It’s been a while since I’ve blog. I’ve been avoiding it since I didn’t know how to write about this specific topic although I eventually had to. But now, I’m ready.
So, not only blogging, it’s also been a while since I’ve slept in my own bed in Bandung. I’ve been sleeping my parent’s bed. Not because I want to cramp up my parents at an inappropriate age. It’s because my father died about 2 months ago, and I’ve been keeping my mum company in their bed.
My father is the nicest man in the world. He died while taking an afternoon nap at home, alone. Mum just stepped out to do her usual exercise and came home to find dad gone still in bed. No fuss, no diseases, no hospitals, no nothing. He just stepped out. I so wished that he didn’t go alone, but that’s just how nice he is. And knowing him, that’s how he wanted it. He never wanted to hassle anyone.
I’ve learned so much from the death of my father. That probably sounds weird since I should be devastated and crushed and yada yada yada, but it’s the truth. Of course, it broke my heart that my father is no longer around. Home is different without his presence. It’s the little things that remind me that he no longer is around. His pants are no longer hang behind the master bedroom door, there is no cup on the coffee table in the afternoon, the study desk isn’t a mess by his notes and scattered newspaper, and so many other little things that justifies he’s no longer here. But I’ve learned more than I lost.
I learned that community living is such a great thing compared to the individual life. I’ve learned that I was more prepared than I thought I would be. I’ve learned that my mother is an unbelievable woman who is far stronger than I am, no matter how solid I look. I’ve learned that the amount of people that come to your funeral and what they say reflects what kind of person you really are. I also learned more about my father from the people that send their condolences. Just a short list to the many other things I discovered out of this event. I’m sure I’ll blog them one by one in the future, just not today. So, I’m a kid without a father, and that’s what it’s gonna be. And this entry is a ‘just saying’ blog. Oh well…
And guess what? He checked out on a Saturday night, just as my grandfather did not long ago. I’m sure there’s a social thing going on here :P
This is an ikat cloth that was given to me by Ida, a local Wetar girl that came from Alor. Her grandmother gave it to her. Now before you start hating me because I'm so cruel to take this away from her, hear me out.
I fell in love with it the first time I laid my eyes on it. Not only because it had colors that I don't see often in an ikat store, but also because Ida was wearing it on a regular basis making it really wearable. She was wearing it in the kitchen one ordinary day. I stared at it for some time. I couldn't take my eyes of it. I told her I was so sad that her grandmother made it for her, and I wouldn't ask for it since it had personal values.
The same day, later in the night, Ida came to see me and gave it to me. I couldn't accept it. But she insisted, explaining that her grandmother makes a lot of these and it's alright to let one go. I was overwhelmed.
It's a bit heavy. It slides down a bit every time I use it, but really comfortable. I some times use it as a blanket on hot nights. Mozzies love me. To be honest, wearing it made me feel feminine, elegant, and
very traditionally beautiful.
Which comes down to the current day. I bought another 2 ikat while traveling Flores. I couldn't help it. I fell in love instantly with these two (the small one is just a small ban to tie your waist). I considered hard before buying any of them. Where and when can I use them? Can I take care of them? Is the hassle worth the buy?
My considerations ended to 'I can use it at home' on lazy days. It's the only time I can use it in the city. I can't imagine using it in to town. Not because of stares, but of impracticality.
Then I worry. For someone that loves these hand made treasures, I can only wear them at home. And yet, those like me aren't very much. People are letting go of this tradition. I worry, how can we preserve it if we don't care?
Thinking of what Cindy said, humans skin are so bland of color and texture. Maybe we were not suppose to have this bland cover. Maybe our ancestors were right with their colorful sarongs and ikats and batiks. It was never bland for the elder generation.
The native people of Flores that have been exposed to the modern life still use it because they are still tied to many obligations such as: one must have one when wed and one must wear one during traditional ceremonies which they still hold. However, when talking to these so called modern types, I get the vibe that they would leave this tradition if they could. I detected this vibe, just underneath the surface. What do us city folks have obligation to? None.
I'm trying to find a solution. A solution on how we can wear ikats, or batik or what ever traditional cloth we've made in the past, more practically. Theoretically, these cloths are results of a long research by our ancestors which considered the climate, the activity and such. But now... well... we don't do as what our great grand parents did, so should we leave it all behind too?
This doesn't conclude anything. It's a ramble of my concerns of old tradition I wish I knew how preserve. The most important question is always how?
My grandftather died last Saturday night. He went out that night (badam-bam-ching!). He was my mums father. I didn't know him well because he lives in Makassar, and I only drop by about max. once a year.
All I know is that he was a man that means well, very stubborn, and loves to 'shout' rather than use the human friendly frequency (I wonder if I'm part dolphin?). But I do remember, as a kid, he use to take care of me when mum needed to multitask. He's a great nurturer to kids, especially when he was still a bit younger and stronger. He still took great care of my cousins when they were little which wasn't long ago.
My mum is getting older. I was anxious how she would deal with it. I just called her. She seemed to have a sore voice, I suspect because of some deal of crying. I asked her where she was at the time, I was ready to calm her down... and this was her answer:
"Oh iya Nuni (my nick), ini Mami lagi makan-makan ama semuanya. Makan coto." (Oh yes Nuni, I'm just and eating out with the family. Eating Coto.) In the background I could hear my aunts laughing, my uncle joking around, and I bet my dad was just keeping his cool as always. With a bit of a jaw drop, I wondered, so... where's all the tears? Beats me, but I'm glad they accepted it well. Death is part of lives, and it's not something we can reverse. They do say, it's easier to cross over if no one cries for you too long. So I guess my mum and whole family wants grandpa to cross peacefully.
He did die at home, which is a good thing, and because he was really old. It was his time I guess. I know that they love him, as hard as he was. I sure do even though I didn't know him that well. I have one or two memories of him taking good care of me, and at least without him, I wouldn't be here.
It was a night when I dropped by Renny's house, a co-worker, when Rudhy was also there. We happen to just chat and just had to use a bit of imagination to survive another night in Wetar. We were talking about how the docter got a bike from the company for his needs. We had a little fun with that fact. Once you know it, Renny almost fell off her seat of laughing, I couldn't stand up straight because I was laughing so hard, and Rudhy's eyes looks like a frown. Renny applaud my wild imagination. And with that, I started wondering, maybe I am a bit funny. I also started thinking, why do I have to follow my funny gene, especially since I 'understand' that being funny is a masculine trait?
3 months later ...
I recently went to Timor Leste to visit Inge, a college friend, since her hubby happen to work in this country. Inge is a lovely delightful humorist gal. She might look mean, but trust me, she's a leaking bucket a.k.a ember bocor! So, during my 4 days 6 night stay there, I had a lot of laughs. And by a lot I mean A LOT! Not to mention Edmund, her hubby, was in town and he too had a competing sense of humor. So all we were was a bunch of silly people that like to use our imagination and laze our days out.
One night, we decided to have Indian (South Asia not America, although it would be awesome to have native American food,ohh.. FOCUS!) cuisine. Yes, Timor Leste has tonnes of affordable (by the expat community) yet delicious International restaurants. Anyways, we were waiting on our food when we started to be... umm... sarcastic; I can't really say funny cos we were kinda making fun of the Indian culture. And suddenly, my stomach cramped up because we were so funny.
As I sit there holding my stomach of ache and looking at Inge, laughing so hard I think she peed a bit (isn't hard to hold it in when you're 6 month pregnant?), I realize, hmm.. maybe I am a bit funny?
I'm not sure why lately, during these laughs, my epiphany pops up. It's probably because I think that people don't have a hard laugh as often once they get older. I try to 'analyze' (ok ok... sue me for trying to figure things out) and see how we can have these sessions more often. My conclusion so far, most of the time, it does take a comedian to have a lot of fun.
I always though I have friends that are much funnier than I am. I always have a blast laughing with them, and at their jokes, sarcastic or not. So I always thought maybe I can be spared from one masculine trait: being funny. Because of these 'incidents', I thought wrong. Funny, I am, a bit.
Being said that, I need to find a gay guy trapped in a straight mans taste, or else I'll be single fo'eeeeevvvvvvaaaaaaaaa.... :(( but have a few laughs along the way :P (I just had to)
I have come to the part of my life where everything is out of control.
It all started from when I wanted to attend a very good friends wedding. There is only a slim, as slim as paper, chance that I can make it now. There's a storm in the area. And I can't book my own boat to sail out for the sake of this occasion for whatever price it may be. The people that usually would risk lives wouldn't even go and they too have already surrendered to what nature wants.
Jodoh, or soul mate, or THE ONE, is still missing. Although people say I don't try. I do. I dress up, I meet new people, I try to be charming. It's not working. After seeing so many chick flicks on my Sylvia screen, I've come to a point that I give up. And I really can't force myself to somebody. I just can't, and you can see it instantly in my gesture if I'm not interested. I don't know how to force anyone to be my guy. Even if I do, eventually I'm sure he wouldn't like my white lie or me for that matter.
I've been paying a mortgage of a small flat in Jakarta. My very first huge investment. It's finished and now it's under a bit of decoration. All which I didn't decide upon. My parents did. Since they're helping me on the payment terms, it's going to be our family house in Jakarta. So what they say on the decor is final. My dad even got mad at me just because I wanted to change one of my walls in to plain dark gray and not with patterns. Even I can't control the inside of my own house.
I had a stressful day yesterday. Literally... eh I mean physically. My body showed symptoms of a stressed person. My acid levels were high, my lower chest was burning, I had diarrhea, and the fever, all in a day. I knew it was stress and not some illness because I knew I had something in mind. My friends wedding, and how this company sucks at the moment, no taking care of me, it’s employee. I surely didn’t think about it too much since I’ve learned how to accept the circumstances of Wetar. However, my body is trying to tell the truth. I can’t control my body.
So basically I have no control of the essentials of my life at the moment. Usually the case would be that I won’t take control of my life because I don’t want to and I’ll let things flow. But just when I wanted … I couldn’t. Ain’t life a big Srimulat stage? Slapstickly funny!
I've had this thought for some time and most of the people around me know about it already since I've repeated it over and over. But it's pure genius I tell you! A perfect blend of the west and east culture, in the harmony of something so essential to us all... I'm talking about the flushable squatting toilet with hand pump and toilet paper (this applies better on public toilets).
For a girl, this toilet is the ultimate invention! I'm surprised that no one has ever noticed it before! Think about it!
The Sitting Toilet
The western world has always found a comfortable position for any daily activity, even taking a crap. You sit and read a paper without the fear of falling of the toilet or your foot slipping its grip. You can even sleep on it! And let's not forget the comfortable position to throw up once you're drunk like a liquor store or when you're on the way on molding a new human being in your stomach. And you don't have to look at your shit, the plumpy mold of digestion remains!
The flushing is heaven sent! It's like someone else is doing it for you. It's service in a button, easy by one touch.
But have you notice how there's a big concern about the hygiene of butts taking turns sitting on a plastic circle? Suddenly we have to wipe the toilet seat with special soap or wipes, or we have to lay a layer of special paper shaped like the seat before actually sitting on it. A waste of paper! May I add that there is so much surface of the toilet that needs cleaning?
And the deal with toilet paper.... it's a waste of paper and trees and forests and resources and climate change! Need I continue? Please don't make me.
And it's confusing to eastern people once they step in to a cubicle. What is there to do when you only have a toilet, a piece of tissue, and no water and soap? A thought I had when I had to crap in elementary school. So I crapped in my pants staring at the toilet cause I seriously didn't know what to do.
The Squatting Toilet
The eastern lands love to squad, not only on their toilets, but in their daily lives. In middle to lower class Indonesian, a lot of activity is done by squatting like washing the clothes and dishes, cooking, putting tiles on floor, and even high school kids coming home from school hang out by squatting beside their school roads. So we do a lot of it. When it comes to the toilet, we even enjoy the position. It brings some relief to disposing crap. It is clinically known that the squatting position is actually healthier than sitting down. There is less abdominal effort reducing the risk of hemorrhoids. Seriously! You don't have to push as hard when you're squatting.
Although looking at your own crap is a devils doing for some, it's actually necessary at times. The condition of your feces can indicate the condition of your bowls. If theirs clotted blood, that means there's something wrong inside your digestive system. If it's runny blood, it's a wound near the anus. If it's too dark you need fiber, etc.
And I'm gonna be blunt here, if you've got leftovers of your event... that's just nasty to wash! But on normal days, washing with water is refreshing. I read Stans link and I agree, in such a tropical country washing up with water is essential since bacterial can develop easily. The water hand pump is a super blessing and helps us achieve a dry toilet which is a lot more hygiene. Besides being refreshing, I feel it's a lot cleaner. It's a culture thing, JES!
But the squatting toilet can be annoying sometimes. Peeing can be splashy! Reducing the distance from the loo to your butt actually increases impact... Iuu.... but only happens if you're careless. And if it's one of those long sessions, you cramps in your legs rather than the relief that you're looking for.
Once you had a bad few days, and haven't crapped, you can get pretty extraordinary in size, and that's a pain when you have to flush yourself. I've even had to have some tactics to get the bugger down, such as pouring a whole bucket at once, or fast repetitive flushing, or wait a few minutes so the poop can soften because it's soaked in water huahahahaha... I crack myself remembering a lot of the effort I have to do just to get rid of my crap.
Now comes the best part, the combined western and eastern toilet.
The Flushable Squading Toilet (Equiped with toilet paper and water hand pump)
Take the best of both culture and mix it. And there is is. Making it short:
- you worry less about diseases transmitted from toilet seats
- you clean less much area on a squading toilet
- you see your crap for a good reason
- you push less and wont' worsen your hemroid
- you can flush afterwards
- you can wash up
- and dry the damp area with a bit of tissue
Perfect! Now why can't other gadgets be as genius as this? Why can't the east and west work together?
I was procrastinating hard on work today, it's the Chinese New Year and I'm celebrating by doing less work than the minimum that I do anyways. But I did more research for www.indohoy.com today which is still a good thing. Time wasn't wasted.
I stumbled on this blog while reading for indohoy. As I was reading about the oddities of toilet paper in Bangkok, I suddenly realize this:
Well call me the oddities of Asia on this tree pulp product! I use this supply for my morning sneezes, wiping the analysis probe when measuring pH, and for my usual dose of 'toilet paper functions' khihihihihi....
