There is something different about this Eid (locally also called Lebaran) for me. In previous years, my family usually went to an Eid prayer open-air congregation, got prepared back at home, and dashed off to two big family gatherings.
The first would be to my father’s side of the family, and the location always changes each year. I met my grandma and my dad's siblings there; not to mention the familiar faces (their names keep eluding me every year, let alone how they are related to me) and the who-dat-uncles. They are what I call Lebaran relatives: you discover their existence and chat with them in a Lebaran gathering, only to forget about them as you leave.
After that half-fun half-ordeal, we zoomed to my mother’s huge huge family. I did so with great alacrity since there are only so many I’m-trying-to-be-nice-even-though-I-have-no-idea-who-you-are smiles you can give your Lebaran relatives. It was held in my great grandma’s house and I know everyone who comes, even if my family tree knowledge is a little fuzzy. This family gathering, or some sort of a reunion, is reliably refreshing. Apart from the interesting random conversations, in which SBY got frequently bashed, the Lebaran photo-op is never to be missed. Squeezing my mom’s family into a single frame is no easy feat, but being in that very frame gives me a strange sense of being at home.
There’s none of that for this year. I don’t know how events transpired in the higher tiers, but suddenly my mom announced that the -for a lack of better term- “elders” decided to have the Eid festivities in my home. Well, to be more accurate, it is actually my maternal grandma’s home. Because she is the first child, somewhat automatically her house becomes the place of choice. Hassles and persistent mess aside (our helper has gone back to her hometown in East Java earlier), the seemingly simple change created even bigger changes in my Eid experience
First, I could take my time after the Eid prayer. As the feast is at my home, I had to travel nowhere, which saves a lot of time. I helped arrange the meals, move furniture around, and then relax. My mom didn’t have to brandish her whip to make me rush for a shower.
Having the gathering in my house also saved me from going to the other side. I wanted to meet my paternal grandma there, I really do, but the prospect of meeting a crowd of Lebaran relatives deterred me. I’m not that bad a grandson; if it gives any reassurance, I did go to my grandma’s place that night for the Eid.
The annual photography moment took an exciting turn: the house can’t accommodate everyone for the picture. In an almost literal example of thinking outside the box, my dad as the official photographer of the day herded everyone to the street. Everyone was to line up in the roadside in front of the house so we wouldn’t interfere with whatever traffic that comes. However, it appeared that my dad still couldn’t get everyone into a single picture. He didn’t have enough room across the street to fit everyone. As I said before, I have a huge family.
So God wanted us to be a little naughty, and we changed the orientation of the picture. Now the line goes from one side of the road to the other. We effectively blocked the road. If you can’t picture that, I made a rough visual aid.
The yellow dotted line is the former position, and the yellow arrow is the farthest my dad could go. Then we moved to the position of the red line, which is the point where the street splits into two, making it wider - though we we still have to squeeze in. The advantage of that orientation is that my dad (the red arrow) could go backwards all the way. The greenery to the back of the crowd also served as a gorgeous backdrop. The presence of a big old beringin tree made someone comment that the pic was taken in a botanical garden.
Because we aren’t such obnoxious people, we did take the minimal traffic into account. We thought that we wouldn’t be blocking the road too long so the plan was OKed without much debate. Well, we forgot that the traffic obeys Murphy’s law. As we tried to assemble everyone, traffic suddenly increased. At first, when the formation wasn’t quite stable, a car pushed through and we gave way with a “mohon maaf lahir batin”.
But then, after everyone lined up for the camera, cars started to avoid the street. I counted at least three cars -I’m sure I missed a car or two- that had entered the street and turned back to look for another way. We honestly didn’t think we looked so intimidating back there, yet the result from the camera proved us wrong. We looked like a mob ready to charge at anything. Not my fault. Really. If you are wondering: yes, we blocked the road once and we went all the way. We took tens of pictures on the street. Thank God none of us had to be questioned by any policeman for causing unrest.
Last, after everyone went home, we had two things left: the good thing and the bad thing, although the difference isn’t quite clear. The bad thing is rather obvious. The house was, let’s gently say, not as clean and tidy as I would like it. The four of us (my parents, me, and my brother) had to mop the floors multiple times after realizing that it was so sticky that a spider could have trapped us there. The dishwashing department was not hit so hard, thanks to my mom’s preference for disposables. (Sorry trees and hippies). We only had some trays and serving plates to clean. Moreover, the furniture arrangement have not gone back to its original state.
The good thing: leftovers! Ketupats, opor ayam, sambel goreng ati, and cakes abound! Before you have any crazy thoughts, we were not a hopeless family that feeds solely on leftovers. For the sake of our sanity, we (had to) go out for lunch. Only at night we take a bite on the lebaran food, which saves us from endless nights of instant noodles.
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