On reading

"I've heard of people like you," I said. 

I was with Patrya, and we were two of the last few people who still stayed at the office, waiting for a scheduled call from Boston. The call was moved to an hour later than its usual schedule, so we had pretty much run out of ideas how to kill time until then. I guess that's why he asked me then for a recommendation for a fiction to read. 

Giving book recommendation to someone is a tricky business. You need to know his taste of reading, because otherwise you'll only be forcing your preference on him—and that's exactly what I did. I rattled off some of my favorites books and series, and if you know me, you won't be much surprised that fantasy is the prevailing genre. That was before I caught myself and asked him what fiction he liked reading. That was when he answered he don't really read fiction at all. 

"I've heard of people like you," I responded. "So how do you grow up?"

"Well, I guess," he said. 

It was such an outlandish notion that it took me some time to wrap my head around it. 

Book, stories, and fiction were such a large part of my upbringing that sometimes it's hard for me to imagine other people not having the same experience. How does one learn camaraderie without reading Enid Blyton's Five? How does one marvel at technology without having Doraemon whets one's appetite? How does one grow up without being enchanted by the wizardry (and learn about rewards for bravery) from the Harry Potter universe(1)?.

No, I did not grow up with a gang of friends who were as into books as I was. But as with my students in Banggai, I had always assumed it was a question of access—there weren't many public libraries(2) and most of my friends' parents were not as appreciative of literature as my parents were. 

***

In retrospect, though, I guess a lot of people think the same way when they make my acquaintance. I-ve-heard-of-people-like-you. Especially in Batui 5.  

"Kalau Pak Masyhur dulu bebaca terus ya Bu," my former students quipped to Ade, who dutifully passed along that comment to me every time we met. 

Well, I hope at least my habit encouraged them to pick up reading even after I left. 

"Pak Masyhur, pagi bebaca, siang bebaca, malam juga masih bebaca. Te capek, Pak?" said Bu Wati, who often passed my porch when she was walking Ian around. What can I say? It's the cornerstone of our civilization.

And hey, there was blessed little else to do after all. 

***

And with little else to do to wait, I observed Patrya started to sample Ayn Rand. Bereft of a recommendation from me that intrigued him, he tried exploring households names. 

I'll just crack open a Brandon Sanderson.

---------------------------

(1) Pair that to the fact that my reaction hearing Lee's crush has never read Harry Potter ("SHE HAS NEVER READ HARRY POTTER??") was for all purpose, identical to Karmen's and Kirana's you can see why growing up without Harry Potter was inconceivable. 

(2) the few book rentals that were around did have those ghastly religious comic book depicting scenes and stories of tortures in hell for sinners. I read those too, of course. How else do you develop an appreciation of propaganda based on fiction? I was too small to understand political propaganda. 

Tentang asal nama mata angin dan Masungkang

Saya tidak akan pernah lupa dengan Masungkang.

Tidak hanya karena lokasinya bertetanggaan dengan desa penempatan saya selama setahun di Banggai, tapi juga karena kali pertama saya ke sana bersama teman-teman pengajar muda yang lain, perjalanannya tidak bisa tidak dikenang[1].

Jalannya terjal, tentu. Berliku, sudah pasti. Berdebu? Kami hanya bersyukur waktu itu kemarau, daripada motor terbenam dalam lumpur?

Hamparan sawah berganti kelapa sawit setinggi dua-tiga meter―penanda sawit ini belum lama ditanam. Hampir tidak ada kanopi hutan yang melindungi jalan dari sengatan terik matahari sepanjang perjalanan belasan kilometer dari jalan poros―jauh berbeda dengan jalan ke desa saya jika melewati Ondo-ondolu, saya bisa mendapati biawak, burung aneka warna, kera yakis, dan banyak lagi.

Ketika kami masuk ke desa itu, deretan rumah dengan atribut khas Bali menyambut. Tempat-tempat sesaji di depan rumah mempertunjukkan persembahan mereka hari itu. Tapi tujuan kami adalah SDN Inpres Batui 4 Masungkang, sekolah yang dipimpin Pak Ikbal Laamu yang mengundang kami bertandang untuk berkenalan dengan murid-murid di sana.

Jujur saja, kami tidak mempersiapkan materi spesifik, pun tidak mengantisipasi bahwa Pak Ikbal secara de facto menghentikan KBM hari itu agar semua muridnya kebagian "diajar" oleh pengajar muda. 70-an murid lintas jenjang, berkumpul sesak dalam satu ruangan―uh oh.

Hanya Mbak Yanti yang bisa pasang ekspresi "Hore banyak anak!" dan "Aduh, peraga yang disiapkan ada sama Ika yang belum sampai karena bannya bocor!" di waktu bersamaan. Dan tetap girang.

Untungnya mereka punya peta, jadi kami bisa memulai dengan tebak-tebakan lokasi mereka berada, yang selalu menggelitik karena tebakan-tebakan pertama mereka meleset jauh dari Pulau Sulawesi. Kami pun bisa bercerita asal daerah kami dari Jawa dan Kalimantan, dan asal orang tua mereka yang kebanyakan transmigran dari Pulau Bali.

Hore! Ada yang menebak betu--Nak, itu kenapa kamu tunjuk Teluk Tomini? Kita belum tenggelam karena pemanasan global kok.

Tentu saja, mencoba memahami peta sangatlah sulit tanpa paham arah mata angin. Maka kami lempar panggung pada Mbak Yanti, yang lalu mengajari mereka arah mata angin, dengan nyanyian[2].

Mata angin adalah jarum pedoman
Garis yang menunjukkan arah suatu tempat
Timur, tenggara, selatan, barat daya
Barat, barat laut, utara, timur laut
Mari kawan belajar petunjuk arah
Mata angin yang harus kita tahu

Bernyanyi bersama Ibu Yanti, dalam hitungan ketiga, yak! (kontribusi saya adalah nulis lirik lagunya di papan tulis)

***

Kini hampir satu tahun berselang sejak kami ada di Masungkang, perhatian saya tertumbuk pada sebuah artikel di majalah Tempo edisi 25 Agustus 2014 tentang akar kata-kata yang kita gunakan untuk menyebutkan nama-nama arah angin.

Tahukah Anda mengapa kita menyebut utara dengan kata utara dan selatan untuk arah yang sebaliknya?

Utara berasal dari kata serupa di bahasa Sansekerta. Kita menjiplak saja, karena memang tak ada salahnya. Tapi arah utara dulu juga disebut dengan kata 'laut' karena di era Sriwijaya, dari Palembang ke utara berarti ke laut.

Barat pun berasal dari kata serupa di bahasa Sansekerta. Kita sudah nyaman dengan kata serapan.

Timur, anehnya diserap dari bahasa Melayu. Tak tahulah kenapa.

Selatan juga berasal dari bahasa Melayu, namun dari era setelah pusat Sriwijaya berpindah ke Malaka. Dari Malaka, arah sebaliknya dari utara adalah menuju Selat Malaka. Tidak aneh kalau arah ini lalu disebut selatan.

Bagaimana dengan arah antaranya?

Timur laut dan barat laut adalah peninggalan era Sriwijaya Palembang lagi. Antara timur dan utara sudah jelas asal-usulnya: timur+laut(utara). Begitupun antara barat dan utara: barat+laut(utara).

Meskipun demikian, ada juga alternatif akar kalimat yang lain. Barat laut bisa merujuk arah yang harus dituju dari Malaka untuk menuju lautan Samudera India. Sementara itu, usai lewat Singapura dari arah Malaka, timur laut adalah arah yang harus dituju untuk menuju Laut Cina Selatan.

Untuk menjelaskan barat daya, kita harus kembali ke Palembang di era Sriwijaya. Waktu itu, lawan kata laut (utara) adalah daya yang berarti daratan yang ada di arah selatan. Jelas sudah, antara barat dan selatan dirujuk dengan barat daya.

Seharusnya pun antara timur dan selatan kita sebut dengan timur daya, tapi entah kenapa justru kita punya kata tenggara.

Sampai di sini artikel Jennifer Lindsay di Tempo tersebut tidak lagi memuaskan. Satu hipotesis yang ia ajukan adalah tenggara berasal dari kata bahasa Jawa tengger, yang berarti luas. Tapi ini kurang meyakinkan sih menurut saya.

Tapi saya tetap suka dengan artikelnya yang membuat saya juga tahu bahwa asal-usul kata orientasi adalah orient yang berarti timur. Ini karena dulu di zaman pertengahan, arah atas untuk peta adalah arah timur. Orientasi, mencari arah, sama juga dengan mencari arah timur.

Pengetahuan baru, dengan bonus nostalgia deng an anak-anak di tempat saya pernah bertugas menjadi pengajar muda, bagaimana saya mau tak suka?

----------------------------
[1] Apalagi habis itu kami pulang pake berantem--entah hal remeh apa yang kami berantemkan waktu itu tapi pokoknya seru deh!
[2] Jelas bukan keahlian saya, ngajar nyanyi.

Ten years ago

Sepuluh tahun lalu, gue adalah bocah ini:

I wish I could say that being ten years older than I was has made me wiser and more mature. It hasn't―or at least if it had, it's not apparent to me.

What I can say with certainty is that some things changed very little. If I used to receive mails from the young readers of An Nisa (no, really), now I receive mails from the young kids in Batui 5.

If I used to be graced with people in my surroundings who have more faith in me than myself―I'm thankful that I can still say the same for my present self. Because what buoyed me ten years ago was really a result of so many people willing to take the extra mile, peppered with advantageous circumstances.

For starters, there was the fact that 2004 was only the second year for Indonesia to send delegates to the IAO. This led to not too many schools being privy to the existence of this competition. In district-level selection, there was only four students from two schools competing in high school level. One of them was me.

And I was only there because the more talented students didn't make the cut―the age criteria where the students shall be younger than 17 y.o. on August 2004 was against my school's top physics students. Oh, I'm pretty good at high school level physics, mind you. But I was (a) more interested in chemistry, (b) boggled by the perceived difficulty of physics olympiad problems, and (c) awestruck by the genius of IPhO delegates as reported by Kompas year after year. No way I could make it to their ranks.

I'm always good at talking myself down. Why not? It is much less risky to predict doom and gloom than to predict that things will work out fine.

But in this case it's actually rational. Of thousands of students vying to be delegates, they only take 6 students each year. The odds are definitely slim.

And rational thoughts are the most effective cushion against the inevitable crushing disappointment. At the very least, if I were to be disappointed, I won't get crushed, inevitable as they are.

Just like the time when the awards for a district-wide high school level speech contest in local university are to be announced. I entered the contest hopeful, but as they were announcing the awards from the 10th place up, the flutters of the butterfly wings in my stomach grew stronger.

"10th place wouldn't be bad―but there's no way it's me―oh I hope it's me―but it's the bottom―I hope I got better result―oh it's not me,"
"8th place is still on the lower half of the awardees―but there's no way it's me―oh I hope it's me―or could I get a better resul―oh it's not me,"
"5th place is respectable―but there's no way it's me―could it be m―oh it's not me,"
"Oh man how awesome would it be if I grab the runner up title―there's no way it cou―see? It's not me,"
"Oh―I got nothing."

This was the recurring theme of any award announcement (or any post-debate oral adjudication) that I found myself in. Including, the announcement of the national olympiad result.

I had discounted the fact that I was ranked in the top three during the provincial selection and so it was with many butterfly wings aflutter that I was swinging between hope and dejection during the announcement of the bronze and silver medalists. Only the gold medals remain unannounced, and there was only three of them.

I thought to myself, "There's no w―wait, what?"

I registered my name being called. Now that's unexpected.

***

It was only the beginning, because I was then invited to the training camp where out of seven gold and silver medalists, one will be picked to complete the team to be send to represent Indonesia. Jaya had secured a ticket for himself, topping the result for both theoretical and observational rounds at the national olympiad.

You know, I think it was him that prompted this note. He's getting married next weekend to Stefani (whose photo was featured in a book titled "Prestasi Gemilang Anak Bangsa"). I was chuffed when I heard the news―I wish nothing but happy matrimony bliss for them.

***

In retrospective, I actually had fun during the training―learned lots of new stuff, breathed lots of fresh cold air of Lembang, enjoyed the camaraderie, and generally despaired very little. The competition between the seven of us hardly felt like a competition. I was grateful for having the privilege to experience that.

When the team was formed with me among the delegates, we spent our last week in Jakarta, making ourselves familiar with the northern sky constellations at the planetarium. And because we can't monopolize the planetarium, the sessions ended late at night--and we would walk along the Cikini road to get to our lodging.

I guess I was feeling nostalgic, because last month I took a detour from my usual route home to amble along the same route. And it speaks so much to me how funny life is.

Ten years ago, every step that I took strengthened my resolve to never choose to live in this very city.

Ten years after, look where I wound up at.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Related post:  Seven years ago.

Mengawetkan citra diri

Saya ini orangnya jaim. Gampang banget ketahuan jaimnya, sok cool-cool begitu, yang biasanya kebablasan, sampai teman-teman kantor saya bilang saya ini kulkas. Saya sih ga masalah jadi kulkas, karena kulkas bikin makanan awet. Selain itu, cukuplah ada juga microwave di kantor. Makanan yang dingin tinggal dimasukkan di microwave, jadi hangat dan nikmat disantap.

Tapi saya jarang juga sih pakai microwavenya, karena memang saya seringnya malas makan. Rasa malas makan ini adalah yang sukses bikin saya kehilangan berat badan dan pipi di tahun 2011. Terbayang sih waktu itu reaksi orang-orang ketika saya pulang dari Jepang, bingung semua kenapa saya jadi kurus. Pertama kali bertemu lagi dengan Uphie di Surabaya tahun 2012, serunya pertama adalah "What happened to you?" dengan tatapan membelalak tidak percaya.

Dan karena saya jaim, maka biasanya respon saya enteng aja, "Biasa aja kali." Walaupun sebenarnya dalam hati saya sering merasa senang juga, wah saya bisa kurus juga!

Bukan apa-apa, tapi ketika saya remaja, saya adalah remaja yang gemuk. Ngga sampai gendut bulat sih, tapi cukup untuk meremukkan kepercayaan diri saya tiap pelajaran olah raga. Sudah lari selalu paling belakang, tanding sama perempuan kalah, remedial berulang kali pun dapatnya nilai kasihan. Wajar sajalah rasanya kalau saya berhipotesis berat saya yang berlebih adalah penyebab kelemahan saya. Satu-dua teman sekelas dan seangkatan pun melontarkan komentar--yang menurut dia mungkin biasa saja, tapi bagi saya--nyelekit dan meretas sisa serpihan kepercayaan diri saya akan tubuh saya.

Sialnya, masa remaja adalah masa dibentuknya citra diri. Tumbuh dengan berat badan ekstra berarti sulit sekali menginternalkan citra diri baru, "Saya kurus." Sampai sekarang, saya masih sering malas makan, dan ketika berbelanja camilan untuk bermain Thunderstone, Minerva dan Karmen menatap saya heran ketika saya tidak membeli apapun.

Saya baru bisa mulai menginternalisasi kekurusan baru saya ketika saya setahun di Banggai. Bagaimana tidak, tiap turun gunung, Ika selalu berkomentar, "Mas, kamu kurusan ya. Kelihatan capek pula." Kepala sekolah saya menyesalkan, "Mas ini tidak seperti Mas Luqman ya." Sementara ibu piara Mbak Yanti selalu menggoda saya untuk makan lagi dengan lauk kepiting.

Tapi toh berat badan saya tidak juga beranjak jauh dari kisaran 66-67 kilogram selama setahun. Sepulang penugasan, tidak ada juga yang banyak berubah.

Sampai ketika saya datang acara Ramah Tamah Keluarga Besar Indonesia Mengajar yang diadakan untuk Pengajar Muda angkatan VIII yang akan diberangkatkan bulan lalu, saya bertemu kawan saya Pengajar Muda angkatan V di sana. Komentar pertamanya adalah, "Wah kowe saiki lemu," saya pun bersorak dalam hati. Wah trennya mulai berubah lagi!

Sayangnya ternyata tren ini tidak bertahan lama. Seminggu setelahnya, saya bertemu kawan itu di kesempatan yang berbeda, saya disambut dengan komentar, "Kowe kethok kuru Syhur."

Asem.

Usut punya usut, kesan menggembirakan yang lalu adalah akibat dari potongan kemeja yang saya pakai. Di Ramah Tamah, saya pakai kemeja dan celana slim fit, sementara di kesempatan berikutnya saya pakai potongan kemeja regular fit lama saya yang sudah saya punyai sejak masih gemuk. Jadilah agak gombrong dan saya pun gagal nampak gemuk lagi.

Apa lacur.

Tapi ada lanjutan komentar menarik dari kawan ini di kesempatan yang belakangan ini. Ketika ia berkata, "Kowe kethok kuru Syhur. Wingi klambimu rodo ketat ngono koyo gay kowe." Saya sempat bingung sih harus merasa bagaimana atas komentar itu.

Komentar ini ditujukan ke saya lho, saudara-saudara. Insan yang diingat teman-teman kuliah selalu istiqomah bersandal jepit dan advokat Swallow garis keras ("Kita harus menggerakkan ekonomi rakyat dan menyokong produk sandal dalam negeri!"), di kampus ganesha pula. Udah standar penampilan anak-anak kampusnya rendah (apalagi yang agak mengangkat nilai kebeningan hanyalah Sekolah Tinggi Ilmu Hayati dan Sekolah Farmasi--sisanya delusi berpikir tingkat kegantengan naik dengan jaket himpunan warna mencrang), secara historis nilai penampilan saya jelas di bawah rata-rata.

Saya sih pasrah saja dengan penampilan pas-pasan. Udah biasa lah, di Jepang juga rasanya saya paling kumel dibandingkan kaum prianya yang nampaknya menyempatkan diri merawat diri dan mencabuti alis demi bentuk yang simetris. Di Banggai pun satu-dua kali saya mendapati bapak ibu di kantor dinas pendidikan menatap penampilan kami dengan prihatin. Pemuda-pemudi terbaik bangsa, memadankan penampilan saja tidak bisa. Kembali ke Jakarta pun saya baru belajar menyelaraskan warna kaos kaki saya dengan warna celana dua bulan setelah saya bekerja (Makasih lho Pak Shawn). Maklum, kebiasaan di Banggai apapun warna celananya, semua jadi senada dengan lumpur yang menggurita.

Perwujudan kejahatan mode, disetarakan dengan teman-teman gay yang stereotipikalnya terpoles? Aduh, saya tersanjung!

Berarti sekarang tinggal memoles ketersanjungan saya dengan jaim. Supaya konsistensi tetap jadi bagian diri.

"Ahok, you heartless scum!"

...is what I think Satrio would have said if he were present at the YLI conference last week, for no other reason than that his speech confirms his numerous commentaries in social media that Ahok is a breed of politician with a heart of coal.

The reason for that prediction is one of Ahok's responses to why exactly did he enter politic in the first place. He answered that it had been a mistake, he merely wanted somebody he knows to be Camat, and if that person succeed, he'll wish the unwashed poor stopped pestering him at his house—mansion, actually, given that he's a businessman with a considerable clout—and went to pester the Camat instead. It didn't worked, and he figured he'll just be a Bupati himself.

Let's pause for a moment here and appreciate this very fact, that a man of Chinese descent, very obviously a non-Moslem—"muka minyak babi", in his own words that drew the wrath of his father[1]—is able to win Belitung, the regency where 55% of the parliamentary seat was won by PBB and signs bearing asmaul husna dotted the main road of the island. It was not smooth sailing, of course, and Moslem paranoia being what it is, it came to no surprise to me that Ahok ended knowing Al Maidah: 51 by heart. This is the standard stock of negative campaign against every non-Moslem candidates running for any public offices in Indonesia.

But what does he really want to be? By his own admission, above all, he'd rather stay in business and be a tycoon. "Enak, jadi kaya," he said. However, he experienced hitting a wall when dealing with politicians. He recalled his late father said to him, "Jadi orang kecil itu jangan melawan pengusaha kaya, jadi pengusaha itu jangan nglawan penguasa," the adage of pragmatic people everywhere.

That naturally does not go well with him, so on one occasion when he was frustrated with a politician, "Gue tau nih dia pikir orang ga bakal berani pukul dia. Ya udah, gue gaplok aja dia."[2]

"Gue dibilang ama papa gue habis itu, sukur lo bangkrut. Bangkrut? Iya gue habis itu bangkrut, tapi gue udah gaplok dia," the audience roared with laughter.

So, being a businessman will not let you escape from the doings of politics. Which marks the point of him entering politics. His first aim was a seat at DPRD II, and what a stunning success it was, he got the meager amount of 91 votes. However, with the virtue of being the local party chairman, he was entitled to amass the non-candidate specific votes for his party and it paved the way for him to be a local parliament members.

If one need any proof that dishonorable behaviors is rampant among the parliament members, he told us that lots of his fellow party members fumed at him when he declined their requests to bring their SPPDs to be stamped at the destination when they didn't actually go on the trip. In other times, they fumed when Ahok refused to exchange the state-funded airfare tickets with budget airfare so that they can pocket the difference.

The same thing happened when he was the Bupati of Belitung. His advisors suggested that he took advantage of his power to grant mining concession, by setting up shell companies to apply, or by "recommending" equipment rentals for his companies to the companies that get a concession. With all that, his advisors said that he should be able to pocket 1-3 billion IDR.

"Jangan lah," he replied them. He noted that our actions today will be judged by the historians of the future, running a consistent theme with what Anies Baswedan told us the day before and Ananda Siregar on the session preceding Ahok.

The consequences are clear, though: he won't get rich from being a politician. But he claimed he's okay with that, "Gue bisa bantu orang miskin, dan gue ga keluar uang sepeserpun. Duit negara soalnya yang gue pakai [buat bantu]. Nah, gue rasanya seneng begitu."

Being a Bupati does have its limitations, however. One of them is the higher ups. So he ran for governorship in Bangka Belitung. He lost.

Afterward, he was advised to run for a DPR seat, which he hold until he paired with Jokowi for a Jakarta governorship tickets.

During the conference, his advices to us to enter politics are in line with what VP Boediono said the day before. The delivery of their messages, however, couldn't have been more contrast. Boediono was—as always—calm and stately when he decried the deficit of statesmanship among our politicians. Ahok being Ahok, was explosive and rousing, not mincing words. Boediono imparted us the advice that the foremost quality of a statesman to have is to be resolute—teguh. Ahok was a little bit more structured, highlighting four points of advice for anyone wishing to enter politics.

One, tugas pejabat publik itu cuma satu: isi kepala, perut, dan dompet warganya.

Two, jangan menyenangkan konstituen, tapi ikuti konstitusi. Nyenengin konstituen, begitu golongan A dan B maunya berlawanan, pusing lo.

Three, pengusaha ga usah takut sama pejabat yang bisa disuap. Tapi begitu ketemu sama pejabat yang ga bisa disuap, mereka bakal takut. Jadi jangan jadi pejabat yang bisa disuap.

Four, jangan takut mati. Apa sih yang paling orang takuti? Paling kehilangan kursi dan posisi. Kalau lo ga takut mati, biar cuma kehilangan posisi dan kekuasaan ga masalah[3].

We were clamoring for more, but on the other hand we had hold him up for too long, it was a Sunday after all.  In the end, he cautioned that our votes matter in the coming election. The president seat wields power, and whoever hold the scepter could hold it for the next ten years. If that man neglects the first duty of being in a public office—mengisi kepala, perut, dan dompet warganya—instead of having a demographic dividend in 2025 we'll have a demographic nightmare.  And on this I could not agree more with him.

-------

[1] "Padahal kan muka minyak babi bagus itu, mengkilap. Kalau muka babi nah itu baru Chu Pat Kai. Eh, papa gue marah."
[2] "Gue dulu lebih liar dari sekarang. Ini sekarang gue udah jinak."
[3] "Tapi kalau gua minum ya ga mau sendirian. Daripada diracun?"

Street food

Isn't it amazing how there aren't many more people who got sick from eating street food in Indonesia? Or just from eating food in Indonesia in general?

It's not like I want be be sick from eating food, or that I want more people sick from eating (heaven knows our health care system is overloaded as it is), but i find it remarkable that I can finish tonight's dinner.

For one, it's street food. People from more developed place/less barbaric ones will already categorically refuse this food alone. For good reasons too.

The second thing is that I found hair on my kwetiaw. This alone is unremarkable, until I remember that the last time I ate there, I found hair too. But really, what can you expect from a place whose cooks are guys with long hairs who always wear black and put on heavy metal music? Is there any other place that you know that fused heavy-metal enjoyment with the Indonesia's culinary paragon: nasi goreng?

But what sets this night apart was this: my eyes were glued to my phone screen (as per usual) and I only had my peripheral vision to alert me that something is moving along the edge of the table, between my plate and my chest. A full-grown cockroach was waltzing along with its antennae swinging to and fro.

For a split second I paused.

And then I resumed eating.

Isn't it amazing how there aren't many more people who got sick from eating street food in Indonesia?

Terikat

"Mas, aku sama mbak Yanti tebak-tebakan siapa di antara kita berenam yang pertama lupa temen-temennya dan kita sepakat, kamu itu," said Ika when we rode together from Ondo-ondolu on our last month in Banggai.

I didn't think she saw how I react, and neither did she hear my indignant scoff in reply. I justified my indignation by comparing myself with Lilli, who was besotted in a new relationship and Luqman, who was isolated in a separate island from the rest of us.

I did acknowledge to myself, that the year was drawing to an end, and after that, we most likely will never work together in a team again. Lilli and Auliya will return to the field of medicine. I imagined Luqman would be running his bussiness (though he's in Halmahera now). And me, well, what'd I be doing?

I wistfully admit that the possibility of us being in the same city will be slim to none. I wondered, will we even ever meet again to sit together in a table (and preferably cracking crabs and teased Yanti who won't eat crabs and squids)?

Despite of that, I would like it more if our friendships last.  The trouble is, unlike my friendship with my high school friends, we don't share the same place of origin. Lilli is from Jakarta, Luqman is from Surabaya, Yanti hails from Kalimantan, Auliya's home is perched on the slope of Semeru while Ika has Bojonegoro to call home. There will be no halal bi halal to rely upon to gather us every year.

But then I realized something, we don't share the same place of origin, our interests lie on different field, our religious convictions conflict, but we were bound together in Banggai for a year. We grew there and we have vowed to return there, too.

I have regarded Yanti's and Auliya's host family as mine too, and I would love to visit Solan and Tembang again. I might not be able to make the omission of Sinorang more inconspicuous from this list, but in the whole, our lives did get entangled.

And it's an entanglement I don't wish to unravel. It's a knot that tethers me to the realm of ideals and good intentions. It's a bond that will never let me forget.

So don't worry guys, I won't.

Bersilaju dengan Waktu

Aku menumpang di kos Ojan, yang mengukir sejarah baru, menjuarai World Universities Debating Championship kategori English-as-Foreign-Language.

Aku menginap di Uphie, yang menceritakan serunya bekerja mengurusi Pemilu ketika Pemilu mendekat.

Aku makan bersama Tirza, Joan, Denny, dan Apu, dan waktu itu Tirza dan Joan menyesalkan kerja kementerian-kementerian yang melambat ketika Pemilu mendekat. Kerja mereka yang bersinggungan dengan berbagai kementerian membuat komentar mereka relevan.

Aku berkunjung ke kos Denny dan Tirza, yang ternyata hanya sepelemparan batu dari kosku. Denny berkisah tentang berbagai rencana bisnis yang ingin ia kembangkan, dan kilah-kilahnya melepaskan diri dari kungkungan sosial untuk ber"karir".

Aku mengobrol dengan Aino dan saudaranya. Aku bertukar cerita horor jadi guru di Banggai dengan cerita horornya Aino menjalani internship dokter di Bima. Saudaranya bercerita ia akan bersekolah di Kyoto University dan mempelajari neuroscience. Aku bertemu mereka tidak sengaja.

Aku bercakap-cakap dengan Ria, yang mendelik separo tidak percaya, "Kok teman-temanmu keren Syhur? Kok kamu punya teman?" Ria sekarang bekerja mengetes obat kanker.

Aku bertemu Karina, yang berkilah bahwa selain kena kemalangan kehilangan barang-barang berharganya, ia tidak banyak bepergian, dan semuanya "gini-gini aja".

Aku bertemu Kirana, yang telah menetapkan pilihan untuk mulai belajar hal baru, English Lit, dan pasti semuanya tidak akan "gini-gini aja".

Aku bercengkerama dengan Ella, yang kini bekerja sambil ambil MBA. Di sela-sela waktunya, dia menyalakan lagi asa menyingkap surga di perairan Sulawesi Utara.

Aku bertanya pada Firman, seperti apa kerja dia menulis aplikasi Java. Ia sebentar lagi akan bekerja di tempat baru di Malaysia.

Aku makan bersama Ayu dan Rangga. Memang makan dengan wartawan (dan mantan wartawan) energi, tentu saja pembicaraan beralih ke Chevron dan Ciremai.

Aku menemani Ayu mencari kado untuk Cindy, lalu mencari waktu agar bisa bertemu dengan yang ultah, sebelum ia pelesir menjelajah Eropa.

Aku datang menemui Danti yang kakaknya menikah. Setelahnya, ketika aku mengantarkannya ke stasiun, aku bisa menumpahkan kesahku tentang sanak dan kerabat, dan delusi sosial manusia.

Aku menerima Arry menginap di kosku, memberinya tebak-tebakan tentang e-filling pajak sebelum ia menguji kemampuannya untuk mendapat posisi baru yang akan memindahkannya dari Sumbawa.

Aku menawarkan kosku untuk tempat menginap Indras. Kawan senasib beda penempatan, yang gambarnya tidak bisa tidak bikin saya minder secara seni ketika kami duduk bersebelahan untuk seleksi ODP Indonesia Mengajar.

Aku terburu-buru meninggalkan Didin di halte busway setelah ia menginap di kosku usai ia wawancara kerja.

Aku berkilah pada Cahaya tentang lingkar pertemanan dan keimanan. Menariknya, ia berkomentar, "Ini mah kain aja," sembari merujuk ke jilbabnya. Ia baru saja menemukan kalau keping puzzlenya bukan keping yang cocok.

Di pertemuan dengan Korps Donatur Publik Indonesia Mengajar, aku sadar bahwa siklus penguatan dukungan itu nyata. Good will beget good.

Di pertemuan dengan kandidat calon pengajar muda VIII aku sadar bahwa banyak orang-orang hebat rela berusaha untuk ikut membangun bangsa. Aku pun tak tahan untuk tidak mengusili mereka di rangkaian Simulasi Mengajar Direct Assessmentnya.

Di latihan debat SEF ITB, aku senang junior-juniorku berkembang. Agak tertekan memang tidak menyenangkan, tapi mereka toh mengambil kesempatan.

Di Astronomi ITB, aku menyimak cerita Ajeng memaparkan penugasan satu tahun di Kalimantan. Suasananya riang.

Satu tahun dua bulan bertugas di desa, aku melihat Indonesia dengan warna yang berbeda, yang membawaku mengalami Jakarta dengan perspektif kaya. Delapan pekan berlalu, aku hampir tak sempat merasa sendu.

Aku akan bergerak maju.

Quotes from The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work

I started reading Alain de Botton's The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work ages ago, when I was on my trip around Indonesia. For some reasons, though, I hadn't been able to finish it until I had been accepted to be a Pengajar Muda with Indonesia Mengajar. I finished the book when I was in a travel to Bandung to catch up with debating friends.

With mere days before we're about to start our camp, the book resonated anew. Here are some of my favorite quotes. Emphases in bold face are mine.

"When does a job feel meaningful? Whenever it allows us to generate delight or reduce suffering in others. Though we are often taught to think of ourselves as inherently selfish, the longing to act meaningfully in our work seems just as stubborn a part of our make-up as our appetite for status or money. It is because we are meaning-focused animals rather than simply materialistic ones that we can reasonably contemplate surrendering security for a career helping to bring drinking water to rural Malawi or might quit a job in consumer goods for one in cardiac nursing, aware that when it comes to improving the human condition a well-controlled defibrillator has the edge over even the [making of the] finest biscuit."

A meaningful job usually isn't the path to riches, however.

"Why in our society the greatest sums of money so often tended to accrue from the sale of the least meaningful things, and why the dramatic improvements in efficiency and productivity at the heart of the Industrial Revolution so seldom extended beyond the provision of commonplace material goods like shampoo or condoms, oven-gloves or lingerie. I told Renae that our robots and engines were delivering the lion’s share of their benefits at the base of our pyramid of needs, that we were evident experts at swiftly assembling confectionery and yet we were still searching for reliable means of generating emotional stability or marital harmony."

Though surely making the production process more efficient by breaking down its steps and improving the efficiency of each step to maximize profit, has externalities.

"But however great the economic advantages of segmenting the elements of an afternoon’s work into a range of forty-year-long careers, there was reason to wonder about the unintended side effects of doing so. In particular, one felt tempted to ask – especially on sombre days when the eastward-bound clouds hung low over the head office in Hayes – how meaningful the lives might feel as a result."

All that, and the following, are from the third chapter, Biscuit Manufacture.

"What a peculiar civilisation this was: inordinately rich, yet inclined to accrue its wealth through the sale of some astonishingly small and only distantly meaningful things"

"You perhaps think, “to waste the labour of men is not to kill them.” Is it not? I should like to know how you could kill them more utterly’."

Chapter One is another favorite of mine, with its descriptions of Cargo Ship Spotting. Transporting cargo from all over the world, the cargo ship passed through places like Tunis and Alexandria.

"A romantic charge [clings] to names like Yokohama, Alexandria and Tunis – places which in reality cannot be exempt from tedium and compromise, but which are distant enough to support for a time certain confused daydreams of happiness."

Carrying countainers--which are touted as the most underrated invention, the cargo ships are by and large invisible.

"What renders the ships and ports invisible is an unwarranted prejudice which deems it peculiar to express overly powerful feelings of admiration towards a gas tanker or a paper mill – or indeed towards almost any aspect of the labouring world."

Other quotes of interests from the book,

"It seems easier to respond to our enthusiasms by trading in facts than by investigating the more naive question of how and why we have been moved."

"Symons preferred a quote from  Motivation and Personality , by the psychologist Abraham Maslow, which he had pinned up above the toilet: ‘It isn’t normal to know what we want. It is a rare and difficult psychological achievement’."

"Living with science without understanding it forced one to consider machines in the same quasi-mystical way in which a sparsely clothed Waiwai might have contemplated the phenomena of the heavens. What talent and insolence it was on the part of the white-coated fraternity to have succeeded in generating an impression of mystical awe with the help only of an ammonium perchlorate composite."

Quotes from Scott Adams' God's Debris

“I can conceive of only one challenge for an omnipotent being—the challenge of destroying himself.”

“Women believe that men are, in a sense, defective versions of women,” he began. “Men believe that women are defective versions of men.

“A woman needs to be told that you would sacrifice anything for her. A man needs to be told he is being useful. When the man or woman strays from that formula, the other loses trust. When trust is lost, communication falls apart.”

The book is downloadable here.