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“Gy, lagi bingung nih…”
Oh nooo….begitu dalam hati sebenernya gue menjerit ketika mendengar suara temen gue, rekan mahasiswa di NTU. Pasalnya, ini uda ketiga kalinya dalam minggu; ke-berapa belas kalinya dalam bulan, dan keberapapuluhnya dalam semester ini beliau menelpon gue jam 1 pagi, spesial untuk memberikan reportase langsung tentang kisah percintaan jarak jauh mereka. Kalau gue mau dikucilkan dari masyarakat karena dapet cap bukan teman yang baik, uda pasti gue bakal langsung menutup telpon dan cabut tidur. Tetapi secara gue ingin mencitrakan diri gue sebagai teman yang baik, gue pun menjawab dengan sabar….

 

Akhir2 ini gue punya aktivitas baru. Selepas jaga pameran poto di museum tengah kota, gue akan melancong ke perpustakaan terdekat guna membaca Jakarta Post, berharap bisa mengejar pengetahuan umum gue agar tidak malu2in banget dalam tes masuk jadi jurnalis sebuah kantor berita ibukota. Meski ternyata sistem kebut seminggu itu terbukti tidak efektif, gue tetap mendapat hikmah, memahami fungsi baru dan utama sebuah perpustakaan: tempat pacaran.

Raffles Place was as dazzling as always, with lights beaming from skyscrapers filled the district. But looking at one of the best business district in Asia from the windows of Esplanade Library, I realised that you can only see the beauty of it, if you’re not sitting inside those well lit offices at 9 p.m. at night.

A temen deketnya B. C teman dekat saya. A dekat sama saya. B berpacaran dengan C.A dan saya tidak cocok.B dan C putus. A sekarang dekat sama C.

Bingung kan?

Kerumitan hubungan pertalian persahabatan dan perkasihan yang berlangsung diantara kami berempat memang sedikit tinggi tingkatannya dibandingkan kerumitan soal matematika aljabar turunan 10 dalam final kompetisi matematika tingkat provinsi tahun 2002.Jika soal yang menggagalkan cita2 gue punya piala tersebut punya jalan penyelesaian yg jelas, berstruktur dan objektif; tidak demikian dengan kisruh soal ABC dan saya.

Sejak Dian Sastro mampir ke salah satu postingan saya, readership rate saya meningkat secara tajam. Dan hal tentunya membuat saya sangat senang dan bersyukur, karena seorang artis kenamaan sudi mampir ke blog rakyat jelata seperti saya. Lebih girang lagi ketika blog yang tujuan utamanya adalah mencegah saya gila karena ngomong sendiri, justru menarik orang lain untuk gila bersama saya.

Pengalaman pertama gue dengan daun muda adalah ketika gue kelas 3 SMP. Gue jadi coordinator pensi SMP gue dan membuat gue harus berinteraksi dengan artis muda Derby Romero, yang waktu itu masi kelas 5 SD. Sekali lirik gue dan cewe-cewe di tim gue langsung bisa menangkap bibit-bibit kegantengan si actor Petualangan Sherina itu. Bulu matanya panjang dan matanya gede jernih, langsung bikin gadis-gadis muda itu jatuh hati. Apalagi Derby sama sekali ga canggung bergaul sama kita2 yang 5 tahun lebih tua. Dengan nyanteinya dia bakal becanda, atau melonjak ke pangkuan kita, tanpa menyadari apa yang sedang kami pikirkan…

Ini merupakan sebuah cara inovatif untuk mengobati rasa rindu terhadap masakan khas Indo yang kadang sulit ditemui di luar negeri. Juga merupakan cara penghematan yang sangat efisien terutama untuk anak kost yang hidup dalam budget terbatas. Disebut metode pengawetan masakan padang, metode ini sebenernya sangat sederhana dan sangat mungkin tidak orginal. Tetapi sering diragukan keawetannya dan efektivitasnya.Percayalah, jangan ragu lagi! Metode ini telah teruji secara klinis dan telah disetujui badan imigrasi di Indo dan di Singapura.

Berawal dari omelan emak gue atas ketidakmampuan gue menahan godaan tidur..dilanjutkan dengan sifat2 gue yang kata ibu tercinta tidak menuruti harapan masyarakat akan seorang wanita muda…gue mengumpulkan 4 sifat anak perawan yang menurut gue harus diluruskan dan dibenarkan.

1. Anak perawan bangunnya pagi
“Anak perawan jam segini baru bangun…gimana bisa dapet rejeki?!” begitu komentar nyokap gue, klo gue dengan apatisnya menarik selimut gue sampai sebatas alis, berusaha mengabaikan lampu kamar yang sengaja dihidupkan dan sinar matahari yang secara ga sopannya menerobos jendela gue. Adalah suatu misconception klo disebut anak perawan itu harus bangun pagi. Justru karena gue perawan gue punya hak buat bangun siang! Coba klo gue dah kawin, gue bakal harus bangun pagi 7x seminggu untuk nyiapain sarapan buat suami, mandiin anak2, terus mandiin kebo klo gue kerja di sawah. Justru kesempatan emas buat kita yang belum terbebani kerja rumah tangga untuk sesekali menikmati hiburan murah meriah, sehat dan tidak menyusahkan; tidur!

2. Anak perawan kamarnya rapi
Naa..klo ini sering kedenger, bukan hanya dari nyokap gue, tapi juga dari temen2 cowo gue. “Bused dah, anak perawan kamarnya kayak kapal pecah, gimana bisa dapet jodoh???” Sungguh suatu pernyataan yang sexist menurut gw. Anak perjaka kamarnya secara umum lebih berantakan dari kamar anak perawan, tapi gak pernah tuh dicela2, apalagi disumpahin ga laku seumur hidup. Seolah2 anak perempuan itu harus rapi…bersih..ayu…senantiasa, supaya nanti kalau dah nikah bisa mengurus rumah dengan baik. Lha klo uda kayak gitu, dapet jodoh brantakan ancur2an, gue juga yang harus rapiin gitu? Nyari istri apa pembantu?!

3. Anak perawan bicaranya halus
Bukan salah gue klo gue cablak, see from the bright side, mungkin tanda2 kecerdasan linguistic. Tapi sering gue diprotes, “hush…anak perawan ngomongnya kenceng banget…ga sopan!” Apa hubungannya keperawanan sama pita suaraaaa??? Itu hubungannya sama turunan gitu. Klo nyokap gue pita suaranya ga kualitas nomer satu gitu kan, gue juga bakal alus2 dan ngomong pake kromo inggil (bener ga nulisnya?). Dan emang klo gue dah ga perawan, suara gue bisa berubah gitu? Klo udah nyebut2 turunan Betawi yang terkenal lenongnya, nyokap gue yang berbalik sewot, ga ada hubungannya gen sama cara ketawa! Rasis kamu! Yap mam! Emang kagak ada hubungannya, apalagi sama keperawanan!

4. Anak perawan jalannya rapet
Kalau gue tidak mewarisi bentuk kaki bapak gue yang emang bukan idaman stiap wanita, gue yakin jalan gue ga bakal ngegang. Dan kalau gue tidak dianggep anak laki pas TK, gue yakin gue akan sedikit lebih feminim. Tapi tanpa menyadari latar belakang dan kondisi fisik gue, tetep loh sejak kelas 5 SD gue disuru ‘benerin jalan’. “Jalan yang rapet kenapa si? Kayak abis diperawanin aja…” Ini menurut gue adalah pembodohan masyarakat! Menurut pendidikan seks yang gue dapet pas gue SMP, kita tidak bisa menentukan seseorang perawan atau tidak, tanpa melalui uji tes x-ray atau USG, apalagi hanya melalui cara jalan. Cara jalan yang tidak benar yang kadang tampak setelah hubungan sex muncul karena nyeri yang disebabkan kurangnya cairan sendi pada tulang selangkangan. Hal ini disebabkan karena keletihan atau hubungan sex pada organ yang masih premature, misalnya terjadi pada kasus pemerkosaan dan hubungan sex usia dini. Jadi secara biologis, ga ada tuh aturannya anak perawan jalannya beda!

Kadang2, pas gue lagi tinggal sama nyokap (pas di Jakarta), timbul rasa kesal yang bukan main apalagi kalau lagi enak2nya ngelepus. Dan itu akan memicu keberanian dan kekurangajaran gue, “Emang masi perawan?”

BIasanya nyokap gue bakal terdiam melongo ga bisa ngebales. Terus tangannya terangkat ke atas…dengan telapak tangan membentuk sudut 45 derajat ke arah pipi gue…Dan melihat situasi ga enak ini, gue bakal segera menarik ucapan gue, “BECANDA MAK! BECANDA! BENER DAH BECANDA! SUMPAH!” lalu gue bakal lompat dari tempat tidur dan dengan kaki rapat membereskan kamar gue, semua dengan suara diperhalus. Ahh..gue tetep harus mengikuti aturan anak perawan….

Renungan: sifat anak perawan apalagikah yang ada dalam masyarakat?

Taking pictures of school kids is like a curse for me. I am a university student; so anything below 10.a.m is early, and 4.30 is 5.5 hours before early! But the two school kids that I was going to meet were more than eager to reach their school early, so lazily I turned off my alarm clock, tidied up my face a bit, and hailed a cab.

It was 6.30 when I finally reached their flat, at the suburb of Singapore. And these two black kids had already waited for me right in front of their door, fully dressed with their rucksacks on their backs. Once they saw me, they wasted no time rushing to leave.

“For Godness sake! They will only be seated at 7.30 and school is just 10 minutes walk from home! What’s the point of rushing now?” I thought, while trying to catch my breath following them. Unlike in Jakarta, my surroundings were still bleaking dark at 6.30, giving me a sense of walking in the heat of the night. But just like any other Singaporeans, the spirit of Kancheong-ness, the fear of losing from others, had overwhelmed them. They walked briskly in silence.

While I sleepily tried to set the correct exposure and hoped that I get the focus right, I let my thought slip, to those good old days. I used to study at a neighbourhood school too, but never in my mind had I ever come earlier than a minute before school starts. My school was at a ‘bicycle –distance’, but I was too spoiled to learn riding it. A friend of mine had a chauffeur driving him to school and me, being a true blue parasite since young, got him pick me up every morning. The only problem was he wasn’t the most efficient person at that time, taking his time in everything he did. So we could only reach school just nice for the first lesson.

I was too rushing to class just like my two little objects in front of me. But that habit was also scrapped, once I was stopped by a friend, in our way to class. She came and hissed, “Sshh..no hurry…relax…” We were both late and were punished to water little plantation at our school. And once I realised that our little flowers were right in front of my handsome senior’s class, we decided that it was more of a grace than a punishment. Besides, the coolest of my junior high school was always late! So routinely we planned to be late, till we stopped talking to each other for ‘personal reason’
I smiled reminiscing those moments while hurriedly catching my two friends, who were way in front of me. We passed a local secondary school, and the boy pointed at it and said, “I wanted to go to this secondary school,” That school was apparently a top secondary school in Singapore and a guarantee for a better future.

Once again I remembered my elementary time, when I could not make it into a good junior high. Nonetheless, I had fun in my junior high time, and still managed to get into a good senior high school. And although I had never taken English seriously during high school, I still made it to a journalism school overseas right after my graduation because the dean of the school thinks that ‘perhaps I could improve somehow, some day’.

Based on my experience, I tried to look wise in front of them, “That’s good, I’m sure you can make it. But even if you don’t, there’s nothing to worry. You just need to work hard and you will gain a place at a good Junior College and a good Uni too!” They looked at me as if I were a moron. Oops! I forgot something; Singapore is not at all a forgiving society. Once you fail, you are doomed to fail for the rest of your life…SO if you’re not a good student now, there is now way you’ll be a good student later. In the next life, perhaps.

We passed a local Junior College later. Full with girls in long skirts and guys with similar hairstyle, I almost screamed. “How ugly students are!” I was right away reminded of how I looked when I was in high school. Unlike ‘normal’ schools where their students can wear nice-fitted uniform, mine was a girls’ convent school where our uniform was always the most out-fashioned-out-of-mode. I almost cried the first day I had to wear a skirt 5 cm under my knees, with a football-player-style socks and the nun’s black-plain-shoes. What worse was my 5kg backpack, together with two little pins to neaten my short hair, and glasses, for I could not wear coloured contact lens then. And looking at hundreds of them thinking they were cool with that outfit for everyone’s dressing the same, I could not stop my nostalgic mood.

I drew closer to their school gate, watching them joking happily before school and gossiping about the guy next to them. Guys weren’t my topic, for our school is a girls-only school. But I could remember that I had fun too, giggling, squeezed in twenty-something people busy copying other’s homework.

Finally I reached their school. I bid them farewell, “Hei, cya again! Have fun in school!” they replied with a cynical smile, waved goodbye and moved towards the school long corridor. I watched them from outside. As they slowly gaining new knowledge in school, they slowly start to grasp the notion of cultures in their society. What matters most, what can make others smile, what is funny and what is scary.

Just like the two kids I had followed the whole morning. They are black kids, born from Tanzanian parents, but having born and studied in Singapore, they learnt to conform to the culture here. They reached school 45 minutes before the school starts just because they were too afraid of getting late, the way Singaporeans are. They attend three extra classes after school (Chinese, English and Math) because they want to secure a place in the best secondary, because if they don’t, they’ll be doomed to be an unskilled worker. And they take those things seriously despite their young age, because those are serious matters for every Singaporean parent.

When I was in Laos and taking pictures of a top school, I could clearly see how this school shapes the new Laotians the way the old Laotians are. Their school is from 7 to 5, but they’ll have break in between, two hours, so that they could return back to their home, having lunch with the whole family, and after that return back to school. Just the way the society always appreciate communality and not so much on efficiency…And just how Laos tries to highlight the importance in relationship with China, those kids start to see how important Chinese is, through daily rigorous Chinese lessons.

Taking pictures of school kids is like a curse for me. I am a university student; so anything below 10.a.m is early, and 4.30 is 5.5 hours before early! But the two school kids that I was going to meet were more than eager to reach their school early, so lazily I turned off my alarm clock, tidied up my face a bit, and hailed a cab.

It was 6.30 when I finally reached their flat, at the suburb of Singapore. And these two black kids had already waited for me right in front of their door, fully dressed with their rucksacks on their backs. Once they saw me, they wasted no time rushing to leave.

“For Godness sake! They will only be seated at 7.30 and school is just 10 minutes walk from home! What’s the point of rushing now?” I thought, while trying to catch my breath following them. Unlike in Jakarta, my surroundings were still bleaking dark at 6.30, giving me a sense of walking in the heat of the night. But just like any other Singaporeans, the spirit of Kancheong-ness, the fear of losing from others, had overwhelmed them. They walked briskly in silence.

While I sleepily tried to set the correct exposure and hoped that I get the focus right, I let my thought slip, to those good old days. I used to study at a neighbourhood school too, but never in my mind had I ever come earlier than a minute before school starts. My school was at a ‘bicycle –distance’, but I was too spoiled to learn riding it. A friend of mine had a chauffeur driving him to school and me, being a true blue parasite since young, got him pick me up every morning. The only problem was he wasn’t the most efficient person at that time, taking his time in everything he did. So we could only reach school just nice for the first lesson.

I was too rushing to class just like my two little objects in front of me. But that habit was also scrapped, once I was stopped by a friend, in our way to class. She came and hissed, “Sshh..no hurry…relax…” We were both late and were punished to water little plantation at our school. And once I realised that our little flowers were right in front of my handsome senior’s class, we decided that it was more of a grace than a punishment. Besides, the coolest of my junior high school was always late! So routinely we planned to be late, till we stopped talking to each other for ‘personal reason’
I smiled reminiscing those moments while hurriedly catching my two friends, who were way in front of me. We passed a local secondary school, and the boy pointed at it and said, “I wanted to go to this secondary school,” That school was apparently a top secondary school in Singapore and a guarantee for a better future.

Once again I remembered my elementary time, when I could not make it into a good junior high. Nonetheless, I had fun in my junior high time, and still managed to get into a good senior high school. And although I had never taken English seriously during high school, I still made it to a journalism school overseas right after my graduation because the dean of the school thinks that ‘perhaps I could improve somehow, some day’.

Based on my experience, I tried to look wise in front of them, “That’s good, I’m sure you can make it. But even if you don’t, there’s nothing to worry. You just need to work hard and you will gain a place at a good Junior College and a good Uni too!” They looked at me as if I were a moron. Oops! I forgot something; Singapore is not at all a forgiving society. Once you fail, you are doomed to fail for the rest of your life…SO if you’re not a good student now, there is now way you’ll be a good student later. In the next life, perhaps.

We passed a local Junior College later. Full with girls in long skirts and guys with similar hairstyle, I almost screamed. “How ugly students are!” I was right away reminded of how I looked when I was in high school. Unlike ‘normal’ schools where their students can wear nice-fitted uniform, mine was a girls’ convent school where our uniform was always the most out-fashioned-out-of-mode. I almost cried the first day I had to wear a skirt 5 cm under my knees, with a football-player-style socks and the nun’s black-plain-shoes. What worse was my 5kg backpack, together with two little pins to neaten my short hair, and glasses, for I could not wear coloured contact lens then. And looking at hundreds of them thinking they were cool with that outfit for everyone’s dressing the same, I could not stop my nostalgic mood.

I drew closer to their school gate, watching them joking happily before school and gossiping about the guy next to them. Guys weren’t my topic, for our school is a girls-only school. But I could remember that I had fun too, giggling, squeezed in twenty-something people busy copying other’s homework.

Finally I reached their school. I bid them farewell, “Hei, cya again! Have fun in school!” they replied with a cynical smile, waved goodbye and moved towards the school long corridor. I watched them from outside. As they slowly gaining new knowledge in school, they slowly start to grasp the notion of cultures in their society. What matters most, what can make others smile, what is funny and what is scary.

Just like the two kids I had followed the whole morning. They are black kids, born from Tanzanian parents, but having born and studied in Singapore, they learnt to conform to the culture here. They reached school 45 minutes before the school starts just because they were too afraid of getting late, the way Singaporeans are. They attend three extra classes after school (Chinese, English and Math) because they want to secure a place in the best secondary, because if they don’t, they’ll be doomed to be an unskilled worker. And they take those things seriously despite their young age, because those are serious matters for every Singaporean parent.

When I was in Laos and taking pictures of a top school, I could clearly see how this school shapes the new Laotians the way the old Laotians are. Their school is from 7 to 5, but they’ll have break in between, two hours, so that they could return back to their home, having lunch with the whole family, and after that return back to school. Just the way the society always appreciate communality and not so much on efficiency…And just how Laos tries to highlight the importance in relationship with China, those kids start to see how important Chinese is, through daily rigorous Chinese lessons.

And when I looked back to my school time, thinking about those nasty pinch on my legs during my elementary time because I think it’s better for young girls to wear short skirts…escaped from Jesus’ cross trail, which was a punishment for get caught switching room during my junior high 3-days retreat…And catching a 25 minutes sleep inside a shuttle bus that picked me up at 5.25 a.m. to my high school, despite having my math teacher on the front seat warned me of the coming math test, in a few minutes time…

I had to say I learnt to grasp the hard time and trouble most Jakarta citizens do. But just like them, I’ve learnt to find enjoyment in each and every bit of it.

I looked back at that row of schools. I would not wish to turn back the clock for those early mornings I had to endure. But when I think about it, I had to say, schooling in Jakarta ain’t that bad….

*Few samples of early morning pictures are in the Morning Glory photo folder*