Mbak Rita

That silver haired gentleman is Yok Koeswoyo of Koes Plus Band, an Indonesian real “Beatles” for its eternally phenomenal songs. It was a little hard for me to recognize him when I tuned on Empat Mata TV show where he was invited to accept such “legend award” last week. Yok is known for his very rare public appearance and it helps me to keep him staying young in my mind, like any other childhood heroes.

Well, as a faithful squad from an “old school”, Koes Plus belongs to my heroes list… heh heh heh.

Somehow, the show brought back memories…

As a journalist I once happened to conduct an interview with the defunct Koes Plus band, about…errr…years ago. At that time I only met with lead singer Yon Koeswoyo, Yok’s brother, and his in law, Murry the drummer. Yok wasn’t available because he was officially left the band.

Yon and Murry gave the impression of being “not so old” at that time.  It was a casual meeting in a Bogor resort owned by their former music producer. To my surprise, the always- look- shy Murry turned out to be the most talkative and very funny. His endless jokes kept me and my dear pal and mentor, Tuti Gintini, then was editor for Suara Pembaruan Daily, who went with me for the interview, being fully entertained. 

There is something very personal with me with Koes Plus song, I have a strange routine when heading home from traveling anywhere, I will automatically hum a refrain from their song titled Kembali ke Jakarta. It was funny how I will always slowly hum, “Ke Jakarta aku kan kembali, walau pun apa yang kan terjadi” before stepping on the aeroplane to Jakarta. Silly eh? Heh heh heh…

I don’t mind people laugh at me, because Kembali ke Jakarta is a warm and sweet song.

Watching Yok on TV made me eager to call Tuti, it’s been a while I haven’t talk with her. And then I realized another setback. Tuti has gone last year after months of battle with cancer. I remembered hugging her daughter, Lala, who sang a very moving song in the funeral. I believe Tuti has her own beautiful home with Kolam Susu in the Kabut Biru now.

Many things linger with Koes Plus’ songs….

I think of Bali today. It is Day of Silence, a very big holiday in Bali. Like a magic, the very busy resort could remote itself from all activities in an instant, nothing heard just a beautiful numb of our own conscious.

I gave it a try for only an hour this morning, and did stop it when my eyes got warm for no reason, I simply saw many sad things I did previously, kept coming back like a haunted horror movie. I took a deep breath and opened the window. Ouch!

Yeah, no wonder we made many mistakes, eh? It is indeed a hard thing to hear our own conscious…

Have a peaceful Day of Silence, Pals

What we can do for Ibu Mardiyem? It’s already too late. She was passed away last December, after endlessly fighting for her dignity as a human being, and a woman, that had been robbed by Pacific War (1941-1945). Ibu Mardiyem was a “Jogun Ianfu” survivor from Indonesia. And about Jogun Ianfu itself, people tends to translate those Japanese words as “comfort women”.

Comfort women..? Oh please, that term must be invented by men, right? I mean, it doesn’t even refer to the subject itself; those women. Instead it refers them as object, as the “comfort” for the Japanese soldiers in war. Those girls from the abducted lands, such as Indonesia, The Philippines, etc, were being kidnapped and sent to the barracks where they had the horror in their life, being forced as sexual slaves for the Japanese soldiers 

Years, and decades, after the nightmares that never ever left her, the late Ibu Mardiyem fought endlessly for her stolen life, asking simply for an apology; from both states; Indonesia which had failed to protect her and Japan that had officially ordered such inhuman act of slavery. But she accepted nothing.

After the Tokyo Tribunal and Den Haag final decision in 2001 that put Japanese Kaiser and its military top brass as guilty, there was an offer to give an “atonement money” for the jugun ianfus.  And there we had another humiliation; for every Caucasian, mostly Dutch, Jogun Ianfus,  they’re willing to send an atonement money of four millions yen but only its half, two million yen, for Asian ( Indonesian) Jogun Ianfus. (WHAT THE*%#!! The money is not color blind?!!!).

Sadly, the apology would just be given if the women ‘re willing to take the money first.

Honey, for the heroes, dignity has nothing to do with money! That’s why Ibu Mardiyem refused the money, because she wanted mostly to have the apology, period.  

It’s very clear for me, who is the hero, and which ones are the cowards. May you rest in peace, Ibu Mardiyem.

Photo : Ibu Mardiyem (left) and Mbak Ninuk Pambudy from Kompas Daily, pictured last year by Wawan H Prabowo/Kompas Daily, Jakarta

It was cold and I can’t see any stars in the sky. The night was so ordinary and thanks to my hectic day, these muscles were so tensed and I felt very tired. I finally gave it up at 11.30 pm, sleeping, with a nightmare about having a toothache. Ouch!  

Previously, in the morning, I made a promise to myself to stay awake, learning some verses from the Holy book and contemplate a little, the way my beloved Grandpa used to celebrate the first dawn of Muharam.

In the morning of Muharram the first, today, the new lunar year in Islamic calendar, I feel a little guilty, thinking about how the city life has made me powerless and kept me losing chances in my own self searching. Sitting in the porch with my morning mug, I tried to escape from such feeling by reading some stuff. A friend sent me this simple but very interesting idea, “How about forgiving somebody in the past as a New Year gift for our empty heart?”.  Hmmm, speaking about somebody, well, it could be me, right? And the magic of Satu Sura hit me, yeah. That’s it! I will start this very new day of 1429 Hijriah with a self forgiveness, my only way to make peace with my own conscience. Wanna join me? 

             I agree with Margaret Mitchell, the author of Gone with the Wind, who used that sentence as an ending for Scarlet O’Hara’s  optimism, a very powerful closure for such an enormous but troubled life. Was that 2007 for us?

My partners in crime, Nicky and Bos Gondrong laughed to hear that.

 “You mean enormous catastrophe?” said cynical Nicky.  

“What memories that we had with 2007 so it deserved such romantic farewell?’ the sometimes-ok-most-of-the-times-crazy boss mumbled a little.

 “Yeah, it was heavy rain so the best tribute for 2007 finale was a long and peaceful dream,” added Nicky,” for sure,  I did that!”

Bos Gondrong agreed, he nodded his heavy head and yelled, “And without flood!”

Yeah, a good sleep without flood is indeed the best tribute because today many places here are still surrounded by the uninvited dirty water. When taking my first shower in newborn 2008 I closed my eyes and said thankful words because in other places near me people can’t have such a luxury of taking a regular bath. So, let me welcome you, 2008, may you live in a simpler and less complicated than your previous uneasy 2007. Cheers!

          Have a happier new beginning, Guys!

Would it be an assassination too if Benazir binti Zulfikar Ali Bhutto were a man?  I don’t think so. I believed her tragic death has nothing to do with the battle of the sexes anymore because if that was the matter, Benazir should be killed about two decades ago when she won the Pakistani General Election to be its first female President. Although Pakistan’s extremists had publicly admitted they never accepted a female leader, somehow Benazir even made herself the top job twice!

The way that very evil man who killed her—he then bombed himself and others, the innocents, down—was just another proof to me how the former very influenced Asian nation has turned itself into the new jahilliyah state. Just days ago I read a report about the killings in the Pakistani mosque. That gruesome act was aimed to assassin a middle rank politician while the man was still praying his sholat in the crowded mosque. I was so amazed to read that news. I mean, Pakistan is the third most populous Muslim country after Indonesia and India, which capital is named Islamabad, but you can’t even take a peace, especially for doing your sholat, in its mosques? Ahhhh…, something very wrong must have happened there. Something that Brave Benazir would like to heal.

I knew very little about her but I think her decision to come home, leaving the comfort of rich and glittering Dubai shelter to take her chances which she must be known for sure, were very risky, is something to be admired. It took courage, and only special people, the bravest, could do it.

My deeply condolences…May you rest in peace, Miss Benazir.

Hail to the Jakarta Post! I found an article that I need so bad so I don’t have to explain further for Eva, a fried with many questions like a five year old brat,  why as a Muslim I have to join the joy of Christmas. Jesus or Isa Allaihi Salaam (AS) is my prophet too; even he was named ulil azmi or the five ultimate prophets along with Ibrahim AS or Abraham, Musa AS (Moses), Nuh AS (Noah), and Muhammad SAW.   

Celebrating the Maulid Nabi Isa or Christmas should be my party too. So I was always more than happy when the smiling Ibu Siahaan, sent me her famous homemade Christmas cake every December 25. Celebrating the spirit of love is always yummy for me!

Okay, getting serious now, well, after taking a brief moment to contemplate a little, I have to mention Mbak Sima as the living proof of how the spirit of love has been spreading to the world. She is a dear friend for me but also such an inspiration, for always thinks positively, mostly with smile or jokes , and she’s never bothered if sometimes the laugh is in herself.

Even on her most fragile moments, she still managed to come in a point to use it as a weapon to empower others just like what she just did on her personal blog  where she wrote down her battle with cancer. The blog is very informative for others, written in such a great way of writing (yes, she is a writer with capital W!!!). For me, Mbak Sima herself is the translation of such spirit of love. She is the walking Christmas because she always spread the love to humankind. Gee…., God is, indeed, everywhere, right?

It’s been a while I haven’t visited or posted anything here.  Besides simply being lazy (somehow it’s my middlename), losing my small but very own company was the only reason that I could blame for being, ahmm, losing myself a little, including my ability to write. I mean I am a writer but somehow, lately, I felt like no longer finding the chemistry between me and the magic of writing.

Somehow a posting of Mbak Dewi Chandraningrum in one mailing list where I am listed as member was kind of hit me. She said. “Kehilangan satu perempuan yg mau berbicara di ruang publik, ibarat kehilangan seribu pemikir laki-laki (Yeahhh, beat that Homer!! Heh heh heh!!!). Saya sedang tidak mempertentangkan lelaki dan perempuan. Realitas menunjukkan teramat sedikit perempuan yang mau berbicara dengan lantang di ruang publik”.

In short she said that losing a contribution of a female opinion in public is like losing a thousand of male thinkers. I agree with her because she was speaking, mostly, about Indonesian society, where a giant patriarchy megamachine lives peacufully for centuries. Its tentacles sometimes hide in the comfort name of taboos and can’t-be-questioned-dogmas. As Indonesian woman I have to struggle the long and tricky road to find my place in this world, it is like, almost all the time that, I have to prove myself to others that I do deserve having anything that I’ve had. So, yeah, it’s such a really long road and I should join the choo choo locomotive of hope, as much as I could. Hopefully….

Well, I choose today, December 22, 2007 as the day I start writing again. Today is the Woman’s Day in Indonesia (which by the capitalist hijacker has been turning into the more commercial Mother’s Day). In 1928, our very brave grandmothers with their kebayas were united for the First Indonesian Woman Conference in Yogyakarta , declared their support for fighting the independence of Indonesia, which later was finally proclaimed in 1945 as a free independent country. So, Indonesian women were very “kicking” and courageous from the very beginning.

Now, 79 years later, I think it is simply rude for me to just lie down in this harpitnas week holidays, I should do something, or start something good for my community or even nation, maybe even the human race. Well, I think the first step to do such big idea is having a simple way of starting myself to go green. So let me introduce you to my big blue bucket outside my small house during this rainy season. It is my “blue” weapon to go green because the bucket turns into a water pond as it is there to embrace the rainfall. I use the rain water to reduce the consumption of tap water for my plant and bike wash. Yes it is only a small step, indeed, but it makes me happy enough to celebrate Indonesian very own Woman’s Day in a politically correct attitude.

Happy Woman’s Day, everybody!

It was blur in the morning

with coffee and honey,

then getting confused with the sunny afternoon and bumper-to-bumper traffic

seeking shelter by night, waiting the rain to come washing the cold cold town….