Proud Party Eid-nimals

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.

Eid 2009

During the Islamic lunar month of Ramadan, Muslims everywhere in the world undergo a period of spiritual rejuvenation through fasting, prayers, and acts of benevolence. It is said that the good deeds done in the holy month is another huge step toward God, so every Muslim is encouraged to take his/her “game” up another level.

However, Ramadan possesses a different side not to be forgotten. As ignorance, intolerance, and violence tighten their vicious grips, it is more important now than ever that Muslims grasp that Ramadan is also a month of transformation. The month demands that its observer be a better person: a person of awareness, tolerance, and compassion. Mankind has witnessed too many evidences of how cruel a man can be to his brothers and sisters just because they look different, think differently, or call God by different names. I genuinely believe that Ramadan is an appropriate moment to reflect upon our actions, whether we really deserve to call ourselves Muslims.

As we celebrate our personal victory after going through the grueling days of fasting, yet another victory awaits to be claimed – together. Ramadan, with its call for Godly characters, must put Muslims in the frontline of establishing peace, fostering open-mindedness, caring for the Earth, defending liberty, and respecting equality. Or more precisely, we have to change ourselves so we may contribute towards a better world for all.

Have a blessed Idul Fitri, 2009.

Can We Move On Now?

While having the world’s largest Muslim population, Indonesia has been somewhat consistently practicing a loose form of Islam. Headscarves on women hasn’t really gone mainstream until recently. At the same time, acceptance for “uncovered” women is not changed at all. Men and women enjoy basically the same freedoms, unlike in Saudi Arabia and Taliban Afghanistan. Segregation of men and women is unheard of, except for doing salat prayers. However, some issues do make some waves in the country’s Muslims: one recurrent issue is Indonesia’s participation in Miss Universe beauty pageant, and its swimwear session.

Organizations claiming to represent Islam continue to protest our Putri Indonesia (PI) for participating in the “sinful” act, asserting that it goes against Islamic teaching. If I’m not mistaken, one organization went further in the past, suing Putri Indonesia and Putri Indonesia Foundation for either making pornographic material or indecent act. Parts of the society also cited “Eastern values” and “Indonesian norms” as reasons to why no Indonesian woman should be photographed in bikinis, or take part in the first place.

Before making fun of those flimsy arguments, I should lay down my own views on this matter: wearing bikinis for the beach is as normal as wearing the mukena for doing salat prayers. The right outfit for the right occasion. (Hopefully on the right person too - Dorce in bikinis is just not healthy.) Frankly, it makes much more sense than those middle-aged women who goes to the beach in full Lebaran attire. Moreover, the PIs donned their bikinis at their own discretion. It is fully their decision. They know that PI winners will be sent to the Miss Universe contest; Miss Universe contestants are required to do the shoot. No one’s rights are being violated here.

Now, let’s move on to the first bite. Islamic figures and organizations reject the event since it flouts their teachings. Even if it does, so what? After all, it is only their views, to which they are entitled and to which we can pay no attention. In a broader scope, as a human, each person has the freedom to practice his/her religion according to his/her faith. If a girl believes that bikinis won’t burn her in hell, it is totally up to her. Even the state cannot interfere, let alone mere figures and groups.

In my point of view of Islam, the last time I checked, there is no such thing as the vicar of Allah on Earth. No Muslim has religious authority over other Muslims, even if his/her name is changed into Arabic staple names and adorned with titles like sheikh, kiai, ustaz, or habib. Similarly, MUI’s or FPI’s or anyone’s fatwa has no real power on anyone. Otherwise, it would violate the freedom to practice one’s religion freely, which Islam itself acknowledges.

Next, the phrases “Eastern values” and/or “Indonesian norms” is as discombobulating to me as Mbah Surip: everybody talks about it, yet it remains a mystery. The real meaning of “Western trends/ideas” is also unclear; it became more of a cliché than an evil, thanks to Ahmadinejad. Those phrases are frequently abused to resist any kind of new stuffs. Victims include more freedom in friendship, better sexual education, and sharper presidential debate. They all had to brave the “Eastern values” storm, before either being widely accepted or being completely rejected. Until now, Putri Indonesia and her bikini are still floating on the raging wave of public opinion.

Instead of delineating what “Eastern values”, “Indonesian norms” are, fans of those phrases are making the impression that they all mean “oppression”. On the other hand, “Western ideas” stands for wild freedom. Yet, they never try to show what “Indonesian norms” do, what good are “Eastern values” for, and what on Earth are included in the “Western ideas” category. On the grounds of fuzziness, I think the phrases –and their users- deserve no attention at all. If you do have some thoughts on “Eastern values”, “Indonesian norms”, and “Western ideas”, do not hesitate to enlighten me.

One last question, “Can’t we just move one, like, now?” Indonesia has been sending delegates to Miss Universe for several years now. When it’s spanking new, I can understand the outrage; but now, I understand that people can be foolish. Let our present and future gorgeous Putri Indonesia’s make her own choices because at the end of the day, you can make your own choices too. Don’t approve of bikinis? Just change the channel. Don’t approve of beauty pageants? Well, stop paying so much attention! It’s so simple, even Tukul can do it.

My 17an Post

July 17, 2009. I was on my vacation in Melbourne, and my main sources of news from home were Facebook and Twitter. Naturally, those two channels gave me mostly personal updates, so the day went as usual. When I was taking a nice stroll in Melbourne’s CBD, I took the free afternoon paper mX, which carried the headline Terror Blast and a mainly grey-black front page. Given the paper’s light-reading quality, I thought it was the usual exaggeration of the trivial, perhaps it was about a new reality show twist or another esoteric Australian show. Exactly because of that, I continued my walk and sat down to enjoy the afternoon at Federation Square. Everything was fine, just normal.

Man, was I terribly wrong! In the first sentence, Jakarta was mentioned, then the words JW Marriott and Ritz-Carlton followed. Apparently, the capital was once again hit by two bombs in the Mega Kuningan area. That would explain the picture in the front page, which I only then realized was a picture of the smoke billowing from one of the hotels. But I told myself to slow down, “hey, it’s mX the paper that scrutinized every bit of Lady GaGa and publishes celeb tweets everyday, it could be wrong. I’ll just check the internet later when I go back.” Simply enough, I looked online and the news started pouring in.

I was flushed by a deluge of reports about the bombings. This channel said this, that newspaper said that, and although it seemed impossible, the internet felt rather chaotic. However, there was one web service the users of which consistently exhibited a different take on the tragedy, and it would keep amassing attention for more than a month, maybe forever. It was Twitter.

Indonesian Twitter users (Twitterers?) ignited another kind of explosion, that instead of spreading fear and killing men, revealed whole new levels of optimism, activism, and nationalism in the generation frequently labeled “lazy” and/or “unpatriotic”. #IndonesiaUnite claimed the trending topics top spot (a feat which would be repeated by Mbah Surip – but that’s really another story). #IndonesiaUnite made an unprecedented impact not only in cyberspace, but also in meatspace. As time progressed, the movement grew and touched more general issues too. In the end, it was about showing off our love for Indonesia.

It would be ironic, not to mention disrespectful, to say that it took two bombs and many lost lives to switch on our nationalism. Yet, it is understandable that only something extraordinary can do so. Then again, the past Dutch colonialism did, in one way or another, force Indonesians of the time to unite. This time, the so-called spoiled Indonesian generation –my generation- suddenly came out in full force, nudging Indonesia into the world’s limelight one tweet at a time. For one thing, I have never expected the archipelago to host so many twitterers. More importantly, we (as in they and I) proved that our nationalism never hit rock bottom. Yes, maybe it’s a little drowned out by the music from our iPods or by the addictive games on Facebook, but we definitely still have nationalism.

The #IndonesiaUnite movement brought a sense of relief that Indonesia is not losing a generation, it just got another precious generation with its own attitude – and advantages, of course. That generation might have been reticent all this time, but when the time comes, as the bombings showed, we are more than ready to contribute in our own ways. If we do our parts right, Indonesians of the next era will regard this point as another milestone in the nation’s history.

The two sides of nationalism: loving your nation, despite its shortcomings; loving your nation, and complain about its shortcomings – for a better future.

A Surprising Discovery in (and about) FKUI

The month of August is always a special day for Indonesians. On August 17, 1945, after centuries of struggle, the people of Indonesia declared their independence from colonial rule. It is celebrated annually with various activities, ranging from the stand-still serious to the let-everything-loose. As the president leads the official ceremony in the Istana Negara, little kids are concentrating on nibbling the kerupuk above their heads and men are playing soccer in their wives’ negligee, all for the good time and eyes set on the prize. This year, I guess things will be even more festive after the #indonesiaunite movement and the wave of nationalism that followed. I am very optimistic on that upcoming event, but a recent personal discovery gave me another direction to look at.

During August 12-14, FKUI (Faculty of Medicine, University of Indonesia) hosted a photo exhibition, organized by the alumni society, about the role of its community during the fight for national independence. It highlighted the contribution of the Salemba community, named after the street in front of the university, in the decades before Soekarno read the declaration.

A short history lesson will do here, although it might get a little fuzzy. FKUI has been around for more than a century, longer than the University of Indonesia itself. It was not named FKUI until the 1950’s. It bore many name, many of which escaped my memory, but I do remember Sekolah Dokter Djawa (Javanese Doctor School), STOVIA (School tot Opleiding van Indische Artsen, 1989), and Geneeskundige Hogeschool (GHS, 1927). The students of STOVIA pioneered and played a prominent role in the national awakening, which later led to the nation’s independence. It is only appropriate that the STOVIA building is now made the National Awakening Museum. After the school, then GHS, moved to its current Salemba site, its defiance grew and its students were deeply involved in the process to freedom.

I visited the exhibition on August 13, and my grandparents tagged along. The lobby of the faculty building was decorated in an antique minimalist setting with sheets of elegant batik cloths hanging from the walls. Historical black-and-white photos were displayed on the support columns and old stands. Those pictures hold more than millions of words and emotions.

There were pictures of dr. Cipto Mangunkusumo, after whom the school’s teaching hospital is named. He founded the Indische Partij and argued for an independent Indonesia. Another well-known figure was dr. Abdulrahman Saleh, also called Pak Karbol. A day after the declaration of independence, radio stations were shut down by the Japanese; in response, Pak Karbol assembled a radio transmitter in the physiology laboratory to spread the good news everywhere. The laboratory is still in use for medical students. Later, he established Radio Republik Indonesia (RRI). He is also a military pilot in AURI (RI Air Force).

Other figures were also featured in the exhibition. There were dr. Leimena, dr. Latumenten, and dr. Kariadi. Several doctors’ name don’t appear often in history books, but their descendants are now holding various positions. My grandparents told me more about them, but I think they will have to repeat that.

The exhibition showed not only graduates, but also people who were admitted into the school but didn’t finish it. Mohammad Roem, of the Roem-Royen Agreement, transferred to the law school. Soedarpo Sastrosatomo was fired from the school because he refused to obey Japanese order to shave his head. He then joined the negotiators in the Linggarjati Agreement. After the country stabilized, he founded Samudra Indonesia, a shipping company that grew powerful.

A couple pictures or two captured the campus itself during the years. The building was astonishingly majestic, and it still is today. My grandma shared a little story of how the students, including her, used to take shortcuts by climbing over a short wall, and at one time was caught by a professor who just laughed at the scene. A picture immortalized the patriotic scene in which students, doctors, and nurses staged a walk-out from the hospital after it was invaded and taken over by the Dutch.

The exhibition was some kind of an epiphany to me. I know that FKUI has a history like no other school, but only yesterday I grasped the whole thing. I would have to thank the organizers who set up the exhibition, and my grandparents, who added so many little bits of interesting information about the people and events in the picture. (It turned out that my grandpa organized a past Dies Natalis, and met several historical figures to enrich a stage play he planned for the occasion). Considering its past, it would be great if FKUI compiles its deep history and the stories of its figures. This exhibition made me a proud Indonesian and a motivated FKUI student; imagine what such book could make us all?

First-time Research Experience

“Publish or perish” sounds scary enough to me and my fellow students in the medical school that we forced ourselves to plunge into the mysterious world of scientific research. After a month of preparation, I did my first data collection today in a dense residential area (also called a kampung) in East Jakarta, and I found out that there’s only a microscopic line between publishing and perishing.

Some background info: Six of us are doing a research on basic immunization in six areas around Jakarta. Per government regulation, basic immunization in Indonesia consists of BCG, DTP, polio, hepatitis B, and measles vaccines; immunization schedule is also set out in the regulation, albeit a little different from the pediatric society’s recommendation since the government has to consider the public health aspects. We want to know the coverage of the immunizations, and find out what factors are correlated to completing the immunization program on time. In theory, we are giving out questionnaires to mothers with toddlers; in practice, we’re dealing with restless young mothers, crying tots, and people who are too eager for a little souvenir.

Even before we planned anything, I had already realized that it is foolish to think that a field research can go smoothly without any hiccups. Anyway, that’s not a reason to let everything go wild; so we contacted the Kampung Melayu posyandu (community health service for toddlers) coordinator and delineated our plans for the research. She was extremely helpful and resourceful, thus lifting a lot of burden from our amateur shoulders. She took care of the location and contacted the research subjects. And in one day, we had the best plan ever. Or so we thought.

D-Day. Curiously enough, our research mentor called it “turun penelitian” a.k.a. getting down –and dirty- with the research. The day started peacefully. We settled in the place, and a couple of mothers with their toddlers came. We happily acted our part as the eager and caring researchers. Those first mothers were very lucky: we recited the whole ethics stuffs, played nice with their tots, helped them fill out the questionnaire attentively, and gave them a proper goodbye. All the time we were totally oblivious to the impending chaos.

Throngs of mothers just appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The new crowd suddenly packed our research spot and bombarded us, if not whined, with requests. “I haven’t got the questionnaire!”, “Can I have a pen, please?”, “I am in a hurry! Help me fill this out!”. Our stock of questionnaire simply flew everywhere into the hands of the overexcited subjects. The niceties were shamelessly replaced by hurried efficiency. Instead of the calm introduction, we had to tell them to complete the questionnaire straight away. (We still paid attention to the consent form, so no ethics problem there.)

Despite the main theme of chaos, there were many bits of interesting insight and experience there. One of the most serious insight is that quite a lot of the mothers lost their child’s immunization record to frequent floods. Only then the fact struck us that Kampung Melayu is dangerously flood prone. Apparently, floods in the area can reach the second floor. Second, their interest in our research should have been expected since the kampung is one of the university’s favorite research areas. They know that there will be souvenirs for them. Hence, they come for the souvenirs. Can’t blame them, and we do need them.

There were several mothers who caught our attention amid the choking crowd. There was this one mother who just stared blankly with a pen in her hand and questionnaire in front of her. My friend expected that, as she helps others with their forms, the mother would have finished hers. My friend was completely shocked to find her spacing out without any ink on her questionnaire. Another mother annoyingly asked my other friend to “serve” her first, because she had to breastfeed her son. That would have been fine, if not for the fact that there are people who got there before her and she could have breastfed her son while waiting for her turn. I don’t know why she insisted that she must fill her forms before breastfeeding. In the end, she did her questionnaire as her son had his milk in tranquility.

Surprisingly, the crowd cleared out as fast as it appeared. We instantly had a stack of filled forms with precious data, and also a chance to look at each others’ freaked out faces. No one dared to think that our first work would soon be over, but fortunately we finished the day in one piece. I wouldn’t bet on our sanity though.

All this stuff, and we still have 5 places to go. Yet, I proudly say that I feel no regret. It is a unique experience, and we won’t be able to avoid it anyway. It is a matter of time, whether we get this now and become prepared or years later when we have more things to stress about and are unprepared. After all, we had a good laugh on our way home, thanks to this research.

Movie Chit-Chat: UP to the Top!

Until last night, I had been preparing a writing to post here soon. Then Up came along, and it floated like a house with balloons to the top of my priority list. It has been a long time since the last “movie chit-chat”, which should give you a clue to how good my movie reviews are. Let’s just say the quality is proportional to the frequency. To be honest, I feel like I’m the Paula Abdul of movie reviews, only less drunk and less clap-happy: I blindly praise almost all movies I’ve seen. My movie chit-chats weren’t as much a review as a personal opinion. So if a proper review is what you’re looking for, you’d better look somewhere else.

I’ve just watched Up Thursday night, a little late considering that it’s been around for a week or so. When its trailer started to show up months ago, I wanted to go see Up simply because it’s another Pixar product. It is too normal to be so eager as Pixar has given us Toy Story, Finding Nemo, and WALL-E, to name a few. Last weekend, Up was already playing everywhere and words start to circulate. What I got from my friend was that the movie is lovely and very touching. Some admitted that Up brought them to tears. They mentioned something about the opening scene and the flashback scenes. And I was like “whaat!?”. And then they said it was funny too. Those cutey-touchy comments could have cancelled my plan right away, yet I resisted. Even if it is that mellow, a Pixar movie must never be missed. I proudly confirm that Up is that amazing and is also a must-watch.

Sitting in the cinema, I braced myself for the said tear-jerking moments. However, I beg to differ even from the start. The movie started exceedingly beautiful, showing the main character Carl Fredricksen’s adventure-crazy childhood and how he met fellow explorer girl Ellie, who later became his wife. The story was accompanied by wonderful music that still echoes in my ears. The couple seemed to have a wonderful time, except for the fact that they were unable to have children. Then, the couple set their goal on visiting the Paradise Falls somewhere in South America, but life keeps getting in the way. When they almost realized that dream, Ellie passed away. Carl was then left alone bitter. I loved how they portray Carl’s life: childhood, wedding, married life, old age, and widower.

One day, after an assault to a construction worker in front of his house, Carl was ordered to move to Shady Oaks retirement home. In one night, Carl inflated thousands of balloons (Wikipedia said 10,000) and in the morning, surprised the caretakers when his house floated off its foundation and flew away. The house itself with the balloons is a festival of color, totally unforgettable. Mid-air, Carl was then joined by Wilderness Explorer kid Russell who was eager to get his “Assisting the Elderly” merit badge. From there, the wacky adventure started.

I cannot stress this enough: Up is a must-watch. It has a unique story, a good balance of emotions, the gorgeous Pixar graphics, and charming music. I would say that the movie is poetic.