Creating a Future Free from Deprivation

This is an essay that I made for the GOI Foundation essay Competition this year. It didn’t win (oh well) but I would like to share it anyway. Here is my essay with the theme “creating the future we want”.

A little boy hops off the sidewalk and into the main road as the traffic light turns red. Fancy cars line up behind the white line and motorcycles struggle to be in front, crossing the boundary as if it were the finish line in a street race. The little boy quickly finds a loose spot between the vehicles and starts to sing, shaking a little tin can filled with pebbles as his accompanying music. There he stands, a queer spectacle in his tattered clothes, all dirty from the dust and pollution contaminating the air.

After finishing his song, he walks around, stopping by each vehicle and holding out an empty plastic cup. Some people drop a coin into it. Others drop a paper bill or two. Then the light turns green and he runs back to the sidewalk, smiling gleefully at his earnings.

What he will use it for, we cannot know for sure. He might be a student struggling to pay his overdue school fee. He might be another homeless orphan making sure he doesn’t fall asleep hungry that night. Or, he might be one of the unwilling slaves from a street bully, trying to avoid the beating he’d get if he came back without enough earnings.

This is a small piece of the present that can possibly shape into a sinister future. The question is: is this what we want?

If you ask me about the kind of future I want for the world, I would inevitably have to look through the windows of my own country and other similar developing countries first. Here I still see massive deprivation: deprivation of food, housing, and education. Between the majestic towers of Jakarta, the fertile soil in Java, and the thick forests of Kalimantan, I see people suffering from the deprivation of their most basic needs.

If you look long and hard enough through those windows, you will see that the root of many problems is that deprivation. It is the essence of poverty. A mother kills all of her children and then commits suicide because she is unable to provide any food for her family. Groups of families mourn as they watch their cardboard houses fall victim to government evacuation procedures as a consequence for living on illegal government-owned premises. A teenager breaks into his neighbor’s house and steals money to pay for his overdue school fee. Then there are countless anarchist demonstrations, violence, and various criminal acts, mostly out of desperation to fulfill those basic needs.

I totally agree with beauty pageant contestants when they say that what we need most is world peace. However, I believe that the first step towards it is providing our people their most basic needs.

My dream is to create a future free from deprivation. People shall have enough food and decent shelter to live in. Every individual shall receive compulsory education and guidance to harness their potential and skills in order to sustain and develop their lives.

In the past, I have worked together with extraordinary individuals to establish a foundation that aims to help underprivileged societies in our neighborhood. We conduct weekly visits to rural areas and orphanages to give them food and clothes that people have donated through us. We tutor less fortunate children basic subjects like English, Math, and Science. We hold mini concerts in the park to raise money for books and school supplies. In the end, there is nothing more rewarding, more satisfying, than seeing the faces of these individuals light up as they receive what they need. It is so touching to be welcomed with cheers of merriment from the children every time we walk into their rooms with books and the prospect of new things to learn.

In the future, I want more homeless shelters, orphanages, and free schools. I want to build community centers where people can develop their competency and life skills with the support of professional counselors. In addition, we will give them plenty of opportunities for employment so they can work and become independent individuals.

I believe that a lot of international organizations, the government, and local NGO’s have already considered this in their agenda. Therefore, I am reaching out to all the individuals out there, who have passion and care for this issue. Set an example and raise awareness. Start from simple but meaningful things like helping out a homeless kid on the street. Be kind and generous to our less fortunate neighbors. If we aren’t equipped with enough material resources, we can always help out with our energy and spirit.

They say that one person can make a difference. Together, we can be a force that can change the world. So let’s help the people. Let’s create the future we want.

Crocheting for the Blues

Do you have a special activity that helps you bust the blues? Mine is crocheting… tada! The whole process of turning and twisting the thread in and out of loops helps me to calm my nerves and think straight. In the end, I not only find a solution to my bundle of problems, I get a pretty accessory or ornament I can smother my pride on (before I get fed up with it).

Anyway, I am recommending this activity for anyone out there looking for a quiet and productive means to absorb any negative energy and transform it into a positive charge. I would also like to show off (I bet you saw that one coming, didn’t you? Hahaha…) some of the things I’ve made. Unfortunately, I had a limited amount of thread. I used leftovers to make these. They’re supposed to be flower brooches, by the way, in case you hadn’t guessed (or it sadly doesn’t resemble what it’s supposed to be). What do you think? Do I have any talent? ;)

Let the Battle Begin!

On the 17^th and 18^th of November, I competed in the ALSA Crushbone Debating Competition held at Universitas Gajah Mada (UGM), law faculty. After two relatively long years of not debating, you can be assured that I was rusty as ever. To make matters worse, I have only competed as a debater once in my college years. That was back in 2010 and we didn’t ever break through to the finals. In addition, we received the information about the event only two weeks prior to the competition date. I felt like a balloon just waiting to be burst.

My school sent two teams as delegations for the event. Before the big day, I believe we tried our best to juggle everyone’s activities in order to have time for practice. For days we practiced almost every day between classes and work shifts with our school’s reputation and glory close at heart. On the 10^th of November, a technical meeting took place at UGM. The committee announced the tongue twisting and brain tangling motions. We were faced with such a challenge, especially since most of us were newbies in the field of debating. To make matters much more concerning, most of the motions were about law and international agreements. We were students of English literature. Trust me; the decision about the UN’s military intervention in Syria has nothing to do with phonetics or phonology (now I’m talking gibberish).

Even though the motions were stained with the possibility of our dark fate, we endured. Everyone was given two motions to study about. Every day, during practice, each debater had to give a presentation about their motion. Afterwards, we tried to dissect each motion to get the big picture and figure out our arguments. I am sure that everyone tried their best to prepare themselves.

Two days before the big day, I got my senior from my old school to come and coach us. I am proud to say that he did a hell of a job. I have gotten quite used to his knowledge and methods. However, to this day, my fellow teammates are still in awe of his greatness. Thanks, Big Bro!

On the first day of ACDC, we sent our two teams to face the battle. I was in a team with two seniors who were in their 7^th semester at school. We competed in four preliminary rounds and managed to win three of them. It was rather a surprise for us because the two of the motions were impromptu. At the technical meeting, the committee had announced that the motions for the preliminary rounds would be prepared. Consequently, we weren’t as prepared as we would have liked to be. Nevertheless, we kicked butt!

At the end of the day, before the announcement for the breaking teams, I was given a wonderful surprise. My mom appeared in the debate hall accompanied by my little sister and my little brother. Mom and my little brother had just arrived in Jogja from a two hour airplane trip from Kuala Lumpur. Our friends from school also came to support us, including one of our beloved lecturers. Thanks everyone!

To our great astonishment and happiness, one of our teams, team A, got 6^th place which meant we broke through to the finals. Yay! We wished that both of the teams could break. Oh well, better luck next time!

On the next day, we competed in the finals with the cheers from our wonderful supporters. We won the quarterfinal battle with a close margin – another pleasant surprise for us. However, we couldn’t beat the opposition team during the semifinals. At least we finally got to watch a debate though. The grand final was a fiery battle between UGM and Atmajaya. UGM won with a unanimous decision and a close margin which concluded the whole competition.

I am really grateful for the whole experience. We weren’t so bad, for rookies, no? Next target: Grand finals!

The KPOP Phenomena

The music industry is a bit like a first-class food buffet at a charity event for a bunch of bored millionaires. You will find so many different dishes with unique flavors all crammed into your view so it is overwhelmingly satisfying but also sickening at the same time. Since it is a high-class event, you expect that the food would be top notch. However, you find that you can’t differentiate between the premium imported steak and the satisfactory local steak under all the fancy dressings and side-dishes. It’s either that or the philanthropists have suddenly lost their senses. Or is it really just different tastes?

Currently, the music industry is serving people quite a meal. It rapidly changes in short periods of time. Fifteen to ten years ago, the main course was sweet Pop music with Pop Princess Britney Spears dominating the centerpiece, accompanied by sugary boy bands such as the Backstreet Boys and Westlife. Around five years later, emo rock and punk music hit the charts; an ensemble of MCR, Avril Lavigne, and Evanesscence. Today, what is the face of the music worldwide? Justin Bieber surely has a strong influence, along with other tween stars hitting the stage. But there have been arguments in favor of another supposedly “different” type of music.

The dish that is fighting to be the centerpiece is KPOP. According to Wikipedia, KPOP is a musical genre consisting of dance, electro-pop, hip hop, and R&B music originating in South Korea. So it’s basically a genre which is made out of a lot of other genres. However, the question would be, why create another genre when it is already describable with the current vocabulary of genres? Why the exclusiveness?

Maybe because it is from Korea, people might say. But then, people from Indonesia, for example, would start calling their pop and Dangdut IndoPop. Or the country music artists in Nashville might even be pickier by labeling their music NashPop. What’s wrong with it? Nothing much – except that describing music would then be based on their origin, not based on the fundamental differences that created the elementary genres in the first place.

Next, why is KPOP so popular? The video clip of Gangnam Style from Psy has already gotten over 300 million views on youtube. In 2009, the Wonder Girls became the first K-pop artist to debut on the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart. Both Super Junior and Girls’ Generation have held their concerts here in Indonesia with a welcome that should make Justin Bieber’s managers run for their money.

According to a Rolling Stone author, "K-Pop is a mixture of trendy Western music and high-energy Japanese pop (J-Pop), which preys on listeners' heads with repeated hooks, sometimes in English. It embraces genre fusion with both singing and rap, and emphasizes performance and strong visuals." Meanwhile, the BBC describes the K-pop bands Super Junior and the Wonder Girls as "highly produced, sugary boy- and girl-bands with slick dance routines and catchy tunes." The fact is, many K-pop music videos have colorful visuals and a catchy beat. Dance is an integral part of K-pop. When combining multiple singers, the singers often switch their positions while singing and dancing by making prompt movements in synchrony. K-pop is also recognized for pretty-boys and girl groups that are young and considered attractive (Wikipedia).

With the above description for KPOP, we may assume that the fans would be teenagers and young adults. However, many adults also enjoy KPOP – for various reasons. A lot of grown men are such fans of the Girls’ Generation that they go to the extent of downloading their video clips, collecting all episodes of their reality shows, and going to their live concerts. The question here would be, do the reasons for doing so actually correlate with the music itself?

According to some opinions, the music itself is not the primary factor in the popularity of K-pop. A publication in New York Magazine calls K-pop "catchy but derivative" and states that Girls' Generation fans admit to liking the group for its members' looks and their personality, radiating what the magazine calls "humility" and friendliness to each and one of the fans. A fan stated to the magazine that when Girls' Generation performs on stage, you get the illusion of the girls sometimes looking right at you and interacting with you personally. New York Magazine also adds that Korean girl groups recruit members "for their looks, later augmented by plastic surgery" (Wikipedia).

Several sources claim that KPOP is a major export commodity that is endorsed by the Korean government to spread soft power all over the globe. We can see the effects of that soft power in Indonesia through the current trend of boy bands and girl bands in the local music industry. Cherry Belle has characteristic not unlike that of Girls’ Generation, even similar dance routines. Smash is currently the pioneer of boy bands, also displaying traits similar to Super Junior with a corresponding fan base. It is quite sad that what may be considered as the youth’s creativity is raising too many suspicions that it may be “just a phase”. That Indonesia is yet again another follower in the mainstream.

So what can we deduce from this KPOP phenomena? What are our impressions on the music industry as a whole? Is your taste based on the music itself or is it much affected by the “packaging” of the products?

Whatever your answer is, it will participate in determining the face of the music industry. Or, as my previous analogy suggests, which dish gets to sit on the centerpiece.

All in all, have a pleasant meal!

 

*this is an article I made for POINT’s bulletin at campus.

Back to School

After 3 months of holidays, I finally had to go back to school and my spirit was as lively as a codfish. The prospect of new things to learn and new people to meet should have been an adequate incentive but I guess my mind had been in its slumber for too long. It took a while to get up and stretch its limbs to face the various activities in store for it ahead. Thus, I had a case of the “back to school blues” mixed with homesickness and I couldn’t find the energy to be excited about school.

I was also plagued by the sight of my dusty room after being neglected for months. I had to do a major clean up before I could settle down and be comfortable. School was to begin on the next day. However, that activity isn’t suited for someone that had just taken a 12-hour bus trip from Bogor to Jogjakarta and arrived at 4.30 am all cold and groggy. Nevertheless, the cleaning had to be done (I have a severe case of self-diagnosed OCD).

But life goes on. Time makes things bearable and, shortly afterwards, exciting. I found so many things to like about going to school: brilliant new lecturers, nice new friends, English Club’s new projects, choir practices after class… the list goes on. I get a fresh start. My spirit is recharged.

I hope the spirit never fades. I have a hunch that many more exciting things will happen next.

Live life to the fullest! ^-^

Goodbye, Mbah Amin

It is another time in my life when I have to witness a loss in my family – the death of a loved one. Around 3am on the 20^th September, my grandfather, Mbah Amin, passed away. He had suffered a complication of illnesses due to old age. I think he is resting more peacefully now.

Unfortunately, I don’t know my grandfather as well as I would like to. I know that he was a respected member of the House of Representatives during his prime years. I concluded that he was a strict but loving father and husband based on my mother’s stories about him. But age was not so kind to him, as he lost a lot of his memory as he got older and older. He didn’t remember his own children sometimes, let alone his grandchildren. It was sometimes quite funny... in a sad and ironic kind of way.

I will miss him. He always had a kind face with a slightly goofy smile worn across it. He would often tell us stories of his life from uncertain memories. I don’t know if they were completely true, but it was always fun to listen. Rather inappropriately, my siblings and I would sometimes make fun of him and his unique memory. We were rather fond of him, though we only existed in the few precious seconds of his short term memory.

I wish I could write more about him, the man who raised my wonderful mother and gave his consent and high approval to my brilliant father. Now I have only one grandparent: my step grandmother, second wife to my grandfather – the person this post is dedicated to. I hope she will be granted enough years to see me be the successful woman I want to be and to cradle my children in her arms.

Cherish your family as much as you can. Sometimes, we never know how precious something is until it’s gone…

Rest in peace, Mbah Amin… May Allah accept all your good deeds and forgive all your mistakes. Amin.

Blessed Eid!

My family and I celebrated Eid on the 19th August this year. It was another year away from our beloved big family in Lombok. We miss the large gatherings, the home-made traditional food, and the joyful “noise” of our extended family. However, the Eid celebration that took place here in Malacca wasn’t so bad. In fact, I very much enjoyed the small but heart-warming gatherings with our fellow neighbors. We got invited to a couple of meals, each of them treating our taste buds to a variety of unique Malaysian-Indonesian food. Since most of our Indonesian friends here have been in Malaysia for a long time, their taste for food has undergone an interesting transformation. We had the “lemang” plus “gulai”. We tasted various versions of “sambal goreng”.  Then there were “dodol” and pudding and spring rolls and sugar buns… yum…

I love food. It may be my favorite part of gatherings (laughs).

Anyway, the true essence of Eid, for me, is gathering with those who are living close to us: our neighbors. They are the ones who have to cope with our presence everyday and mind our habits with inspiring patience. They are the ones who deserve our attention. So, remember to give them a warm and loving thank you.

*after Eid Prayer at UTEM (Universiti Teknikal Malaysia) Melaka

Maybe this is a bit subjective. I know not everyone will completely agree. Since I frequently have to move homes, I have to get used to rapidly interacting with so many different people. I have to deal with the absence of my big family and sometimes lose touch with them. I cannot meet my best friends often. So when Eid comes, the neighbors and nearby acquaintances come first. We haven’t had a chance to visit Lombok in years (to send the whole family back home will cost a fortune), so only a call or text message replaces our presence in our hometown. It’s a bit sad, but we try to make the most of the moment and pray that we can visit our big family the following year.

*after a hearty dinner at a friend’s house

I have a lot of hopes for the new year. A new job. A good career. A smart student. A healthier lifestyle. A dutiful daughter. A responsible sister. A better me. I believe they are all achievable. Anything is possible. Miracles happen (some of the goals above do need the help of a miracle or two, hehe…). ^-^

 

 

Have a great year ahead, everyone!

Drapetomania*

I never wanted to cause trouble. I never wanted to be the product of another argument that always ends in silence. It is not the peaceful silence you would cherish if you wanted to think or simply breathe. It’s the painful silence that follows after a devastating hurricane. All that is left is the dust and debris among the ruins of memories and hope.

“You should’ve paid attention to her. You are the mother. Where were you all this time?”

“I do listen. More than you do. You’re away at work for hours and when you come home you do absolutely nothing. Where were you all this time?”

“I make a living for this family. You remember that.”

“Yes, but you can’t leave the burden of being a father on me!”

“I do my part!”

“I spend hours cooking, and cleaning sh*t, and actually being a parent!”

“But you don’t actually listen...”

This is one of the many fights this month. Three days in a row now. My brothers and sisters are away from the scene, taking refuge in their rooms, as usual. Another silence for them. A chunk of guilt from me.

I feel the feelings and emotions raging inside my chest, mixing together into a hot liquid, reeking of anger, sadness, and guilt. It quickly boils and the hot air starts to condense in the corner of my eye. But I refuse to be taken over by even the mildest traces of hysteria. I march into the scene and glare at them coldly.

“I’m going out. I’ll be back when you’re finished.”

I walk out and shut the door behind me. Then I run.

The air is cold. It soothes the burns created by the negative feelings I had kept churning inside of me. I let the wind slap my face as I continue to sprint forwards into nowhere. I pass the square houses with their neat lawns. A dog barks at me ferociously through a locked gate. But everything is a blur. I am making no effort to see. Every sound becomes a distant drone as the words from the fights echo in my ears. I try to shove them away.

Sticks and stones can break your bones but words will never hurt you...

The quote from the early years of my childhood suddenly appears among the clutter inside my head. I used to believe in that. It was a shield from the bullies who teased me because of my skin color, because of my attitude... because I was different. I used to think I was special.

But today words are powerful. Some words are evil and can break you quite severely.

A porcelain plate smashes into many sharp pieces. Someone strikes. Curses fill the air. A little boy cries quietly in the corner.

Just run, I told myself. Just keep running. I run faster, hoping that the echoes and images would get left behind, like they always do.

I quicken my pace, letting the scenery become a dark streak of color. The air becomes colder, enunciating the sharp sting of the wind, resisting my attempt to gain velocity. But I conquer my senses and prevail. Distance kindly replaces the footprints behind me.

After what seems like more than an hour of running, I finally slow down to a walk. I am at a familiar street a couple of kilometers away from home. I find a bus stop nearby and sit down to catch my breath.

The street is deserted. It isn’t strange, considering the late hour. I lie down on the seat and gaze at the night sky. It is slightly clouded but I can still see hundreds of brilliant stars scattered across the dark blue background. I wish I knew more about the constellations. If I did, I could occupy the next few hours drawing in the sky.

Minutes pass by and I just stay there, lying on my back, looking into the heavens. I think about the things that make me happy. The homemade orange cake for my 9^th birthday. The green rollerblades my father bought for me. The red sailor dress my mother made for me. All of the happy memories came from my childhood. Unfortunately, none came after my early years of adolescence. That’s when I made that mistake. That’s when the fights started.

A small beep interrupts my chain of thoughts. I sit down and take my phone out of my pocket. There is a message from Dad.

We are sorry. Where are you? Let us find you and bring you home.

I press the reply button and type in a few words.

I am at the bus stop at 55 North Avenue.

Then, I press the send button and wait.

***

Half an hour later, I am in the backseat of our car. Everyone is silent, deep in their own thoughts. I gaze out of the window. It is foggy and I can’t see the outside clearly, so I lower the glass almost all the way. The cold air rushes into the car.

“Close the window, you’ll catch a cold.”

I scroll it up about halfway in response.

“Close it properly.”

“Just let her, she’s been outside for the past couple of hours anyway.”

“I am doing it for her good.”

“You always say that without really thinking about it.”

“What do you mean…?”

“For heaven’s sake, I’ll close the darn window!” I shouted. I scroll it up fully. The brief silence that follows afterwards is colder than the wind outside.

“You should watch your tongue, young lady.”

I don’t reply.

“Just leave her alone. You say worse things.”

“I wouldn’t say such things if I weren’t provoked.”

“Provoked? You have brought it upon yourself!”

“You weren’t a good enough parent! That was the problem!”

“Speak for yourself! You never listen. That’s why she did it…”

“Why do you always blame that on me? She made that mistake because you didn’t pay enough attention!”

“How can I when you’re always screaming at me!”

“Oh, grow up, you as****!”

“F*** you! You…”

I refuse to hear the rest of the words. I can’t believe they are doing this again. They said they were sorry. The thick plasma of feelings erupted inside of me, clouding my logic and senses. I could feel the burning sensation in my eyes. No, I must not be vulnerable. They can never see me weak. I have to escape.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” I yelled.

I pull the lock and open the door. Then, I jump out.

I fall hard onto the asphalt, and roll for a couple of times before coming to a halt, facing sideways in the direction of our car. I hear its tyres screech and doors open. I force myself to get up, to continue my escape from the arguments, never-ending disagreements, and violent fights. I hear them call out to me but I look away. I take my first step shakily. My vision is blurred from the coat of moisture covering my eyes. I shake my head angrily, hating myself for being weak, for succumbing to my feelings, for letting my body betray me.

“Get back in the car!”

“No!”

“Grow up!”

“You two grow up! In case you have forgotten, I’m around when you are talking about me. I still remember my mistake!”

The words finally spill out. The stench of my guilt overwhelms me as I let the memories of the past fill me to the core.

“I realize it, okay? I have tried to live with it, to go on. But you are constantly fighting and arguing. It’s insane!”

I take a few steps back to steady myself.

“It’s time you two lived with it. It’s time for you to go on.”

I turn around and run. Their voices become blurred, blending with the sound of the wind, and a siren in the distance. In front of me, the road is a dark abyss ready to swallow me up, providing me a means to disappear.

I hear a car honking in the distance. Seconds later, the screech of tyres. Somebody screams. I hear a loud thud before I realize that I am flying through the air, through a beam of white light. Suddenly, time slows down.

A pretty rainbow arches through the beam of light as tiny drops of rain fall down from the sky. It feels nice on my skin; strangely warm compared to the cold air. Warm. It brings back a memory…

“Tell me a story.”

A smaller version of me snuggles under the covers in a cozy-looking bed. A happy couple sits beside me, smiling.

“What story would you like?” Asks one of them.

“A fairy tale with princesses, and fairies, and beautiful castles.”

“And rainbows?”

“And lots of rainbows. And twinkling stars”

They laugh.

“That’s quite a request.”

“Pleaaaaase…”

“All right. Let’s begin. Once upon a time…”

I instantly become very sleepy, my vision beginning to blur and darken. The soothing voice fills my body with warmth.

This is how I like them. This is how they should always be.

 

With that, I close my eyes.

 

 

 

* Drapetomania, in this context, is an uncontrollable desire to run away. You can see the full definitions in this link http://www.encyclo.co.uk/define/Drapetomania

Close Encounters of an Unknown Kind

Goosebumps. I am not referring to the best-selling novel series by R.L. Stine for young readers. I am referring to the peculiar bumps that appear on your skin as a chill runs down your spine. They can be caused by many things: extreme awesomeness, a spiritual awakening, a touching story. But they are more frequently associated with things that are frightening and sinisterly mysterious. Things that hide in the dark and things that live in the dark corners of the imagination...

A while ago, my friend Seagate challenged me to write about a mystical experience. I confess that I have not had the privilege of experiencing anything vividly spiritual, so I will go for the secondary meaning: mysterious and supernatural experiences.  I have decided to narrow it down to some of the mysterious and relatively scary experiences that gave me Goosebumps. Throughout my life, I have had a fair share of frightening or unexplainable occurrences.

A memorable experience is one that, as strange as it sounds, I don’t remember. I only know that it happened. My family was the witness of this event. It occurred on a warm afternoon in our old house in our hometown. I was still in Junior High School. That day, I was sick with the fever and, as usual, trying to free myself from it by copious amounts of sleep. I slept many times a day for a few hours at a time and it usually made me feel better – if I was lucky. At other times, I would be talking in my sleep (also a statement proven by my family) due to a bad dream which was annoyingly repetitive.

Anyway, my family stated that they were sitting casually on the family couch, not doing anything in particular. I suddenly came out of the room I was sleeping in, my clothes disheveled, and in tears, claiming that the TV in the room was on fire. I also claimed that a talk black figure had appeared in the room. They immediately checked the room (those who weren’t afraid, of course) and saw that there was nothing there and the TV was not on fire. Then they tried to console me. Moments later, I fell asleep while my family was reciting verses from the Qur’an by my side.

When I woke up the first thing I told them to do was shut up, haha... When I’m really sick and I have a high fever, I usually have this crazy problem with my senses. It’s like I’m suddenly Spiderman and everything is so loud and bright. The pressure of a soft touch becomes a hard nudge. So, without really comprehending what they were saying, I told them to be quiet. When I was fully awake, I asked them what they were all doing and why I was in a different room. They gave me a brief recount of what had happened and I, rather senselessly, laughed in disbelief. I actually hoped that they would give me a recount of “the black figure”, but no one saw it. My dad confirmed that it must’ve been a hallucination because of my fever and I believed him. Case closed.

Not too scary, right?

Let’s give you another story then.

This experience also occurred when I was in Junior high school. It was in my second year, if I am not mistaken. My friends and I were camping in one of the most beautiful beaches in Lombok. We had been there for a few days, enjoying the warm sunlight and cool sea in the daytime, and sleeping snugly in our tents during the night. One night, we were having a casual talk outside of our tents, enjoying cups of coffee and tea beside a small fire that had been burning pleasantly for a couple of hours. I think it was a few minutes before midnight. Suddenly, some of my friends started screaming and shouting in fright, scrambling to their feet, away from the direction they were just looking at. I looked in that direction and saw the huge tree on the far side of the beach. I didn’t see anything strange, but my friends’ frightened expressions and shouts of “Pocong” were enough to give me Goosebumps. They reported that it appeared under the tree (or was it on one of its huge branches?) and it was moving in our direction. A few seconds later, it suddenly disappeared.

Indonesian people should be very familiar with the term Pocong. I guess they believe it to be a type of ghost dressed in the “kain kaffan” (the white cloth used to wrap the body of the dead before being buried in the ground) so that only the face is visible. In the corresponding horror movies, it is usually a very scary face. It moves by jumping up and down, which is rather comical when you really think about it. Nevertheless, thank Allah I have never had a direct encounter with this frightening character.

Anyway, some of my friends and I checked the grounds and we didn’t see any sign of it. We looked intently at the tree and we still didn’t see anything that might even look like a Pocong. We tried to console our friends who did see it but had little success. That night, we all slept together outside beside the fire.

Haha... all this ghostly talk is giving me the chills right now.

There are some other experiences I can’t really explain. Most of them happened when I was alone and, thankfully, they aren’t too scary. Actually some of them are rather beneficial. There were a few times when I fell asleep too early before doing the Isya prayer. I would find myself waking up in the middle of the night or a few hours before dawn because of a sound. I can’t explain what it is really like. The closest description would be a sigh or a whisper, like someone saying “shhh” to me. I’d immediately wake up, not necessarily afraid, but aware that I had heard something. I would always assume that it was the pipes or the wind. Then I would look at the time. Frequently, I would wake at really odd hours like exactly 3am or one minute before midnight. My first thought would be, cool time. My second thought would be about how weird it was. Then, after dismissing my active imagination, I would conclude that it was either coincidence or I had a really cool sleeping mechanism. After that, I would realize that I hadn’t prayed and a sense of gratefulness would arrive. Maybe God sent an angel to wake me up. Maybe I got a special angel just to wake me up, like a guardian angel. That would be pretty cool. Maybe the sound I had heard was the sound of its wings... etc. My mind can wander. Sorry.

There are times when I enter a new place and get the chills. Have you ever experienced that? It’s like the area has an odd and eerie vibe to it. I suddenly feel like someone, or something, is watching me. Then my imagination goes wild and creates a few scenarios about things that pop up in the dark and things that can go through walls and other solid objects. Then I’d become as twitchy as a cat and scare myself silly. In the end, after nothing strange happens (thankfully), I would conclude that I have watched too many horror movies and my mind would certainly drive me insane if I don’t hammer some sense into it.

At times I can be so logical that feelings have a hard time coming through to keep me humane. Other times, my imagination will conquer all. Meanwhile, I hate the feeling of being scared. It is consuming and prevents me from being productive and effective. I wish the logic would excel in this field.

Several sources have made me believe that ghosts aren’t real. All those frightening creatures are just forms that Jinn and Satan created to disturb humans and destroy their faith. This fact is both food for logic and a consolation for me. I hope this belief doesn’t waver.

I hope I never have any more frightening experiences, as intriguing as they are. My imagination is enough to keep me occupied.

No more horror movies for me, then.

Abduct Me, Please!

Recently, traveling by plane has been too frequent to suit my liking. Due to some important issues that needed to be tended to, I have had to fly to Jakarta and back more than once in a month, which is rather tiring for someone with my circumstances. However, because of it I have finally settled a lot of issues, which is such a blessing that does not deserve my whining and complaining. I guess it is one of the extra blessings that come with this holy month of Ramadan. Have you realized one of the extra blessings you’ve gotten this month?

The purpose of this post is to tell you about the plane ride I just had yesterday on my way back to Malaysia. It was uneventful, very little turbulence (yes, I happen to like the turbulence). The sky was clear with little clouds. It was a perfect day for flying.

Usually I try to sleep through such rides to cancel out my boredom. I often succeed in achieving a nap for an hour or so before I wake up and get ready for the landing. Yesterday, however, I didn’t get much sleep and the plane ride wasn’t exciting at all. Automatically, my mind started to wander away to faraway places.

I was fortunate enough to get a seat right next to the window. I started to imagine what it would feel like to float through those clouds. I saw two different layers of clouds in the sky: the cumulus layer and the cirrus layer. I thought back to the moment in 4th grade when my teacher taught us about the different clouds and why they were that way. Sadly, my brain is too muddled-up to recall those bits of information. I am definitely not smarter than a fifth grader.

I started to think about what could hide in those clouds. I looked long and hard at each cloud until I finally spotted another airplane flying in the other direction. White smoke was shooting out from behind it, creating a long white line in its trail. I think it was another Lion Air airplane because it had a splash of red near its tail. Or maybe it was an Air Asia airplane. I was rather disappointed that it wasn’t a UFO. That would have been so cool.

I remembered all the stories about UFO sightings by passengers of an airplane. I wonder what they saw. How did the UFO look like when people saw it from high up in the air? How did they move? How did they disappear?

My mind shifted to the tales of alien abductions that took place on an airplane. Passengers were reported to have gone missing for 1-2 hours. Then they suddenly reappeared, back in their own seats. Some of them reported that they were abducted by aliens. Others couldn’t remember where they had been. I started wishing that an alien UFO would appear and abduct me. That would be so exciting. But of course, I’d have to beg them to let me keep my memory so I could keep the knowledge of what they looked like, what the ship was like, and the technology they used. Maybe they’d even answer my questions about all the things I’m dying to know about the universe.

How big is the universe, really?

What is on the edge of the universe?

What is it like to travel inside a wormhole?

What other dimensions are there?

Are there other earths just like ours? Are there other planets with life on it?

What would it really take to warp time and move through space with ease?

So many questions. I can imagine that many more will come after answers are told.

Maybe they would let me carry the answers to a more sustainable life on earth: self-sustaining energy sources, greener advanced technology, the cure to cancer and many other diseases…

But maybe some answers are meant to be unknown until we find it out by ourselves. Who knows how long that would take, though? I might be gone already.

I really hope they abduct me before I die.

Almost an hour later, the head stewardess announced that we would be landing shortly and we have to fasten our seat belts. The typical sassy and sugar-coated female voice knocked me back to earth, away from my daydreams. I could hear the teasing voice in my head: Earth to Naya, Earth to Naya... Time to go home.

 

I guess earth still needs me. ;p