Fulan

Dumber.
That is her name.
Dumber is the butterfly who dances in my tummy.
She is my butterfly. She is mine.
She married him on a high hill, Bukittinggi.
I lost her forever. My butterfly has gone eternally.
I was defeated by that Dumb male.
Since then, I let him keep the name.
I decided to change mine into Dumbest.

A trully beautiful writing by Stania, it’s honest and original. Full of love, affection and plenty of charms albeit brutally possesive. However, what catch my attention most from this story is the pain of letting go, which I’m quite certain that every of us has been in this kind of position before, deja vu!

Anyway, thank you Stania for letting me put your story on my blog, I am sure many people will enjoy reading it as much as I do.

Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest
I’m Dumb.
That’s my name.
Everyone who hear it for the first time thought that I was joking. But I was not.
And they soon realize why I was inherited the name.

I am a stutterer. I can’t speak easily, especially in front of audiences.
My
hands would shake, my knees would tremble and my pant would soon get
wet. I am clumsy as well, like to procrastinate and forgetful.
It’s not something I’m proud of, but these traits seem running wildly in my blood. Do people mock at me?

Sure, and the scorns even get louder if I was caught doing mistakes.
But
it’s better to be underestimated. When you’re doing things correctly
-even if it’s a small thing- people will give you credit; but if you
are overestimated, you will carry a burden of people’s expectation that
you might not want to know in a first place.

Afterall, God is very kind to me.
I am blessed by green thumbs. Tener mano para las plantas.
I like taking care of plants and pinching off the plant’s growing tips
is my specialty. It makes the plant send out lateral shoots and make it
bushier. My bosses always satisfy because the plants juices and cells
in their garden become lodged under my fingers.

Nature is my place.
Like
Nabokov, I feel the highest enjoyment when I stand among butterflies
and their food plants. It’s an ecstasy and behind the ecstasy is
something else, which is hard to explain. It is like a momentary vacuum
into which rushes all that I love. A sense of oneness with sun and
stone.

But still, I’m Dumb, the careless and sloppy person.
On one
important day, I was late to Kebun Garden, the place where I have been
working for the past three years as a gardener. It was a prestigious
centennial gardening contest my boss always wanted to participate.
Seeing my great jobs with plants and lovingness to butterfly, they
decided to join the competition. They believed my tender touch will
make us win.

I worked my butt off to prepare for that day. I was
doing extra ordinary efforts for that… but maybe because I’m Dumb, I
was late and mistakenly gave a stinky fertilizer instead a nice
fragrant one on the hallway side.

I was devastated. Do they know
that my heart was also shattered into pieces because of that? My work
owns a special room in me. I love it and watch the feeling grows
everyday. It calms me and gives me meanings.

But isn’t it very human to be wrong? Perfection only belongs to the Divine.
I
don’t regret it. If I have to regret all the bad things in my life,
then I also have to regret the good things too. And she is one of the
good things happened in my life.

Dumber.
That’s her name.
Dumber is the butterfly who dances in my tummy.
She’s my butterfly. She’s mine.
She always told me that she’s not dumber than me. In contrary, much smarter.
But I think that’s only her way to convince herself because… well, you can see it from her name, right?

I first met her when she was nervously crossing the street in front of
my garden. She was almost hit by a truck if I did not pull her fast
into the sidewalks. Fretfully, she explained her anxiety that day. She
was a microbiology student. That early morning, her lab’s autoclave
blew up when she tried to disinfect all of her glass equipments. She
has already set the right temperature, checking the pressure and turned
on the alarm clock. But my oh my, she fell asleep like a log, which a
normal alarming clock couldn’t wake her up. Birds of the same feather
flocks together and I quickly feel attached to her.

I accompanied
her into a supporting group. No, not for the alcoholic one, this was a
special class for students who have problems finishing their final
projects experiments.

First, she would go into the front of the class and said,
“Hi. My name is Dumber….., ” she looked around and continued hesitantly,
“..and I have problems finishing my thesis…” she took a deep breath.
The crowds then replied, “HI DUMBER!!!”

I accompanied her through the sessions until graduation day.

We were inseparable.
I wrote many secret poems and stories of her during my off work in the garden.
I read countless poets and literary works to copy their skills into mine.
My life was never been better than that. I even lost my startled tongue around her.

But there comes another Dumb one day. He works as a mechanical
engineer. Yes, his salary in a multinational company is twenty times
higher than my gardening pay out, but nothing special about him.

The Dumb-male is a mediocre person, in my opinion.
He always utters awful jokes and his face…is soooo… mechanic!
I
couldn’t care less why Dumber feels very attracted to him. And it’s a
shitty thing to share a same name with someone you hate. I wish he knew
manner by seeing that Dumber is mine and cautiously kept away. But he
didn’t. Dumb!
One day Dumber told me that she wanted to marry him. I was panicked.
I asked Dumber,
“Why do you have to marry him?”
“Ya iyalah, masa gue mau ngejomblo terus… nanti gue dibilang perawan tua lagi. Kata orang tua, bawa sial, tauk.”

“Please
stay with me. I will write you stories; I will bring you poems and
poetry, I will pick the most beautiful flowers in my garden to take
home everyday … Why do you even consider him to be your other half? He
doesn’t write. He didn’t even understand a single verse. He only cares
about money, business, flourishing and reproduce. I read Whitman, I
worship Rumi and I adore Coelho. Engineer is a noble profession, and
necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are
where we stay alive for. I can give you life; I can set you free…”
“Hah? Ngomong apa sih elo? Mending lo cari pacar aja, biar lo gak ngejomblo kayak sekarang. Sana gih gih gih .."

She married him on a high hill, Bukittinggi.
I lost her forever. My butterfly has gone eternally.
I was defeated by that Dumb male.
Since then, I let him keep the name.
I decided to change mine into Dumbest.

"Freedom is not merely the opportunity to do as one pleases; neither is it merely the opportunity to choose between set alternatives. Freedom is, first of all, the chance to formulate the available choices, to argue over them — and then, the opportunity to choose". -C. Wright Mill

Hari ulang tahun kemerdekaan yang dirayakan oleh moyoritas masyarakat di Indonesia dari mulai religiously upacara bendera, pesta rakyat; mulai lomba panjat pinang, tarik tambang sampai musik dangdut -di KBRI Londonpun acaranya goyang dangdut, that’s right- mugkin rightly so, adalah ungkapan kegembiraan sebagaian besar orang Indonesia, tapi bagi minoritas? Indonesia has a long way to go.

Indonesia, post kekuasaan orde baru, to its credit, sudah melangkah cukup jauh dalam waktu yang sangat pendek, demokratisasi di segala aspek sudah bisa kita rasakan, proses pemilu yang fair, freedom of speech, dan dengan menutup mata kejadian** kecil tentang media di Indonesia, kita sudah punya free press.

It’s all good in the cover. tadi disaat kita sudah punya pemerintah yang meski jauh dari sempurna, sudah bisa dibilang masuk akal and did reasonably good jobs. What’s trouble me most is the attitude of majority of Indesians yang belum bisa menelaah kebebasan secara utuh, bebas berarti kebebasan untuk memilih, dan sejauh itu tidak melanggar hak orang lain, kebebasan itu harus dijaga dan di hormati, konsekuensinya adalah kita harus menjadi legawa kalau orang lain berbeda dengan kita.

Dalam kesempatan ini saya menyoroti tentang beberapa insiden yang ada di Indonesia akir akir ini, misalnya, bagaimana kaum Ahmadiah di discreditkan, dimusuhi and at some levels diperangi secara fisik. Terus adanya attitude yang condong ke kekerasan jika suatu kelompok tidak manut ama mayoritas, seperti intimidasi intimidasi FPI terhadap pihak Playboy atau kelompok anti RUU-APP yang tidak jarang diwarni kekerasan. It saddens me so much and I really feel for them, the minority.

The ather attitude that I really hate, though, often come across, both from general public and ironically some highly educated people that I know, is the tendency to simplify things.

Contoh: Attititude yang menganggap, Aceh, Irian, Maluku itu bagian Indonesia, therefore, mereka ga punya hak macem**, kalo masih mokong sikat aja. Another, Perang Israel itu perang antara Yahudi dan Islam, therefore Yahudi selalu salah dan Islam selalu benar, sikat habis Yahudi! mari Jihad ke Lebanon! more? Di Indonesia itu mayoritas adalah Islam Sunni, therefore, Islam yang aneh** seperti Ahmadiah and co, tidak bisa diterima, sikat habis mereka!….so much for the freedom.

Mungkin klaim klaim diatas ada elemen kebenaranya, but it becomes so wrong when they come up with a quick fix based on simpliflying not-so-simple-problem. Jadi intinya kita jangan terlalu gampangnya menjudge apa apa yang kita sendiri belum 100% faham, mungkin cara yang terbaik adalah mempelajari dan mendengar point of view dari kedua sisi dan mungkin juga rumus Stephen R. Covey dalam hal ini sangat berguna: Seek firts to understand…than to be understood

Atau mungkin juga pak Frederick Douglass saat membuat statement dibawah, sudah melihat bagaiamana keadaan Indonesia disaat ini, sehingga dia berucap:

"Those who profess to favor freedom and yet depreciate agitation, are people who want crops without ploughing the ground; they want rain without thunder and lightning; they want the ocean without the roar of its many waters. The struggle may be a moral one, or it may be a physical one, or it may be both. But it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand; it never has and it never will."

Anyway, Dirgahayu Indonesia yang ke 61!

..And for you non-Indonesians who seek to undertand democracy in Indonesia, I can assure you, freedom does exist in this country (terms and conditions apply, courtesy of the majority).

"Indonesian voices very much under-represented in the outside world simply because hardly any books, academic publication and conventional media are written in English. Indonesia, a country with more than 200 million population, has only one English newspaper,  Jakarta  Post , and none of existing Indonesian magazines are in English. And hardly any best seller Indonesian books written by prominent intellectuals are written in or translated into English"

A  very well-laid argument dari blognya A. Fatih Syuhud 

10 Reasons Why We Blog in English

1. My English writing skill is not good. I’d like to improve it by writing regularly in a medium where editorial barrier is non-existent.

2. English is undoubtedly understood –though not necessarily spoken or written–by many, if not by most, influential people in the world. Hence larger audience, more visibility and influence of some sort.

3. Most internet-literate Indonesians understand English. Using English in my blog, therefore, does not hinder Indonesian readers to appreciate what I’d intend to convey to them, my primary audience.

Indonesia

4. Indonesian voices very much under-represented in the outside world simply because hardly any books, academic publication and conventional media are written in English. Indonesia, a country with more than 200 million population– has only one English newspaper, the Jakarta Post, and none of existing Indonesian magazines are in English. And hardly any best seller Indonesian books written by prominent intellectuals are written in or translated into English.

5. Among 10 percent of Indonesian internet users, only about 0.4 percent of them are blogging which means if you blog in Bahasa Indonesia you have to be satisfied with that of 0.4 percent readers who does not necessarily read your blog. Less potential readers will lead to less blogging courages.

6. It gives non-Indonesian a chance to know you and Indonesia: the mindset, culture, faith, etc. And it gives you more chance to interact with them. Hence, more understanding of multi-polar world and broaden your vista and horizon of thinking.

7. Depending on your blogging influence, but at the least it’ll give you more self-esteem by making more friends from various cultures accross the continents.

8. There are many people outthere with good intention to make an interfaith and intercultural dialogue; every now and then they need a person from particular country, say Indonesia, to talk to. Let them know that you are the person they want.

9. If your blog content is good, the possibility of being published and then reviewed by prominent international book reviewer is not far away.

10. Blogging in English, like blogging in any other languages including Bahasa Indonesia, is basically history in the making. The difference is by blogging in English you are making history in front of many faces and backgrounds from many countries and therefore it adds more to your credibility.

How women won the sex war

Aug 3rd 2006
From The Economist print edition

Larry Summers may well have been right, but men are done for anyway

ONE of last year’s better entertainments was the Larry Summers show.
The row over whether Mr Summers, the then president of Harvard
University, was right or wrong to say that natural ability may be one
of the reasons why there are fewer female than male maths professors at
Harvard brought pleasure to politically correct and incorrect alike. It
confirmed the prejudices of both about each other, and led to the
downfall of a man beloved by neither.

These differences may or may not be innate, but the argument anyway
misses the point. The interesting question is not whether men are more
likely to be weirdly good at maths than women are, but whether the
things that men are good at are more or less useful than the things
that women are good at. And the answer, in the rich world at least, is
no.

Technology and globalisation are undermining the usefulness of male
skills. Take map-reading. The female tendency to call for five right
turns while holding the map upside down, playing “I spy” with the
children and remarking on interesting features of the local
half-timbering has been attested to over many decades by impartial
scientists as well as by irritated husbands. But once satellite
navigation rendered the ability to tell the cartographic difference
between a car park and a lake redundant, that aspect of male
superiority disappeared out of the window, along with the crucial pages
of the road atlas that the toddler removed while practising his
superior hand-eye co-ordination skills.

Men, studies show, are exceedingly good at rotating
three-dimensional shapes in their head. Perhaps women once stared
open-mouthed in wonder as their mates juggled pyramids of imaginary
polyhedra. Such tricks are also quite handy for engineers who
specialise in building large bits of machinery, digging tunnels or
slinging bridges across rivers. But, now that the rich world has about
as many tunnels and bridges as it needs, and the large bits of
machinery which aren’t made by computers and robots are made by the
Chinese, their usefulness is limited.

Modern professional life is dominated by management, which these
days sets high store by emotional intelligence, empathy and
communication. Wise chaps seeking professional advancement should
therefore spend their free time with groups of women, boning up on how
to undermine somebody’s confidence while pretending to boost it, and
how to turn an entire lunch table against an absent colleague without
saying a mean word. Such skills are likely to have a greater influence
on their lifetime earnings than the ability to spin an icosahedron.
It’s a girlie man’s world, as Arnold Schwarzenegger didn’t say.