Maju Terus Pantang Mundur

Dengan mudahnya saya melakukan hal-hal bodoh semingguan ini. mungkin kepala saya sudah overloaded. Memang sebaiknya istirahat dulu, mumpung kuliah cuma dua kali saja minggu ini. tapi beruntungnya, teman-teman lama mengajak saya bercengkrama. Kantor kami, beruntungnya, hanya terpisah satu hingga dua blok saja. Namun kadang saya menikmati keletihan dan benar-benar ingin menghayatinya. Tapi sebaiknya hal-hal bodoh yang saya lakukan segera diperbaiki, meskipun tidak akan ada orang yang benar-benar sempurna. Pilihan yang baik adalah dengan terus maju, seberapa pun jauhnya, seberapapun banyaknya duri ranjau yang tertanam di jalan.

Too Exhausted to Relax

Damn, I am getting busier. I feel like I'm obsessed.

It's not that I hate it, it's just enthralling that I am developing, through the deathly streets and jerky roams in Jakarta. It's lucky to get past those whoever stood in my way, since everything starts to go smoothly in its path. I was plucked to join a gang of research monsters who'd do anything to post their best piece of mind to be admitted by uni's research dept. I also kicked myself through the gate of United Nations' Indonesia Country Representative to be a labor under the suppresion of neo-liberalism.

Consequently, it's rare to find myself relaxed, sleeping soundly. I had became a part of Jakartans now, who's always in a hurry and doubt.Then in this weekend I don't feel like going somewhere, and choose to linger on my bed. Crap, this is Korean Week, where my colleague Kim Ho Il passed me four cinema tickets, he said it's an event for Korean Film Festival in Jakarta. But still, my mind wanders everywhere and i couldn't even move my ass to hang around a party, holy cow. Yeah, but the cool breeze came around when my beloved guy was also coming to town. *grin

Hmm but that's the price to pay for saving my time until the next holiday. I wonder if I finished the proposal this semester, I will be able to go on a real vacation. I almost have no time, no blink for just enjoying the air of youth. I work like a horse until daybreak. But that's how I want it. I've been in a state where I got nothing to do and it was killing my sanity. Better live this way, it's simply productive. That's what youth is.

Text Me When You Get Home

Kirimi saya pesan saat kamu sampai di rumah.

Belakangan ini orang tua saya begitu khawatir karena saya sering ngelencer alias bepergian selama beberapa hari terakhir ini. Saya juga teramat penasaran di mana kekasih saya berada ketika ia melakukan perjalanan bolak balik dari rumahnya ke tempat lain yang cukup jauh, apalagi sendirian saja. Persamaan dari dua keadaan di atas hanya satu : ingin supaya orang yang lagi dipedulikan itu segera sampai ke rumah, agar si pencemas dapat menghela nafas lega dan melemaskan otot lehernya yang tegang.

Ujung-ujungnya terkirimlah pesan pendek lewat telepon selular yang berisi makna yang sama dengan kalimat baris pertama di atas. Ya, di rumahlah kita bisa terlindung dari udara pancaroba biang penyakit, dari godaan mas-mas yang tidak pernah bosan menyiuli saya di jalan, jambret, copet kereta commuter line, dan tawuran rakyat tertindas gara-gara tidak dapat tempat jualan. Rumah, yang kata orang berisi keramahan dan kasih sayang, lebih tepat untuk disinggahi daripada mengembara tak kenal henti. Rumah saya sih, terletak di jalan yang cukup strategis, berada hanya sekitar satu kilometer dari pusat kota. Walaupun sederhana, rumah ini lumayan enak ditinggali, banyak makanan, serta saking nyamannya saya bisa tertidur di mana saja, termasuk di depan papan seterika. Asyik kan?

Tapi saya juga ingin singgah ke rumah-rumah yang lain. Ingin mencari tahu apa yang tetangga kerjakan, berapa kucing mereka, dan apa kamar mandinya berisi sabun serta pasta gigi yang juga saya pakai. Bukan untuk membandingkan, bukan untuk menyesali apa yang saya punya. Hasrat saya hanya ingin mengeksplorasi, menjelajah, dan yang terpenting BELAJAR. Bukan hanya rumah tetangga. Rumah ibadah, rumah sakit, rumah jompo, dan juga rumah pohon.

Bukan, bukan rumah buatan manusia yang saya maksud. Maksud lebih dalam dari ini adalah menyinggahi rumah di hati dan pikiran tiap orang. Sebuah konstruksi dunia yang mereka ciptakan dari proses memahami hidup mereka sehari-hari. The home they expect to see. Saya rasa terkadang saya terlalu ingin tahu ketika saya menemukan hidup orang lebih fantastik dari yang saya jalankan. Apa yang mereka lakukan sehingga dengan kerennya mereka bisa mencapai hal yang cukup dramatis? Lalu saya berkontemplasi dan mulai juga meragu, apakah ketika saya lakukan hal yang sama dengan mereka, saya juga akan mendapatkan hasil yang diimpikan. Realita memang mahal, sedangkan mimpi itu murah.

Adrenalin masa muda saya, yang nampaknya bertanggung jawab saat saya memutuskan menjelajahi "rumah-rumah" yang lain, sambil dengan curiga melongok ke setiap detilnya. Ada yang terletak di puncak bukit, ada pula yang berdiri tak jauh di balik tanggul pemecah ombak di tepi pantai. Mendirikan rumah untuk menetap pasti memilih lokasi yang paling mantap bagi kita dan sesuai kemampuan kita, dan di dalamnya terdapat liku-liku ornamen keindahan yang menyamankan. Karena saya lumayan egosentris, saya mau rumah saya tidak bisa dimasuki sembarang orang. Lebih cocok lagi kalau pagarnya bisa menyetrum sendiri peminta sumbangan, maling, rampok, atau pengamen.

Rumahnya harus ditinggali dan didatangi hanya oleh mereka yang saya cintai. Yang mengerti bahwa saya butuh ramai dalam kerinduan dan doa, dan sepi dalam selamatan tak bermakna.

Saya hanya mencoba mengutarakan, tanpa mampu menelusuri jalan, bukit, dan pikiran manusia lain, sungguh sulit menemukan diri kita. Harus menjadi apa agar menjadi ada, serta dimana harus berumah.

Jum'at Bukan Hari Pustaka

Tengok kanan kiri, pengunjung perpustakaan terlihat agak sepi. Ya iyalah, rata-rata orang lebih suka melepas penat menjelang Jum'at malam dengan keluar mengayun kaki ke pusat perbelanjaan, taman, ataupun sekedar mencoba menu baru di kafe pojok kota. Beberapa dari kami warga kota teladan dan kutu buku masih mampu membolak balik halaman buku di perpustakaan kota, sambil pula berselancar di komputer dengan akses internet gratis.

Saya beberapa kali terakhir ini berkunjung kembali ke Perpustakaan Kota untuk mencari bacaan asyik. Walau bukan kota pendidikan besar seperti di Jogja, perpus di sini jaaauuuuhhh lebih lengkap dan cozy daripada punyanya orang Jogja. Cuma saya ke sana tidak pas hari Jum'at. Ya memang karena lebih enak jika akhir pekan diramaikan dengan kegaduhan dan bukan baca-baca. Hmm ini menurut kebanyakan orang ya. Saya juga bukan geek, bukan cewek anti-sosial. Tapi memang tersangkut di perpustakaan kala Jum'at sore terdengar seperti kesepian.

Kalau sekarang saya di Jakarta, mungkin sudah ada jadwal bercengkrama dengan keponakan saya yang baru berulang tahun ke 2, atau menerobos jalan bersama teman-teman sambil mengomentari kemacetan. Mungkin pula merencanakan bermain paintball dengan teman kuliah yang juga sedang suntuk, dan bertanya-tanya kapan rencana itu di-jadi-kan.

Dan ceritanya adalah, saya di sini mencari pelengkap untuk master piece saya yang saya selalu angankan akan selesai Mei tahun depan. Ingin sekali melakukan penelitian lapangan, namun nampaknya hal tersebut kurang relevan dengan target saya untuk sekedar menjaga agar kewarasan tetap di kepala. Namun saya juga berusaha agar usaha saya ini membuahkan sesuatu yang layak dibaca dan bukan hanya sekedar diselesaikan. Buku-buku yang saya cari adalah mengenai ekonomi makro, sambil kembali mencari-cari kesalahan para pengambil kebijakan yang terlalu maniak dengan angka-angka yang dihadirkannya.

Namun ah, sudahlah, toh perpustakaan tak pernah sepi juga, siapa tahu ini hanya sewaktu saya datang saja hari ini. Jika saya melihat sekeliling, saya dapat melihat ekspresi yang menggelitik. Dua orang laki-laki muda beradu bisik tentang suatu buku, mungkin sebagai pengganti perdebatan a la mimbar yang harusnya lantang. Seorang pembaca wanita berkerudung oranye terkikik membaca buku entah apa. Ada pula pemuda berkulit gelap yang mengantuk di depan tumpukan buku yang ia pilih dari rak. Pengelola perpustakaan berseragam batik pun terlihat sangat profesional dalam memperbaiki sambungan instalasi listrik ke AC yang nampaknya bermasalah.

Jika santai saja sambil membaca buku, saya pikir sudah merupakan wahana berjalan-jalan juga,karena kita menemukan dunia baru di dalam bacaan. Orang bilang namanya eksplorasi pikiran, soalnya bisa merangsang kita untuk berpikir, berfantasi, dan menjadi bijak. Jadi oke juga kan, ketika akhir pekan dihabiskan di perpustakaan?

The Boso Jowo Slang Continuum

Parental advisory : explicit content.

Suddenly today I missed my hometown in Malang, East Java, and started to be in awe why are its people are so thick-headed and they love to pitch on swear words (misuh) in Javanese language or “Boso Jowo”. Perhaps not everyone has the trait, but a large portion of us surely do. A high tension, right before your eyes while their eyes open wide , and with monstrous tone, they bluntly shout the words to you.

“Jancuk koen kirik..!!” You f**kin puppy…

“Pancen nggapleki koen cuk!!!” You certainly act like a b*tch…

“Nggatheli tenan iku lik….” It’s totally idiotic, dude…

“Makmu!!!” hmm it means that we are as bad as our mother… *sigh*

Those are the common phrases that are used in common youngsters’ conversation in Malang and also Surabaya, especially those who came from some under nourished ugly gangs who often roam around the street to get some entertainment, or just to be disobedient. Particularly, the elders, the drivers of mikrolet (some sort of public transportation) and the illegal parking helpers are the most common users of those lines. This was probably due to traffic tangles. Not to mention the students too. And none other than most of the Arema football hooligans who are most likely responsible for the massive use of those “curse” sentences. That was why my parents were being so cautious that they didn’t want me to have a bad mouth and turn out to have bad conduct. They always persuaded me to study hard so that I could be admitted into notable state schools, which they believed the environment is rather clean. To some extent, it’s true.

But not until my 17^th birthday that I landed in Yogyakarta to become skilled at tricking people, I found that the Boso Jowo there was very different. Yes, although Yogyakarta is also a piece of the Java cake, the language tasted sweeter than Boso Jowo in East Java. The people’s gesture was very courteous, not like some of the ill-bred fellow of Malang who stares frankly at you when they think you got bad taste of fashion, or when they just dislike you. A low tune with appreciation often came from several guys like those of local street food vendors, who served you with hospitality. So far, I only found one word that most possibly the roughest swear word in Yogyakarta : BAJIGUR. It might be a deviation to hide the exact word aspired to be spoken that is BAJINGAN (criminal). I guess that Bajigur is also a sort of a beverage I think. Yogyakarta version :

“Bajigur, manuke ucul…” Dammit, my bird flees…

“Walah, aku telat iki, wasemik, bajigur…” Oh, I am late, darn..

“Wong kuwi bajigur tenan nilep dhuwitku..” That guy is so-going-to-hell to steal my money

“Bajigur, kopine kemanisen je..” Crap, the coffee is too sweet dude…

“Bajigur..”

I don’t understand exactly why there are differences between Boso Jowo Yogyakarta style and East Java Mode, although there are also some variety inside the latter province. I presume Yogyakarta people tend to keep low tuned even they are being freaked out. But that’s the essence of the culture, to be polite and act well mannerly. And another hypothese is that we, the East Javanese kids are the descendants of Ken Arok, was the King of Singosari who once justified all means to get crowned. He also told to be arrogant, rough, and chaotic. While in Yogyakarta, the kingdom of once established as Mataram still portrays the grace of living in the realm of the King as the resemblance of order.

And without realizing it, my Boso Jowo had become more into that of the mannerly one, and my friends in Malang keep boo-ing me about this. Thanks to four years and a month living in Yogyakarta.

Tengah Malam

Jadi malam ini saya tidak bisa tidur lagi, lalu saya menonton filem berpakem perang-perangan di netbook (menyedihkan ya) dan melanjutkan beberapa e-mail yang harus saya kirim segera. Kamar saya belum disapu dari kemarin, baju belum dicuci tapi oh, lihat saja besok semua ini bisa diatur lah. Kipas angin menyala, dengan setelan ukuran kekuatan angin di angka satu, dari skala tiga. Arah anginnya statis menghadap meja belajar, yang letaknya persis menghadap jendela kamar berteralis yang cukup lebar. Bukan dengan maksud mengeringkan buku yang ada di atasnya, ataupun mejanya, namun karena saya tidak begitu suka angin kipas yang langsung mengarah ke saya.

Saya juga baru nyemil mi instan berkuah, karena lapar. Saya makan di kamar, di atas meja belajar dengan gaya santun seperti presidennya bangsa Indonesia. Sesekali saya menengok dan mengintip ke luar rumah dari balik jendela, karena cukup tertarik dengan suara-suara yang tidak lazim. Atau mungkin terlalu sensitif, tertulis di buku-buku biologi bahwa indera manusia memang lebih "menyala" ketika terjaga di malam hari. Harapan saya sih semoga wilayah Paseban tetap aman siang malam dari segala mara bahaya dan penyakit.

Setidaknya besok harus lebih produktif dari hari ini. Bukan hanya makan dan jalan-jalan saja, namun juga memikirkan dan melakukan sesuatu untuk hidup saya yang lebih yahud kedepannya. Puncak malam ini akhirnya ditutup dengan alunan gitar klasik Jubing Kristianto yang memainkan lagu Billy Joel yang bertajuk She's Always A Woman sambil berharap besok tidak ada lagi hati wanita yang disakiti, biarpun disini wanita dituduh biang keladi derita. Semoga.

Holiday Tipping Point

The next trip of my holiday then was to Surabaya and Sidoarjo. I went to follow my parent’s suggestion to meet our relatives and greet them Christmas. So on December 27 we dashed through an alternative eastern Malang to reach Surabaya by car. We were in the course of an escape route from the traffic jam and enrolled Pandaan-Gempol road, it was little bit raining though. I saw so many changes in people’s daily lives on the street, there were so many drifter and homeless along the street bank of Gempol, district of Pasuruan; and the traditional market was getting hectic as there were not many goods could be sold. I heard from my friend who is native to the vicinity before, that the gasoline was running out and it caused low productivity therefore lowering the living standards of the people around there. Housewives were not used to single out the LPG stove for cooking, and losing gasoline was a terrifying event for them, as they were lacking of information of the LPG stove distribution by government as an energy conversion program, not to mention the instruction of the usage is less than expected. But I couldn’t say much as I was following the road.

The first arrival were to my relative’s house on Sidoarjo, where we just hung around for about 1 hour and enjoy fried shrimp that was very tasty, it was so garlicious and saltious that I couldn’t get stuffed easy. Then we crossed the thoroughfare of Surabaya main highway and I went on a nostalgic spree on the road, I wonder when the last time I squander my day there was. On our route northern way, there were zoo with the Surabaya statue in the front, the Mpu Tantular Museum, Tunjungan Plaza Supermall, JW Marriot Hotel, Cito Mall, Pelita Harapan University, and a block of an industrial complex. After the passage, what was amazing me out is a multifaceted road consisted of colonial-built architecture. It took us to the colonial era all the way until we reached Jembatan Merah, a red-painted bridge where there was a fierce bloody battle between Indonesian troops and the more sophisticated NICA (Netherlands) militia that later marks the icon of the region.

There were not much recreation spot inside Surabaya except those superficial hedonic mall which were too glamour and rough as they displayed hyperbolic lifestyle. And oh, we just stopped by on Jembatan Merah Plaza to had a window shopping on the garment and footwear groceries, it was not kind of mall stuffs but it was still fun though. I’d rather call it a trade center where we could find stuffs with reasonable price. Well yeah it was hot and humid there inside, but I tried to enjoy myself and had a walk throughout the groceries. I remembered it was a 5 stories edifice with the classification of garment and textile retails, footwear retails, and tailor kiosks. Not to forget the food centre on the basement.

Tired of taking a walk around, we looked for a place to fill on our hunger. My uncle recommend such a famous eating place called Depot Tambakjoyo Asri if I’m not flawed, it could fit around 70 customers, they provided Javanese cuisine, but the eating place was too full of Chinese ornament and atmosphere, as the owner was Chinese. The fabulous thing was it displayed retro ambiance so that we could felt the old colonialized Surabaya “Surabaya tempoh doeloe”. We enjoyed our food on a long table; there were lots of incredibly huge aged photographs and figures which pictured the former Chinatown market.

The journey continued on the Pura Agung Jagad Karana Hindu temple. It was situated close to the center of the town, and the temple design was so Bali-ish; it established up in a large area of the district. My family intended to have a slight worship there. My impression to the temple was it was so clean and seemed to be maintained regularly. It reflected by the regular shift of the keepers there and habitual activities of the Sunday school and religious services there.

The visit to the temple marked the end of our tour there, and on the way home we chose toll highway to reach Malang in a little while. We arrived then following the railway and decided to take a brief look at the location of mud-flooded county caused by the leakage of the Lapindo Corp.’s oil-drilling activities in Sidoarjo, East Java. The splash of the leakage produced a large amount of mud and so far had drowned 5 villages since May 27 2006; and presently still continues on. On the eastern side of the Surabaya-Malang passage railway, there was a long-built stumbling block all the way of the toll to block the mud flow. The block was kept by some workers and scrutinizers there, but none of them was the expert to handle the damage that may come.

Unexpectedly, the villagers who lost their homeland were picking the visitor charge if we would like to have eye on the spot. Me with my two accompanies went up the blockage construction while paid IDR 15.000 --for about one and a half US Dollar-- to the villagers as a donation. A light rain welcomed us to see the mud lake. In the spot of the smoky and humid burst, there was a forklift machine and I had no idea what the hell was the guy driving it was doing. On a sudden moment, some fellows who introduced themselves as the collapsed village member offered us some video CD for IDR 10.000 of a series of events of Lapindo oil-drilling outburst. I refused to purchase. It was such a tragic situation where they had to exploit their own ex-village to keep the source of revenue for living.

The situation had become static since the first outburst, and nobody of the victims escapes time to look for alternatives of living. There are still a lot of refugees and it caused social problems. On the other side, it wrecked down the intercity traffic, where a piece of highway road had to be fallen and destroyed due to the incident. For just about 30 minutes watching the situation, we left that disastrous area and couldn’t find any idea about how this might come into account. The scenery had change much so that I could not capture to a larger extent about what it was really happened.

So far then, I had fun all the time in my trip, I wonder what would be in those cities when I come back someday, let’s just hope Surabaya would not drown as well, I treasure lots of memories there.