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Friday, June 02, 2006
Kardus bekas mesin cuci itu akhirnya kami putuskan untuk dibuat rumah-rumahan buat tempat bermain Kay. Sederhana saja. Bagian yang paling depan dipotong membentuk huruf 'L' terbalik, jadilah pintunya. Kiri-kanan diberi lubang bujursangkar untuk jendelanya. Sayapun menjadikannya bertirai kain tulle kuning muda dan kertas crepe warna-warni. Sebagai 'cat' luarnya, kami beli bergulung-gulung kertas kado aneka warna.
Rumah itu selesai 'dikerjakan' dalam waktu 4 jam. Dari jam 10 malam hingga jam 2 pagi. Supaya besok ia bisa segera bermain di dalamnya. Kardus bergelombang yang tadinya kami niatkan untuk menjadi gentingnya ternyata kurang lebar. Tak apalah.
Rumah kardus itu bisa berdiri tegak. Sebuah ruang 'pribadi' untuk anak kami.
Napasku menyesak dan mataku panas. "Oh my god, we have just made our son a house!"
Posted at 03:10 pm by vulva
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Gravitasi bukan melulu wilayah kerja pemikiran Newton. Sepanjang sejarah aviasi, keinginan manusia untuk bisa terbang laksana burung sudah tercatat sejak ribuan tahun yang lalu. Keinginan untuk melawan gravitasi.
"The anti-myth of gravity and of belonging bear the same name: flight. Migration, n., moving, for instance in flight, from one place to another. To fly and to flee: both are ways of seeking freedom..." (Salman Rushdie, Shame, p.48)
Seorang teman suami saya konon menolak mentah-mentah ketika tunangannya, seorang berkewarganegaraan Belanda memintanya untuk mengganti kewarganegaraannya. Padahal alasan tunangannya menurut saya cukup sederhana dan masuk akal: supaya kelak ketika mereka punya anak, pendidikannya bisa terjamin. Mereka berdua sebagai ayah dan ibunya hanya tinggal bekerja sedikit agar bisa menabung untuk biaya kuliahnya.
"We know the force of gravity, but not its origins; and to explain why we become attached to our birthplaces we pretend that we are trees and speak of roots......Roots, I sometimes think, are a conservative myth, designed to keep us in our places." (Ibid.)
Ini belum tentu benar, tapi mungkin teman suami saya ini pastilah anak seorang kaya, yang dalam benaknya tidak akan terlintas bahwa segelintir orang bekerja keras, bahkan dengan pekerjaan yang sangat tidak disukainya, semata-mata karena ingin supaya anaknya bisa memperoleh pendidikan kualitas terbaik. Dia tidak pernah terbentur dengan kenyataan bahwa negara sialan ini tidak menjamin bahwa setiap anak yang terlahir di tanah Indonesia, bahkan jika anak ini terlahir cacat sekalipun, akan memperoleh pendidikan gratis hingga ia kuliah.
Anak saya cacat. Apalagi yang lebih pahit dari itu? dan sialnya ia lahir di Indonesia. Dari Ibu-Bapak Indonesia. Yang tidak akan memberinya apa-apa kecuali beban yang semakin tinggi untuk ditanggung Ibu-Bapaknya hingga ia bisa berdiri sendiri. Itupun kalau ia bisa.
Fuck roots! Itu cuma romantisisme anak-anak orang kaya yang membungkusnya dengan kata-kata yang sampai saat ini masih belum jelas apa artinya, 'nasionalisme'. Mahal betul ongkosnya. Orang harus jadi orang kaya untuk bisa nasionalis, untuk bisa mentertawakan, 'bule kering'. Sementara orang-orang seperti Cak Munir, harus membayar itu dengan dengan nyawanya.
Suami saya bilang temannya punya hak untuk memilih kewarganeraan apapun yang menjadi pilihannya, dengan alasan apapun. Dan dengan demikian ia bebas. Bebas untuk bisa menentukan apakah ia ingin melawan gravitasi, atau mengakar di tanah kelahirannya.
Saya tidak punya kebebasan itu. Dan saya iri.
Untuk Kay: Jika nanti kamu besar dan bisa membaca entry ini. Tolong mengerti kalau Mama punya mimpi sangat besar yang tidak bisa Mama wujudkan karena jiwa Mama yang terlalu kerdil. Mama tidak akan menyerah, Nak. Tidak akan menyerah. Suatu saat Mama tahu kalau Mama akan melawan gravitasi ini. Mama akan duduk di tempat Kakek Newton dulu menemukannya dan tertawa terbahak-bahak mentertawakan pohon apel yang tidak akan pernah bisa melawan gravitasi karena akarnya. Posted at 11:16 pm by vulva
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Welcome to Toddlerhood, Dearie!
My son has just promoted from baby to toddler.
He was striving for the promotion, I'm telling you.
With couple of fallings, bruises, tears, and well, few drop of blood from bumping his teeth on the floor.
Just recently, he had his first fight-over-toys with his cousin.
Couple of weeks ago I made him cry by telling him not to play with my glasses.
Few days a go he fight over a battery operated fire fighter toy car with a bigger kid in the neighbourhood. His nanny persuaded me to buy him one. I decided not to.
In his almost 20 months of age, he had gone through fights, rejections and disapointments.
He will probably want a bike few years from now, a girl in his teen, a car in his twenties. He may probably fight over a marble, and later, over a girl and very much later, over a work.
Dearest Son, Welcome to Toddlerhood, Welcome to real life. I will stand as close as I could and watch you win or lose, rise or fall. I will support you whole-heartedly. Posted at 04:31 pm by vulva
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Buat Seorang Ibu yang Pergi Selasa Lalu
Kita tidak pernah terlalu dekat sebagai teman, kurasa. Yang aku tahu kamu dengan senyummu yang mengembang setiap kali kita bertegur sapa. Dan senyum itu tidak pernah meninggalkan wajahmu meskipun telah lama kita tidak bertemu.
Beberapa bulan tahun lalu aku sempat meneleponmu, menanyakan kabar dan saling berbagi cerita. Aku bilang anakku tidak begitu baik keadaannya. Dan cerita pun menghambur dari mulutmu. Saat itu aku menahan tangis, akhirnya aku bisa menemukan sesama ibu untuk membagi kegundahan.
Dan aku tahu betapa kamu begitu keras berusaha. Kamu ingin aku juga begitu, karena beberapa kali kamu yang selalu menanyakan kabar anakku. Tiap kali aku berkeluh kesah, kau tidak sempat membiarkanku menjadi terlalu lama berputus asa, dengan ceritamu yang begitu sederhana tentang harapan dan impian, tentang apa yang bisa dilakukan saat ini dan kenapa itu harus dilakukan.
Selasa siang lalu aku mengantarmu pergi. Ke tempat lain yang pasti lebih indah dari dunia ini. Tempat yang menempatkan seorang Ibu sepertimu di atas singgasana terang yang berpendar-pendar.
Kita tidak pernah terlalu dekat, kurasa. Tapi rasa sesal tidak pernah pergi karena aku tak sempat ucapkan terima kasih, untuk memberikan kekuatan disaat aku sudah berhenti berharap dan berusaha.
(Untuk Mpus, "Selamat Jalan dan Terima Kasih, mudah-mudahan Tuhan menyampaikan doaku yang paling tulus untukmu,")
Posted at 06:29 pm by vulva
Monday, December 27, 2004
Which Side are You? Left or Right?
I was just being betrayed by my left brain.
I took some test to pass the initial selection to be a civil servant.
2/3 of the test measured our ability in dealing with numbers.
1/3 of it was meant to measure our language skill.
I blew it.
I scored 500, out of the expectation of 565.
Funny thing was, my score in linguistic ability was among the highest.
And guess, the next test to be taken for them who pass the initial test?
English!
Posted at 06:46 pm by vulva
An earthquake just strucked, just hundreds of miles away from where I lives. Thousands of people died, most of them are children and youngsters, mothers grieved with dead babies on their arms. God was angry, they said. God is angry, allright.
God is always angry, I suppose.
Just in time when people need His/Her loving power, He/She showed them otherwise.
I am not trying to compare my grief with theirs. Comparing to them, mine is nothing. Comparing to those who lose their loved one, my lose of one after another scholarship scheme is zero.
Just couple of weeks a go I was waiting for an envelope. Brown and big, thick and supple. My fate was decided by some powerful persons, whose names were remained undisclosed. They wrote it down on some piece of paper, and sent it by post. In big brown envelope.
It doesn't take a Tsunami to destroy a person's hope. It only take a stupid big brown envelope.
Call me self-centered.
I am. Posted at 06:30 pm by vulva
Monday, November 08, 2004
Nothing happened.
Just a stupid white man got re-elected.
Rain of bomb in Fallujah.
Anything could've happened.
But not this time. Not this fuckin' time. Not yet. Not ever. Posted at 04:10 pm by vulva
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
In the Name of the Public
I did in the name of the public.
There I say it.
I did it in the Goddammit name of the public.
My choice.
To be an NGO activist.
To be a lecturer.
To sit in front of this stupid computer and type nonsense document about public participation in policy-making process.
Humbug!
Maybe the notion "Ignorance is Power" in Orwell's 1984 was right afterall.
Right now I don't care if it was right or was not.
I hope my son understand my situation.
Posted at 02:13 pm by vulva
Monday, October 04, 2004
I'm just making a list of the things that I hate.
My god! they're multiplying.
It's because I happened to visit some blogs.
Young women's.
With their luxury of having the choices, to shop, to be pampered like princess in day spa, to buy things they like, clothes, accessories, handbag, cellular phone, portable computers, the list could countinue on and on....
Those bitches.
Who can choose to do anything but becoming a mother of developmental-delayed cross-eyed son.
Who can choose to buy anything but diapers and formula.
Who can choose the music they want to hear.
The food they want to eat. To do anything they want.
Damn! because they're young, they're smart, they're handsomely paid for their work.
I hate them all.
While me, me, oh me, the sad-overworked underpaid me.
Looking very gloomy with my 4 year-old clothes.
Trying to find a decent job, ending up to be just free-lance lecturer in the university and a so-called government consultant with not even a decent desk and a computer to work.
Oh, silly sad old me!
When I come home, I tried to avoid my son's gaze. The the misalignment of my son's two eyes. Looking at me. Trying helplessly to stand on his two feet, and failed.
I hate them, those women, those bitches to the bone.
I hate them because they have the chance to become who I am not.
In time like this, suicide is even more tantalizing than high paying job. Posted at 04:49 pm by vulva
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Taken from Julia Fordham's Song 'Girlfriend'
Don't tell me to stop crying
Please just hold me while I do
Soothe me with your silence
And just craddle me to you
Don't push me for my reasons
Or expect me to explain
How come in five minutes
Shift a lifetime hidden pain
A friend of mine always wants to be held while she's crying.
It's never been easy in most of the times, because if she's angry she refused to be held.
So, anyone near her should pull her into his/her arms forcefully.
Then she could continue her cry to her heart content.
Crying I guess, is the safest, cheapest way to stay sane.
When some words are better left unsaid, tears should better be wept.
Words could hurt everybode, tears could not.
I cry a lot, I stay sane, until today at least.
I hate the strange look on my husband's face everytime I cry.
I hate it even more when he also cries.
I cry when I'm overwhelmingly happy, or sad, or badly hurt.
I cry everytime I couldn't find a single word to express my feeling.
One thing for sure, crying always give me a terrible sinusitis. Posted at 02:05 pm by vulva
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I am a hateful person.
I hate ignorance.
I hate bitter person.
I hate war.
I hate chauvinism.
I hate decaff and nicotine patches.
I hate commercial break on my favourite series.
I hate young man clad in red shirt with chè guevara face printed in it.
I even hate hatred.
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