Journeys, Part 1

Journey Begins


The plane took off from Soekarno-Hatta airport at 10.45, a half hour earlier than the supposed schedule, on a cloudy Sunday afternoon. The man was pleased, since he got himself a window seat. His mother was sitting next to him. He was a little nervous, since he was flying in an airline that he never flew with before. Especially since one of the airline's parent company's plane just went through a landing accident in Solo. However, the more-than-standard quality of the airline's stewardesses somehow soothed him a little. In other words, they were of catwalk-model quality.

He had always loved the window seat. He enjoyed looking through the double-glassed hole, looking down at the earth as it grew smaller and smaller, as if all the buildings, the passing cars and motorcycles, the houses, the fields, were shrinking and shrinking. First, into matchbox-sized models, the landscape becoming something that you would find in a drawing during geography class. Later, it would completely become undiscernible, covered by clouds. He had always felt that there was something magical in the the way a plane takes off. And such was the same when the plane was about to land. It was magic, looking at the landscape growing larger and larger as the plane descends. It felt as if toy houses and matchbox cars were growing larger and larger and were slowly transforming from their small, dreamlike size into their large, reality size as the plane touched down.

He arrived in Jogjakarta earlier than expected. His father was already waiting. Business trips sure had their own perks, such as a more expensive flight (albeit with a different schedule, that is why the father arrived earlier). Alas, such thing only applied to his father for this instance. He came for his graduation, while his father came to give a presentation during a seminar in Semarang. He doesn't mind. He got his own catwalk-model quality entertainment during the flight.

Having a good business friend sure has its own advantages. In this matter, one of them was being provided with a car and a chauffeur. Though it was not available during the short commute from the airport to the hotel (they had to use the cab), but for the remainder of their stay in Jogja, they didn't have to worry about transportation. Thanks to the father and his good business friend.

For the next two days, the man's schedule was full with graduation preparations, meeting of friends, dinners with the father's business relation and of course, the graduation itself. There were a generous amount of photos taken; a generous amount of money paid for the photos; a generous amount of time used; a generous amount of the word 'congratulations' spoken, and of course, due to the thick nature of the graduation cape they forced you to wear, a generous amount of perspiration sacrificed to the gods of graduation ceremonies (if ever such things existed).

There was a strong urge for the man to go to Borobudur. His friends had denied the trip to this so-called 'one of the wonders of the world' in his previous visits to Jogjakarta. Since he felt that there lies only a small chance for him to go back to Jogjakarta in the future, he felt motivated to go to this place that was considered holy by the buddhist people. He felt that maybe, being there at the top would bring him omens, good omens for his future. The father and the mother agreed to his plea, and shortly after all graduation matters were taken care of, they went there with the business relation's car and chauffeur.

Their arrival at Borobudur was greeted by souvenir, food and beverage sellers, eager to sell any of their wares to the visitting tourists. They were quite 'pushy', figuratively and literally. A very uncomfortable situation. On one side, there were a feeling of pitty, for since the many bombings, the number of visitting tourists (especially foreign ones) had dwindled, turning the once lucrative tourism business into nothing more than a sad state of affair. But on the other side, there was disgust for their overzealous and outragous effort in promoting their 'tourism' wares. The man overheard one of the hawkers peddling a miniature of 'becak' for US$350 to one of the visitting foreign tourists. They were all over these tourists like bees crawling all over their hives.

Not an omen the man was expecting.

However, they were there and there's no other choice but to move forward. Quite a generous amount of pictures were taken (that is, until his digital camera went out of battery). Reluctant to use his Olympus camera, trying to reserve the film inside it, he used his handphone digital camera. His parents waited at the base of the structure while he climbed the steep steps that led to the stupas on top. The view was great, worth sweating for.

Being trustful is sometimes a disadvantage (a point that is arguable, of course). But on that day, such sentiment was true. In this case, they trusted the arrow signs with the word 'exit' printed on them. And some guy with a horn in his hand hollering at passerbys to follow the 'exit' sign. It was like trapped within a maze, or maybe one of those queue lines you'd find in an amusement park (think Dufan). But the difference was that on your left and right weren't railings, but souvenir shops with hawkers being figuratively and literally pushy.

So much for good omens.

That Wednesday was closed by a parting dinner with the aforementioned business friend of the father. The next day they will continue their travel. The would be visitting Wonosobo and Banjarnegara. And in Banjarnegara, they would be visitting some old ghosts in a graveyard.

to be continued...

An E-Mail Reply

Wow,

Ha ha ha, it's interesting to read what A and Ch wrote. Looks
like there are lots of different takes on matters relating to religion
and faith, and of course, God. I was especially intrigued by what
Chicha said about God and religion being merely something that people
would like to believe to give reasons for everything that went wrong
in their lives. Or some other people's lives, that is. Well, the
westerners aren't the only people who came up with this 'conclusion'.
I happened to come across real life examples. Lots of 'em.

One in particular happened on a Friday night about two weeks ago. I
was on my way to a friend's wedding. I took a taxi and was riding
shotgun (next to the driver, that is). As it often happens whenever a
gues is riding shotgun, most taxi drivers feel compelled to try and
strike a conversation with his guest. And at that time, this was true.

So, he opened by asking me why at that time there were so many
soldiers guarding buildings around the Thamrin-Sudirman area. I told
him that I haven't been watching the news all day (Well, actually I
haven't been watching any news, period), so I couldn't relieve him of
his curiosity. Maybe there's a bomb threat, he said. I said that that
was a possibility (I would later found out that leaders from Asian
countries and others were holding a conference here in Jakarta that
dayconcerning the tsunami and the disaster that it has brought along
and what to do about it).

He would go on to say about how the tsunami has brought about a
disaster of such magnitude. I couldn't agree with him more. Then he
went on to say that maybe God wanted to punish the Aceh people for
going against the Indonesian government, don't you think so? I mean,
Aceh and GAM are moslems. The government and military are also
moslems. They're supposed to be brothers in Islam. They're not
supposed to fight each other. Maybe God wanted to punish the Aceh
people for going against the rightful government. Don't you think so?

At this point, I didn't know what to say. I wish I could just say that
it was a natural disaster. I don't know about whether God had a hand
in it. I wish I could say that why God doesn't punish the government
and military instead? They also caused a lot of pain to the Aceh
people, why not punish them also? Why not punish Jakarta instead? I
wish I could say to the taxi driver not to blame it on God. I wish I
could say that it's not that simple. But then again, who am I to speak
on God's behalf?

The only word that came out of my mouth was 'maybe.'

Maybe.

Well, yeah, maybe. So, it seems that there was no way that people
could predict this thing, this...what do you call it?
Tsunami.
Yeah, tsunami. What kind of a word is it anyway?
It's a Japanese word.
Oh yeah? How did the Japanese come up with it anyway?
Ummm, well, from what I know, the Japanese has got a lot of experience
with earthquakes. And tsunami usually comes after an earthquake.
Oh yeah? So the Japanese has got a lot of experience with it? I
thought this thing couldn't be predicted.
Well, it is kinda hard to predict. But from what I know, some people
survived because they were able to read the signs. The signs that
tells a tsunami was about to happen. There are actually ways to
predict a tsunami happening. It might not save all of them, but it
might save some who would be threatened by it.
I see.

Maybe it was just me, but it seems that from my explanations, his
early assumptions about the 'Hands of God' being so Almighty and
unpredictable seems a bit dashed. Then again, maybe it was just me.
All I know is that the taxi driver dropped the subject and went on to
talk about what kind of event I was going to. So I told him about the
wedding party.

The wedding party turned out to be the best I've ever been to, but
that of course is another story entirely.

I guess, we believe what we want to believe. I just don't know what
those Aceh people believe in right now. But I'd like to believe that
right now, they're trying to cope with it as best as they could. I'd
like to believe that right now, God or Whoever it is, is giving them
the strength to deal with whatever it is that is on their hands right
now. But I guess, most of all, I would like to believe that even in
this dire predicament, they would be able to realize that inside their
soul, there lies a strength that they didn't know exist. A strength to
be Godlike. A realization that eventhough we view ourselves as
unworthy, each of us are actually Small Gods, in our own ways.

Well, I have this long article. I hope you guys won't mind reading it.
But I think you'll be able to learn something out of it.

--------------------------------------------------start of
article------------------------------------------------------------

The incredible generosity of the tsunami's survivors.
By Eric Lichtblau

Villagers wearing surgical masks rummage through debris

BANDA ACEH, Indonesia—Yusmadi Sulaiman sat cross-legged on the drab
concrete floor, taking another drag from his cigarette. With the
electricity still out in much of Banda Aceh, in the northwest tip of
Indonesia's Sumatra island, the faint light of a candle illuminated
his tears as he told how the giant wave of the tsunami—a word Sulaiman
had never even heard a few days earlier—had reached out and swallowed
his family whole like some nightmarish scene from a Hollywood movie.

One moment, Sulaiman told me, his 4-year-old son was clutched in his
arms as father and son clung to a coconut tree. The next moment, the
boy was gone. Sulaiman heard his wife calling out to him a few feet
away, as she held on to their 8-year-old daughter.

"Hold me, Bang, hold me," the wife cried, using the Indonesian term of
reverence for a spouse. Soon enough, she and her daughter were gone,
too, washed away in the flood that some of the locals came to know
scornfully as "Black Sunday."

It was three days after the Dec. 26 tsunami when Sulaiman and I first
spoke. A spry, youthful-looking man of 60 who drives a delivery truck
for a local food company, Sulaiman had been searching for days for his
wife and four children in the streets and alleys of his hardscrabble
village, streets now lined with bodies and rubble, and he would keep
looking for days after that. He would not find them.

Yet even amid such overwhelming tragedy, Sulaiman and many other
survivors with whom I spoke in the days after the tsunami carried an
air of hope and of optimism. They talked of rebuilding, and they
displayed a generosity that was unmistakable. Sulaiman exhibited that
spirit when he overheard that my translator and I were looking to
reach an area of devastation some miles away. "Let me drive you," he
interjected. "No, no—that's not necessary," I told him.

"Please, let him," said his employer, a Jakarta businessman named Yusi
Pura who had ventured up to Banda Aceh to see if Sulaiman and other
employees were still alive. "He wants to help. It would make him feel
better. Please."

It was only by fluke that I was even in Indonesia. Visiting friends in
the Indonesian capital of Jakarta, I was on a tiny motorboat that
Sunday morning en route to Krakatoa—a volcano that, coincidentally or
not, set off one of the last major tsunamis in 1883 when it erupted
and killed 40,000 people. Our boat was rocked by swells so strong that
we were drenched in seawater and left grabbing for the life
preservers; it was not the casual Sunday boat ride we'd expected, to
be sure, but we had no idea until many hours later, after an
exhausting jaunt to the top of the still-smoldering volcano, that we
had just survived a major calamity centered immediately to our north.

Even some eight hours later, after we saw the first CNN crawl about a
strong earthquake, the damage appeared to be focused in Thailand and
Sri Lanka, and we had no idea of the enormity of the event. Indeed,
the Indonesians themselves would not realize for several days just how
badly they had been hit—until they began to receive reports of tens of
thousands of dead in tough-to-reach coastal regions south of Banda
Aceh.

Two bodies sit in a canal days after the tsunami

Soon enough, it became clear just how big a story this was—a human
drama far removed from the staid press conferences and congressional
hearings that I normally cover for the New York Times in Washington,
D.C. Starting my reporting in Jakarta, I was in the office of Mike
Elmquist, the disaster coordinator for the United Nations in
Indonesia, when he received an alarming report: An employee in the
region said as many as 40,000 people might be dead in the town of
Meulaboh, several hundred miles to the south of Banda Aceh. The report
couldn't be confirmed, he said, but if it was true. … His voice
trailed off. Within days, as authorities reached Meulaboh by boat,
air, and land, it became clear that the number might well be even
higher.

I was able to get a commercial flight up to Banda Aceh, surrounded by
Jakarta residents packing boxes of water, noodles, and Dunkin' Donuts
for friends and relatives. Some travelers bribed airline ticket agents
to get on the jammed flight.

Yusi, the Jakarta businessman who had gone looking for his employees
in Banda Aceh, quickly befriended my translator and me on the plane
ride up and insisted that we stay with him at the undamaged house his
company occupied just blocks outside the zone of devastation. While
dozens of newly arrived Western reporters slept side-by-side on the
floor of a makeshift media center a few blocks away, I may have been
the only journalist in Banda Aceh lucky enough to get my own room,
sparse as it was. More important, he and his employees quickly offered
me a tour of what was left of the local town, pointing out landmarks
that were no longer standing.

The devastation was remarkable. The unclaimed bodies of men, women,
and children, bloated and bloodied, dotted the streets and riverbeds.
Row upon row of shops and homes sat in rubble for miles, one building
indistinguishable from the next. A three-story government finance
building was flattened like a pancake. Vending carts were snapped like
twigs. Brightly colored fishing boats lay capsized in the streets,
hundreds of yards from the shoreline.

A coastal town 5 miles south of the heart of Banda Aceh, almost a week
after the tsunami

Perhaps most powerful was the putrid stench of death and decay that
was everywhere, forcing survivors to don surgical masks to ward off
the odor as they walked the streets. At one mass graveyard near the
airport on the outskirts of the city, home to some 6,000 bodies and
counting, the stink was overpowering.

Before arriving, I had heard a lot about the ardent anti-American
views held by many in the Aceh region, particularly here in an area
where Muslim separatists had been waging civil war for decades. I was
prepared for that hostility, but it never materialized. What I was not
prepared for, as I roamed the streets of the ravaged region, was the
site of countless villagers left homeless and hungry who were
nonetheless offering Western relief workers, journalists, and soldiers
a place to sleep, a bottle of water, or a plate of fresh noodles.

We inevitably offered them money for their kindness. Almost no one
would take it. Even a villager who offered to take me for a ride down
the coast on his motorcycle and "show me where the bodies are" (he
made good on his promise in unforgettably grim fashion) refused to
accept any money for gasoline, which was in very short supply.

All that the locals wanted, it seemed, was for the world to know what
was happening in their remote island region. "Tell your President Bush
we need help," implored one young woman at a refugee camp, as she gave
me a list of painkillers, laxatives, and other needed medical supplies
to forward to the U.S. authorities.

Saifuddin Abdurrahman, a leader of a local mosque in Banda Aceh, had
helped set up a refugee camp on its grounds. As I toured the place,
survivors told me the Indonesian government had let them down, so
religious leaders had to step in and do what they could. A thousand
survivors made do with two toilets among them, and they cooked
vegetable soup for themselves in an oversized kettle over an open
fire. Across an alley, bloody gauzes lay strewn on the ground at what
amounted to a makeshift infirmary for the wounded survivors, and a
wooden bench served as an operating table.

The night before I visited the infirmary, one man had died of an
infection from wounds suffered in the tsunami. The doctor, a young
Muslim woman who had been trying to catch a nap when I arrived,
explained that she had no antibiotics with which to treat the man and,
worse yet, no way to get him to a local hospital. "We need help, a lot
of help," she said.

Abdurrahman did what he could. After one employee at the mosque lost
his wife, a son, and his home to the tsunami and was unable to walk
from his own wounds, Abdurrahman brought the man back to his home in
what by local standards is a posh section of Banda Aceh. The man lay
sprawled on a mattress in Abdurrahman's living room, his daughter
tending to his wounds.

"I don't have the power to do anything," the man said. "I just pray to
Allah. There is nothing else to do."

Eric Lichtblau is a reporter in the Washington bureau of the New York
Times. He covers the Justice Department for the Times.

------------------------------------------------------end of
article-----------------------------------------------------------

"Wait, Wait! Time out! Time....awww shit, too late...."

Two calls in one day. Two! In the same day! And to add it up, the last one asked me to come again the next day. Come again! The next day! Can y'all believe that?

Some people might say that I'm a lucky S O B. Well, interview calls are no guarantee that I'll succeed. But still, c'mon! It was only last week that I started looking for work. Even that was only a half-hearted effort. Did it only to stop mom from yelling "Get a goddamn job, you goddamn lazy bum!" (my mom's actually a very kind person, it's just me that making that up whenever I see her eyes). Heh, even eyes can talk.

Well, I've had enough idle times. Too much idle time actually, that boredom and occasional depression has become a close companion.

But now, I'm beginning to feel that I'm gonna miss my idle time. Gonna miss my boredom, my depression. Gonna miss my period of ignorance, of not doing anything and enjoying life without having to fight for something. Of reading lots and lots of books, of playing lots and lots of video games, of lots and lots of hangin' out with friends on weekends and week days.

Look, I may not get any of these offers after all in the end. But it kinda scare me, all these sudden interviews and psychology test. Kinda scared that maybe, maybe, I'll be loosing my social life in the near future. That maybe, maybe, I won't like the job. That maybe, maybe, I'm making a big mistake working for these companies. Maybe, maybe, I should start my own business. Maybe, maybe, I'll be so goddamn good at my job that I'll end up working for many, many years for the company and not be able to see any other options in life. Maybe, maybe I'll end up being an ordinary salaryman, working day in, day out, becoming a wage slave, losing touch with my close friends. Maybe, maybe, I won't be a movie star or a well known celebrity afterall...



Huh? Wha waz dat?


Anyways...


I don't know. Lots of maybes.

I guess I'm just afraid of this whole thing. Afraid of making a mistake. Kept telling myself that life's all about making mistakes and learning from them. But still....

Maybe I should try to be a movie star, or a model maybe?


Huh?


What was that again?


..........



Anyways!


Well, I know I'd like to be a lecturer one day. But a lecturer without experience in the real world sounds like an empty shell. So, I guess it wouldn't hurt to go out there and work for awhile. Maybe I could become a better lecturer that way.

Maybe I'm just all freaked out. Nah, I won't lose touch with my buddies. Nah, I still can have a social life. Nah, I still have a chance of opening up my own business (whatever that will be). Nah, I still could be a movie star or a model or a celebrity....


Huh?


Come again?


Nah....anyways!!!



Oh well, just hope that it all turns out for the best.

Come to think of it, it'd suck if I ended up not getting any of 'em job offer. Ha ha ha!

The Snake

It was a bright morning. The meadow was green and peaceful. A perfect morning for a walk. And the view was like paradise, should there be one. I was enjoying the view when I came upon a large, white snake. It was nothing like any snake I have ever set eyes upon. It's skin was white as snow and it sparkled in the morning sun.

It was strange to think of the snake as beautiful, but beautiful is the word that came into mind when I saw the white snake. Beautiful, and fearsome.

I wanted to turn around and run, for legends told that snakes represent evil. It was a snake that tempted the First Woman in Eden. It's sparkling white skin was a testament to the snake's power of seduction. And seduction is poison.

As I was about to run, the snake called out to me.

Wait boy, he said. I could slither to you faster than the wind, and I could bind you hard, so hard that your body will melt and all I have to do is swallow you. But fear not, for that is not my desire. Boy, I would like you to spare some time with me. Come, sit next to me and I would like to reveal a secret to you. But run, and you will lose your life.

I had no choice but to agree to the snake's bidding. Trying to relax, I sat down next to it.

Thank you, boy. Now, let us begin. What do you know about me?

I know that you are a snake. I also know that I am not to trust you.
So, why do you sit down next to me? You could have thought that I was just lying to you about being able to chase you down and just turn around and run away.
So, what is it that made you stay?
You are beautiful.
Am I, now?
Your white skin, bright as a snow, I've never seen anything like it.
Ahhh, humans and their curiosity. It's always been like that from the beginning.

What do you mean?

The snake hissed, and continued,
I was there, in the beginning. I was the one who showed The First Woman the way to the Fruit.
The forbidden fruit?
Yes. The Fruit.
Why did you tempt her to eat the fruit?

The snake fell silent for a moment, yet it felt as if eternity has passed before it spoke again,

I did not tempt her. She was the one who tempted me.
Really? Why should I believe you? You're the master of deceit. Your words are like poison!

The snake hissed menacingly, and spoke,
Boy! Think about it! I am The Snake, it would be easy for me to kill you and swallow you, but I didn't. Why would I bother telling you all this? Hearken to me, boy, and you may yet keep your life! Stay with me, and you may find something that is useful to you.

I found myself frightened by the ferocity of its words. And the story has already enchanted me.
Please, go on, I submitted to him.

The snake settled itself on top of a rock and continued,
Do you know that The One has endowed to you human beings power that even you don't realize you have?
But surely, you have more power than us mere mortals.
It may seem so. But alas, even I was tempted by The Woman. She tempted me with curiosity.
But isn't it said that The One forbade The First Man and Woman to eat the fruit?
Boy, The One hath given Them curiosity. The One wanted to see if the gift It hath given them was put to good use. And it was.

As I was curious myself. The One hath created The Tree and The Fruits, and it was there in plain view. It must have it's own purpose. As hath The One hath created me. For I am to be the guide. I was endowed with the knowledge of The Path to The Tree, yet The One did not endowed me with the knowledge of the power of The Fruit.

So, you were the guide that has taken us humans to our doom?

Boy, The Woman tempted me. She tempted also the First Man to help her clear the way to the Tree, for it was a path strewn with branches full of thorn only I was able to go through. Only The Man's power could help The Woman clear the way to The Tree.

Then The Woman was the one who brought us humans to our doom?

Curiosity hath also taken the heart of The Man, for if it has not, then temptation would not have gripped it so hard.
Boy, you must know, that everything that has passed has its purposes. The One did not punish Man because of their curiosity. It is part of the freedom The One hath endowed upon humankind.
After The Consumption of The Fruit, The One did not banish humankind out of paradise. It told them to go because It wanted them to out new places, expand their freedom.

But why is it then that Legend told us that Humankind has fallen into Sin and that through suffering may they redeem their souls?

Boy, have you not learned anything?
Humankind hath been given Freedom by The One. It is in this freedom that they are free to act in their own desires. But through this freedom some seek to attain other people's freedom.
Legend changes as time flows. And some altered it to create Fear in the hearts of Man. For Fear is the chain that binds freedom. And those who holds fear in their hands, have power over others.
These people, desiring power over others, altered Legends, creating an enemny called Evil, and uniting humankind in the struggle against Evil. They have also created Fear, Fear of The One, to control others. Humankind did not realize that Evil is only but a Name. Freedom is theirs from the beginning, and Altered Legend only blinded them to The Truth.

So, what is The Truth? Asked I.

The Snake slithered past me. It went up to the nearby hill.

Remember what I have told you, Boy. Ponder upon it. The Truth is ever elusive. But if you let your heart free, it will know The Truth in time.

With that, a bright light shone, and in place of The Snake an Angel stood.

Boy, am I an Angel posing as a Snake? Or am I a Snake disgusing myself as an Angel?
Am I Good posing as Evil, or am I Evil disguising myself as Good?
Nothing is what it seems. Remember that.

And with that, it flew away.

The sun was high in the sky. And I was all alone. The Snake, or the Angel, has gone. And all around me the meadow lies. Beautiful as paradise, if there is such a thing.