You are currently browsing the monthly archive for April, 2009.
disclaimer: please don’t get me wrong ibuk ibuk bapak bapak
setting of the story: my class.
characters: my students and the ever beautiful miss delvi.
the narrative:
it was near dusk when i almost finished lecturing my students on………………….. articles (actually, they were not my official students but since i replaced their “on leave” professor so they were my students, can you get my message?)
it was a little bit rainy and windy, yet the raindrop just would not make the humidity to budge (ah nyastra sekalee..). and because of the unfriendly temperature combined with the ill-air-conned classroom, all of us were busy fanning ourselves with whatever article we could find or use to produce some cool air. it was so oh my god hot. i could feel every drop of my sweat raced on my back and doused my blouse. half of my jilbab, especialy in the part near my ears and neck was damp. then i remembered i promptly asked my female students on why they donned hijab or jilbab?
then came this surprising asnwer, “we want to protect ourselves miss?”
protecting yourselves from what?, miss delvi launched another question.
“from unscrupulous boys and the risk of being raped by unscrupolus rapists”, was the answer.
miss delvi smiled and then laughed since now she got a chance to lecture these ladies on something they would never get from even the greatest ustad in their vicinity.
“so girls who do you blame if a girl is raped”
“the girl miss. because they attract (invite) the boy to rape them”
smiling miss delvi launched another cheeky question, “but guys how?”
“the way us girls dress ourselves can attract men to rape us miss”, they unanimously answered miss delvi.
“oh i see, the way you dress eh!. so u need to carefully cover your body to protect you from being raped huh!”
“yes miss. surely that is the case miss”, again the girls were in agreement.
“ok deh, but what about a good veiled girl getting raped just like what we read recently in the newspaper? she is a good girl! she is hijab-ed! so now how are you going to explain this?”
“wah. that must the way she walk miss”, a girl responded.
“i second her miss. the way we walk can invite the boys to rape us miss”, another girl sitting in the front row responding to her colleague.
“alright, now let me present you with another good, veiled girl who walks like a robocop. the way she walks is not sexy at all. but still she gets raped! nah now how? how? tell me why this bad thing still happen to that good girl?”
“i believe it must be the way she looks at people miss. her gaze. her eyes miss”, another respond from a girl in red jilbab.
“mmm this time is the eyes. well. eyes now huh.”
miss delvi who was in the right corner of the class moved to the center of the class and reached for her seat. after inhaling some fresh air she stood and walked to the window. the rain had stopped but the humidity was still there. the class was so silent that you could hear the tap tap sound coming from miss delvi’s 7 inches hi heel.
“rite. the first problem is the dress. then the walk. now the eyes”, sighing and looking out to the faculty’s open plaza miss delvi addressed her audience.
“ok. now let me tell you. our girl is now a really good girl. she covers all of her body. she walks like a robocop. she always casts her gaze down. she never…never….looks into the eyes of anyone she is having a conversation with. but yet, she isstill raped. then now how? how? she is a good girl you know! how could such cruel thing happen to her! she is a good girl!
“her voice miss”, a girl in blue answered me.
“voice?” miss delvi stared at that girl.
“voice! so how are we woman should live then? the dress, the walk, the eyes, now voice!” miss delvi half-screamt to her students and stared at their each eyes.
“voice. voice. so now what are going to do to hinder ourselves from getting raped? should we stop walking? should we stop seeing? should we stop talking? should we stop living since everything we do can invite boys to rape us? what should we do now?”
silence ruled the room. everybody was busy digesting what miss delvi was lecturing about.
i saw some students frowning. they must think hard to understand what i wanted them to understand. the boy in the corner even anxiously bit his nail feeling anxious what if suddenly i approached him and ask him to answer me.
“so guys, now are you still going to blame the victim if they get raped?”
some of them nodded their head, but the other frown and shook their head.
“look the girl has tried to act the way you expect her to act. she has covered herself from hair to toe. she has fixed the way she walks. she has lowered her gaze. now she has shut her mouth and stop talking for fear of getting raped. but still she gets raped”.
how now? how now? are still going to blame her this time?. miss delvi’s voice was raising and the students were getting deep in thought.
“no miss”, a girl student mumbled her answer. she began to question the value she had been holding for her entire life.
” we cannot blame the girl miss”, now she sounded more convinced.
“are you going to blame yourself if you, a good girl, get raped?”
“no miss”.
you must see miss delvi’s winning broad smile. if she could not influence the entire class, at least, this girl now was under her spell.
“so guys, who do you blame when there is a rape case. the victim?”
” nooooooooooo……………………………………”, all of the students answered anonimously.
it was getting dark outside and the time was up.
ah, i never want to write about this issue but since everyone is getting manohara fever today so i see no harm in following suit, he he he he…
you know i envy her to boot. i mean she has everything (wink eye, wink eye and more winks). she is biiiiiuuuutifullll, fffammmoooous, married to a (rich and equally biiiutiful) prince from a faaaaaaaar faaaar faaaaaaaaaaar away place…..
she must be very lucky and lucky and lucky but puh-leas she is not as lucky as i am. why?
1. my parents, despite their lack of formal education and peasant background, send me to school and make sure that i get my university degree first before thinking about marriage.
2. my father has sent me to various martial arts houses so i know how to aim a kick to the crotch of a pedophilic grown ass squarely when he has a dirty plan on me.
2. my parents will not let me me marry anyone, i repeat ANYONE, at the age of 16. my parents won’t care whether that ONE is a sultan, a prince, a juragan, an obama, a bill gate, a hassanah bolkiah, a brad pit, a king , even a god because i am still a kid. and kids should not get married, they should play and chase their dream instead.
3. if i am raped, my parents will lodge a police report and get the rapist’s ass arrested and send his ass to the court and let the judge send the ass to the gallow. they will never curse me by marring me to the bad ass who has raped me. rapists should get raped…..err…..punished i mean. in my family, there is no place for rapists. NO rapists for son-in-laws, that’s rule of the day.
if we have to play a blame game here, i will blame her mother eh parents. you know this world is full with bad ass pedophiles. a good mommy should tell her kids to be AWARE….and
YOU MOMMIES SHOULD NOT EXPLOIT YOUR KIDS FOR ANY REASONS
ah, useless to say, the damage has done.
if i were her i would:
1. with my beauty i will flirt with any good looking guy i could find, but i would not curse myself by getting married at that tender age without having any proper job and sufficient formal education and securing more than sufficient sum of money to my name. so, if shits happen to my marriage i would not have to bear the pain by staying in that blister-ed marriage.
2. if i were her i would mingle with human rights or aids or freedom of speech or free press activists or philanthropists so if shits happen to me, one word of despair from me will leak to the public and hope it can help me in freeing my ass from further desperation. so help me god.
3. if i were her (provided all of the allegations thrown to my royalty husband are right), i would start some drama before the media people and pour my heart out when i got a gold chance to appear in public last april 25th. so the whole world will know that this husband of mind is a bad ass and i am not happy with him and i want to go back home to my mama….
ah, but she is not me. and i know its never easy to be her.
now i know i am still the luckiest girl in the world. no need to envy anyone here.
i m officially a sleep deprived person.
why? because last night i couldn’t sleep a wink. yeah there were tremors around 00.20 and 03.00 a.m. and for me who resides on the fifth floor of the tallest building in my neighborhood, tremor means terror.
the first tremor did mildly quake the building, so it just sent a sheer panic to me. yet, the second one at 3.00 was really strong that i needed to put on my cloth and chao to my room’s door carrying my wallet, which contains my id card and passport, and hand phone. in the corridor, everybody, i mean other tenants, was busy rubbing their eyes while opening their doors and asking for a clarification which sounded like this, “eh ada gempa ya”? (do you feel any tremor?). But nobody seemed to have any plan to flee the building. so i followed suit. moreover after merely five minutes or less, the trembor had ceased to shake the ground.
i was still trembling when i got back to my room. yet, i managed to stay sane. i called my sister, who resided in another part (much more safer) of padang and and asked whether she was ok or not. knowing i could reach her with no difficulties i concluded that everything was under control.
i was so affected by this tremor paranoia. you know it was my first strong earthquake since coming home 4 months ago. my last big bang was in 2005 before i left for malaysia. it was pretty safe there (ye lah no volcanos or earth’s crusts or whatsoever natural forces which will trigger strong seismic waves over there). but padang is considered to be in the red zone. it means every earthquake is potential to trigger tsunami. and bah, my home is less than 500 from the shore.
i still clearly remember how it feels to hurriedly flee the shore and in the middle of the night way back in 2005. it was near dusk. once the first seismic waves hit shake the ground, we jumped out from our rooms and gathered outside and waited till the tremor stopped. it did stop, so we got in. to our surprise, once we sit our ass down at home, the second tremor went mad and shook the ground madly. i heard the loud sound of shaking concrete, falling roofs, squeaking window panes and cracking glass. in short it was horrible. it was no way to stay home. everybody, again, poured to the street and never headed back to their homes. they fled to safety to an open football field in front of unp rectorat. if you were there, you could see the weakest side of every arrogant human. they were afraid of death. me too.
the night had crept when the biggest ever tremor of my life took place. things turned even worst when there was a rumor that tsunami was on its way. people got even more panicked and no sense prevailed. once they heard the word tsunami, those panic people envisioned the great 2004 aceh tsunami and lost their spirit completely. i heard so many astagfirullahs and allahuakbars. those people are bracing for death. there was a scene which was so disheartening to look at, an old man on a wheelchair and his extremely worried daughter.
but i did not want to die that day. so, i ran to the rectorat building and climbed to the fifth floor and inspected the condition of the sea. there was nothing there. no big waves and no mortals. i could breath for a second, but when was still on the fifth floor, again, there was a strong tremor. quickly i ran downstair to my heavily panicked and crying friends and decided that we must move our ass out of that place.
so, i dragged them to the main street and stopped a car and dealt with the driver. we asked him to take us to a safer place, where we can stay in my sister place. he demanded a measly rp.100.000 for that cruise. we just agreed. we have no other choice, no? and i saw other groups of people followed suit.
it took several hours to reach our destination. usually, we need only one hour to get there. there was a grid lock since every body in padang whose homes were near the shore headed to that place. i think we (the scared quake victims) were on tv that night. but, we managed to get to my sister place and slept outside the whole night.
ah,what a time i had that night. the tremor was bad, everybody knew it. yet dealing with panic people was even worse. i needed to calm down some of my crying friends who just refused to stay contained. they started to call their mama amidst their sobs.
i panicked as well but managed to pretend that i didn’t. i could not call my ibu either because there was no reception at all. again, what a time i had.
talking about mom and tremor, just wait for mom’s nagging if she learns about this. she will ask me to move out and find another safer place to live. (it’s difficult to find a place that i really love like my recent place).
ah, more sleepless nights to come. more morning class cancellations. more make up classes. more eye bags….
yeah, you must have heard about multi-cultural family or multi-lingual family even multi-religion family. now, I’ll introduce you to another kind of family with hyphened-identity: multi-party family. well, we have such thing in Indonesia, my country. I’ll take my own family as the sample for this term.
there are seven eligible voters in the family. they are my pop, my ibu, me, sis numero 2, the third sis, first kid bro, and kiddies sis. the youngest kid bro are still ten y/o yet no less enthusiastic when he trailed us to the poll booth yesterday. he was busy persuading us to vote for partai patriot since he really liked that party’s name. he freely came to the very booth where we were trying to decide on some mp hopefuls and party’s fate and pestered us to vote that party. this kiddiest brother of ours reasoned that this party was a good party for its name showed that this party was patriotic. i reckon, this mindset is the direct result of the compulsory ppkn subject, which introduces students to the country’s ideology pancasila or five basic principles and stuff, constitution, principles of nationhood, and governmental system, he takes (and will be taking up to his college years) at school. last night he even told us during dinner that when he grow up he would vote for that party. anyway, the party did not even pass the 2.5% parliament threshold. so, there would be no more partai patriot on our next poll.
get back to my topic of the day, i hereby declare that my family is a multi-party family. i am almost sure that none of us choose the same party. in other words, each of us support different political party. well, i can’t guess what party they have casted their votes for, but i can guess parties my family won’t vote.
you know every tv stations in Indonesia is now frantically busy doing what they call a quick count and hiring various political commentators, analysts and party people (fungsionaris partai, we call them here) to comment on the result of that quicky count. so, to put some more carnivalesque tint to this big happening of our nation, here i am presenting my analysis on my family’s choice.
Father. i am dead sure he did not vote gerindra. he told me, during our after dinner discussion every time i pulang kampung, that he was afraid that that party would gerinda us, the people when it took to power. yeah to a minangkabau speaking like my father, gerindra reminds him of gerinda (in english the verb will be to grind). nah, now you must know why my father won’t vote for it. he envisions suharto’s style repression will re-emerge if this party wins. i can take some blame for this. i informed my father that the party’s god father was suharto’s son-in-law and blue eye general, head of kopassus, alleged to involve in a massacre in East Timor and alleged to mastermind the kidnap of several student activists during the Jakarta big riots in 1998. i also lectured my pop that those in power can re-write history. But, i don’t think it’s my fault if pop disfavors this party. i was merely informing ok. I broke no law. it was just a bad choice of name.
ibu. delvi is super sure that her mom did not vote for golkar. how does she know? her mom told her yesterday afternoon that she would never vote for golkar, a partai orang jahat (evil people party). her mom was referring to the golkar which was the political vehicle of indonesia’s second and longest ruling president, suharto. Delvi tried to inform her mom that there was no more golkar today. “what we have now is partai golkar of which boss is JK, the orang sumando orang minang (urang sumando is the son in law in a minangkabau family’s house. Jusuf Kalla is married to a minangkabaunese lady)”, she told her mom. delvi added that they’d done many things (she was not sure the exact numbers of that “ many things” actually) to reform themselves and help develop the nation. Yet, the damage is done and beyond repair. she’d made her mind. well, no banyan tree and yellow color in her political aspiration at the last ge. It’s not her fault nor delvi’s. they are ordinary yet free (and powerful) people to choose.
The second sis. she was not home during the last ge, so i couldn’t practice my psychic power upon her. you know, to make this prediction i need to look deep into her eyes. but i’m pretty sure she won’t favor pks. that party has let her down. yeah she was once in love with this party. yeah that sis is more religious than me. yet, things went wrong somewhere along the so many dates. April 9 was her second poll, so I think she now knows more about who to choose and who not to consider.
Third sis. this first-time-voter, according to my crystal ball, followed my mother’s stand. the same ball told me that she did not vote for any newly emerged political parties either. but i predict she will choose JK for president in july since she really likes his prowess in business.
Kid bro numore uno. he voluntarily did not vote. the night before the poll, he watched a football match and got so sleepy in the morning that he refused to exercise his political right. i say it was his loss since yesterday was his first chance ever to vote. Yet, he was being wise to say that because he did not vote he wouldn’t protest the ruling government on whatever act they take. he reasoned that he has no right to do so since he did not participate in the poll. but I felt glad when he told me he would join the presidential poll in july. alhamdulillah then.
the youngest sis. she is another first timer voter. i just pestered her on what she chose yesterday. she kept running away from me. she is really truth to the secrecy principle of the poll. It is a good thing. since she is still a kid, I teased her this way, “you voted for golkar, rite?” she showed me her tongue which means she did not. you chose pdi-p, rite? she snickered which means she did not. she told me that her party of choice was on the top ten list. “aaaa, you voted for gerindra, rite?” i pestered further on. she said, “huh, what is the use of voting for that party?”. orite. finally, she confessed that she chose for different parties. she means for district level representative house she chose this so and so party; for province level representative house, she chose another party; and for national representative house, she trusted different party. still i m in blue about names of those parties of hers. not bad. it’s good and it’s rite.
nah, that is the story of my multi-party family. we are democratic, ain’t we. we are much more democratic than any family in the most democratic country, rite? we are way cooler than any american family, ain’t we?
Of course we beat them since they only have two political parties there.
Will give more analysis on our presidential election next july.
Yup, aku baru saja nyontreng horeeeee
yeah, i just casted my vote. you can see that my left little finger is navy blue in color right now. this is my third General Election and i have chosen different party and MP hopefuls in every poll i am in. For my kid sister number 3 and 4 who is 17, this is their first GE. they looked excited yet did not fail to frown at a large paper which bear the name of the parties and mp hopefuls on it. there were 38 political parties to choose and more than 11.ooo mp hopefuls to choose all over indonesia. it was really a big party.
on my choice, i frankly said that i chose young female mp hopefuls. my instinct told me that they can represent me. yeah, it was so pathetic that i resorted to instinct. but it never fails me so far. i was still an undecided voter when i entered the poll booth. so, instinct will do.
however, despite being undecided i’ve pledged that i will not cast my vote for any party with religion as their ideology and any party which enacted porn bill last october.
SERVE YOU RIGHT SUH. YOU’VE LOST MY CONFIDENCE SUH
Happy menyontreng Indonesia………
on my last pulang kampung, i accompanied my father to the place of a moderately famous dukun or witch doctor. we went there to seek for further treatment for my mom. yeah, mom allegedly suffered a black magic attack which caused her to cough and cough and cough endlessly. it had been like that for the last three years. she started to suffer that illness when the big earthquake rocked our kampung in 2006. well, i don’t see any relationship between the earthquake and the cough, but some people around me have another say. you know, they think the earthquake is the perfect time to plant that illness to my mom’s body with the help of a particular jin whose master is the bad witch doctor who has been ordered by someone who does not like my mom (or our family) to black-magic her. my father never tells me who the culprit or the very person who hates us is. i cannot speculate either. but from past experiences, the case of my grandfather for example, the baddies were those close or distant relatives of ours. the motif varies from lust, wrath, greed and envy. i will elaborate this further in my other future posts.
so, we went there after maghrib. my father always takes me with him for this kind of venture because at night, where all of vices begin to wake alive and creep to the streets, i am his boy. you know, i was raised both as girl and boy by my father. moreover, i am considered as stronger than my other siblings. another reason why we have to go there at night because usually during the day, the witch doctors in my kampung are ordinary farmer of labor. so, they will only begin practicing after maghrib or after dusk.
so off we went driving our pick up car heading to the north of our kampung to the bottom of the merapi moutain. the road was steep and windy. there was a bit rain as well so there was nobody on the street but us. before, starting his car, father asked me to buy two telur ayam kampung or local chicken eggs. for this kind of occasion, broiler chicken eggs can never match the magical prowess of thoset of the ayam kampung). after obtaining the eggs, we started our journey in silence. i had no mood to start any conversation with my father. it was so cold.
in 30 minutes we got to the witch doctor’s house. it was a modest house. my father, with me trailing behind him, went directly to the dining room of the house. it had its own door so we did not need to go through the main door. there, we were welcome cordially by the witch doctor and his wife. there was also another patient there, a dark young man in his late 20s.
my father sat near the door while i took my place in the corner of the room next to that dark young man. the witch doctor (i will address him with antan (grandfather) for the rest of the post, ok) looked surprised to see me. he said, “ah she is the copy of her mother”. yeah i look like my mom when she was younger of course. his wife was in agreement with him and said, “she really looks like her mother”. it was a warm introduction session. and i responded them cheerfully. i learned that they had known my family for such a long time, i mean my father and mother, since their childhood. he kept asking how was the cousins or nephews or in laws, whom i did not really know, to my father. we also discussed about the recent galodo that hit my kampung a week before. the men chatted while smoking the famous dji sam soe cigarrettes. the room was full of dizzying smoke coming from the burning cigarettes. i almost fainted because dji sam soe had such a strong scent, the combination of indonesian best tobacco and clove. antan was also busy coughing in between his cigarette smoke blowings. outside, the night crept slowly while the cicadas and other nocturnal insects started their nightly basis natural concerto.
before long, my father asked the antan about the development of mom’s treatment. the dark young man was still there . knowing the ritual by heart i handed the two telur ayam kampung to the antan. the wife of the antan whom i called nenek (grandmother) then went to the kitchen to retrieve a saucer. after getting back to the dining room, nenek gave the saucer to antan. he took one telur ayam kampung and placed it on the saucer. he then twisted the egg and waited until it stopped spinning. once the egg stopped moving, he took the egg and cracked it open so the content fell to the saucer. he took a small spoon and inspected the yolk of the egg. after a while he told my father that the bad stuff that caused my mom to cough endlessly was alrealy out of my mom’s lung. in other words, my mom’s treatment has almost completed. he also asked my father to look for various herbs of which names were only know to my father’s generation. i have no idea whether that so and so leaves ever exist on earth. father told me to write the prescription down on a piece of paper (it was the other reason my gather took me there: he could not write well).
since we brought two eggs , my father asked antan about what to do about that remaining egg. he also informed antan that mom’s coughing was not getting better. antan answered that my mom could take it as her medicine that night. i always love to see witch doctors when they perform they shomanship. they have many distinctive antics, you know. like this antan, he took the egg and put it in his right hand and wrapped it with his slender but hoarse fingers. moments later, he would concentrate to his hand, close his eyes and recite (or mumble?) his mantra. he handed the egg to me and told me to process the egg the way he wanted it. yeah i need to stir the egg with air tajin (when you cook some rice you need to put some water, rite? you need to wait until it boils, rite? nah, air tajin is that boiling water. ah, is it my limited knowledge of this language or is it english which can’t bear the burden of other cultures. it’s so difficult to translate this word correctly). he told me not to forget to add some drops of air limau sundai (juice from a family of citrus which i don’t even know how to call it in Bahasa Indonesia) to the potion.
after another cigarette sessions and light chit chattings, my father excused us. he told the old man that he needed to rise early the next day since he needed to sell our recent potato harvest in the market. while arising from his seat he reached into his pocket and took a rp. 20.000 ($2) note. yup, it only costed us 2 dollars for such treatment. some other times, according to my past experiences, the witch doctor even only charged us with some pack of cigarettes: he did not want money. i remember his wife ushered us to the dining room door and soon we found ourselves driving back home.
on the way home, father broke the silence by (re)telling me about how difficult it is to live in a kampung. he meant how people still resort to black magic to deal with disputes. he also told me how sometimes mom went overboard with her remarks or opinion which probably offended someone. well, mom is like me (i am my mom’s daughter then). she will never back off if her right is violated. I tried to ask who this offended person might be. as predicted, father refused to tell me.
sigh. it is disheartening to see my mom with her endless coughing. Her every night is those of sleep deprived nights since she can’t breath well. I’ve suggested that we should see the real doctor immediately. but, you know she shunned this idea since she thought her illness is not a medically healed disease. i am not the staunch supporter of our outing to the witch doctor’s place. that old man couldn’t even heal his own coughing, so how he is going to help my mom. but at least, she is on medication right now.
the thought that my mom has been black-magic-ed, to me, is not also a sound one. i don’t believe it at all. what i know is mom was diagnosed with bronchitis three years ago and what she needs is further treatment from a specialist doctor in the hospital. That’s it.
I ‘ve tried to discuss with my father about taking mom to a doctor. Basically, he agreed with me but he insisted that we should complete this traditional treatment first before seeking any help from a bronchitis expert. Well, I have no more things to say if this is the case.
yeah that’s the rule of the day in my kampung. if you are sick, you go to the witch doctor first. they will tell you to look for this and that and 0h-my-god-so-difficult-stuff-to-find for your medication. you will only go to see a doctor if the shaman’s prescription is a complete failure. as a result, when you see your doctor, your illness has reached its final stage that it is hard for you to recover.
Hope next week i manage to persuade my mom to go to see her doctor.
kakak cantik….. kakak cantik……
yeah…. that was how a band of anak sd (elementary school kids) greet me from an upper floor of a mosque where they learn how to recite the Qur’an this morning. i was on my way to university carrying both of my laptop and handbag while trying to keep my balance on my high heels. oh well, i took it as a compliment despite later they cheekily reminded me to be careful with my high heels so not to get stumble around. “hati-hati nanti kesandung kak”, they said it in a choir. so, as a good kakak cantik, i rewarded them with my sweetest smile of the day and said, “iyaa…….”.
yup being wolf-whistled is, i think, my staple food here every day. it starts with a secutiry officer who mans the security post of a private university near my rumah kos. then, multi faces tukang ojek (motor cycle taxi) will greet me while commenting on my blusher or the color or my eye shadow. after passing these tukang ojek, i will get to the main street and be ready for another episode of haiiiiiiiiiiiii or mau kemana dek. then, on my way back to my place from uni, there will be various baru pulang dek. but i never take them seriously. it doesn’t worth it, i reckon.
but those kids! i couldn’t help but to give it a thought while taking an angkot to uni. i was wondering where these girl (yeah those sd kids all of them all girls) got the inspiration to greet me that way?
i could not find the answer until now.
yeah despite i don’t think i will have my own kids in the near future, i always can appeal to kids. my time of teaching kids several years ago was, i think, so fun. you know they would shout in the class; they would start some brawls; they would cry if got picked on by some snotty older kids; they would pinch you and say “miss ini gendut deh“; they would create a damn hell if you have no idea how to handle these super-duper-hyper active and enthusiastic young human.
ah, kids….. ( i see myself smiling rite now)
