it’s kind of sad if you don’t know the meaning…

Mungkin sebagian besar sudah dengar, sekarang saya kuliah tentang kehutanan, tepatnya, “erosion control”. Studi tentang environment memang sudah cukup lama jadi obsesi, dan ternyata kalau mengerjakan sesuatu yang memang disukai, hidup jadi mudah rasanya.

Sesuai plat namanya, kami berusaha belajar cara mengontrol erosi, baik itu tanah longsor skala besar yang “gubrak” sekali jatuh memakan korban banyak, atau erosi permukaan tanah saja yang merangkak turun perlahan-lahan tapi sama berbahayanya untuk ekosistem.

Banyak yang bereaksi, “ngontrol erosi kok susah, tanam pohon yang banyak aja kan ye”

Well, setengah benar. Tapi kalau mau memberikan solusi seperti itu, kami harus menjelaskan pohon apa, apakah pohon pinus lebih bagus daripada pohon ek? lalu pohon-pohon itu harus ditanam dengan jarak seberapa supaya efeknya maksimal? Dan harus ditutup dengan kesimpulan kapan efeknya bisa terlihat.

Lagipula, solusi “tanam pohon” cuma bisa berlaku di daerah yang hujannya banyak.

Topik yang saya pilih untuk kuliah di Jepang saya bawa dari kampung halaman. Gunung Bawakaraeng (60 kilometer dari kota Makassar), runtuh 5 tahun lalu (26 Maret 2004).

(ki-ka: Gunung Bawakaraeng sebelum dan setelah runtuh)

Walaupun yang meninggal ‘hanya’ 30 orang, runtuh ini termasuk bencana terbesar di Indonesia. Kenapa?

Karena bagian runtuhan tanah itu totalnya 232 juta m3. Saya sendiri belum bisa membayangkan besarnya seberapa,

kata orang yang sense of sizing nya lebih baik daripada saya, itu sekitar 5 tokyo dome terisi penuh dengan tanah. Nah, 232 juta m3 tanah itu berguling menyapu habis desa Lengkese dan akhirnya berhenti di atas sungai Jeneberang.

Sungai Jeneberang adalah salah satu sungai utama di daerah Sulawesi Selatan, sungai ini membawa air ke kota Makassar tercintaku, melalui Bili-bili Dam.

Sudah bisa diduga, setiap musim hujan, tanah longsor yang di atas terbawa masuk ke dalam dam, alhasil dam nya jadi penuh tanah, supply air jadi tersendat, usia Dam jadi berkurang, padahal Dam itu utangannya (sekitar 30 milyar yen) pun belum lunas.

Sekarang pemerintah harus pinjam uang lagi untuk konstruksi macam-macam bendungan penahan tanah.

(Air Dam Bili-bili Setelah Longsor,2007)

Begitulah garis besar lingkungan di sekitar Dam Bili-bili sekarang. Masih banyak lagi cerita demi cerita yang menstimulasi interest dan sakit kepala. Tapi untuk saat ini, saya tidak boleh banyak opini dan bercuap-cuap tanpa pondasi. Karena studi saya termasuk exact science, saya jadi berkutat di rumus-rumus hidrologi untuk menjelaskan dampak runtuhnya gunung itu pada karakter sungai. Sebenarnya, aslinya saya sering gatal mencari informasi lain yang lebih ke masalah sosial.

Setahun dua kali saya pulang kampung meninjau lokasi, membuat koneksi supaya supply data lancar. Kadang-kadang dalam data yang saya terima, ada informasi tentang orang-orang di sekitar pemukiman; tentang orang yang dulunya petani dan sekarang jadi penambang pasir, tentang PT. Bosowa yang aktif mengambil tanah dari dalam dam, kliping surat kabar tentang banyaknya mobil-mobil konstruksi yang tidak mengikuti peraturan lalu lintas, dan sebagainya. Tapi hal menarik yang terakhir menangkap mata saya adalah survei taraf hidup warga desa sekitar gunung Bawakaraeng.

Survei ini ditujukan untuk meningkatkan kesadaran warga tentang cara evakuasi kalau ada longsor susulan, disebarkan oleh organisasi SABO dan kantor PU (Pemerintah Umum).

Seperti orang bilang, beauty is relative but ugliness is absolute.

Bicara taraf hidup juga relatif. Kalau ikut standardnya UN, orang yang penghasilannya di bawah US$2 adalah orang miskin, atau istilahnya “below poverty level”. Kalau ikut standard teman-teman (iya, kamu) yang punya 2 hp dan bawa mobil sendiri, saya termasuk miskin karena cuma punya 1 hp dan naik sepeda jengki ke kampus. Kalau ikut standard orang Jakarta, Makassar termasuk miskin karena cuma punya 2 mall.

Semua standard yang bisa kita bayangkan di hidup sehari-hari kita, tidak berlaku untuk mengukur taraf hidup orang-orang di desa-desa ini.

Di desa Batumenteng, Limbua, Gamissang, Jannaka, dan beberapa desa lainnya di sekitar Gunung Bawakaraeng, ini cara klasifikasi survei taraf hidup:

Menurut UN sih, semua yang di atas adalah “miskin”, tapi bagi daerah itu, kalau anda punya 5 ekor sapi, makan tiga kali sehari dan pergi ke dokter kalau sakit, itu sudah termasuk kaya. Kalau cuma punya beberapa ekor ayam, punya dukun langganan atau harus pergi ke rumah tetangga untuk pinjam WC, itu baru miskin.

****

Ada banyak informasi tentang Bawakaraeng dan Bili-bili Dam, tapi sebaiknya mulai dari artikel ini : http://www.sabo-int.org/case/bawakaraeng.pdf

7.  You don’t remember your parents’ address

6. While everyone complains about how boring your hometown is, you love that town; but then again, you are usually only there for 3 weeks a year. 

5. You have too many bank accounts (not necessarily with money).

4. You  have learned more than 3 languages but master none of them.

3. You know how to live with just 30 kg of luggages.

2. You promise not to get seriously in love with anyone until you found a place with at least 5 years job contract.

1. You want to go home, but you don’t know where.

We went out last weekend. Although the participants of this Saturday night bar hopping are usually variated, I still call it:

‘the usual program’ :

When everyone is slightly loaded with cash, we’d go to a typical Japanese restaurant slash bar (izakaya ) for dinner. If not, we just eat at home and then  hang out by the river and watch street performances until it gets cold.

After river, if the mood is right, we’d go dancing, usually at the two-story discotheque called Sam&Dave.

If they are not the dancing type, we’d go karaoke, simply because the karaoke here is amazing, with stages, mirrors, and cute waiters.

But for whatever mood we are in, we’ll always end up at ING rock bar, the small-stingy-yet-oh-great-music bar.

so, to sum up, the schemes are:

a. izakaya - river - ING

b. eat at home - river-ING-dance-ING

c. eat at home - river-ING-Karaoke - ING

d. ING - ING - ING - Ramen at 3 am because we are starving.

Last weekend was scheme b, plus a conversation with a cancer survivor.

He is in his late twenties, but just a year ago he was so close to death. Six months ago he did not have any hair from the chemo effect and I am delighted to see him back with short but thick brown hair all over his head.

You know, it is funny how when you talk to a cancer survivor or survivors from any serious illness, they would never share in a way you thought they would. You would expect a cancer survivor to tell you ‘don’t smoke’ or ‘eat fibers’ or ‘get regular check-ups’ or any of those sorts.

But no, he did not.

He sat on the bar stool next to me, still with his wet t-shirt from dancing. with his wide smile and intimidatingly optimistic eyes.

“You see, a year ago I was engaged and was buying a house together with my fiancee. After the cancer diagnose, she broke up with me” He started sharing.

I gasped. My eyes wide open, some lovely curse words are at the tip of my tongue.

He knew it was coming and stopped me.

“But we are not here to judge her, eh? She is her own person. Sure, it broke me and that sucks, but ey, life goes on, eh. She can do whatever she pleases. Seriously, no regrets whatsoever.”

I said “Sure”

“My point is, for as long as I can remember, I lived for others. I had a great job in UK and always busy thinking what was best for the job, for the company, which house to buy with her, took care of her, get family insurance, plan ahead, plan ahead. and then what happened? snap. in one night my life changed. How the hell do we know, right?”

I nodded. I haven’t stopped nodding for like 3 minutes, actually.

“I mean, you should take time for yourself. Every day, even just for 5 minutes, do something just for YOU”

He grinned widely and started jumping around the bar again.

The “usual program” was not so usual anymore.

If we look around and see what people do to feel alive, to feel complete, to feel that they are not wasting their precious life, we’ll find how different and how similar we all are. Like the Japanese who goes bananas to feel they are keeping their body shape (read: Japan goes bananas),

or maybe we are the kinds who feel the need to do brand new things every single day to feel alive. So you come up with a daily special to-do-lists like : ‘go ride an elephant’ or ‘go join karate club’

Or maybe you are more like me who thinks ‘learning’ new thing each day is more fulfilling than ‘doing’. So you have at your browser, the daily vocabulary, daily newsfeed, daily ‘how to’, and you’d listen to every ‘did you know’ stories. Therefore, you never mind the same usual weekend programs as long as you learn something new.

Or maybe we are the kind who does not even know what makes us feel safe and complete anymore?

Well, hold tight, lift that chin up. Because after all, it is not like we have to fight cancer.

I laid there under my blanket, staring at the message I just wrote but haven’t sent. It is pretty simple, it is written “I gotta say it. I love you”

but I haven’t sent it.

I closed my eyes tight and a tear actually dropped.

I turned 24 just to be afraid to say i love you?

How wrong could those three words be?

I kicked my blanket away and started typing here. I’ll tell you how wrong it could go.

It means a lot yet could mean nothing at all.

It could destroy the perfectly balanced relationship one already have.

It would crawl from your pure heartbeat, slowly up to your brains, clutched deep at the edges of your mind and become a responsibility. Any of you loving someone just because you have said it?

We are letting words, sex, promises, and the damn friendster and facebook status, to limit how we actually feel.

After all, to be free to feel is more important than feeling free.

Truth is, I AM in love. There is a hop in my walk. I sing while I am cycling, for heaven sake.

When I put them into words, will it all stop?

Call it a silly crush, but seriously, when was the last time we love someone not because she is beautiful and he is smart? when was the last time we love someone and can’t explain why?

My point is, we should stop making goals to go bungee jumping or such. Because have you ever sat on a grass with your feet dangling in a river and just do nothing?

so,

should I send it?

Autumn. Probably the most depressing season in Japan, where people start walking around like the zombies we shoot at in the game arcades.

But I got to tell you, today, the weather is b.e.a.u.t.i.f.u.l..Mr. Sun is warm and Madame Breeze is cool. I was on the bridge, looked over to the Kamo River and saw how breathtaking everything is.

Seriously, the water, the trees and the blue sky were so exquisite that I thought I could explode.

Or maybe everything seems beautiful because I am happy.

Maybe.

I am safely at my hometown now. I stepped on the airplane around noon at Bali, got the windowseat but someone has already taken it. I didn’t really care, I know how outside looks from a plane, bright blue of space. So I just sat on the aisle seat, and continued reading my new book ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’, you should read it too, you’ll love it.

A group of people came, chattering and arguing about where to sit. They talk in my local language. A language that sounds harsh yet always has hints of sarcastic jokes in it. The poor steward looked helpless yet amused, watching them changing seats and blocking the aisle. In the middle of that 10 minutes chaos, I felt at home already.

We landed. Makassar city. I smelled it first before i saw it. Like the smell of sun mixed with pandan leaves and water on asphalt. The new airport took me by surprise. It was new, spacious, white, clean, like a five star hotel. Glad to know my hometown is doing fine.

Both my parents picked me up at the airport. They look peaceful and serene. Not as agitated as they usually did. Glad to know my parents are doing fine too.

My next stop was directly my grandmother. She looks weaker, but not older. She still gossips excitedly about how her new maid always talk on the phone. She asked me what I wanted to eat. I mention some foods, from the top of my head; chicken smoor, her special fried noodle, fish tomatoes, and santan vegetables.
The next day, all those foods arrived at my home. Glad to know her memory and food still as sharp as ever.

On that same day, I went to watch the sunset with a friend. Do you know that the sunset here is rated the 3rd most beautiful in the world?
The sky will look orange at around 6.00, and then pink at around 6.15, and a hint of turquoise at around 6.20, and then everything turned black, but at least you can always see one star up there.

My next favorite thing to do beside driving a car, is washing it.
When we were small, our father used to put us in the car, windows up and he’d spray water. We felt like we were below the sea.
How simple it was to be amused.

Well, hope you are doing well with the heat there.

I’ll see you when I see you.

when the world goes fast, slow down.

take a bus instead of taxi. or walk.

take time, wash your dishes.
take time, iron your clothes.

lay down and watch the stars, to feel small.

perform on a stage, to feel big.

climb a mountain, just to see how slow a shooting star is up there.

drive without music.

stop multitasking.

just stop a while.

can you hear it?

"hear what, papa?"

your heartbeat.

is it beating?
are you alive?
are you making moments?
or are you fooled by the concept of time?

can you say it with every beat you found,
"i am alive"
"i am alive"
"i am alive"

some of you have written nice comments on my Japan photos, probably being ‘awed’ and perhaps even said how much you want to be in Japan.

Yes, Japan is beautiful, the scenes are clean, very well taken care of, most places look familiar from your Japanese dramas and comics, right?

But when you asked me, "how is Japan?"
I came up with super intelligent comments, like "awesome" or "great" or "woohoo".

truth is, i never know what to say when you ask about Japan, dears.

Even Stephen King, the famous writer who breaths,eats and drinks words, said that the best things could not and should not be described in words. Because words diminish it.

As difficult as it is, I’ll try to describe it better here, while I am still in Japan, about some things only to be found in Japan, about personal experiences and happenings, Japanese values and how-to, things a camera can not capture.

———————–

Friendship Level
You remember when you took one of those personality tests? when they ask you to mention your own weaknesses and strengths? Are you one of the people who says "I can make friends easily" in the strengths section?

Well, before being too proud about it, try coming here.

It is difficult to make friends here. Why?
Sure, there are those universal limitations that you find in any foreign country that you live in: from language barriers to a simple explanation that it is hard to penetrate any form of established groups.

But Japanese take the making friends issue to a different level. The best way I can explain why, is simply, they have a rather different definition of what friendship is.

Don’t get me wrong. They are nice. Extremely nice, in fact. But that is about all you get at first. Nice.

Don’t expect that you could always message or call your Japanese friend just for a chit chat. Don’t expect you could stop by at their home freely or in short notice. They are simply not used to that or too busy for that. Don’t expect them to share as much as you usually do. Even if it is not a secret, anything personal will always be considered personal. Any openness or personal questions will be too blunt for them and they could feel attacked.

But if there is anything I have learned from meeting people from different nationalities, it is just that in the end we are all the same. we laugh and cry for all the same things. you just need to wait and find the right switch (Dhanio, 2008).

Ok, a practical example.

My laboratory is a branch of forestry, around 15 men and only 3 girls. In my description of a ‘normal’ environment, in this situation, the girls would be extremely close to each other. Probably, we’ll have the sisterhood mentality. Like, we should be having our own team in this men world. But the girls in my lab they don’t even seem to know about each other so much. They don’t have lunch together or hang out together outside school.

It was weird, and in a way, dissappointing.

One weekend last year, we went on a hiking trip. After a whole day of field work, we went to take a bath in the hotspring. I was still unpacking slowly when the other girls were already in the bath, yelling out my name, telling me to hurry join them in the hotspring.

I thought, "what’s the rush? I’d prefer taking the bath privately actually". but anyway I went down there to join them.

I opened the door, the three girls were already in the bath, naked, grinning at me. (sorry, no photos of this event).

And as soon as I dipped my naked ass into the hot water, they shot me with questions:

"So, do you have a boyfriend?""What’s his name?""where is he from?""I just got engaged. do you want to marry him?" "Is he missing you now?""Why did you breakup with the other one?"

In that hot water, I froze.

After 6 months of meeting them almost everyday, and on those days we just talked about school things, weather and other general news, this??, the bath time??, this is the time they chose to get to know my personal matter ?! They chose my most vulnerable time: without clothes.

While it was an attack for me, that was their comfort zone. They are used to this bath thing. Probably they think, we were already naked anyway, so why not be totally naked about personal things also?

Other international friends have similar experiences to mine, one guy from Germany told me that after 3 months working with a Japanese guy in a same office, the first time the guy asked him a personal question ( which was "where do you live?") was when they went out for a drink and the Japanese guy was drunk.

Am I suggesting you that when you go to Japan and you want to make friends, you should take them to a bath and get drunk?
Well, maybe I am.

Just like most anecdotes, we’ll start this one with a description of time, place and weather.

It was one Friday night in early summer. The mix of summer night smell and cool breeze of the spring were there.
I turned into one of the small streets in that ancient town of Japan. During the day, this part of the town is a busy shopping street,  filled with youngsters shopping in their big hairs and modern hip clothes. No one would guess how different it could look at night. With all the shops closed and lights are off, all old wooden houses are visible, and you could easily get lost inside these small alleys.
My friends dragged me here,

"let’s stop by here a while. live painting. we’ll go to our bar after this"  one of them said.
"live painting?" I was not sure what that meant. But before anyone could answer, we were already inside a tiny ‘crepes and sweets’ shop.

A group of girls and boys wearing mixtures of jeans and Japanese traditional clothes sitting there, sipping beers, eating crepe cakes and smoking. They screamed "welcome!! come, come, upstairs".

Well, surprisingly, "live painting" meant literally live painting.
Around 10 young street artists paint right there, on the second floor of that cake shop, we - guests- watch and the artists would describe their paintings when they are done.

I immediately liked the atmosphere in there. I could not put my finger on what I particularly liked, though. The smell of paint? the colors flying about freely on the walls? how the artists bite their brushes?
When I looked around, it reminded me of scientific poster presentation that I have been to a lot nowadays. 1.5 m x 1 m posters hanging on the walls, people look around to examine the contents, while the publisher/researcher stand beside his/her poster, ready to answer questions from professors and experts.

Art has never been familiar to me, really. My parents are both environmentalists/ scientists, my friends’ parents (and now my friends) are into business and money, and my closest friends are usually computer or number minded people.

Yet somehow in Japan, while initially intending to train my scientific mind, I ended up hanging out mainly with street musicians, painters, and performers, and apparently this stimulated a small part in this brain that had never been touched before; art.

I was immediately attracted to one very bright painting. very abstract. I went closer and saw what paint the artist was using.

"acrylic" I read the bottle out loud.

The artist looked up to me and smile "Hi. Nihonjin?" (meaning, "are you Japanese?")

I shook my head and said "Indonesian".

He grinned and said "yes. acrylic. it dries very fast. so I must be fast mixing. You like art?"

"I guess so. But I don’t understand it"

"It is not understanding. It is loving. You understand music?" He is acting like a guru now. But I’ve always enjoyed being a student. I sat next to him while he kept mixing green and white, yellow and white, purple and white.

"I guess so. And I understand words. I like writing." I tried to fill him in on my backgrounds.

"Painting is just like that. Because you love it, no? Because you like the rhythm, the words in the song. You love it so you understand it." Now he is painting a woman with golden bright hair.

"I love it so I understand it?"

"Yes. or illusion of understanding it. but it is just the same. So do you paint?" He cleaned his brushes on the white cloth.

"Nothing as emotional like yours. Lately it is good weather, so I would sit outside usually near the river with my boyfriend and we paint what we see in front of us" My eyes followed his hand movement around the paper. "Sort of like a lousy photograph of where we had been hanging out" I added again, "we did watercolors. but I know no technique whatsoever"

"Technique not necessary. Just paint"

"I see. But, isn’t technique important? Sometimes I could see the painting so clear in my head but my technique is so poor that it becomes so different on paper when I am done."

"And you become sad?" he made a sad face.

"Yes. sad" I was amused by his sad face.

"Don’t be sad. It is like planning to have sex with someone and then you end up making love"

"What??" I was shocked but extremely amused.

"Yes. Result is different. You planned to playing sex, but you end up falling love.
Or you plan to love, but end up playing sex.
Different result.
But the feeling is still grreeaatt"

We laughed and laughed and laughed.

Somehow I totally understood his explanation.

My girls and I went to the bar after that but I could not wait to go home to loverville to tell that story to my boyfriend.
I told him about the gorgeous acrylic colors, about the unfamiliar yet so comfortable air that I breathed, about the artist’s view of point about art, techniques and sex, about how I regret that I did not ask the artist’s message of his painting.
As usual, he listens with all his five (or maybe more) senses.
And then he opened a file on his laptop "This painting has a clear message"

"Really?" I thought, the only message I was getting was five naked women in a very bad brothel house?
"You have been watching porn while I went out?" I teased him.
We giggled and he said,
"This is about chinese olympic game. A chinese artist painted it. Look, one American girl, one Russian (on the right), one Chinese (showing her back) and one Japanese (short haired woman on the left). They are playing Mahjong. The small girl standing here is Taiwanese"

"I see. The Taiwanese looks angry at the Chinese. Ready to kill!!" I was very excited with my second art lesson of the day.

"Yeah. And look. They are sort of playing ’strip Mahjong’. America is winning. Russian seems to lose interest on the game. But her right leg is on America, yet left hand is touching the chinese. See?"

"Yeah. The Chinese is loosing, though". I said,

"but she still got her pants. And those three cards, are strong ones in Mahjong. And she might be hiding some cards behind her."

"Hooo…." I stared closer to the screen.

"The Japanese is losing," he continued  "but pretends that she is winning with her happy face"

We giggled at the always-happy-face Japanese.

"Hoo.. this is nice" I was so thrilled. We opened a can of beer. I sat closer to him and said "and look at the weather outside. A storm is about to come. Or it is the bad air of pollution in China"

"Ah, you, environment girl"

We kept discussing and speculating on the painting for another half an hour. When he went back to his assignments, I kept browsing for other abstract paintings. Trying to understand messages of other paintings. But not all of them are as easy to guess as that Olympic painting.

And suddenly, it dawned on me, what I loved about that small painting gallery on top of the crepe cake shop.
Unlike scientific poster presentation,
in the live painting, not one painting is better than the other.
Not one method is better than the other.
Not one man is more expert than the other.
Each of them has a message or a thousandfold of messages.
It could show someone’s whole life. or just one’s state of mind in that 2/3 hours of painting.

There was no right or wrong there. No one could come up to the artist and say " You should improve on this aspect or that aspect"

To do that would just imply that the artist should change who he is, what he was, and what he wants to be.

And also it is impossible to point on what to improve, to point out if the painting is nice or awful. You lose any opinion. Because you can’t put it into words. It stresses me out, because I love words. I believe that what I can not put into words are not real. But I guess I must admit,

words can NOT handle this.