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i can always speak the language of feminism or marxism or postcolonialism or other isms but i am still a gadis kampung, a village girl. as a gadis kampung i have to bear with all sorts of consequences of being a gadis, a woman so to speak, and a villager. living a life as a villager is never easy since you have to comply with so many unwritten laws, commonly called as adat, which are so confining especially for us woman.
for my case, things are more complicated since my parents send me to school so i can learn new things. as a consequence, my worldview is completely different from my peers, who mostly have already had two kids right now. i say it is a good thing. but, it is not good either. the result of my schooling is a delvi, who knows how to speak her opinion out. i say it is not good because this delvi is not preferable in my kampung. this delvi is a threat to the status quo ruling my kampung. “we have to be very very careful with this delvi”, that’s what they have in their mind.
m not making a story here. for those with the kampung background must understand the situation m living in. the word change (for the better) in a kampung is somehow forbidden. u will shake the entire foundation of a kampung life if you utter that word. changes are not meant for orang kampung (villagers), that’s what my peoples always teach their children. “we want life as usual”, that is the tag line. “we prefer this old way to that new (which is not necessarily bad) way”, a next door aunty told me. as a result, those who want changes yet unable to challenge the stiff adat and its strong proponents opt for leaving the kampung for good. me? i choose to return but…
this delvi, she could not watch her blabbering mouth during his three days stay in her kampung. she was not kampung wise. yeah i was home for the last three days nurturing my longing for home cooking of ikan asin (assorted salted fish) and super spicy kampung chili paste (see, how kampung my taste is he… he…. he… he).
it was dinner time. the youngest sister of mine recounted the incident taking place in the only stall selling coconut in our neighborhood. that afternoon she wanted to cook gulai nangka (jackfruit gulai). for that cause, she needed coconut milk. so off she went to that stall just to get disappointed. that stall would not serve ordinary buyer, who just needed one or two coconuts, like my sister. they only served the big fish. she had stood by the stall for sometimes calling the owner of the stall but no one emerged. she told me it was not her first experience to be ignored in that stall. as a result, gulai nangka was not served in our table that night.
mom said, the coconut seller behaved that way because she was the only one. mom made her point. but to me, the seller was not fair. she was being arrogant. so, i jokingly made a suggestion that we should start selling coconut as well. the name of the stall would sound ” kelapa for rakyat jelata” (this shop sells coconut for layman), i opined. my family laughed but my father:
“delvi!!!!!!! you should be careful with your mouth. do you want to vomit blood like your mom’s father? do you want to die with the upper half of your body turns green like my father. we live in a kampung delvi and i know it’s never easy. if they cannot get you with the lahir way (non-supranatural way) they will get you with the bathin way (supranatural way).”
every diners was silence. and i had no mood to confront my father. he was right anyway. he was right that behind the serene paddy field mesmerizing your sense there is danger lurking behind the bush. he was traumatized. many of his family member died because of some very weird illness. well, tales of one dies vomiting blood; or scorpions and centipedes coming out from one’s stomach; or one’s abdominal is full of sharp material like syringes and broken glasses are my childhood stories before going to sleep.
so, in my kampung people still practice (black) magic. believe it or not but it is there. well, i saw some; i heard some; i once involved in some. i tell you folk i have the pedigree to be one of the greatest shaman in my kampung. this shamanic blood came from my father’s family. one of my grandmothers once prophesied that one should not get slapped by my left hand or get kicked by my left leg. they were “berbisa” (poisonous, lethal) i was told. i just need to “isi” (charge with magical spell) those two organs to be more powerful, she encouraged me. i just need to be polished a little bit more, she told me. i think the whole world is lucky i am not left-handed.
but that’s not the point of my posting today.
my point is, those in power or the status quo always have ways to curb freedom of speech. on a kampung level like my case, they use black magic to scare people from voicing their opinion. on a state level, they use secret service to silence dissents. for example, in malaysia, the country where i once studied, they use ISA to keep people silent. on the global level, the use “war on terror” slogan to shut your mouth.
see, being different is never easy. being outspoken is not easy either. m i right?
but i prefer living behind bar to suffering some black-magic incited illness. i tell you folk, finding the cure for that illness is a completely convoluted business. where in the world would you find a black chicken? the feather, the claw, the…everything must be black. how would one find a rusty nail from a sinking ship? where on this earth one would find a red bamboo shoot. i don’t want to eat a whole boiled chicken with its feather intact like what my father must do when he mysteriously fell seriously ill when i was five.
be forewarned guys, freedom of speech may cost your life. but being silent may cost your life too. so speak up!!! you’ve got nothing to lose though.
so folk, i left malaysia for home on the 17th of january 2009 one day before my student pass expired. i’ve told you before how sad i am to leave. but an incident at the immigration booth somehow makes me re-consider my plan to go back for any reason. i had a brawl…..i mean a fierce argument with one of the immigration officer on the day i left.
you know petty officers with little power tend to abuse that little power they have when they have chances to do so. i’ve met lots of that kind of people and i’ve had lots of very bad experiences with those petty officers.
so this is the saga i’v been through on my last day in malaysia.
as usual, low cost carrier terminal (lcct) where air asia operates was always crowded. i was sort of late for the flight. the check in counter was almost close when i arrived there. so, after losing some ringgits to air asia’s stingy baggage system (they will fine you if you baggage weighs more than 15 kg) i rushed to the immigration booths of the terminal and found myself trapped in a snake long queue. after waiting for sometimes it was my turn to submit my passport to one of the officer over there. i think it was not my lucky day since i was served by a hot-tempered officer (i don’t know whether it is the nature of the immigration officers to be hot -tempered or not).
usually my passport and boarding pass are ready in hand so when my turn comes i don’t have to struggle to get my passport out of its holder. but on that fateful day i kept my passport inside of my passport holder. but still, that passport holder was ready in my hand. so, soon after submitting my boarding pass, i took my passport from its holder. when i was about to pull that passport from its holder and upon seeing the glimpse of my green indonesian passport, suddenly that mustachioed and bearded officer FIERCELY shouted at me this way:
“CEPATLAH YOU TAK LIHAT KA BANYAK ORANG BERATUR” (hurry up, don’t u see, there is a long queue here)
after he had my passport, he kept muttering, telling me off, blabbering………making fierce face ……emotionally telling me that next time i have to get my passport ready in hand. I meekly yet mischievously answered him back:
“oooorite sir, ooooookay”. i daringly stared at him right to his fierce eyes while answering his blabbers. and after so many “you have to this” and “you have to thats” from him and so many “oooorites” and “ooooookays” from me he stopped flipping my passport and again thunderously shouted at me:
“awak melawan ya!!!!! (you challenge me ha)” and my saga began….
delvi: “eh saya tak ada lah melawan encik” ( i m not challenging you sir)
this word exchange attracted the attention of his superior who was a woman and
his superior: “kenapa dengan dia ” (what is the problem with her). she addressed her staff
him: “dia melawan lah” (she challenged me) handing my passport to his superior.
his superior: “awak cakap apa dengan staff saya”? (what did u tell my staff)
delvi: “saya tidak cakap apa apa puan” (i didn’t say anything mam)
this time his superior was getting fiercer.
his superior: “dia cakap awak melawan, awak cakap apa dengan dia (he told me that you challenge him. what did you tell him)
now, i refused to speak in malay. i kept answering in english.
delvi: ” i did not say anything wrong to him mam. he just suddenly got mad like that. i didn’t do anything wrong here.”
realizing she could not press any charge against me, she asked that mad officer about what to do with me. then..
him: “saya dah tak nak layan awak. awak kena beratur semula” (i don’t want to deal with you anymore. you have to queue back and find another officer to stamp your passport).
delvi: “what”
his superior: “staff saya tak sudah tak nak layan awak lagi. awak kena beratur semua ” (my man does not want to deal with anymore. it means you have to queue back.
she handed my passport back to me. i was lucky the booth next to that of the hot-tempered officer was vacant. so i just stepped to that booth and another brawl started.
next booth officer: ” ada apa?” (what’s wrong)
delvi kept speaking in english
delvi: i don’t know sir. he just got mad at me.
next door officer flipped through my passport and found the page which bears my student pass. then he smiled.
next door officer: awak belajar kat UKM? (u study at UKM?)
delvi: “yes sir.”
next door: “UKM ada di petaling jaya kan?” (UKM is located in Petaling Jaya right?
delvi: “no sir. UKM’s main campus is in bangi. it has another campus in cheras where UKM hospital and Faculty of Medicine are located”.
next door officer: “mmmm…UKM ada lah kat petaling jaya” (i know one of UKM’s campus is in petaling jaya)
i know he was cross checking me.
delvi: “no sir. no UKM campus in PJ”
once he found out my student pass would expire the next day he smiled and mumbled some words.
next door officer: “ooo dah nak mati dah…” (mmm… i see so your pass will expire soon ha)
then he went to the booth of the hot-tempered officer. i shrugged and took some deep breath. i knew these people would make my life difficult that day.
when he got back he told me this nonsense.
next door officer: “dia cakap awak melawan ya?” (he told me you challenge him)
delvi: “no sir. i did not challenge anyone here sir”
next door officer: “visa pelajar awak pun sudah nak mati” (your student pass will expire tomorrow)
delvi: “that’s why i want to get out of your country this very day sir. i have completed my study anyway.”
next door officer: “saya tak kisah kalau awak tak nak balik ke sini”. ( i don’t mind if you do not want to visit malaysia anymore”
next door officer: “tapi kemana pun awak pergi awak kena hormat orang” (but you have to bear in mind that where ever you go you have to learn how to respect people)
now it was me who got mad.
delvi: “respect sir!!!? are talking about respect sir? i do respect people my good sir. i know what respect means. it is him (the hot-tempered officer) who does not how to respect sir!. he just shouted at me and got mad at me without any proper reason. do you call it respect sir!!!!!?”
this next door officer did not want his friend to lose his face before me. so he tried to defend his friend. now he began to speak in english.
next door officer: “but your tone in answering him is not polite”
delvi: “what’s wrong with my tone?” it’s me who supposed to get offended because he just shouted at me that way.”
next door officer: ” but your tone……”
i just cut his line and retorted back. meanwhile air asia’s announcer was screaming to call the passengers to enter the boarding room.
delvi: “do i break any law sir?” i looked at him in the eye with my big and daring and heavily smoked eyes. and i repeated my question.
delvi: “do i break any law sir?”
next door officer: “no.”
delvi: “so!”
he knew he could not charge me with anything. he knew he could not beat me in this argument. then he stamped my passport and let me go.
you know folk, i was so mad. i saw some injustice here. i saw those people were practicing the policy of apartheid. it was racism ( m i exaggerating?)
i believe that hot-tempered officer dares to shout at me because i am an indonesian. i believe there must be a preconception in his mind that i must be just an ordinary, stupid, tame and scared little indonesian female worker who wants to get home. it is not just an empty accusation. i can prove it to you. he shouted at me once he saw the glimpse of my green passport. if only i hold blue or red or whatever-color-but-leaf green passport he would have not howled at me that way. ya ya ya i know most of us indonesian residing in malaysia are blue-collar workers. but i am different. i burnt my parent’s money over there.
i think that day was not that chauvinist hot-tempered officer’s lucky day to just pick any indonesian to shout at at will to relieve him from his boredom from stamping people’s passport all day long. he chose a wrong indonesian. i am not that tame indonesian who is willing to suffer any injustice imposed on me without fighting back. i make it clear to you folk i am not scared of anyone. i repeat : i am not afraid of ANYONE, let alone that petty officer. most importantly, i did nothing wrong. i broke no law. it was just that hot-tempered officer’s sentiment that makes my day difficult on that fateful day.
i tell you folk, if only azalina othman, the tourism minister of malaysia heard about what that next door officer told me that he does not mind if i don’t want to visit malaysia anymore, she would slit that officer’s throat. she is busy promoting malaysia’s hospitality to the world and my country spending the tax payers’ money to fund the campaigne. in contrast, that government officer is also busy expelling anyone he has sentiment with from that country.
thinking about my reluctance to return to malaysia reminds me of my prof. see folk i use the word “return” as if i belong there. yeah i hate malaysia for some racist, chauvinist and sexist man and woman bigots living there. moreover, it is quite difficult for a proud indonesian like me to be there since i will fight back tooth and nail on any injustice imposed on me because of my indonesian-ness. other indonesians who earn their living there and have no other choice but to be there to survive will probably just let it be.
yet, i also do miss that country very much. i miss my uni. i miss the path to my school i walk every day. i miss my research room. i miss my night outings. i miss my freedom. and i left my heart there. yeah i metaphorically left my heart there. it means i have to return to get my heart back. moreover, i’ve promised my prof to return in a year or so to continue my study. if i will really return i do hope i will never ever meet that hot-tempered officer again.
