Sebuah Prosa Tentang Jilbab

 

Pada suatu hari aku melihat sehelai kain bebentuk segi empat yang sempurna. Aku melihat perempuan-perempuan membelinya di pasar, melipatnya menjadi segitiga sama sisi, lalu memakainya untuk menutupi rambut mereka. Kemudian orang-orang menyebut mereka “cantik” dan “suci”. Jadilah aku berpikir bahwa kain itu ajaib, seperti gaun dan sepatu kaca Cinderella yang diberikan Ibu Peri agar ia terlihat cantik.

Aku hendak menguji keajaibannya. Kusuruh ibu membelikan kain itu untukku. Yang berwarna putih, kataku. Karena putih itu warna yang paling suci dan bersih, bukan? Sedangkan aku tahu aku tidak putih.

Kukenakan kain putih itu menutupi rambutku, seperti perempuan-perempuan itu, dilengkapi bros cantik berwarna hijau. Hijau itu warna yang melambangkan keimanan, kata mereka. Sedangkan aku tahu aku tidak hijau.

Pada hari Jum’at, hari yang mereka pilih untuk beriman dan bertaqwa*, aku datang dengan penampilanku yang baru. Aku merasa seperti Cinderella. Mereka memujiku “cantik”. Mereka menganggap aku suci dan baik. Terbukti bahwa kain itu memang ajaib. Namun, aku yakin keajaibannya akan pudar jika dipakai terlalu lama. Bukankah sihir Ibu Peri hanya berlaku sampai jam 12 malam? Maka, aku menyimpan kain itu untuk dipakai lagi di lain waktu. Kapan-kapan saja, pikirku.

Hari berikutnya aku mendatangi mereka dengan penampilanku yang biasa. Mereka tidak memuji. Bahkan mereka memarahiku karena menanggalkan sesuatu yang suci. Seolah-olah aku menjadi buruk tanpa perlindungan kain itu.

Keesokan harinya aku kenakan kain itu lagi. Jadilah aku suci kembali, padahal aku masih aku yang biasa. Ada yang tak lazim dengan semua ini, pikirku.

Sejak itu aku tak pernah menanggalkannya. Aku tak pernah luput dari pujian yang lama-lama menjadikan aku tidak nyaman. Sampai suatu saat, aku melakukan kesalahan. Sepetak kain itu sebagai saksi, ketika aku mengotori diri, tersandung sana-sini, dan akhirnya jatuh. Tidak seperti Cinderella, tidak ada Ibu Peri yang menyelamatkan aku.

Mereka berubah, memaki-maki aku dan kain yang menutupi kepalaku. Mereka menyalahkan kain itu, menanggalkan kain-kain diatas kepala mereka sendiri. Itu “tipu daya”, ini “cuci otak”, kata mereka. Tak percaya lagi mereka bahwa kain itu cantik dan suci. Itu topeng belaka, sebuah alat untuk bersembunyi. Hingga mereka tak sudi lagi mencari-cari apa yang menjadi esensi. Yang ada hanya sensasi.

…

Aku masih percaya bahwa sepetak kain yang kumiliki ini ajaib. Kain ini dibeli ibuku seharga dua puluh ribu rupiah di pasar pinggir kota – kain putih dari bahan katun dengan bordir yang manis di ujung-ujungnya. Ada yang menamakannya “kerudung”. Lebih banyak yang menyebutnya sebagai “jilbab”. Ia seperti perisai, yang melindungi tubuhku dari tatapan-tatapan liar di jalanan. Karenanya, orang-orang senantiasa mendoakanku dengan untaian kalimat salam ketika berjumpa denganku.

Yang terpenting, kain ini memberikan aku asupan rasa malu. Aku malu karena telah salah dan keliru. Aku malu jika tak lagi mengikuti malu, tak menepati janji.

Apa yang terjadi bila Cinderella tak segera pergi ketika jam berdenting pukul dua belas malam?

Bukan sensasi yang patut ada. Bukan penilaian pragmatis yang mendahului dan akhirnya menghakimi. Kain ini tak pantas disalahkan atas kekeliruan aku, kamu atau mereka.

Tidak. Sehelai kain ini bukan sihir yang menjadikan aku cantik atau suci. Bukan topeng yang digunakan untuk bersembunyi atau menipu.

Semua kebaikan terletak pada esensi. Sehelai kain ini membantu kita semua menemukan kebenaran yang hakiki…

 

tentang apa itu cantik,

apa itu suci.

 

****

 

“Jika aku berbuat salah, mohon jangan salahkan jilbabku, karena aku yang salah. Sebagaimana kau menganggap bahwa jilbab itu merupakan pakaian yang benar - bukan karena aku yang benar.”

 

*Di daerah aku, hari Jum’at di jadikan sebagain “Hari Imtaq” (hari iman dan taqwa). Sekolahku biasanya mengadakan ceramah umum di lapangan sekolah pada pagi hari sebelum jam masuk kelas.

My Food Corner: A Cheesy Breakfast

Hello and good morning everyone! Wake up and smell the food!

I am going to write about another breakfast meal I made with one of my favorite ingredients: cheese. I love cheese, whether its cheddar, parmesan, mozzarella or even delicate and strong tasting Italian cheese. I wish I could go to Italy someday to pig-out on all the cheese.

Anyway, I was feeling especially “cheesy” today (mind the connotation) that I wanted to make a cheesy meal. Thus, I raided the fridge.

Sausages: check.
Cheese: check
Tomatoes: check

Then I raided the kitchen cabinet.

Bread: check
Chili sauce: check

I could make a mini pizza! I love mini pizza. So, I got some bread and spread chili sauce (I like it spicy, you could use tomato sauce) on one side. Then I chopped the sausages into small pieces and spread them evenly on the bread. I would then usually sprinkle a generous amount of grated cheese on top of it. However, we only had a small block of Kraft cheddar cheese in stock. We had a lot of Bega cheese singles though. Mom had bought the black pepper cheddar type. Because of that, I embarrassed myself that morning.

When I opened the plastic cheese packet and saw the cheese, I gasped out loud. There was mold on the cheese! Little black dots of mold! I was sure that this type of cheese wasn’t supposed to have any fungi on it’s surface. I thought mom had bought expired cheese. So I yelled out to mom: “Mama! Kejunya jamuran!” (which means, “mom, the cheese is moldy!”) However, as mom came rushing in, I saw the packet and it dawned on me. It was supposed to be speckled. It was “black pepper cheese”. Silly me.

I turned to my mom with a sheepish grin on my face. “Hehe… Black pepper-nya, Ma,” I told her. She just smiled and went on with her business. So, I continued with cooking.

I laid one cheese single on top of each slice of bread. Then I sliced the tomato into big, round, pieces and put one slice on top. I put the mini pizzas into the oven for 7-10 minutes at about 200 degrees.

I would always know if it was ready by the sizzling sounds of the cheese melting and boiling. I also like my crusts brown and crispy. That’s why I leave it in the oven a little bit longer sometimes and peek in repeatedly to see whether the crusts were brown enough.

While I was waiting for the pizzas to be ready, I prepared another meal. Dad had cooked some cassava fries earlier and I wanted to eat them for breakfast too – with a little twist. So I grated the small block of cheddar cheese and sprinkled it over some fries. Then, I put it on a tray and into the oven as well.

I usually make more than enough pizzas so that my brothers and sisters could eat it when they wake up later (I usually wake up the earliest in my family). I usually make four pizzas, one for each of us.

When the oven bell rang, I took out the pizza and fries and turned off the oven. Then I put two sizzling hot pizzas (I was greedy today) and some cheesy fries on a plate. Then I poured myself a cup of strawberry juice and dug into my breakfast happily. Alhamdulillah, it made my day!

Try this at home, cheese lovers!

My School Homework

 

This is a task which was assigned by Icha about a month ago. It’s overdue so I must do it quickly and then assign it to other bloggers out there. Watch out, guys! I’ll be giving you homework too.

The purpose of this post is to tell you about my primary school years. I dreaded writing it because it’s too complicated for me to retell. I also worry myself that it might be too long and I’d even bore myself with writing it. I wonder how readers would feel reading it.

Anyway, here goes.

I have transferred schools 3 times during the period of my elementary school years. I had kindergarten at Gumnut PreSchool in Sydney, Australia. I spent my first 2 years in SD 10 Mataram, in Indonesia. Then a few months at Conniston Primary School in Wollongong, Australia. After that I spent the rest of my years in Gwynneville Public School, also in Wollongong, Australia.

1. Kindergarten

I don’t remember much about this time of my life except that I had a really cute uniform and that there was this pretty little girl I always played with. I forgot what her name was.

I loved my uniform then and still do. I’d wear it now if there was one in my size (laughs). It comprised of a yellow turtleneck sweater and brown overalls. My mom would always tie my hair in pigtails with yellow ribbons and put a pair of alice-in-wonderland shoes on my feet over white frilly socks. I wish I had a photo to show off to you, but I think I have misplaced it.

As for my little friend, she was a pretty little girl with long brown hair. I remember that we used to play together in the school grounds, tossing around the colorful autumn leaves. After school, i would go to her place or she would come to my place and we’d mess up our mom’s rooms by jumping on the bed. Sometimes, I would put my mom’s dressing gown and we would play “lets pretend”. There’s a hilarious picture for this too, but it’s too embarassing to upload.

*me playing with the leaves

2. SD 10 Mataram

I remember these years as “the years of the needles”. We had the needles every year and I was always so terrified of them. My name was always last to be called and it was always enough of a time for the apprehension and fear to build into a frenzy. When my turn came, I would always cry and refuse to be called up front. The teacher always had to chase me around the room and grab me forcefully to let the doctor inject me with the scary needles.

I also remember waiting for dad to pick me up after school. I would buy the small treats they sold outside the school grounds like “es-kado”, “es-lilin”, and “gula-gula”. I would also make jewelry and decorations out of the leaves of the palm trees growing in the school garden. Sometimes my friends and I would also help the school keepers sweep the school grounds which were always full of dry leaves at the end of the day. It was our idea of being “helpful”. So we were frequently seen crouched down on the grounds, sweeping the leaves with a few dry twigs and sticks. I always came home dusty and dirty.

3. Conniston Primary School, Wollongong, Australia

It wasn’t easy being a small kid who knew little English and looked different from everyone else. All the kids were tall giants with pale skin who spoke in a strange tongue. I remember this one time where the kids were so fascinated by my “shortness” they compared me with one of the kindergarten students. They made us stand side by side. I was shorter. They thought it was hilarious. Me? I enjoyed the attention.

I also remembered being followed around by another new girl. She was very sensitive and it got on my nerves a lot because I was rather blunt and stubborn. She once cried because I didn’t give her the pencil I was using. It was one of the rare pencils in class which had an eraser on the tip. I told her I got it first. My teacher told me to give it her anyway to make her stop crying. I gave in and rolled my eyes at them. Even as a kid I was sarcastic, LOL.

4. Gwynnevile Public School, Wollongong, Australia

Gwynneville wasn’t a large school, nor was it a famous one. Nevertheless, it was my favorite school of all. I spent about 4 years there, from year 3 until graduation in year 6. We had mixed classes like 2/3R, 4/5/6H, and 5/6D. The letters stood for the different teacher’s initials. My favorite teachers were Mr. Dwyer and Mrs. Hunt.

Mr. Dwyer was my year 5 teacher. He was a middle-aged man with white hair and kind eyes. He always encouraged us to be the best we could be by appreciating all our abilities. He was the one who really motivated me to write. Sometimes, he would read out my stories in class, however outrageous they were. Then, he would type out my drafts and print them for me because I never had enough time to rewrite them in class. They were always too long (old habit).

Mrs. Hunt was my year 6 teacher. I think she was the best teacher in my school in terms of teaching. She often taught Math and, boy, was she good at teaching it. Learning Math was a joy in her class. Mrs. Hunt liked to read to us from children’s novels, making brilliant expressions to match the stories. Sometimes she would let us choose what we wanted to do during free time as a class. We’d play volleyball, soccer, T-ball, bingo, or even skipping rope. I think the chant for the skipping game went something like this:

“Down the Mississippi, if you miss a loop you’re out…”

Two people would turn the rope, one at each hand. Then the kids would line up at one side. The first person would jump in and keep jumping until the end of the chant. Then the next person would have to jump in without missing a loop, jump once, then skip out and line up at the other side, and so on. If someone misses or gets tangled in the rope, they’d have to sit out. Then the next person would jump in for the chant and so on. It’s a fun game and required us to be alert and precise. The first time I played it I always missed. I was terrified getting whipped by the rope or falling down. After a few games I got the hang of it and enjoyed it very much. I even managed to win once. The person who won was the last person left in line. Sometimes Mrs. Hunt would let the final 5 win and give them prizes. Usually they were vouchers for the canteen, stickers, or stamps. However, it was very difficult to win. The more people out, the faster you had to skip in and out of the rope and run around the people turning it. I remember that certain people in my class often won. They were really athletic. Some were gymnasts with small and agile bodies. The others were sprinters with nice long legs (envy).

Anyway, back to Mrs. Hunt. The thing I also liked about her was her look. She was really stylish, in an executive sense. She always wore blazers and clean-cut pants with matching colors. They were usually maroon or brown. She also had really nice nails. She changed her nail polish frequently and I was always excited to see how they’d look the next day. Because of her, I decided to take care of my own nails, growing them and decorating them with multicolored nail polish. I was ecstatic when she complimented me for them instead of scolding me and let me keep them as a sign of my creativity and fashion sense (laughs). I can’t imagine what my teachers in Indonesia would say (no offense, we are much more conservative here).

I followed many extracurricular activities there. I joined the school choir and got to perform in a beautiful concert hall with other schools every year. My family would come to watch and take pictures of us. I haven’t found the pictures yet to upload here.

I also volunteered to help gather the organic rubbish to make compost at the school. Every day, after the school bell rang for home time, I’d gather all the compost buckets at each class which were usually filled with fruit and vegetable scraps from the students’ lunch. Then I’d dump it in the big compost bucket in the school garden. It was disgusting sometimes. The giant bucket in the garden was full of worms, flies, grubs, and other creepy crawlies. I always hesitated before opening the lid, anticipating the smell and sight inside. However, it felt good to contribute in helping the environment. Besides, the teacher gave me and the other kids involved lots of merit for it (hehe).

I made lots of friends at this school from many different backgrounds. We made a gang and did everything together. We would share our lunches, hold parties, visit each other after school, and go to the mall together. We weren’t exactly the popular kids in school. Most of us were from another country, striving to fit in in a foreign school. Some of us were the kids who were picked on by the bullies for their differences. That’s why we stuck together. Our number and solidarity for each other scared the bullies away.

*me and my friends at Gwynneville

There are so many things I’d like to write about my school years: my gang of friends, school field trips, camp Berry and Burrendong (I think that what it was called), my first crush, competitions, festivals, parades. I have them all in my diary so that I would not forget. Some things weren’t mentioned in my diary, so I cherish every time the memory comes to visit me because I can’t remember everything all at once. As usual, there are triggers to bring them back, like this blog assignment. I thank Icha a lot for assigning it to me.

So, go and visit your memory lane guys! Spread this assignment and share your school tales!

I will assign this project to:

1. Blue Spy

2. Mbak Rani

3. Mbak Ninit

4. Kiky

5. Dewi Kharisma

Can’t wait to read your stories!

My New Blog

 

I made another blog on wordpress yesterday (yaaaaay!). It’s called “la galerie” which is french for “the gallery”. Its a place to exhibit many kinds of artwork, like drawings, designs, crafts, and sculptures. I made it because I knew a lot of my friends are really good at art and I think they needed more coverage and extra appreciation for it. Some have businesses and needed advertising. Why is it in french? Because I think France is the king of art among other countries, considering its history and art galleries and museums. Besides, I just like how it sounded (laughs).

It is still in construction though I already have some posts there. You can have a look, please, and tell me what you think. You can also be a contributor and exhibit your art there. Just check out the site www.lagalerie.wordpress2011.com. The practical procedures still need work (I have a lot to learn about wordpress), but just let me know if you are interested .

Wish me luck!

My Food Corner

You did not see wrong. There’s no “Mom” in that tittle. I did not write it wrong either. This is really MY food corner.

My friend, Ratri, asked me when I’d be thinking about making my own food corner. Honestly, I doubted I ever would. I can’t cook very well. I only know how to make very simple meals and most of them are western meals, since I spent most of my childhood in Australia. Thus, I got accustomed to the western taste buds. I love Eastern food just as much though, no kidding. However, it’s harder to make, with all the combinations of spices and long cooking methods. I fear making any mistakes because the food would go to waste. Thus, I haven’t ventured down the Eastern food road much.

Anyway, this morning I felt like making my own breakfast again. I opened the fridge and was delighted to see my favorite ingredients in abundance. Inside it were cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, eggs, and butter. Other than that, bread, fruit, orange juice, and whole wheat crackers were neatly arranged on the kitchen table. There was also something new: sour cream. I let myself have a taste. Not bad. It would go great with the whole wheat crackers.

I looked around again and couldn’t make up my mind what to make. I could make cheesy toast again, but I preferred something healthier. My acne has been going crazy lately and there are so many spots on my face. I look like a pale cheetah (laughs). I could resort to the crackers and a banana but it would not make me full enough. Then I thought of the eggs. I wanted eggs. I wanted cheese too, and my vegies. I also wanted to devour the crackers and sour cream. I had to have fruit too.

So in the end I made a sandwich with fried egg, tomatoes, lettuce, and cheese. Then I put it on a big plate with three crackers on the side. Instead of putting some sour cream in a little plate or cup for dip, i just spread it on the top of the crackers to avoid too much washing later (lazy). Then I poured myself some orange juice in a glass cup.

It still wasn’t enough. I felt like I had to have something sweet for breakfast too. So I sliced three pieces of some pudding I made last night. I felt sorry for the three pieces of bread left over on the table (mom wasn’t back from shopping yet). If it stayed there any longer, it would get expired. So I tried something I hadn’t before. I made pudding.

I had watched a cooking show in the morning called “Barefoot Contessa” on the Asian Food Channel. Ina Garten, the host, made yummy-looking bread pudding out of loaves of bread and a custard mixture. It was too hard to get the ingredients to make the custard though. Therefore, I couldn’t make it. So I made do with jelly instead. I had tasted a chocolate jelly and bread pudding before. It was good. However, we didn’t have any chocolate jelly. I found green and yellow jelly in our kitchen cupboard instead.

I wanted to try making the pudding with coconut essence, like how my mom usually does. So I mixed in the green jelly (I decided yellow would look weird) and the coconut essence in a cooking pot plus some sugar and water. I put it on the stove and waited for it to boil. After that, I poured the mixture in a Tupperware container (we didn’t have any jelly molds) filled with layers of the bread. I waited for it to cool and put it in the fridge. I tried some a few hours later and… it worked! I was surprised it didn’t taste funny (at least to me, LOL). It looked pretty too. There were three layers of color. The bottom was the white bread, then the light-green-tinted coconut essence, and lastly a thin strip of green jelly.

Anyway, I served my breakfast and tried to arrange the food artistically. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do much to make it look presentable, but I took a picture anyway. Here it is!

I’m sorry I didn’t use prettier plates or have a vase of flowers in the background to make the picture better. This is as good as it gets for now. Nevertheless, I enjoyed my breakfast very much. I think it is a healthy and balanced meal with plenty of nutrition for my body. It tastes pretty good too. ^-^

Now I am reasonably full and energized with high spirits to face the day!

Have a nice day, everyone!

My Mom’s Food Corner: Squid and Bitter Melon

 

Here are more dishes from my mom! The first is a concoction from one of my favorite seafood: Squid. The Indonesian name for this dish is Tumis Cumi Asam Pedas dengan Saus Kecap. In English, it is roughly translated as “Sweet and Sour Squid Stir-Fry with Soy Sauce”. Because it is an Indonesian dish, and our family’s dish, it is a bit spicy, as usual. I think chili and squid are a great combination! Here’s the picture:

I enjoy eating this with warm rice and fresh raw vegetables such as slices of cucumber and lettuce. It is a tasty home-made meal for lunch and dinner.

The second dish is called Gulai Pare Isi Daging. In English it is roughly translated to “Beef-Stuffed Bitter Melon Curry” or “Bitter Melon Curry with Beef Filling”. Right now my family is having a discussion about the name, hehehe… So I am just putting both names in this post.

Anyway the bitter melon is an acquired taste, if I may say so. Even so, it needs to be prepared in a special way to get it right. I have no idea how. What’s for sure is the cooked bitter melon isn’t supposed to taste too bitter. It is supposed to be a bit bitter, but in a nice way. Here’s the picture:

Anyway, I enjoy eating bitter melon, especially in this dish. The beef tastes mildly sweet and spicy, which combats the bitterness well. In the end, this dish teases the taste buds with the different flavors. Care to try the experience?