Monthly Archives: April 2016

Tentang Mirip Buruk di Halaman 100 Novel 1984 dan 1965 Buat Saya

Standar

Biasanya saya baru akan kasih komentar tentang buku kalau sudah selesai dibaca. Tapi novel 1984 karya George Orwell ini baru sampai halaman 100 aja, sudah kasih tiga kali mimpi buruk dalam seminggu terakhir. Biasanya juga saya akan cepat selesai baca novel, tapi karena satu dan lain hal, novel kali ini cukup makan waktu lama buat diselesaikan, selalu mentok sama urusan kampus.

Mimpi buruk pertama adalah di hari saya ulang tahun. Saya ada di sebuah bentrokan bersenjata, remaja lawan remaja. Mungkin perang antar gang, tapi berada di tengah situasi mereka saling tembak itu benar menakutkan. Saya tiarap di jalan untuk menghindari jarak tembak kedua pihak. Saya melihat teman dekat saya yang dalam kehidupan nyata sangat sopan, truly British gentlemen menjadi menakutkan.  Dia memimpin kelompok militant, pemberontak dan dia bahkan tak sudi melihat apalagi menyelamatkan saya. Apakah dia musuh saya? entah. Saya menangis sejadinya, mungkin untuk dia, mungkin untuk perang yang menyeramkan, mungkin untuk nasib saya. Lalu kawan saya yang lain tiba di lokasi bermaksud meliput dengan kameranya, saya berlari menuju dia. Sambil mencengkeram kerah bajunya, saya berteriak sambil menangis… apa yang terjadi sama dunia ini?… saya terbangun sambil menangis.

Mimpi buruk kedua, saya ada di sebuah penjara, gelap dan menakutkan. Saya mencari jalan keluar. Tidak sendirian tapi tidak juga bisa membayangkan dengan siapa saya berusaha kabur itu?. Mimpi ketiga adalah pagi tadi. Di langit pesawat tempur berjajar, membentuk formasi untuk melindungi pesawat kepresidenan. Perang akan segera terjadi. Ketika bermaksud keluar rumah, intelejen mencegat saya dan memastikan bahwa saya adalah tahanan rumah.

Semula ga sadar bagaimana semua mimpi ini beruntun terjadi. Lalu ingat peringatan teman, dia bilang, ketika selesai baca 1984, dia mimpi buruk berminggu minggu… saya baru sampai 100 halaman dan sudah tiga kali mendapatkan mimpi buruk.

Saya rasa bukan karena buku ini menakutkan, tapi cerita di dalamnya begitu dekat dengan apa yang terjadi sekarang, hari ini. Saya takjub bagaimana cerita yang ditulis diakhir 1940-an itu bisa menggambarkan persis kejadian sekarang. Atau barangkali novel ini jadi panduan negara mengendalikan warganya.

Saya baru kelar melewati cerita tentang ‘Two minutes of hate,’ bagaimana negara dalam term Big brother memaksa setiap warganya menonton dua menit film tentang ‘musuh negara,’ salah satunya adalah seseorang yang menuntut agar demokrasi terjadi. Cerita itu begitu dekat dengan pengalaman pribadi. Kembali ke tahun 1980-an akhir, saya dipaksa sekolah menonton film Pengkhianatan Gerakan 20 September… ga cuma dua menit, tapi 271 menit!! Saya dan generasi saya dipaksa menonton dan bahkan bikin laporan tentang apa yang disaksikan….

Kamu tahu betapa itu menakutkan buat saya? Sejauh ingatan, saya cuma menonton 2 kali. Saya menolak menonton film itu! Saya rela tidak naik kelas dan dapat angka merah daripada harus menonton film itu. Saya menangis meraung-raung, ngumpet di kolong tempat tidur, menutup kuping dan mata, dan itu ga mengobati ketakutan saya. Rumah kami di petakan padat, percuma matiin tv, menangis, menutup kuping dan mata, ketika semua orang HARUS menonton film yang sama! maka setiap malam 30 September, saya ketakutan, sangat ketakutan! Saya tertidur setelah cape menangis… kadang tertidur dalam pelukan ayah saya.

Ayah saya, polisi, tapi dia ayah saya dan dia tahu saya menderita karena kewajiban itu. Dia lah yang menuliskan laporan tentang film itu saban tahun! Iyap saban tahun. Mana ada guru yang berani menegur ayah saya yang pagi setelahnya mengantarkan saya sekolah dengan muka bengkak habis menangis dan beliau berseragam lengkap…. Berani memarahi saya karena ga menonton, maka urusannya ya sama ayah saya… thank you pap!

Seingat saya tidak cuma kami diwajibkan menonton Pengkhianatan G20S, tapi juga pemberontakan PKI di Blitar 1948.. dan film yang dibuat untuk mencuci otak kami lainnya. Kamu pikir itu menyenangkan?! Itu memuakkan, menyakitkan, mengerikan!

Saya hampir lupa betapa memori menakutkan itu masih ada jauh di belakang otak saya, sampai di KBR ada acara menonton film Act of Killing by Joshua Oppenheimer. Tetiba rasa takut itu muncul lagi. Saya menolak menonton! Sampai hari ini saya tidak menonton film itu! Tidak! Tidak lagi takut yang muncul, saya Cuma bisa menangis dalam marah, iya saya marah! Kamu boleh menyebut saya berlebihan, tapi takut, sedih, marah, emosi trauma yang muncul tidak bisa saya sangkal.

September 2015, Goldsmiths University of London bikin acara nonton bareng The Look of Silence… kami ada empat orang Indonesia di antara puluhan mahasiswa Goldsmiths yang memadati ruangan sempit, betumpukan kami duduk di sana. Saya menangis sepanjang film… that is just too much for me! Damn bahkan menulis ini aja saya menangis… kacrut kacrut…

Sekuat saya mencoba untuk menuliskan cerita pribadi tentang pengalaman menonton film itu, atau bahkan berkeinginan menulis essay untuk tugas kampus tentang bagaimana Orde Baru melakukan propaganda lewat film ini, saya tidak bisa…. sama sekali tidak bisa menuliskannya… Iya saya marah. Masa kecil saya yang ceria terenggut saban 30 September. Sebagian dari saya ingin sekali melupakan trauma ini, tapi sebagian lagi ingin menyimpannya, sebagai sejarah kelam, bahwa saya dan generasi saya yang dicuci otaknya, menderita. Orde baru gagal mencuci otak kami… kami adalah korban propaganda kalian, kami tidak sebodoh itu menerima mentah-mentah apa yang dipaksakan pada kami.

Oh well, seperti juga saya melanjutkan hidup, halaman 100 dari novel 1984 itu pun harus dilanjutkan.  Saya hanya perlu bertahan dari mimpi buruk yang mungkin kembali datang…. Cuci tangan, cuci kaki, minum susu hangat dan berdoa sebelum tidur, berharap mimpi buruk tak lagi datang….

george-orwell-6

Iklan

38th, alive and kicking …

Standar

The great thing when you woke up on your day was the feeling that you are alive, been giving a brand new day to start the new adventures in life. Thank you, universe for an amazing 37 and I am ready for the new one.

Second best thing is to find hundreds of wishes from friends. You are only got three times in life when you got so many wishes, pray, and attention; your birthday, your wedding and your death. I hope the universe will make those wishes come true… Thank you friends, love, and families for all the wishes. I feel so loved and blessed.

Third things; the celebration!! … I love being around with friends, as simple as being having lunch and talk… I love you guys.  Although, not everyone can make it but your wishes are mean a lot to me.

Previously, I wanted to have an alone birthday, away from the crowd, somewhere in Dublin and talked with Iwan to celebrate my day. But then Ivana was right, I only have this moment, in London with friends, my wonderful friends who is always there for me for good and bad times for the past 7 months and surely for the rest of the year. Three weeks ago, I decided to celebrate my day with you people… share the invitation and viola… 20 people replied while the capacity of the restaurant is only 15 hahaha… we were managed, squeezed!

And how should I feel for being 38? I am old by numbers, I wished to be more wiser – did I wise before? Aha. Feel full energy because I am surrounded by positive energy from these younger friends, their energy to change the world are tremendous! I live through them… they  made me feel so much young, they got me drunk  – okay a bit – dancing and yelling if it’s not singing, we stayed up until morning, just talked, got on the bus  – I got the wrong bus once, stupidly took a wrong train once. I giggled at 3 am in the morning, talked about the huge bird-shit on the bus window… instead of writing an essay, we talked and talked… we took a coffee break too much! We went to a gay club, for me that was the first time, got my chick being pinched and kissed by strangers. Being kicked out from the pub, being forbidden to enter the library by friends… being called as a crazy woman, queen of the library, to a sunshine and surrogate mom, having new younger brothers and sisters, to new nephews. Yes, I feel so much younger!

I had my times, being bad, crazy, and also done things that I couldn’t imagine before. I launched my first novel at 35, I climbed the mountain for the first time at 33, I joined the world class NGO and became their first staff for 10 years in Indonesia, at an age of 34. Got my scholarship at 37, and hopefully, will get my master in a couple of months. PhD? Hmm… maybe on my 40. Baby? Hmm… I will adopt one in two years.

What are my deep wishes on my birthday? Practically, I don’t have a new one. I will carry on with my dreams, to build a house for me and mom, doing good things as long as I can and start my own media firm.  I wish my friendship and networking won’t last 5 months, but will continue for the next 20 years and on. I am no longer wish to die at 60, because of you guys. I want to see you on the world stage of politics, be great leaders in every sector that you are passionate in as we are being told before, and we will meet again in the world conference or for a wedding celebration in another part of the world J. I want to live for the next 38 years!

Thank you for making my life so colorful and meaningful… I love you!!

my 38th(foto by Aak ‘Warung Padang’ Firdaus)

(video by Naru

 

 

Spring Stories, 7th months in London #mycheveningjourney

Standar

Now that I had submitted essays, feel so relieve and can share notes about my 7th months here in London. It has been a juggling month between essays, friends came to visit and terrible news that keep coming from home.

Let’s start with bad stories first… there was a day when I got bad news from home. Brother and sister fought, big one… mom cried on the phone because she miss me, the only sense person that she could talk to. My best friend texted me asked for my breast tumor doctor name, like a thunder struck, I knew it would lead to something bad… my heart broke in sudden…  all I ever want is to be there with friends and family when they need me most… and I couldn’t… that day, I felt worst, I felt that coming to London was such a big mistake in life! That day was not over yet, my bad attitude made me lose my friendship with one of a good friend I had here… great huh! It was the worst 24 hours in my life!

But what makes you feel down, should be the main reason to get up and move on!

Citra will be disappointed if she knew I said coming to London is a big mistake. Since 2005 when she got chevening, all she has been telling me was to try one! try or you die in curiosity… I did.. I got one… here… because of her! She has been helping me a lot!! If she can smile widely on the things that she has right now, I can do as well… I can’t let her down for feeling bad for can’t be there with her…  you are in my heart and thought Citra…. Muaaah … hug…

Lose one friend, keep dozen what I have now… I still have good friends that I can talk to, share my stories, helping me with my question for Jokowi even hahaha, once awhile we are taking break for a coffee and a cake. A friend who keeps checking how my essay so far, proof-read my essays, helping me to structure my messy thought hahaha, a friend to argue and a friend to share stories about the cute guys in the library. I still have Leandro, checking me up from Barcelona. Hossein with his messy hair that always appears like a ghost without notice… we bumped each other all the time at the library, he is my shoulder to cry on.

I have 7 friends visited London, like almost every week I catch up with one of them. It was a great moment, a nice break from essay and the library, act like a tourist for once awhile, can cross the street before the green sign… tourists ‘allowed’ to do anything hahaha… they were also bring something from home for me… and listening stories from home are also a tremendous moment for me. A bit from home always wonderful..

Anyhow.. that’s life.. a wild ride sometimes… just enjoy the ride, tears and joy.. but I am always grateful for what I have today … less than 5 months before home. Now I could not wait for it…  as much as I love London and the people here, home is around my family and best friends …

friends

Ruang Kosong Untuk Sholat di Parlemen dan Multifaith Praying Room di Goldsmiths. Begini Cerita Kecil Tentang Toleransi di London – #Cheveningjourney #ToleransiUKRI

Standar

‘Ada ruang ibadah buat muslim ga sih di Parlemen?,’ tanya saya kepada grup teman sekelas di Whatsapp karena ada dua orang yang sudah bolak balik ke gedung Parlemen. Salah satu kawan menyahut, ‘ada. Masuk ke lobi utama, lurus aja, dia ada di sebelah kiri.’

Hari ini saya berkesempatan untuk masuk ke gedung Parlemen. Seperti pesan kawan, saya mencari ruangan itu, tapi ga nemu. Ruang sebelah kiri yang dia maksud ternyata Chappel, betul ruang ibadah, tapi bukan untuk muslim. Teman saya dari Palestina iseng bertanya pada petugas keamanan parlemen. Jawabannya begini, ‘Maaf kami tidak punya ruangan khusus untuk ibadah Islam. Tapi kami akan selalu carikan ruangan kosong untuk siapa pun yang ingin ibadah. Apakah perlu saya antarkan sekarang?’

Kami cukup terharu dengan jawaban dan kesigapan petugas keamanan mengantarkan kami ke ruang kosong untuk sholat. Terharu karena memang tidak susah kok menemukan tempat untuk beribadah di sini, di gedung parlemen.

Kembali ke kampus Goldsmiths, University of London, lebih seru lagi.

Kami tidak punya ruangan besar yang disebut Mushola. Di sini kami berbagi ruangan dengan teman-teman dari agama dan kepercayaan lain, namanya juga ‘Multifaith prayer room’.

IMG_20160419_123440

Ruangannya dibagi dua, pintu masuk dan keluar juga dibedakan lelaki dan perempuan  untuk muslim. Tapi untuk agama lain, pintu lelaki juga digunakan untuk perempuan  – multigender entering door. Jadwal aktivitas masing-masing agama di ruangan itu ada di papan bersama.

IMG_20160419_123511

Kami belajar saling menghargai di sini, mulai dari hal kecil, berbagi tempat ibadah…

IMG_20160419_123537

The rebel inside me

Standar

I couldn’t recall when I overheard my dad said something to my mom that stuck in my head until now. He said, ‘keep an eye on our eldest daughter, she is different, she is the rebel … she is very wild.’ I remember my mom only laughed at it, maybe because I am pretty much like her while my dad was also one of a kind. He was a Chinese at the squad of the policeman- which was really rare at his time, the shortest one yet the most intelligent one and he changed his Christianity to Moslem, a rebel himself in his family… well you know what they say, an apple won’t fall far from its tree.

I refused to wear a skirt in my first day at elementary school. I want a short pan like other boys. I fought a lot, got punished a lot by school. Neither my mom or dad was really mad at me for being naughty as long that I showed them that I still one of the best in the class. I said no to whatever my dad said or told me, I only hear to what my mom said. As I grew up, my dad was my best counterpart; we debate over everything, from a menu for a day to a television program. He allowed me to speak up whatever that crossed my brain. He trained me to be a rebel with responsibility on what I said and done.

I became a journalist to show him that I can be useful to society without becoming a policewoman as he ever wanted me to be. The universe conspired to train me to live on the edge and natured my rebellious attitude once I stepped in KBR. This is the best political school in my life. As Goenawan Mohammad spoke yesterday (12 April 2016) at the embassy, ‘those whoever had trained by us, we are not actually trained you to be a journalist but to be political (being).’ He precisely right! I became matured with my political point of view, pro-pluralism and proudly to say I am a feminist, that everyone has an equal right.

Today I am on the stage where I don’t need anyone to preach me about morality, I know what I want to do in life, what I need and I believe in the kindness of human being rather than a book dictated by so-called a religious person. My political view is clear, I respect difference political point of view as long as you put it in a logic way. One told me what to do and I will always to do the opposite if my brain and heart can’t accept it. Since I accept and enjoy the rebel inside me, then I suppose I can’t live a calm life, and get bored easily. My life is an adventure and always got stories to tell, and adrenaline to pump and a drama to play.

my family