Never nooit meer

En dan kom jij ineen voorbij

En keert mijn wereld onderste boven ....

That is one of the songs by my favorite Dutch R&B group, Re-play. In 2001, mas D’s cousin, Siska, came to Indonesia for a holiday. She gave a CD with Dutch songs. I thought it was one of those typical Dutch songs, but I listened to the songs, it was not Dutch at all. I mean the language was Dutch but the style was like an American music. I fell in love with these four guys, Alwin Burke, Henk Waarde, Mario Raadwijk and Sam de Wit. Their music suits the ears of my Indonesian students who learn Dutch at Erasmus Language Center. So, every time they release a new album I try to get their CD first.

On the occasion of the 40th Anniversary of Erasmus Huis, Re-play – on my request – was invited to give concerts in Jakarta, Semarang, Yogyakarta (which was cancelled due to the volcano eruption of Mount Merapi) and Surabaya. And my boss, Paul Peters, was so kind to let me pick up these awesome guys at the airport and taking them to Manhattan Hotel.

I couldn’t sleep because of thinking meeting these guys. I woke up early and went with my colleagues, Toni and Tumiyo, to the airport. When we arrived at the airport, my heart started to beat fast because I was really nervous. It beat even faster when I heard the announcement that their flight had arrived. When I saw four guys stepping outside the arrival hall I yelled at them: RE-PLAY. Sam said: Hi Reena. What? I couldn’t believe my ears. He knew my name?!!!! Alwin, Henk, Mario and Sam are all awesome and nice with a great sense of humor. Another good thing was that I could give them the presents from Erasmus after the concert.

Sulinah, Yu Sul, the woman with bitter laughter

Dear Yu* Sul,

My heart broke into pieces this morning, when I learned of the sudden, unexpected death of your dear husband, Mas Mihad and I can't imagine the depth of your sorrow. 

You are just an ordinary Javanese woman with soft dark skin, beautiful long black hair, small sad eyes and when you talk, we can barely hear your soft voice. If we look into your eyes, we would see the sadness and the grief that you have to bear, which you try to disguise with bitter laughter.

You were just a teenager when you came into my life. You helped mom in doing the house hold things and lots of other things. You took care of me and my brother and sisters. You even went along with us in the trips abroad. To me and my siblings, you are like an older sister. You helped me with my homework, even in foreign language. You helped me making two cute ponytails with red ribbons and most all you learned mom’s cooking.

Then, you met the man of your life. You got married and moved to Purwokerto, where you brought a beautiful baby boy to this world. Time flies and your baby boy became a healthy, strong young man who found a good job abroad. You and Mas Mihad were very proud of him. Yu Sul, you were blessed with a great life. At that time you actually didn’t have to work at all, but you wanted to take care of my sister’s babies. You took care of baby one, baby two and three, and baby four. Meanwhile, your son bought a house for his beloved mother and father.

One day we got a shocking news. Your son died in an accident when he was driving his motorcycle with a girl. He was about to get married with this girl. I just couldn’t imagine how you might have felt loosing your only son. I admired you because you were able to accept your faith and you tried to move on. We saw that you and your husband found happiness in taking care of my sister’s babies, but then again we can see the bitter laughter in your eyes.

Today, once again we heard a shocking news. Your husband died from electrocution when he was cutting tree branches in front of your house. The first person who you tried to contact with was of course my sister. I was deeply sadden with this news. Again you have to cope with the loss of your loved one and this time your husband. I really just don’t know whether you will be able to deal with this. Will you be able to stay strong? Will you be able like most of Javanese women to accept your faith again? Will you be able to find happiness in taking care of my sister’s babies?

Although words seem futile now in the midst of your sorrow, they are all I have to give you. Please accept these written words as warm hugs to wrap yourself in, and know that I am holding you in my heart at this sad and difficult time. We may not be blood related, but somehow you have been and will always be part of our family.

Jakarta, 24 January 2012

Yu is a Javanese word for sister

Valentine's note

About a week ago, I was reminded by a colleague, a friend about being friends and being colleagues. I guess my friend sees as a difference between these two terms. Well, to me that's just a matter of defining terms. Please don't get me wrong but I’d rather not to give any kind of terms for my relation with fellow human being especially the ones I work with and see almost every day.

Whether you like it or not, whether you realize it or not, a good and healthy relationship both personal and professional, is based on love. I am not talking about love with red roses or lacy soft stuff and sweethearts.

Love has a more valueable meaning. Love connects people and unites all of us as a big family. Love is about tying a bond and sharing views and ideas with all people around us. And of course love grows beyond all borders especially cultural and religious borders.

Today on the Day of Love, we gather here to celebrate that kind of love with the people we meet almost every day: our colleagues slash friends. And I hope that you will feel the love not only today but also the rest of the year. 

My last letter to a friend

Dear mas Hans,

When I was asked to say some words to you at your farewell on 6 April 2011, I honestly had some doubts. First of all, I was only given 5 minutes. Secondly, giving a farewell message one should say the good things about the person who is going to leave. As I looked back, I realized that we had ups and downs in our relationship but as I started to count the ups and the downs I knew that the downs were not significant at all.

Five minutes was certainly not long enough to say something about the awesome working relationship and the beautiful personal contact with you for more than 20 years. So many things have been said, many things have been done and so many wonderful memories.

I knew you from my fourth year as a student Dutch Language and Literature at Universitas Indonesia in 1989. Once a week, I attended the lecture “Dutch language of the 17th century”, given by you. I thought to myself: What? 17th century Dutch? At that time, Dutch was difficult enough for us, let alone 17th century Dutch! But because of your love and dedication to this field and because of the way you explained the subject, it was a lot easier for us to understand the words of Huygens, Hooft and Vondel and other 17th century Dutch poets and authors. At the same time, I found my way to the Erasmus Language Centre (ETC).

For me and most of my colleagues, ETC has become a second home. You played your role as the eldest brother, our mas Hans. A brother who would welcome any kind of ideas, even the most hillarious ideas. A brother who stood by to guide us in good and bad times. A brother who was willing to give his listening ears to each of us. And although the door to your office was protected by a special code, it was always open for us. For many students of ETC, you were the uncle. An uncle who gave a home where they are able to do many activities with the Dutch language.

Your beautiful house in Pejaten was also always open for us. The house will be a silent witness of the remarkable personal contact with you and Didi, who hosted many kind of pleasant events: the dangdut parties, the birthday parties and of course the swimming parties. And this beautiful mansion is also a witness of the love you shared with Didi.

Mas Hans, God saw you getting tired and a cure was not to be. So He put His arms around you and whispered "come to me”. Although we were not able to be there for you during your last days, but with tearful eyes we watched you from a distance pass away. We loved you dearly, but we could not make you stay. A golden heart stopped beating, hardworking hands at rest. God broke our hearts to prove to us, He only takes the best. May you rest in peace, my dear friend, my wonderful colleague Hans Groot!

A leader, a teacher and a father

At my office I have seen many people come and go every year. Getting acquainted to new staff and saying goodbye to staff who have been posted in Jakarta for 3 to 5 years happen every year. During these years I get more and more used to it. The easiest part is of course getting to know new people in the office. If they show some interests, then I will show some interest too, but if not, do not expect me to get closer to these new people. The difficult part is to know that someone who has stolen our hearts has to leave Indonesia.

With other members of the Event Committee I organized a farewell party for the most honorable and charismatic leading figure who has done his best to strengthen the bilateral relationship between Indonesia and the Netherlands, HE Dr. Nikolaos van Dam. On this occasion, I - on behalf of the local staff - gave him a speech which touched his heart.

"In one of Hollywood movies Forrest Gump there is a quote which I find very beautiful: life is like a box of chocolates, you'll never know what you will get.

Every year, it's like that we - who stay in Indonesia - get a box of chocolates as a present. We always wonder what kind of chocolates we would get. Fortunately, in 2005 we received a box of chocolates that tasted incredible delicious. We were sent a leader who was highly respected but in return who respected his staff, who played a role as a teacher but who was also willing to learn from others, who wanted to be heard but who was also willing to listen.

I am very grateful to get the opportunity and the trust to work with you in translating business documents and your work as well, which make me able to learn and experience new things.

Thank you for your time to learn about the Indonesian culture and language.
Thank you for your time to talk and to discuss.
Thank you for your time to relax during the office outing.

I am sure that after you leave Indonesia, you will find that your box of chocolates will also be delicious. Keep Indonesia as one of the most beautiful memories in your life."

Thank you my friends .....

While I was sitting outside watching the rain falling today, I suddenly realized that a lot can happen in a year.Some things change.

Some don’t.
Some people change.
Some don’t.
Some people stay.
Some leave.
Some are still you friends.
Some are not anymore.

While I was reading through a blog about friendship, I came across this:"When the chips are down, that’s when you’ll see who your TRUE friends are".

I didn’t quite understand what the word chips meant so I had my own version:"When the curtains are down, that’s when you’ll see who your TRUE friends are".

Meaning:

1. at the end of a show, good or bad one, you’ll see after who will stay… even when the lights have gone out….
2. when you’ve gone into hiding, you’d know who will open the window to check up on you… or who will just wait til you’re ready to come out again.

When the times are tough, that’s when you’ll know who your true friends are. At least you’ll know what kind of friendship you have with them. There are people with whom you don’t share deep bonds although you see them every day. On the other hand, There are people with whom you share deep bonds although you see them once in a while. I know that I still have to be thankful for all of them because they are still friends.

De jaren ....

Daar zaten we dan in het Café De Jaren in Amsterdam vlakbij de Universiteit van Amsterdam waar ik en drie andere collega’s, Felina, Arie en Inge, een cursus volgden voor de Nederlandse Taal en Cultuur in het talenonderwijs. Het was woensdagmiddag en het weer was winderig en tamelijk koud buiten, maar binnen voelde ik opeens de warmte in mijn huid kruipen. De warmte sloop in mijn vingers en stroomde zacht naar mijn gezicht en drong mijn hoofd binnen. De warmte haalde de beelden van het verleden uit mijn diepste geheugen.

Voor het laatst zag ik hem enkele jaren terug met Camille, zijn vrouw. Ik keek hem aan en bestudeerde hem goed. Hij is niet zoveel veranderd, hij is helemaal niet veranderd. Ik leerde hem kennen toen hij aan het eind van zijn 50-jarige leeftijd was. Zijn grijs haar is altijd grijs geweest. Zijn vriendelijke blik is altijd vriendelijk geweest. Zijn vaderlijke lach is altijd vaderlijk geweest. De lach die ik tot nu steeds herken en altijd blijf herkennen. De lach die zijn sterk en buitengewoon karakter laat stralen.

In de zomervakantie van 1988 kreeg ik te horen dat we op de Universitas Indonesia een gasthoogleraar uit Nederland zouden krijgen. Geen leraar, geen docent, maar een hoogleraar. Hij zou een aantal kuliah sastra of literatuurcolleges geven, maar ik had niets voor sastra of literatuur. Sastra was mijn interesse niet dus was de komst van de hoogleraar voor mij dan ook geen bijzonder bericht. Sastra was voor mij iets absurds. Sastra is gebaseerd op fantasie, dacht ik dan, en je kunt er niet van leven. Sastra is voor mensen die in hun dromen kruipen en vandaar nooit eruit willen. Niets is werkelijk in de Sastra.

Als student Nederlands moest ik helaas ook literatuurcolleges nemen die voor mij veel tijd en energie hadden gekost. Met veel moeite probeerde ik zijn eerste college bij te wonen. Ik liep de klas binnen en zag een Nederlandse man aan de docententafel zitten met een strak en streng gezicht. De professor zag er heel anders uit dan de buitenlandse docenten die we ooit kenden. Zodra hij iets begon te zeggen, werd de klas stil en niemand durfde iets te zeggen. Hij begon zich te introduceren. Langzamerhand zat ik boeiend naar de professor te kijken en dacht: wat klinken de woorden uit zijn mond zo mooi.

Een voor een liet hij de studenten over zichzelf vertellen. Iedere keer dat een student zijn of haar verhaal eindigde gaf hij prachtige commentaren wat de student gerust stelden. Daarna kwam mijn beurt. Ik vertelde onder andere dat ik graag aan tae-kwon-do deed. Plotseling schoot hij in de lach … een lach die je niet met woorden kan beschrijven. Maar als je toch probeert ….. luid, positief, vaderlijk en vol betekenis.

Totdat op een moment dat we een opdracht kregen om een werkstuk te maken over het boek van Harry Mulisch De Aanslag. Wat valt nou te schrijven en te beschrijven over dat boek? Twee dagen voordat ik het werkstuk moest gaan inleveren lag ik in bed met het boek op mijn buik. Plotseling liet ik me inspireren door de professor. Hij kan van een eenvoudig verhaal een schitterende beschrijvingen maken. Alles wat er om heen hangt, voegt hij aan het verhaal toe met zijn eigen verwoordingen. Op die manier probeerde ik De Aanslag te bekijken. En het was mij gelukt om met mijn eigen verwoordingen in mijn eigen taal de symbolen te beschrijven die in het boek te vinden zijn.

De professor liet me dus zien hoe stom van mij was de gedachte te hebben dat sastra onzin was. Hij liet mij zien dat je met sastra alles om je heen met andere en verschillende blikken kan zien. Niet alleen dat. Je kan je gedachten op je eigen manier dan ook verwoorden. Er is geen waar of niet waar in sastra. Sastra gaat om hoe je dingen met je eigen ogen bekijkt. En dat is wat ik het allermooiste vind van sastra.

Hij keek me aan en bestudeerde mij goed. Wat zou hij in zijn gedachten hebben over mij? Ik ben veranderd en zal blijven veranderen. Mijn zwart haar wordt grijs. Mijn jeugdige blik zal niet voor altijd jeugdig zijn. Mijn gegiegel verandert met de tijd mee. Op die woensdagmiddag probeerde ik de jaren …. zijn jaren in het Cafe De Jaren in te halen.


Amsterdam, 20 augustus 2008