car engine down in the garage, and how it faded as he drove away. Mark came in while I was still sitting there, crying and grieving. He hugged me close and wipe my tears away, and soon we were making love on the bed that still has my husband's scent and warmth. 

This one's on you, you say? Thank you but don't pity me honey, I did what I have to do and I have no regret. When I said I die, I really die inside. Mark and Miranda helped me to established myself here, and I flourished quite well. Yet day after day I could feel myself eroding, and my existence is now measured on how other people looked at me. I am a walking empty shell, albeit an attractive one. This life I chose is an empty life indeed, and often times I missed the simplicity of my old life, but I can't go back. We tried to reconcile, my husband and I, but I could only stay with him for a little over three months before returning back here. I have glitter in my eyes, and that's all I wanted to see. I have no regret.

JONATHAN: The lady had walked herself out when I saw her coat at the bar stool. I ran outside to give it to her when I saw her standing still at the sidewalk, looking intently at the live band across the road. “Kiss me, out on the bearded barley/nightly, beside the green green grass,” she sang softly along with the band, hugging herself tightly and swaying to the music. I stood next to her till the end, as she whispered the last part of the song with tears on her cheek, “So kiss me...” I wrapped her in her coat and she cried for a long time in my arms.

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Note: This short story won the Commendation from Society of Southwestern Arizona on their annual writing competition. The judge's comment is as below, but feel free to add your own in the comment section below!

Great description at the beginning. Who is James/ Nice, good character, at the top of page 3. Great description throughout. Character is strong. Needs tightening, but has potential. Enjoyed the format. 

Monday, October 27, 2014

White, Black, Discrimination, and An Indonesian in Between

Just like the author, my husband had a biracial daughter and biracial son. Oddly enough, I don't think any of the author's concern ever popped up in any of our conversation regarding the children's future. They are both light-skinned, but he assured me that anyone with black ancestry could easily figure out that they come from black descendant. Nevertheless we are more worried about how they can cope up with the already difficult and sometimes nonsense life in America, and more importantly, how they can open their eyes and accept the world in all its glory. Their mothers are accomplished women on their own, I guess that's also one of the reason why we wasn't that worried. 

Being an immigrant, it's always difficult to read about things like this. If we are talking about discrimination, frisking, and all that jazz, I would like to point out that I have to have my green card with me all the time when I am in the state of Arizona. I don't think Iggy Azalea would have that problem even though she was an illegal immigrant for 6 years. A friend of ours who is a Hispanic descendants told us she was frequently stopped at border patrol station, and at times even have to explain on how she was driving with a truck that was registered under somebody else's name (which is her husband). She is a natural-born American. My cousin wanted to take the Greyhound bus to visit me in LA, I urged him to think twice and look for other alternatives because I am very afraid that he would get harassed and bothered during the lengthy (more than 24 hours) trip. I went on a bus ride in Los Angeles and there was an intoxicated young black man busy harassing a Hispanic woman, calling her names and such. It was only a 10 minutes ride. 

Immigrants are always at odds. An agent from the Child Service Agency was positively aghast and in awe when I could answer her back in English and phrase my words more eloquently than she could. But even before I arrive in US, I have been a subject of doubts with many of husband's friends and family tried to talked him out of our relationship because they believe my motive is not love. How is that for prejudice? As for job opportunity, despite my stellar skills and impressive track record I have yet to secure even a single job in US, and only gotten about 3 or 4 interviews so far. I may have applied to the wrong companies for the last 2 months, but the fact is that my other friend from Indonesia has been applying for work since December 2012 and had only acquired one this month, and her field was more specific than mine. She got it only after she took courses in America, despite her own already qualifying education and lengthy job experience in Indonesia. It's like catch 22: I can get a job if I can show I have the experience, but how can I have the experience without getting a job first? This sounds unfair, and it is. Can I considered this as racism? I can, but I would choose not to. It sucks, but I am aware that if I were in their shoes, I would also thought hard about choosing someone from a country that I never even knew existed; even someone with American education and job experience can be a bit dim, why risk with someone who had none?  

Discrimination with a hint of slavery is not unfamiliar for Indonesia people. Some Indonesian, thanks to the Dutch that colonized (read: take over our land, enslaved our people, and dried out our resources for their own profit) Indonesia for more than 350 years, still have the slave-master mentality. These Indonesian think the white men are better than the Indonesian, and adore anything western. A great number of Indonesian celebrities are half Caucasian, people who went to western countries for their education (Australia, US, etc) are also considered more worthy than people who were just educated in Indonesia. I myself have enjoyed this obvious racial prejudice for a while, getting to have a well-paid jobs just because I happen to be fluent in English. To make matter worst, apparently a vast majority (if not all) tourists from western countries still have Allen Quatermain's 1800's way of thinking: that we Indonesian are a bunch of barbaric lawless uneducated people. Stories about how foreign business proprietor treat their local employees in a way that would not be accepted if it's done in their own countries (inhumane, disrespectful, unfair) are dime a dozen in Bali. These foreigners also demanded a higher salary and/or fee than the locals, and they will get it even though some of them work there illegally. I accompanied a western friend to a business meeting where, after he got a little too cozy and apparently forgot that I am Balinese, divulged that he hated Balinese and he thought they were just a group of greedy MFs. The potential clients kept glancing at me in horror and I could tell she was absolutely uncomfortable being caught in that situation. He didn't get the job, of course. 

If at this point you already said in the top of your head, "White man is the worse!" then allow me to rectify that. White man is not the worse. Discrimination is, and it is done not only by white men. Discrimination, or should I say fear for something different, happens everywhere and being done by everyone in this world. It is not only the white that discriminates (me as) an immigrant, the black also did the same, and even in the immigrant circle that would ascertain where you stand in the pecking order. My white husband can easily do all of the 7 points that the author wrote, but get this, people could still complain that he achieve all of that because he is white. "Of course he could get that education, he is white. Of course he can go anywhere he wants, he is white. Of course he can protest, he is white." Which sounds like a discrimination to me. You know what he can't do? He can't walked in a predominantly black or Hispanic neighborhood without looking so out of place and worried he'd get mugged or harmed. This is not a baseless fear, he can't even walked in LA without somebody asking him for change, while I can walked about without being bothered. He married a black woman for 10 years and in the end he still doesn't get accepted in the bro clique. When he casually told our waitress in a Colombian restaurant that he was born in Latin America she asked, "How come? You are white!" although to me the waiter looked as fair skinned as he is. He is also a 'target' back in Indonesia, where people charge him for things many times more than they would usually charge the locals because of his skin color. Is this all not discrimination?

When my cousin first came to US, he told me how his fellow student from Africa received harsh discrimination in the suburb area where they live, with people locking their apartment doors whenever the dark-skinned students walked by. It exists. It is painful. It is unfair. The question now, what can we do about it? You can't forced someone to change their perspective towards you, however, you can always offered a new, more favorable perspective. 

A few weeks ago I saw a black woman got denied entry in the Social Security office in Downtown LA because she carried prohibited items in her bag. She was told to leave the items outside the building, and she wasn't taking it. She cussed and insult the officers, even went as far as accusing them to target her and trying to prevent her from completing her business in the office. The officers, naturally, gradually became harsher and harsher towards her with every angry and insulting comments she made. The thing is, I knew for a fact that just a few minutes before her a black woman and her grandma was also denied entry, this time because her stiletto looked like it can be use as a weapon. She manage to resolve it gracefully and got inside in less than five minutes without any voiced raised. A few minutes before her my white husband was also denied entry, this time over a mini screwdriver. And in the morning a white woman was denied entry because she had some lead pipe pieces in her pants. And just before that, I had to go back home because I had accidentally brought a Tasser with me to the office. I was denied entry as well, but the atmosphere were much lighter back then compared to when they were dealing with the angry black woman. If anything, it should be more strenuous because stun gun is actually a dangerous weapon; but I was laughing and being polite all round, and the officers even made jokes with it and invited me to come straight back without waiting in line once I have placed the stun gun in a secure place. Mind you, I look very foreign and anyone who saw me would know instantly that I am not American. Shouldn't I be considered more dangerous than the other 'suspects'?

The story above has two significance. The first is the significance of attitude. Considered yourself in the officers' shoes, which person that you dislike most? Naturally, it would be the angry black woman (even though my stubborn white husband would probably come second since he too was very vocal about having to secure the insignificant screwdriver elsewhere). Then, you would undoubtedly resort to the readily-available stereotyping that black people are violent and unreasonable. It is always easier to generalized people according to the already popular belief, especially if it's a negative belief. It's like saying all Muslim are evil, all white girls drink Starbucks, all straight Christians hate gays, all third-world-country people are uneducated; even if there's only a few people that actually do that in each respective group, it is enough for others to condemn all the group members as a whole. The fact that there was another black woman that was not angry or violent may not even registered in your mind, or if it was registered you would label her as an outlier. 

When I told my cousin that the black people in America scared me, I did not think about my husband's exes or his friends from high school, I did not think about the young man from Mississippi that I helped at a TAP Metro station or the old man that chat with me on the train to Culver City, I did not think about our eccentric neighbor or anyone in LA that has been so generous to me with their smile and assistance. When I told my cousin that the black people in America scared me, I was thinking about the verily drunk man that pulled the zipper on my backpack and went on an expletive-laden tirade because I was apparently blocking his way (I was not) and then proceed to harass my husband, even though he was with his toddler child, for some money. I was thinking about all the other people with smug look in their face when they stopped and asked us for money, even settling with slices of our pizza as if we owed them something. I was thinking about the rap songs that is filled with expletive and violence and glorified criminality. This, mind you, is how someone who is not tainted with American culture sees what's happening in America, how someone who is not brainwashed, so to speak, about white supremacy sees what's happening in America. Attitude matters, I always say to my Muslim friends. It is not enough to quietly disagree with the violent way a very few Muslim behave, they need to speak up and show the world that terrorist way is not equivalent to Islam's way. Can't this be a similar approach to the black people in America?

The second significance from that story is to try to keep your head clear. The angry woman accused that she was targeted, when actually other people had been denied entry as well. I don't know what it's like to live as a black in America, but I know what it's like to live as a minority in Indonesia. When we live in the outskirt of Jakarta where Hindu is minority it is very difficult for us to build temple/praying site, with neighbors looking at the temple in our house as if it was the devil's shrine and some other people throwing human feces to the Hindu community's newly-built main temple, the only one in miles around. The education level in some places in Indonesia were very low, and it makes them an easy target for "Salem Witch" type of riots, where innocents people would be persecuted and harmed if they were from different tribe or religion. In the big 1998 riot, churches and other praying sites were burned, the Indonesian-Chinese were robbed, raped, killed. Even now, there are still religious leaders and groups that spread out false accusations and inflames hatred towards other religion. And yes, the living condition in Indonesia is not as benefiting as the living condition in America. How'd you like that? I didn't froze and lament on my unfortunate situation. I can't (and won't) change the fact that I am not the majority, or the fact that there will be ignorant out there that would harm me if they can. To me, the only option is to keep moving forward, to keep improving myself, because for hell I don't want to be stepped on by anyone. Anger and self-pity won't get you anywhere, because it could work as an excuse when you actually haven't done your best. You just have to keep moving forward and focus on yourself.

One thing that always amazes me is the amount of information and self-education you can easily get in US. Unlike Indonesia, even the smallest libraries here have decent amount of books and Wi-fis are available almost anywhere, and books can even be owned for as little as 50 cent from Friends of The Library. I had to taught myself English through books/songs/movies, Internet is slow and expensive, and books are difficult to come by. At times I would stand for 4 hours just to finish reading a book at the bookstore (because it was too expensive to buy it). Yet here I am in America. My career has been illustrious to say the least: A medical graduates, an English teacher, a wedding consultant for high-end clienteles, and a budding writer that just won her first commendation. Mind you, I was the only dark-skinned person in the ceremony and I heavily suspect I am the only one that is not American as well. If I could do all of this, why can't others? 

For all that matters, it is unfathomable for me and my husband to say: "I wish our child(ren) would stay white" in order for them to be able to do things that my husband could do because of his so-called white privilege. The world is rapidly changing, battles lost and won, wars started and ended. It is far more important for us to teach our children about the dynamics of the world, about how to be good and nice and strong, and how to keep themselves from harm's way. We can't protect them from the ignorant people that could hate them because of, well, anything actually; but we can taught them pride and that mindless haters are just a part of this world as termite and zombie bees (albeit with more annoying quality). Everyone got discriminated one way or another, and it's happening all over the world because the majority of humans right now is a bunch of d*ck who can't come to term with their own insecurity and jealousy. Why fear the inevitable? 

Friday, October 24, 2014

When You Walked Out That Door

The room got a lot colder when you walked out that door. Just like that. Some people wouldn't even notice the difference in temperature, but for me it was like between cozy spring and chilly winter. The clock seemed to tick a lot louder, filling our apartment with the automatic tick tock, a grim reminder of the time I have spent without you. I pulled the duvet over me. The down feather filling would've caused me heat stroke should I use it in my hot and humid tropical country, but this morning it felt as thin as my beach sarong, and twice as cold. It's so cold. So very cold.

Was my life without you ever this cold? Was my life without you ever this lonely? You went away and suddenly my life froze. Am I being delusional? A crazy clinger and a madwoman desperate for love? But life before you was cold. Life without you was lonely. In the sunny days filled with amazement and adventures, in the lovely nights filled with enchantment and mysteries, I have walked alone for so long, and deep inside, a chilliness grew that can't be broken even in the hottest, sunniest day. I laugh and I smile, but the hollowness were there, silently freezing my soul from within. Then you came, and your embrace broke the spell I cast on myself.

With you, there is no need for pretends and facades. I am allowed to be myself, without limits and restriction. There is no need for me to smile a fake smile and say "Everything is fine" when it is actually not, just to protect your feeling. I could cry if I want to. I could scream if I want to. I could cuss if I want to. I could give you my all, because you were strong enough for that. For the first time I don't need to think what or how my partner would feel, because with you, I know you would understand. And when I see your face in the morning, sleeping so soundly next to me, it is like looking at myself. You are my reflection in the mirror. You are the one I have been waiting for so long.

I love how warm your body is when I lay next to yours. I love how you embrace me so close and never let go. I love how our fingers intertwined and locked in their own embraces. I love how you made me feel wanted and love. Every night that we sleep in each other's arms feels like a new blessing, and I keep telling God how good it feels to be with you and how thankful I am to have you in my life, even though I am sure He already knew that. The scent of your body, the strength of your arms, the softness of your hair, the stubble on your chin when you forgot to shave, these are the things that lulled me to sleep, the things that represent stability and strength that you provide for me. Lest forget the occasional kisses, which I am sure to receive every now and then even when you were barely awake, a beautiful reminder of how much you love me.

Then you walked out of the door, and the room became very, very cold and lonely. I know you would be back in the evening, smiling and grinning happily because it feel so good to be home. I know the apartment will then be filled with laughter and love once again, and the coldness in the apartment and inside me couldn't touch me anymore. I know that there will be days where I wouldn't be in the apartment all by myself, when I got a job or have other things to do. I know that. Yet this morning, I also know how cold and lonely my life was before I met you, and how cold and lonely my life would now be without you. Come home soon, love. I miss you already.

IKEA, KFC, dan Budaya 'Makan Brand' Orang Indonesia

Jadi menurut postingan Mbak Jihan, blogger favorit saya, di medsos beredar tulisan yang intinya "Mereknya sih IKEA, tapi kelakuan Indonesia". Waduh.

Sebenarnya sudah agak lama saya ingin menulis tentang IKEA di Indonesia, dari semenjak saya baca berita tentang IKEA yang dibuka di Alam Sutra dan mengecek harga-harganya yang bikin melotot. Bayangkan saja, beberapa item yang saya lihat di katalog IKEA Indonesia bedanya bisa sampai sekitar Rp 450,000 ($45) dengan harga IKEA disini. $45 itu lumayan lho, bisa buat masak 4 hari untuk berdua disini. Rp 450,000 di Indonesia mungkin bisa masak dua minggu atau bahkan sebulan untuk berdua. Padahal itu barang produksi Cina juga, bukan buatan asli Denmark. Dan lagian, buat apa juga beli IKEA sementara pengrajin lokal bisa bikin dengan kualitas lebih bagus?

Disini IKEA itu bukan barang mewah, IKEA itu justru dianggap ringkih dan kurang bagus. Saya belum pernah ketemu orang sini yang dengan bangganya "Saya beli IKEA lhoo!!". Bukan berarti IKEA jelek ya, tapi IKEA itu terkenal bukan karena brandnya, melainkan karena low cost dan space saver. Disini banyak sekali blog-blog yang isinya bagaimana mendesain rumah/apartemen mungil dengan menggunakan produk-produk IKEA karena harganya terjangkau dan anda bisa modifikasi sendiri sesudahnya. Prinsipnya anda datang, pilih produk, bawa produk pulang, bangun sendiri. Manual book nya juga pake gambar, bukan tulisan; jadi benar-benar idiot proof gitu. Set lemari/partisan seri KALLAX yang kami beli di IKEA lebarnya 3 meter dan tingginya sekitar 1.5 meter itu muat masuk di mobil VW Golf compact kami yang mungil, bahkan plus beberapa pernak-pernik. Hitungannya murah (menurut orang sini) karena mereka menghilangkan biaya pengiriman, biaya assembly, dan biaya asisten toko. Sekedar gambaran, harga produk jadi di toko lain (bahkan Walmart yang terkenal lebih jelek lagi) itu bisa 2-3x lipat harga yang kita bayar di IKEA, belum lagi ongkir dan uang tip petugasnya. 

Masih ga percaya? Kalau mau IKEA anda diantar ke rumah, disini biayanya start dari $59 (catet, start ya... jadi sangat amat mungkin lebih tinggi lagi biayanya); kalau malas pergi kesana dan mau pesan online/via telp, biayanya start dari $99 (biaya delivery start dari $59, biaya petugas IKEA mengambilkan barang dari gudang $40); kalau sudah begitu mau minta ada yang assembly juga, biayanya start dari $79. Jadi ga mungkin ada orang yang beli IKEA demi brand name belaka, karena hitung-hitungannya sekalian dia beli barang jadi daripada yang mesti dibikin/di assembly sendiri. 

Buat saya, salah satu alasan kenapa orang Indonesia menganggap brand luar itu lebih wah adalah karena faktor harga. Kelihatannya memang iya, karena nilai tukar yang tinggi jadi barang yang di negara aslinya murah pun dianggap mahal di Indonesia. KFC misalnya, atau resto fast food lainnya. Disini nggak ada bangga-bangganya makan di KFC ato McD, karena bisa dibilang cuma orang yang ekonomi menengah kebawah yang beli KFC atau McD. Burger McD yang $1 misalnya, itu sudah salah satu menu yang paling murah yang bisa anda dapatkan disini (berhubung satu sachet kecil cookies model oreo harganya juga bisa $1). Sementara di Indonesia, duduk di McD beli burger mungil seharga Rp 10,000 (alias $1) rasanya sudah wah gimana gitu, padahal ngebakso (yang lebih kenyang) harganya bisa cuma setengahnya. Tapi makan bakso kan nggak elit, ga menunjukkan kemampuan ekonomi ceritanya. Ga percaya? KFC dan McD dekat rumah saya di Bali tiap malam minggu isinya ABG semua. Disini waktu saya cerita ketemu si Akang pertama kali di KFC malah diketawain. Belum lagi rasanya KFC sini, bweehhh..... Serius, bukan cuma pelayanannya saja, bahkan rasa fastfood Indonesia pun lebih enak daripada disini.

Untuk menghilangkan minder terhadap produk luar, yang paling penting adalah mengukur nilai mata uang secara proporsional. Waktu saya pertama mencoba mencari kerja disini, kerjaan dengan gaji UMR pun saya coba, karena saya pikir gaji UMR sini sudah cukup untuk menabung dan kebutuhan sehari-hari. Lagi-lagi masalah konversi mata uang bo'. Tapi waktu iseng menghitung, ternyata gaji saya dulu sebesar 2x UMR Denpasar, jadi seharusnya saya pantas mendapatkan setidaknya 2x UMR di sini. Rugi bandar kan jual diri dengan harga dibawah harga pasar. Balik lagi ke soal IKEA, misalnya saja UMR disini $64/hari, maka dengan bekerja satu hari saja orang bisa beli 1 unit Kallax di IKEA US. Terjangkau untuk orang pas-pasan bo'. Sementara dengan UMR di Jakarta yang sekitar Rp 105,000/hari, seseorang harus menabung selama 12 hari lebih untuk membeli 1 unit Kallax di IKEA Indonesia. Rasanya jadi ga masuk akal kan beli barang mahal yang di negeri asalnya dianggap barang murah? Kecuali, tentunya, anda tipikal orang-orang yang kalau kaya akan beli iPhone App 'I'm Rich' seharga $999.99 dan tidak ada faedah apapun kecuali menunjukkan ke dunia bahwa anda sanggup membuang uang sebesar itu karena, yah, 'I'm Rich'. 

Kalau memang masih mau memaksakan 'makan brand' dan ikut trend jadi orang kaya ala negara maju, jangan setengah-setengah. Ada banyak hal yang bisa dilakukan di Indonesia dengan tetap bergaya "Gue orang kaya lho". Makan bayam misalnya. Bayam seikat disini harganya $1.29 lho. Yang organik lebih mahal lagi. Seporsi salad biasa sekitar $4-$5, jadi makanlah gado-gado anda sebanyak-banyaknya. Tahu harganya bisa lebih mahal dari daging, apalagi tempe yang lebih susah dicari. Jalan-jalan ke Bali dan menginap di hotel yang harganya sejutaan? Monggo lho! Di Los Angeles sini hotel esek-esek saja tarifnya $70 semalam, dan ini yang hotel reyot isinya wanita malam semua ya. Tiap hari ke dokter juga anda harus bangga. Dokter umum di Amerika bisa mencharge $100 kalau tanpa asuransi (yang berarti 1.5x UMR/hari), dan itu juga harus pakai appointment yang telpon sekarang baru dapat giliran dua minggu lagi. Di Indonesia dokter umum startnya Rp 35,000 - Rp 50,000 (sekitar setengah UMR/hari) dan sudah dapat obat generik lagi. Jadi kalau anda bisa dengan entengnya ke dokter umum di Indonesia berbanggalah, karena anda sudah terhitung berada di Amerika sini.

Dunia ini penuh dengan orang yang ignorant, yang nggak tahu (dan nggak mau tahu) dunia diluar tempurungnya. Banyak orang Amerika sini yang saat tahu saya dari Indonesia langsung menganggap saya 'terbelakang', dan syok saat saya bisa nimbrung berbicara Bahasa Inggris dengan lancar. Seorang famili si Akang dengan polosnya berpikir kalau Indonesia dan India itu sama. Baca-baca di Internet, ada yang komentar wajar kalau banyak perempuan dari negara dunia ketiga mau nikah sama orang Amerika karena bahkan hidup pakai welfare/bantuan pemerintah yang minim disini lebih enak daripada hidup di negara asalnya. Nyesek kan dengarnya? Tapi apa bedanya dengan kita? Reaksi kebanyakan orang saat saya bilang saya tinggal di Amerika adalah "Aduh enak ya bisa ke Amerika". Apa enaknya coba? Semua-mua diatur, saya harus berparno ria dengan segala kelengkapan identitas saya agar tidak dideportasi, bahkan sampai imunisasi pun harus lengkap. Disini memang lebih teratur, namun itu juga berarti lebih banyak aturan dan kekangan. Makanan instan semua, karena makanan yang dimasak dari awal/home made cooking itu mahal harganya. Belum lagi biaya kesehatan yang tidak terjangkau. Tapi kan kebanyakan orang tidak tahu soal ini, yang mereka tahu orang yang diluar negeri saat pulang ke Indonesia bisa foya-foya, padahal justru menurut orang luar negeri gaya hidup Indonesia yang santai dan menu Indonesia yang sehat dan super terjangkau itu luar biasa. Bisa dibilang kita sama ignorantnya dengan rekan-rekan kita di negara (yang konon) maju.

Orang dimana-mana ya sama. Bahasanya boleh beda, kemancungan hidung dan warna kulit boleh beda, gaya hidup boleh beda, tapi soal ignorant/pikiran sempit dan segala kejelekan manusia lainnya mah sama. Stupidity transcend races. Bego itu nggak ada batasan ras nya. Balik lagi ke komen antara Kucing Persia dan Kucing Kampung, definisi 'kampungan' itu sebenarnya luas sekali, dan perilaku yang 'kampungan' untuk sebagian orang mungkin biasa saja untuk orang lain. Ibu saya pernah bertanya, apa tidak apa-apa saya membawa masuk beliau dan keponakan-keponakan saya ke gerai eskrim punya bule di Seminyak karena mereka tampak lusuh. Saya ingin menangis rasanya, karena sama sekali nggak ada yang 'kampungan' dari ketegaran dan kecerdasan ibu saya dalam mengarungi hidup. Saya bangga terhadap ibu saya.

Sudah saatnya kita berhenti melabeli orang dengan 'kampungan' atau label lain yang mendiskreditkan seseorang, atau membabi-buta menyukai sesuatu dari luar negeri karena dianggap unggul (walau sebenarnya tidak). Sudah saatnya kita, di jaman internet ini, mau berusaha sedikit menggali informasi dan berusaha melihat segala sesuatu dengan obyektif. Sudah saatnya kita, orang Indonesia, berhenti berpikir kalau Indonesia itu tidak keren atau kalah keren dengan negara lain. Sudah saatnya kalau kita menyadari perilaku kurang terpuji apapun bukanlah dikarenakan 'label' orang tersebut (agama, ras, kewarganegaraan, etc), tapi karena pribadinya saja yang kurang terpuji. Sudah saatnya kita membuka mata dan membuka hati, dan melihat manusia lain sebagaimana adanya.

Monday, October 20, 2014

Confession of a Weekend Stepmom

Of all the many things my mom has been worrying about me, her greatest uneasiness was when I choose to marry my (then) boyfriend. Not only that my husband is divorced (which is considered a bad trait in Indonesia, if he could divorced once he could divorced again), he also a father of two children. With two different mothers. In two different states. "It will be very difficult for you," my mom said one time, trying to made me come to my sense. I was adamant though. To me, his previous failed relationships are proofs on how badly he wanted it to work, how badly he wanted a solid relationship. If anything, his dedication towards his two children showed his real worth, and I liked what I saw. I was all too ready to give him what he wants, to make 'us' work. As for his children, I really wasn't calculating much. They are with their moms, and the only responsibilities I have for them is merely on the weekends, even then I would only be an aide for my husband. It's not  like I was going to be their stepmother or anything.

My mom, bless her soul, was right. It wasn't easy being 'the other woman'. Even though he has been divorced and was not in relationship for some years, the mothers of his children were still prominent in his life mainly because he needs to constantly communicate with them regarding the children. I was fully aware that they have been a part of his life for a longer time that I have been, with their own stories and intimacies and griefs. I accept that, yet at times I still feel sad and jealous that I am not the only one that 'owned' him, that I have to share him with the mothers. Even with his constant reassurance, the ugly me still doesn't want to share. And it cannot be helped. The mothers opinions and requests are considered and even contributes to decision making between me and my husband since they are the one with the children, including decisions about daddy-time and money. Sometimes it gets so intense that I feel as if they are living in the same house as we are; that I am not only marrying my husband and his children, but also his exes at the same time. His rant and sadness when the mothers give him a hard time regarding the children, just as the pictures of him and his e-wife and their child hanging in his family's house, they are a constant reminder that there is a part of his life that is not mine. Which is only natural, I keep telling myself, even twins don't always share the same life. That doesn't stop my heart from aching occasionally, or quenched the fire of jealousy that sometimes rage in me.

You might think that I would treat the children with indifference, and you are quite right. At first, I did treat them with indifference, that is I positioned myself as a spectator and let the daddy did all the work. It was a decision made not because I hate the children, but because I don't know what to do with them. I was so worried that, since I grew up in foreign country and was unfamiliar with US parenting type, I would 'handle' them incorrectly and infuriate the mothers which then can lead to them giving my husband more difficulties to meet the children. I would asked my husband for the littlest detail regarding the youngest child: "Can I give this? Can I do that? What should I do?" to the point that he started to think I was too passive and unable to make my own decision. As for the eldest child, I tried to look as distanced as possible with my husband because I didn't want her to feel I took her daddy away from her. I did not dare to scold or be strict with any of them, when I felt they are over the line I would tell my husband and let him do the disciplining and such. We only have them for weekends anyway, what's the point of trying to 'better' them if it's only going to be unraveled during the next 5 days?

That was what I thought. I couldn't do it though. I come from a big family and I have seen my mum rearing my younger siblings (and then rearing my nephews) since I was twelve years old. If there is anything that I am proudest about my mom, that would be how good we've all become. All of us (my nephews included) are sharp, problem solvers, strong minded, and full of love and kindness; everyday is an adventure for us and we all have a pretty satisfying life. This might just be in the gene, but I suspect it is because we are copying our (grand)mom's own strength and her view of life. She let us be what we want to be, and only interfere when she think it is necessary to, all while letting us know that she is there for us. This is the kind of life that I know and love, and eventually this is the kind of life I encouraged my students to have when I work as an English teacher: "Go out there and enjoy the world, never fear because I am always here for you." It makes a whole lot of difference in their confidence and how they see the world. This belief, and the fact that my husband's children are roughly the same age as my nephews, make it difficult for me to turn blind eye and pretend I don't care. Little by little I began to be more involved in the weekend parenting. 

I shared the joy of new discoveries with the children since I am too a newcomer in this (part of the) world; this include food, museums, trains and buses, and all the weird and wonderful things this world has to offer. I explained them things like why some objects (fan, fire, electricity) can be dangerous, why they have to clean up their toys, why they should be considerate to people's feeling, or why they should try new things; because I want them to understand the whys instead of following the order. I gave them love and affection when they wanted it, always so careful to not trespass their privacy or touch them when they just want to be left alone, but letting them know that I will be there for them when they need me. What began as an effort to help my husband with the children grow into an effort to help the children get the best of their childhood years. I don't even consider myself as a stepmother. Just because I am married to the father doesn't mean I would instantly become the mother. Only the real mother, in my opinion, deserve that badge of honor. The reason why I am here with them is because everyone can and deserves to be happy, and I wanted them to know that and preserve that thought in their mind. It is a cruel world out there, and children's sense of adventure and happiness are the sword and shield that will enable them to slay the dragons of wickedness and the hydra of despairs in order to find their happily ever after. And I wanted them to know that they are precious, that they are worthy; because self confidence without looking down to others is the most important thing a person could have. I wanted them to be someone who love their own life, and be joyous of it. 

Granted, this is not always easy. There are times when I just need to have a time out and let my husband deal with the child(ren). There are times when I get annoyed with their behavior and attitude, which is not only because of different rules and upbringing at their mothers' but also because children can be really annoying at times. There are times when I asked myself, "Why am I doing this?" or "This is not even my children! I don't even share a drop of blood with them!". I never let it out in front of the children though. My mom had taught me that the most selfish thing you could do to children is letting them see your tears and ugly emotion. It makes the children unrest and insecure and helpless. It is not the children's fault that life can be very tiring and very emotional for their parents; especially since it's not even their decision to be here in this world, it is their parents' decisions. As I read this paragraph, I realize I sounded like a really horrible stepmother/dad's wife, and I am half convinced that if the mothers ever read this article they won't allow the children to be with me anymore. But if you are a parent, a biological dad and/or mom, don't you also feel this way sometimes with your children? The tiredness, the need for 'time out', the annoyance, the denial and exasperation ("Why do I even have this kid(s)?!"), aren't those a part of being a parent?

More than a year has passed since I first entered their life, and they have changed mine. Weekends are something that I look forward to, since it means we will have our adventures together. I look forward to hear their happy laughter and to see the awe in their face as we present them with the little wonders of the world. I look forward to hold them in my arms or at least to tickle them and run my fingers through their hair. Children's little bodies are amazing vessels of love: they are created from love and they can accept, and equally gives out, a limitless amount of love. Anyone who love children with agree that being with children is like getting a fuzzy-rainbow-colored love recharge. The feeling will get duller as the child grew older and more mature, as they would lose their childhood wonder and take a more defensive/aggressive stance against the world in order to protect themselves, even if deep down inside they are still only a scared little child (aren't we all?). This threat of teenage angst (and adult madness) is the more reason why I want to give the best for my husband's children. Looking at them now, I realize how precious they are to me. Whenever I see the mothers' face/physical characteristic in their face, instead of the usual fiery jealousy I feel a strong desire to protect them. They are made from my husband's love and pure intention. I wish, I really wish it would work well with the mothers, so they (or at least one of them) can have the beneficial effect of a real family without the hassle of weekend commutes. Since it is not possible, all my husband and I could do is love them and care for them as good as we can during the short hours we are together, to show that them love and happiness and fun are attainable, and to prevent them from making the same mistakes and going through the same hardship and sadness that me and my husband has to go through before we are finally together. At this point, I couldn't care less about their mothers. The children's little hands and bright smile has killed that monster in me, and made me and my husband loved each other even more. To this, I thank them from the bottom of my heart.

I have always thought that would be the end of it. I always thought for them I am 'daddy's wife', or 'daddy's sidekick', a cool person that always care for dad and always in for a good (and silly) time. Yet a couple of weeks ago my husband's youngest child rushed from his playroom to the kitchen to asked my husband: "Daddy daddy, where is my Ibu?". We did teach him to call me Ibu, which means mom or older woman in Indonesia language, since he is too small to call anyone by first name only; but we did not teach him the 'my' part, it is his own preference to think I am 'his' and that I am a part of his world. And last weekend his oldest child demand to sleep in my arms instead of with him and told me "You look like mommy" with adoration and love in her eyes, which is, to me, the highest compliment a child could give to a woman who is not his/her biological mother. Their acceptance and love, given to me when I didn't expect nor request any, is my own badge of honor. Time will come when the childhood wonder wanes, when the grief of real world take charge of these innocent children, and when we have to face each other as adults. When that time comes, I just want both you to know: Me and Daddy love you very very much, kiddos.  

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