RI-Australian Ties Expands Through Literature

Bima Arya Sugiarto, one of writer, was signing the book (Picture: Ahmad Syam)

By Ahmad Syam
The Jakarta Post, May 28, 2006

On April 27, Cooms Building at The Australian National University (ANU) was, as usual, very quiet. Only one or two people entered or departed, but the Tea Room was something else altogether.

About 40 people, most of them Indonesian students, and several Australians familiar with Indonesian culture and language filled the room.

The vice ambassador of the Indonesian Embassy in Canberra, Kristiarto Legowo, was also in attendance on that wonderful night, when Satu Pertanyaan dari Selatan: Kumpulan Cerpen Berlatar Australia (A question from the south: Short stories set in Australia) was launched.

The audience members looked relax as they kept their attention on speakers who commented on the short story anthology. At times, people laughed freely and students seemed to forget their assignments for a moment. It seemed everyone present also overlooked the disharmony in Indonesian-Australian relations that had resulted from the recent Papua asylum-seeker case.

Satu Pertanyaan dari Selatan was finally launched in Canberra after its publication in January. In fact, the anthology had already been launched in Jakarta several months ago.

Della Temenggung, President of Perhimpunan Pelajar Indonesia Australia (PPIA), or the Australia Indonesian Students Association in Canberra, said that the objectives of its fiction publication program was to provide more information about Australia in a literary, instead of academic, style.

According to her, information about Australia could only be found in political or academic books in Indonesia. As a result, only a few Indonesian people could access information on the neighboring country. She continued that more people are interested in gathering information on Australian's economy, society, politics and culture through literature, as people generally prefer reading fiction to scientific books.

The next speaker was Bima Arya Sugiarto, who represented the writers featured in Satu Pertanyaan dari Selatan. Bima illustrated the anthology's comprehensiveness, because it encompassed all sides of Australia: social issues, technology, humanity, humor, even love.

Dr. George Quinn, a professor at ANU, reminded the audience of several prominent Indonesian authors who had lived overseas, such as Budi Dharma and Umar Kayam. Quinn, who was involved in the anthology's publication as a judge, said that Budi Dharma had composed a novel Orang-orang Bloomington (People of Bloomington) after living in Bloomington for years. Meanwhile, Umar Kayam wrote Seribu Kunang-kunang di Mahattan (A thousand fireflies in Manhattan) to share his experience in Mahattan, New York. Quinn hoped Indonesian students in Canberra would follow Budi Dharma's or Umar Kayam's creative processes.

The launch party, on the other hand, was very simple but full of Indonesian nuances, such as rujak, an Indonesian dish made from fruits with a tangy, sweet chili sauce. The program was sponsored by the PPIA and the Australia-Indonesia Institute. (Ahmad Syam, Contributor, Canberra)
http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2006/05/28/riaustralian-ties-expands-through-literature.html

A Million Blooming Tulips Steal Show

Tulips, tulips and more tulips in a spectrum of colors displayed true Carnivale (JP/Ahmad Syam)

By Ahmad Syam
The Jakarta Post, October 29, 2006

Commonwealth Park is covered with a carpet full of flower motifs. This is the first impression of Floriade that comes upon entering the park, located in the heart of Canberra.

More than one million tulips in full bloom and other flowers from several different countries were on show during the floral event, which ran from Sept. 16-Oct. 15.

The flowers' brilliant colors dazzled under the bright spring sun while the wind whipped up the surface of Lake Burley Griffin and gently rustled the flowers on the hilly landscape.

Two Floriade officers are busy coordinating and directing visitors in passing through the right entrance. The number of visitors are counted automatically upon entry -- there are no tickets to check by hand, so long queues can be prevented, no matter how crowded it gets. The event is highly popular, and visitors -- most of them wearing a sun-hat -- flock in the hundreds of thousands to see the annual event. As for entrance fees, admission to Floriade has been free for a number of years after some controversy.

Foto: Ahmad Syam

Floriade was initiated in 1988 to mark Canberra's 75th anniversary and the bicentennial of Australia's European settlement. Although the event was intended as a one-time celebration, it was made into an annual event due to great public response.

The floral show is held every spring, from mid-September to mid-October, and has a new theme each year. According to Australian Capital Territory chief minister Jon Stanhope's official statement, this year's theme, Carnivale -- The World on Show, "celebrates the color and diversity of the world with more than one million bulbs and annuals". The Floriade of the past two years were: Rock `n' Rock in Bloom (2005) and The Wonder of Water (2004).

Carnivale presented amazing garden beds inspired by the flags, iconic symbols, history, flower festivals and traditional gardens of 16 countries -- each of which are home to major international flower festivals.

Canada, for example, was represented by maple leaves that spilled across the vista and into a giant explosion of tulips, a flower bed design taken from a key display at the Canadian Tulip Festival.

At Floriade 2006, visitors could tour the Spanish ship San Pedro in a colorful floral sea. This display is part of the event's celebrating the 400th anniversary of Portuguese explorer Luis Vaez de Torres, who is thought to have discovered the northern Australian coastline.

Foto: Ahmad Syam

An attractive model of a Turkish sultan's palace and the Turkish flag made of living flowers were also on show.From Turkey, visitors could take a walk over a traditional Dutch canal bridge spanning a meadow of thousands of tulip blooms.

Alternatively, visitors who like the color white could pass through a bamboo forest and traditional Japanese archway to the Zen Garden. Instead of pebbles and sand, the traditional rock garden was made up by thousands of white blossoms.

Other floral displays included the United States' Statue of Liberty cast in flowers, England's Hampton Court surrounded by garden beds inspired by the flags of Ireland, Wales and England, as well as a classical Chinese garden.

These were only a few of the highlights of national icons from around the world -- much more were on show from Belgium, Colombia, France, Italy, Malaysia, New Zealand and Singapore.

Host country Australia was symbolized by a vast landscape of contrasting blooms and an awesome sculpture of a native reptile, the frill-necked lizard -- also known as a frilled dragon.

A single visit to the flower show would not be enough to take in all there is to see and do at Floriade. Much like an amusement park, the show provides information kiosks for visitors and exhibition marquees, a ferris wheel providing fantastic views over the gardens and lovely hanging basket displays.

Foto: Ahmad Syam

Visitors who like gardening could drop by the showcase gardens, which were designed to inspire and educate people about plant varieties, garden design and landscaping. Besides which, visitors could get some ideas on designing environmentally friendly gardens -- in this case, a water-conscious garden. This type of garden minimizes water use, and the accompanying showcase also featured research on the most up-to-date lawn management methods.

Taking a whole day traveling through the park, of course, would require some refreshment. Not to worry -- goodies of all kinds, from freshly roasted coffee to a variety of snacks, were provided at Floriade Village. The village was also a really great place to relax while listening to live entertainment on the Country Link Village Stage.

Travel Tips

* To learn about things to see and do around the park, pick up the A$2 Floriade Garden Guide at Brand Depot's Floriade Information * Wear a hat and sunscreen for protection from the sun. The average temperature during spring in Canberra ranges from 5-25 degrees Celsius. * Don't forget the kids -- Floriade also holds special activities for children (Ahmad Syam, Contributor, Canberra)

Short Story: Traffic Jam

english.sina.com

By Ahmad Syam
The Jakarta Post, April 2, 2006

Traffic jams are a distressing and frequent sight where I live, and grew in line with the rapid economic and industrial development that was encouraged by the central government. Inevitably, the development had inspired people to migrate to an urban area, where they would settle permanently after some time, because they thought living in a city meant a better life.

Every afternoon at rush hour, the roads became heavily congested as workers, officials and students went home at the same time. Besides the hundreds of vehicles, cars and motorcycles that stood squeezed together, polluted gas and horns rose up to fill everywhere.

This afternoon, the traffic jam looked very long and severe. Cars drove by infinitely slowly, and the motorcycles, which usually succeeded in finding any loopholes to pass through, seemed stuck in a long queue.

I thought it took 30 minutes just to pass 100 meters.

Had there been an accident? People began to wonder.

"Does anybody get off at the hospital?" a pete-pete driver asked his passengers. But no one answered. He repeated his question firmly, "Answer me! Does anybody get off at the hospital?"

"Y-y-yess, I am! I am going to the hospital," stammered a young woman toward the rear, in the seat in front of me.

I guessed she had just left work, because she was wearing a uniform. Her trouble must be serious, if she had to delay taking a rest and instead had to go to the hospital right after work.

"If so, it's better to turn back and take the alternative route," the driver said calmly.

The right-hand side of the street admittedly didn't look as congested as the left, where I sat in the pete-pete. The vehicles were moving quicker over there. Nevertheless, it would take much longer to reach downtown by the alternative route. But the driver said this was still better than being caught in the traffic jam.

Several passengers rejected the idea, because some of them were going to get off at the hospital and the traditional market -- neither of which the pete-pete would pass if the driver followed the alternative route.

Riding public transportation was very hot, since it wasn't rigged for an air conditioner. Furthermore, the pete-pete was almost full of passengers. There was only one free seat, right behind the driver's seat, and four people sat in the left-hand seat, including me, whereas the right-hand seat held six people, including the young woman.

The main cause of traffic jam was not an accident, according to the grapevine, which spread fast. It was just a long queue at a gasoline station.

Every person expressed a different reaction upon having learned the reason.

A young man in a university coat sitting beside me commented, "This shouldn't be happening! We live in an oil-exporting country but we lack gasoline for ourselves?"

I didn't make any comment at all. I just smiled. I admitted that people had to know when the oil ran out. Nevertheless, the most important thing was motivating people to burn fuel economically.

Talking about the country's gasoline shortage didn't draw the other passenger's attention, as they didn't seem to care about giving a response. They just kept silent and tried to kill their loneliness in their own ways.

An old man sitting beside the young woman lit a cigarette. Another passenger read the newspaper. In the meantime, a teenager played a game on his cell phone while I enjoyed the dangdut music coming from the pete-pete's tape player.

Evening had arrived and the dark descended fast. Some vehicles turned on their headlights, so they shone like sparkling stars.

Suddenly, the young woman's cell phone rang shrilly, the waking dosing passengers. The driver turned down the tape player.

"I'm on the way!" she yelled into her phone. "I don't know when I'll get there, I'm stuck in a traffic jam!" she explained to whoever was on the other end.

That short conversation made me gloomy. She looked very desperate.

It remained silent in the pete-pete I was riding. Only dangdut music played softly. The old man stubbed out his cigarette. He seemed very sleepy, whereas the others continued the same activities as before, killing the silence.

It was a nice evening, with the wind blowing in the dark so that it chilled the bone. I closed the window.

Again, the young woman's phone rang.

I intended to warn her to lower the volume, but I was afraid I might offend her. It would be better if she activated the vibration mode instead of the ring tone, which had disturbed others in an already very noisy circumstance, cutting through the sound of engines, horns, music and shouting among drivers.

"I will! It's a really long and severe traffic jam! How is Dad?" asked the young woman, her face serious. She was engaged in a longer conversation, but she seemed to be the listener. A minute later, she burst into tears.

She wiped her tears away with a tissue after the conversation ended. The atmosphere had grown more silent; moreover, there was no more dangdut, as the driver had turned off the player. Perhaps he felt guilty about playing such lively music in front of a tearful woman. The young woman had captured the other passengers' attention. They stopped what they were doing.

A moment later, there was only the sound of keypad tones from the young woman's cell phone, informing us of a message received and a message delivered.

I noticed that as the tears brimmed faster in her eyes, she dialed the keypad faster.

"What's wrong?" I asked her carefully.

She said nothing, only looked at me.

"Excuse me, let me know what's happening with you?" I asked her again, showing her that I wanted to lend a hand. The other passengers' attention switched to me. They stared at me, mulling over what I had done.

"My father is in a deep coma at the hospital. My brother told me just now, my father had wanted to apologize for not being a good father. But my father was wrong. It was me who should apologize!" she cried.

I tried to find some way to console her, but I don't have any idea how.

"I am sorry to hear that," was all I could think of saying in response to her story, and the other passengers expressed their empathy.

***

"My father and I didn't have a harmonious relationship. I didn't know whose fault it was. We had different opinions and held onto them firmly. Neither my father nor I were willing to accept the other's idea. It's almost ten years we haven't seen each other since then," the young woman told us.

"It started when my father wanted to get remarried a year after my mom died. My brother and sister agreed, but I didn't. Basically, I only let him get married because I knew he needed to.

"It's hard for him to go through life without a spouse. Even though he had children who loved him very much. This just wasn't enough to replace a wife's love. I thought it was too soon for him to get remarried. I was afraid he had forgotten my mother and removed mother from his heart!" she continued.

"We argued fiercely the night before he got married. I had always obeyed my father before. My parents taught me to be an obedient and well-behaved child since I was a little girl. That night was the first time I disobeyed my father. I said harsh things to him, even shouted at him and pointed at his face. I didn't know how I could do that. I hurtled abuse at him. I lost control of my anger at him that night," she cried and stopped speaking for a moment.

"That night, my brothers and sisters cried. They thought my father didn't deserve it. As the eldest child, I should have been a role model for them. But I didn't care about that. I believed my father had humiliated my mother. It would have been better if he had waited until the second year after my mom had died.

"Are all men the same?" she seemed to ask us, then wiped her tears.

"I left home, although my father never asked me to go. My brother and my sister wanted me to stay, but I didn't care about anything. Since then, I've never visited my father's house. I called my brother and sister if I missed them and asked them to come to my dorm. And if I missed my mother, I passed by the house on the way home from work. I didn't know why I didn't miss my father at all," she said.

***

It was eight now, and I still sat in the traffic jam. While waiting in the queue to get gasoline, several drivers and motorcyclists stopped at a nearby food stall to have dinner. In the meantime, other vehicles had stopped because they had run out of fuel. Those vehicles had to be pushed close to the curb and out of the street.

The hospital was only two kilometers from the place where the pete-pete was stuck in traffic. I heard from a passerby that the most congested area was the kilometer ahead. We were now at the starting point of this; the second kilometer was not as slow.

It had been quite a long time since I had heard the young woman's cell phone ring. She, in contrast, seemed to be not concerned about calling her brother back. She looked very desperate.

Traffic jams could make people lose their hope. People who waited for us would cease to wait, and people who want to get to their destination would doubt if they would ever arrive.

The young woman, however, couldn't hide her anxiousness. I could tell from her body language as she sat back down uncomfortably. She lay down once as she looked out the front of the pete-pete. Other times, she stared out the back.

It was all same: vehicles, cars, motorcycles, all congested.

The gasoline station was about 200 meters to go, where this car would be released from the severe traffic jam. It would be only a few minutes -- we were relieved to know that, including the young woman.

chuvaness.com

Suddenly, an ambulance wailed from the other side of street. The young woman became very restless. The siren's scream grew louder and louder, inescapably forcing other vehicles to give way to the ambulance. A second later, the siren was in view, its rooftop bubble flashing fluorescent. When the ambulance reached our pete-pete, the young woman's face crumpled and she began to weep bitterly.

Makassar, October 7, 2005

* pete-pete: a public transport in Makassar, like a minibus
* dangdut: popular music with Hindi and Arabic influences
http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2006/04/02/traffic-jam.html
http://www.planetmole.org/daily/traffic-jam-ahmad-syam.html

Short Story: The Praud of the City

By Ahmad Syam
The Jakarta Post, September 11, 2005

Ratna was known as the most beautiful girl in the city where she lived. Her skin was flawless, she had a high, straight nose, dimpled cheeks and bright sparkling eyes. When she smiled, her lips parted to show the gleam of pearl-white teeth, and she had a perfect figure. Whenever people saw her, they thought that Ratna was a film star.
 

When Ratna was a little child, everybody around her had said she would become an exquisitely beautiful woman. And when she reached her teens, she was like a blooming flower whose fragrance reached everywhere.
 

Her parents and the city's residents admired her beauty immensely, and the city became alive because of this lovely girl who captured the public's attention. It was no wonder that everyone talked anything and everything about her.
 

One day, a beauty contest was held to search for the most beautiful girl in Ratna's home province. It was a kind of Miss Universe at the local level.
 

Everyone in her hometown praised her beauty, so the Mayor decided to appoint her outright to take part in the competition -- without even conducting a contest at the city level first.
 

To no one's surprise, Ratna won the contest, and she was formally named the prettiest girl in the province with a crown from the governor. She was now not only acknowledged by her home city, but also by people throughout the province.
 

***

Day by day, her popularity kept growing. Her name was mentioned everywhere: on public transport, in offices, in the markets, in the newspaper and on the radio. Furthermore, people admired her face on the many posters that hung on many walls in many homes, or on the front page of some local tabloid.

As time passed, a malicious rumor about Ratna began to spread.
 

Ratna initially let the gossip slide, as she knew she was a public figure, and gossip was expected.
 

However, she became very upset when she learned that the rumor was started by people in her hometown, a city that had risen to fame hand-in-hand with her own. Ratna knew the city would never have become so well known if it had not been for her.
 

The gossip was about marriage. She was accused of not getting married because she was afraid that her beauty would fade if she did so. In fact, this was no idle gossip, as Ratna had already rejected several suitors. People were obviously suspicious as to her motives as Ratna was now 30 years old -- an age at which she should have already been married, at least according to social custom.
 

Ratna was inevitably very upset with the city's people -- they shouldn't interfere in her private affairs.
 

"You have to do something, Ratna. You should confront the gossip and explain to the people in order to make them understand your position," her father suggested to Ratna one night.
 

"Your father is right, my dear. You have to think about your reputation. Besides, this doesn't mean that people dislike you. In fact, they even want you remain the pride of our city," her mother added.
 

"I've been thinking about it quite a while now. Don't worry, father, mother. Tomorrow, I'll hold a press conference and explain to them bluntly why I haven't gotten married," Ratna replied calmly.
 

"Are you sure? You will tell them the truth? Don't you think it will influence your popularity?" her mother was surprised.
 

"I agree with you. We live in a civilized city, Ratna. We must understand each other. Otherwise, you will be accused of tainting our way of life, not getting married although you've reached the proper age," her father said.
 

"I do understand them. I don't want to get married because I know the consequences. Marriage will change not only my character, but also my physical appearance, and this is crucial for my position as the pride of the city. I don't want to let them down, because if this happened, the city would lose its pride," Ratna said quietly.
 

***

Following the press conference, the media broadcast the news that Ratna was postponing marriage for the sake of maintaining the city's pride. They wrote that she had chosen to deny her essential needs as a woman, because being beautiful was important, specifically in order to satisfy the people's demand.
 

Ratna's explanation amazed her parents and the people, who supported her even more strongly. They even attempted to help her preserve her beauty, so that it would last forever.
 

Advice came from everywhere, suggesting that she consume traditional herbal remedies in order to keep her skin flawless, and others advised her to place "magic sticks" into a special part of her body.

Ratna's dedication attracted the mayor's attention. He admitted that the city had become well known because of her famed beauty. The mayor decided to support Ratna fully in maintaining her beauty -- in order to enhance the city's image.
 

"We have to design a sustainable program for her! It's very important to bolster the image of my administration," the mayor instructed his staff during a meeting one day.
 

"What about setting up a team or committee to maintain her appearance?" the secretary proposed.
 

"I agree, whatever the organization," replied the mayor. "Establishing committees under a governmental organization is a current trend, so it's no problem for us to create one. How about we name it the Ratna Monitoring Committee? Abbreviated as the RMC. Its main duty will be to monitor and advise Ratna's beauty maintenance. Any suggestions?" he said.
 

"That's very good, sir. But I'm afraid if the committee doesn't work effectively, like the others," a staffer piped up.
 

"I know what you mean. Basically, we agree with creating a committee. If there is a problem in the future, for instance its performance does not meet expectations, we may set up another committee that will supervise the former. Do you agree?"
 

"Agreed!" the meeting cried in unison.
 

So the Ratna Monitoring Committee was established on that very day. The multidisciplinary team comprised government officials, businessmen, journalists and surgeons, and its chairman was the mayor himself.
 

The surgeons' main duty was to conduct plastic surgery. If the tiniest wrinkle was found on Ratna's face, for example, they were responsible for wiping it out, so that Ratna's face would remain perfect.
 

"I am touched by the government's and people's care for me. Therefore, I promise I will never let them down," announced Ratna to her parents after she was informed about the RMC.
 

"You deserve it, Ratna. A good government must support all citizens who have taken part in creating a positive image for the city," her mother said.
 

"The most important thing is that you will never forget about the natural course of a human being," her father said firmly.
 

"What do you mean, Dad?" Ratna asked, curious at his sudden seriousness.
 

"Growing old is natural. It is said that the signs of age, such as wrinkles, are God's design. It's ok if you want to maintain your beauty, as long as you never forget this," he said.
 

"I think I shall do everything properly. Magic sticks is part of our ancestral tradition, while plastic surgery is merely utilizing technological advancements. Many people do it. I just want to keep people's trust in me to be the pride of the city. And that pride is my beauty."
 

"I am proud of you, my dear. I believe you are aware of what you are doing. I am just reminding you, as I don't want to see you despair when you begin to age," her father said.
 

***

The RMC operated so effectively that the mayor was very satisfied and didn't need to establish another institution to supervise its work.
 

Ratna's appearance was proof of the RMC's excellent performance. She was now 40 years old, but there was no change to her body, face or skin. Plastic surgery had successfully eliminated the lines and wrinkles that had crept up in her face, neck and hands.
 

When she walked through town, many people thought she was a teenager -- and Ratna often wore tight-fitting clothes that were commonly worn by teenagers. They would never have guessed that she was in her forties. Many teenagers even believed that Ratna was their age.
 

Ratna had been playing her role for years, and enjoyed being the pride of the city. Her life was full of admiration, and everyone adored her. So she believed that by maintaining her beauty through intensive treatments, she could make her happiness last forever.
 

Ratna completely killed her desire to get married.
 

She inserted as many magic sticks into her body as possible, and drank as much herbal potions as she could. She did everything to keep her face beautiful.
 

She only had one goal in her mind: to be the pride of the city until she died.
 

Growing old, however, couldn't be avoided. Even though the RMC had tried its best, they couldn't prevent the wrinkles that sprouted as she continued to age.
 

One day, a new rumor blew through the city, that the RMC would be disbanded. The mayor was not interested in maintaining Ratna anymore. Nevertheless, the citizens all disagreed about this plan, and the mayor bowed to their will.
 

Meanwhile, Ratna couldn't believe what was happening to her.
 

Every time she looked into a mirror, she found new lines and wrinkles on her face, around her eyes and creasing her forehead.
 

She was horrified, and couldn't stand the thought that her career would be over. So she locked the door and stayed in her room for a whole day, sitting in front of a mirror and daydreaming that she was an everlasting role model.
 

***

Nobody knew what had become of Ratna. The people continued to wait for her patiently until she appeared again. They were committed to treating Ratna well.
 

The mayor, in the meantime, had lost interest in her. Realizing that she could no longer be the pride of the city, he held another beauty contest to search for new girls that could replace her. The mayor and his entire staff were present as judges of the contest.
 

This news somehow reached Ratna, and she fell into a severe depression.
 

***

Several years had passed when Ratna finally reemerged in public -- with a very different appearance.

Her hair was completely white and she wore dark sunglasses on a face thickly covered with powder.

She still wore tight, short clothing so that everyone could see her sad, wrinkled belly button.
 

That morning, Ratna toured the city with her new look.
 

She walked with a bent back and greeted several young men with her nicest smile. Sometimes she jumped up and down, cried and shouted wildly, "I am the pride of the city! I am the face of the city!"
 

***

Ratna is well known in the city where she lives. Every morning, she can be spotted walking down its streets. Sometimes she jumps up and down, cries, and shouts wildly.
 

-- Makassar, June 2005