# 001 The Sana'a zoo

An untaken picture of couples and families sitting on the grass. Children running around amidst the greenery, boys with their usual rackett, girls not yet with their hijab. Women in black abaya and complete veil sitting close to their husbands, exuding warmth, love and intimacy.

reposting: Reframing references around football and beer

Reframing references around football and beer

Sun, Oct 4, 2009 at 10:18am

It is interesting to realize at times how our surrounding shape our frame of reference, and how, upon moving into a new context, we sometimes need to reframe our references, which sometimes results in a confusing or comical learning experience.

What comes to your mind when you hear the word ‘football’? Depending on where you come from, the first image might be bulky men bumping into and falling on top of each other, or a round black and white ball bouncing of the feet of 20 guys (let’s leave the goalies out of it this time ;p). Well, the first couple of months in Ann Arbor, whenever I was in the middle of conversation about football, I always needed to check, “Err…which football are you talking about exactly? You mean American football, right, not soccer?” People never took a double take on that and simply answered me, though I got some odd glances here and there. Until one day, an American friend of mine, Nat, who understood that soccer is much more familiar to me than American football, nudged me on the arm and told me, “Dude, you’re in America now, so whenever people say football, they mean the American football.” Hm…never thought about it that way, but thanks, dude…

Now, how about the word ‘beer’? Bottled, canned, draught, pitcher…? I bet you classify beer as alcoholic drink, right? Now, imagine my surprise when one of my Arabic teachers, Mohammed , asked me whether I like to drink beer (err… location: Sana’a, Yemen). Well, I don’t like to drink beer, so I said, no, but I do drink other stuff. I asked him back, and he said, yes, he likes to drink beer. All this exchange was made in very basic Arabic (that by now I have completely forgotten), so I was afraid that I might have misunderstood him. In any case, similar conversation took place a couple of weeks later, and I came to the same conclusion, my teacher drinks beer. This is in a land where 99% of the population is Moslem, and alcohol is officially illegal. Not until I finished the 3-week course and made my final round to the nearest supermarket to restock the fridge did it hit me, darned, he meant NON ALCOHOLIC beer (!!!) which is readily available in every supermarket next to the juice and milk cartons. Now that one, I even have a favorite brand, LOL.

I am sure there will be many more cultural exchanges to follow, but I am sure there will be more people who will enlighten me. For now, thanks Nat, and Mohammed, for giving me a story to tell :)

reposting: ...........to the people i admire... (part 1)

Originally posted on Thursday, November 6, 2008 at 11:52am

No, this is not about Obama. In the wave of all the happiness, me among those millions, of the new President-Elect of the USA.... this is still not about Obama.

I need to write it down somewhere in the effort to sort out this jumble in my brain. During the last days, I found a special person that somehow I got drawn to. For no reason at all...or wait, maybe for a million of good reasons? What I mean as 'drawn', is the intense feeling of being interested, to know more, to get close, to chat, to hang out with...

And as I was trying not to come on too hard..or else people might have thought I am flirting heavily...(hm..maybe I am *wink*), I came to realize that this guy will join a not-so-long-but-not so-short list of special people that I admire. And what do they have in common?

What they have in common is that fire inside that set them apart from other people.

Come to think of it, the first guy would have been the one who built his own tourism company after dropping out of college and deciding to marry his girlfriend. He ended up building not one company, but two... surviving monetary crisis, bomb, and another bomb...

The second guy would have been...wait, I think the second guy should have been the first...anyway.... The second guy would have been the guy who came to my country as a nurse for Medecins Sans Frontiere.... I still couldn't forget his story of not being able to share what he went through with his loved ones, because retelling it means reliving the grueling moments of helping bloody ethnic violence victims, and he couldn't do it. I think it says a lot about the psychological toll it took on him.

The third guy would have been the one who went through military service, trained as a sniper (not that he had been one, as far as I remember...), and went on to join various international humanitarian organizations.

The fourth guy would have been the one who went from the 'big-dumb-guy-at-school' to a world class Olympic rowing athlete, ...to an outstanding school teacher, to an international educational expert. Man, you've got the brightest fire.

The fifth guy would have been the guy with the normal office job of 9-8 (that's a normal working hours for SOME people....), and did triathlon as a hobby. You never stop surprising me.

The sixth guy...hm...I shouldn't be telling you yet. Because I don't know that much. Yet. All I can say that he has a very interesting story...and an even more interesting choices in life. So interesting that I cannot stop wondering, what kind of fire is burning within.

This is dedicated to all the people I admire. "Ordinary" citizens of the World, going around their life, minding their own business, and somewhere on the way, they touched my life.

I wish one day I could touch someone's life in the way that you guys have done... because that's the only gratitude that I can offer...to offer my fire back into the world.

Have a sip, please.

'cling....cling'
The steady clinging of spoon against the china, rhymes through the room, over the steam of dark, hot espresso.

The steam brought a familiar fragrant into the air...the fragrant of warmth, intimacy, and also the fragrant of a far away land.

“Why do espresso cups have to be so small?” grumbled Jill while maneuvering the tiny hot cups among her not so slim fingers.

A low chuckle escaped Megan’s lips. She relaxed and slowly stretched her back to touch the comfy backrest of the rattan sofa. “Well, don’t pretend that you can handle the content of that tiny cup, Girl…” she remarked, knowing that though the fragrant of coffee is always provocative, some people are simply not meant to sip it freely. And Jill, unfortunately, is one of them.

“Ya…ya….you’re just happy coz you can soon refill your cup.”
“C’mon, making espresso means putting in just enough powder and water for two cups. And you know, I did not force you to share it with me,” a gleam of mischief shot through Megan’s friendly eyes.
“Hum…” Silence followed as Jill sipped her espresso.

Megan still stirred hers, half distracted, absentmindedly, while the fragrant simply wrapped around her.

“Meg, this is a new kind of coffee you are using?” Jill asked.
“Mm? Coffee? Oh yeah. Tried to put Gayo coffee inside. How does it taste?”
“Well, I don’t really know the difference. Just noticed that it’s somewhat different.”

“Hm…” sipping her own espresso, Megan tried to trace back some taste. Well, she’s also no expert in coffees, so what tastes good for her, simply tastes good.
“Gayo coffee? Hm…that reminds me of something…How’s life in Aceh?” Jill sat back and took a good look at her friend. Long time friend.
Megan looked back, a streak of amusement went through her light brown eyes. “What d’you want to know?” asked her, tentatively.
“Ah, you know… How is life there…the place…the people, the work…”

Pieces of fragments and pictures ran in Megan’s mind. There was a part of her that really wanted to get away from her part of life far, far away from home. There was a part of her, knowing, that she could never escape it.

Of course people back home are curious. Of course she could not escape news and publicity around Aceh that went through the rest of the nation. Well, even if it had not been Aceh, there’s no point of trying to avoid the fact that through separated by sea and islands…that’s her life, too.

“You know that the sunsets are breathtaking,” she winked. The other side of the conversation only gave away a faint, “hmm…” as if saying, ‘yes...so what…tell me the real thing…’

“The landscape special, the work, heavy…the people…hm….quite special…”

“You simply don’t want to discuss it, huh?”

“You know, these issues have always made me think and think and think…so for now…I simply don’t want to trigger myself into thinking…you know…”
“Uh-huh…”

“Have a sip…This is good coffee.”
“Have a sip. This is good life.”

Startled, Megan looked up. She found in her friend’s eyes a sense of understanding…. Oh yeah, she’s much more than curious. But yeah, she understood. A small giggle rang through the room, as ‘cling…’ the girls pretended to make a toast with their tiny winy espresso cups…halfway empty.

“Yeah, just have a sip….”

ah, Mama.....

"Ma..."
"Eh, Temi....Sudah makan?" Mama mendongak dari koran yang sedang dibacanya. Diperbaikinya letak kacamata yang sedikit miring karena buru-buru menjawab sapaan Temi.
"Hmm...belum, Ma. Hari ini masak apa, Ma?"
"Biasa....a...."
"Pasti ayam goreng lagi ya, Ma?", sahut Temi sambil terkikik geli, menggoda Mama...sebenarnya bukan mama-nya...tapi apa salahnya memanggil beliau dengan panggilan yang biasa di rumah mungil yang, sayangnya, sering kebanjiran itu.... Apalagi karena ga ada orang lain di dunia Temi yang harus merasa cemburu karena ada perempuan yang dipanggilnya Mama.
"Kamu kan tahu masmu...sukanya ayam goreng dan ayam goreng lagi."
"Ga papa kok Ma. Temi juga suka ayam goreng...tapi masih keringetan nih, Ma...Minum dulu aja ah...makannya nanti aja ya. Mama udah makan?"
"Udah kok, kelamaan kalau nunggu semuanya datang."

Hening sejenak ketika Temi meletakkan pantatnya di atas sofa tua dengan warna merah tua yang mulai memudar karena usia dan guna. Dicondongkannya badan ke sudut ruangan, menjangkau kipas angin yang berputar malas-malasan, mencoba mengaturnya supaya sedikit banyak menyembur jugalah angin ke arahnya.

"Gimana kerjaan, Tem?" Mama memecah keheningan.
"Baik, Ma. Selalu ada banyak kerjaan, tapi semuanya menarik kok. Jadi meskipun capek, Temi senang juga, selalu ada hal baru yang bisa dipelajari."
"Ah, kamu sepertinya selalu begitu...," Mama tersenyum simpul.
"Tapi memang bagus kalau terus bersemangat, apalagi kamu masih cukup muda. Mama dulu waktu masih muda juga senang bekerja dan bergaul, sayang ga sempat selesai kuliah karena keburu menikah sama bapaknya anak-anak..." mata Mama berkilat dengan sekilas semangat dan kenangannya.
"Mama kan masih tetap aktif bergaul dan berkarya to, Ma, meskipun bukan komersial. Temi senang ngeliatnya..."

Mata Temi menelusuri sudut dan detil ruangan yang sejalan waktu menjadi begitu dekat dan begitu asing untuknya. TV mungil di sudut ruangan, yang baru-baru ini mendapatkan teman baru seperangkat Hi-Fi, dengan speaker yang cukup menggelegar. Pot-pot mungil yang masih berjejer di sekitar sumur di depan rumah, terlihat samar bergoyang tertiup angin dari balik jendela kaca tempatnya menebarkan pandang. Mainan angin dari kayu yang dibelinya di Bali waktu itu, ah ya, dua tahun yang lalu (ingat betul dia karena pertama kalinya dia mampir ke Bali adalah waktu ada tsunami di Aceh....), masih tergantung juga, terayun-ayun dipermainkan angin di atas ambang pintu.

"Tem, sudah ada rencana menikah?"
Temi terhenyak.
Setengah karena dibangunkan dari kenangan yang menyusupi benaknya sembari menelusuri sudut rumah itu, setengah karena dia tak tahu bagaimana caranya membahas topik yang satu ini.

"Mmm...gimana ya Ma..."
"Terus terang saja...jangan merasa ga enak atau apa... Mama dengar pacarmu yang sekarang sudah sangat cukup umur dan mapan, bener Tem?"
"Ah, Mama... Apa sih ukuran cukup umur dan mapan itu Ma?" elak Temi pelan.
"Sudahlah, Mama cuma pengen tahu aja...Kalau kamu keberatan, jangan dipaksakan..." kata Mama, sambil mengalihkan pandangan. Dalam hatinya, dia tahu bahwa gadis muda di hadapannya mulai merasa tak nyaman.

Temi menghela nafas pendek. Sambil mencoba bercanda, dia menjawab,"Ma, kalau Temi mau buru-buru nikah, Temi pasti sudah jadi menantu Mama...hehe...." Tawa yang bergema kosong dalam hatinya, dan sesaat dia berharap Mama tidak bisa mendengar kepalsuan itu.
"Iya...ya..." Mama tersenyum juga. "Atau jangan-jangan gara-gara diburu-buru, kamu kabur, Tem?" senyum Mama melebar, tapi matanya tetap tajam, bertanya.

'Duh...' dalam hati Temi berbisik,'ini dia...'

"Ma...Temi mau jujur ya sama Mama... Sebenarnya, iya juga sih, Ma. Temi mengerti mas Deni sudah merasa mantap sama Temi, dan awalnya Temi juga merasa, apa lagi sih yang Temi cari. Dalam hidup Temi, dan dalam laki-laki yang akan mendampingi Temi nanti. Temi sayang sama mas Deni, Ma, dan selama pacaran, Temi pikir Temi dan mas Deni sama-sama saling baik dan sayang... tapi waktu Temi memandang mas Deni sebagai calon orang yang selamanya akan hidup bersama Temi, menjadi bapak dari anak-anak kami...Temi ragu, Ma. Bukan berarti mas Deni bukan orang baik, bukan berarti mas Deni karirnya kurang keren...bukan berarti saya merasa saya bisa menghasilkan lebih banyak uang, atau karir saya lebih bagus, bukan Ma...."

Temi mengambil nafas sejenak. Dadanya terasa sesak, namun dia tahu sudah saatnya untuk mengatakan semuanya...atau minimal, hal-hal yang penting saja. Untuk meminta maaf dan berterima kasih...

"Maaf ya Ma. Temi sudah mengecewakan mas Deni, anak Mama, dan Mama, dan seluruh keluarga Mama...Tapi Temi mau jujur, Ma, karena kalau salah satu di antara kami tidak bahagia, ikatan apapun itu tidak akan bisa mengubahnya...Maaf ya Ma..."

Mama menghela nafas panjang.
"Temi, Deni marah sekali, dan sangat sakit hati. Tapi dari pertama melihatmu, Mama percaya semua yang dia katakan tentang kamu dalam kemarahannya itu tidak betul. Dan Mama percaya..ah, setidaknya Mama berharap, suatu hari nanti dia juga akan melihat, dimana kelebihan dan kekurangan kalian masing-masing, dan menerima bahwa jika kalian tidak berjodoh, tidak ada yang bisa dilakukan."

"Ma....saya tidak berharap mas Deni memaafkan Temi. Tapi, meskipun tidak mungkin, Temi berharap mas Deni belajar juga dari hubungan kami, seperti Temi juga banyak belajar tentang orang lain dan tentang Temi sendiri. Dan Temi berharap suatu hari nanti mas Deni tidak lagi menuduh Temi tidak setia, matre...dan semua tuduhan lain yang menyakitkan hati. Karena meskipun mas Deni sudah bukan pacar Temi lagi, kata-kata dan prasangka mas Deni masih sangat menyengat."

"Maafkan anak Mama ya, Tem," Mama menatap mata Temi, tulus. "Itu hanya karena dia merasa tak berdaya dan sangat sakit hati..."
"Temi mengerti kok, Ma. Apalagi kalau melihat pacar Temi yang sekarang, mungkin mas Deni merasa menemukan pembenaran atas semua prasangkanya. Tapi Temi berharap bahwa setidaknya dari waktu pendek kita bersama, suatu hari nanti mas Deni, dan Mama, bisa melihat bahwa Temi bukan orang yang seperti itu..."
"Temi, hidup kamu adalah hidupmu sendiri. Mama mengerti perempuan seperti kamu pasti tidak akan 'tunduk' begitu saja. Mama sedih kalian tidak bisa bersatu...tapi apa boleh buat...ya kan?"

"Tapi Ma, kalau soal camer, Mama camer favorit Temi lho," kata Temi sambil tertawa kecil, mencoba mencerahkan suasana yang terlanjur melankolis.
Mama tergelak kecil,"Ah, masa...? Bagus deh...Memangnya sudah ketemu sama camer yang ini?"
"Ya belum Ma, jauh banget rumahnya... Tapi takutnya kendala bahasa jadi masalah ni Ma."
"Walah, takut? Kayaknya kamu ga cocok banget bicara itu. Pertama kali ketemu Mama juga kamu ga ada kesan takut sedikit pun.. Pede aja lagi. "
"Ah Mama....."
"Hahaha...."
"Hehehe...."

Banda Aceh, 25 April 2007.