Africa

A piece of my soul is somewhere in Africa.

How did it get there? I don’t know.

Why Africa? Of all the places in the world, why Africa? I don’t know

Africa just resound at the back of my head whenever I think of the things that are missing in my life, whenever I think of this hollow void in my soul. Somehow, something inside me, deep down is calling for Africa.

—-

Have you ever feel like dying?

His eyes looking faraway to the distant past.

Yes. He answers.

Have you ever feel, in your life, like it has no meaning?

Like whenever you wake up, whether its morning, day or night, it doesn’t matter because there’s nothing to look forward to that day?

Have you ever feel like there’s a deep dark hole inside you and no matter what you do you cannot fill it in?

Have you ever feel like you don’t want anything. You don’t want to die, but you don’t want to live either?

The man keep silent. He doesn’t need to answer. I could tell from his eyes that his answers are the same with mine. We are two different souls, with two different path but we walk through it the same way. What makes us different is I have my Africa.

—

Africa. Africa for me is not just a place, a country, a continent or a mere space, it’s a state of mind.

Africa is something hidden beneath a sheer veil of darkness, of hunger, disease, longing, jealousy, anger, and the very thought of death. Africa for me is something buried under the skin and bones of a person who I used to be, who I am now and who I will be, of a desert bare and dry, of green tropical jungle, of grassland, of everlasting sunlight and warmth.

Africa is the different culture I live in, the different people I met, the different person I have been and will become. Africa is the root where my soul resides. Africa is the home I never feel I have. It is a dark past, it is a goal I need to achieve, it is somewhere to go to, it is somewhere I need to be, it is something I need to hold dear and not let anyone take it away from me, it is a dream that I need to make it come true. Africa is a symbol of freedom, of breathing the air of liberty, of flying into the sky and diving into the ocean, of living my life the way I want and owning it. The real Africa is something I might never show to the world, it is the very essence of me. Africa is my past, my present and my future. And in this life, no matter how, no matter what, I must set my foot on the soils of Africa. Even once, whichever part of Africa. Africa is my reason to live.

—

You have feel like your life is worthless, that you are just a puppet of the grand master of life. You have feel like you don’t belong. That life is just one delirious chaos that leads nowhere. And now you’re just waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel, for the sun to shine. I have felt like that too but for me the sun is always shinning in Africa. Africa, that’s where I need to be.

TWC – January 20th, 2012

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Deliria

The taste of your lips still linger.

I could still remember the scent of your skin.

And when I touch you it feels like coming home after a long journey.

When we dance, it feels like I lost my limbs and just bend with the air.

I can feel myself dissolve into you.

When you’re near I can feel the rush and my heart beat reaching to the tips of my fingers.

And the tingling sensation on every nerves in my body.

And my weary muscles just melt away with this foreign emotions.

Everything I hear resound your name.

Every music I listen reminds me of you.

My head feels light and I can think better, I can push myself higher, reach further.

I can’t remember how long and how many miles I’ve walk just to see you, to look for you.

And I don’t care.

I don’t care the awkward stare in their eyes as we pass by.

I can hear them whispering, but I don’t care.

They tried over and over to shook me of this state of ecstasy.

I know they will keep on trying and I know they will fail.

I don’t care.

All I ever want is you and you alone.

You are my world, you are the air that I breathe, you are the solemn reason for me to keep on living.

They don’t understand and they want to keep me away from you.

I don’t care.

They will fail, I know they will fail.

They don’t even know how beautiful you are.

They can’t even see you.

They say you don’t exist.

How stupid they are, but I don’t care.

Because to me you are everything.

 

 

TWC – March 1st, 2012 // McDonald, Sarinah

Illustration by Tatiana Romanova - lamaisondepopa.blogspot.com

Lucid Dream

Laki-laki tua itu tersenyum lebar memperlihatkan gigi-giginya yang kelabu. Aku menatapnya tak bergeming. Aku pun tak dapat mengalihkan pandanganku darinya. Aku berusaha menutup mataku rapat-rapat, namun senyumnya yang mencemooh masih tetap terbayang.

Aku terbaring menyisi di sebelah kiri tempat tidurku. Kaku tak bergeming. Aku tetap menatap laki-laki tua itu. Ia tampak sedang duduk diatas sebuah dinding tinggi, sedang menatap balik kebawah, ke arahku. Ia mengayun-ayunkan kedua kakinya bak anak kecil. Tubuhnya tampak sangat mungil. Namun ia tidak sedang duduk diatas sebuah dinding atau apapun, ia mendudukkan dirinya diatas bahuku.

Tatapanku menyisir ruang kamar tidurku. Tubuhku tetap kaku tak dapat ku gerakkan. Perlahan ku dengar bisikan halus ditelinga kananku. Suara itu berasal dari laki-laki tua itu.

“Apa yang kamu mau. Aku bias mengabulkan permintaanmu.” Kemudian tawa nyinyir terdengar dari balik gigi-gigi kelabunya.

Bulu kudukku berdiri dan demi apapun aku mulai berdoa. Ia kembali tertawa dan aku tetap tak dapat menggerakkan tubuhku.

Dadaku sesak dan aku nyaris tak dapat bernapas. Aku berusaha berteriak, namun hanya decit lemah yang dapat keluar dari mulutku. Ku coba gerakkan jari-jemari tanganku. Perlahan mulai berhasil. Bagaikan telah lama menyelam dan muncul kepermukaan, tiba-tiba aku dapat bernapas kembali. Aku mengisi paru-paruku dengan sebanyak-banyaknya udara dan dengan sekuat tenaga mendudukkan diri ditempat tidurku dengan peluh bercucuran.

Laki-laki itu pun tak dapat ku lihat lagi.

 

 

TWC – February 16, 2012 // Miko Cafe, Sarinah

Terjebak Macet

Aku mengedipkan mata pada kerlip cahaya gedung pencakar langit yang tercetak dihalaman sebuah majalah. Pendaran bisunya memancing imajinasi. Kututup mataku dan membayangkan diriku berada di atap salah satu gedung itu. Tepat di tepian, merentangkan tangan dan merasakan hempasan angin mendebur langit malam. Disela-sela hutan beton yang menjulang, sang angin berpusing dan semilirnya menjeritkan pilu.

Aku dapat merasakan perlahan kepalaku menjadi semakin ringan, namun isi pikiranku bagai spiral berputar antara satu dan lain penggalan ingatan. Ku buka mataku dan realita menyadap isi kepalaku.

Aku terjebak. Mengambang diantara masa depan yang harus ku gapai dan masa lalu yang mengikat.

Apa yang harus kulakukan hari ini?

Daftar yang kubuat di agendaku kemarin menggenang di ingatan. Perlahan kubuat check list khayal di udara. Masih panjang perjalananku, namun tubuh yang kutunggangi tak mampu mengimbangi kecepatan pikiranku. Sang waktu tak pernah bersahabat dengan siapapun. Tak mau dipercepat, diperlambat ataupun diputar balik. Aku terjebak di jalan raya kehidupan. Tak mampu mundur dan tak bisa melesat, hanya maju perlahan dan berharap segera tiba ditujuan.

TWC – Feb 23rd 2012 // Bakoel Koffie, Senopati

Incognito – part 2

It was another random night with her girlfriends. Random is she and her friend’s definition of a fun unplanned party night. And on that one random night she met him. She thinks he’s funny and above all she enjoys having a serious conversation in between all the kisses they made. They talks about politics, culture, economy, social classes, tradition and environment between a cup of black coffee that they share and the kisses. She really loves the kisses, him kissing her and she kisses him back.

In his eyes she sees admiration, almost infatuation and it was flattering. This is so beautifully random, she thinks. She could tell he wants more than just kisses and she giggles of that thought. As he holds her hand, he told her that he wants to spend time with her on a beach watching sunset, she just smile and told him how nice if that could happen, lounging on the beach and get a crispy tan.

He keeps saying that she’s a crazy girl and she just replies, “Ah no, I’m just a girl next door.  But maybe not next to your door.”

She could just imagine falling in love with him, if only she knows him better. But she’s not sure she wants that, to know him better and fall in love. She doesn’t want to think about it and just let the moment drifts her into the motion. He asks for her number and she gave it to him.

And when the night turns to day, she’s still stays with him. As noon comes, she decide fun time needs to end. He half begged her to stay, but she gave him one last smooth kiss and then leave.

The day after, she checks her phone, no missed calls, no texts. She thinks back, did he save the right combination of her number of he’s just not interested. Ah no, it was just another random night with a random stranger. No matter what she had her fun and she will keep it in her memory.

January 18^th, 2012.

Incognito

She was all that he could ever want and more, but he doesn’t know it. At least he doesn’t know it yet. And it’s really up to him if he wants to know it or not. And that single step forward after curiosity strikes, that single step determines his happiness. If only he take that step, if only he have the courage to take it.

Those pair of crazy wild brown eyes and her beautifully unattended long dark hair that always seems perfect no matter what. Her smooth voice but most of all it’s all the smart things she said that always surprises him. She always knows what to say in every time.

She said it was a struck of cosmic accident that met them, it was a coalition of two destiny. And in her eyes, scarily, he can see the future of them together. Only in short moment he imagines holding her hands and watching the sunset in a beautiful beach. But when he told her that she gave a big smile and said to him, “Yes, lounging in the beach and get a crispy tan.”

Crazy girl, he never could predict her. She was nothing that he ever met before. She could get him excited and scared in the same time. He wants everything of her and yet she didn’t let him touch her, at least not the way he want it. She’s like the wind, like the ocean, uncontainable, unpredictable, wild and crazy yet brilliant. If only he could have her, he might not have any single bored days in his life, but what would he know if he never take that step.

And now he’s thinking, does he want this craziness of happiness to continue, or even to start. He doesn’t know where all this could lead. He barely knows her and yet he wants everything of her more than anything that he ever wants before. What if it has a sour ending, does he want to risk it.

He’s still thinking about it, probably will be thinking about it for a very long time and hopes it won’t be too late when he decide to take that step. But until then, she will always be on his mind.

 

January 16^th, 2012.

Girls Dating Tips From 1930′s

Over the years our culture changes, this is for a fact. The ‘how to’ behave and the taboo shifted, either we like it or not. One of the major factor is the sophistication of nowadays technology and the rapid flow of information. But I think we should preserve some manner and values, especially on minding our act as a gesture of respecting others.

I found these dating tips for girls, but it was way back from the 1930′s.  I find some of it funny and also realize that I broke some of these rules and the result is the opposite. For example is rule #4. Careless women never appeal to gentlemen. Don’t talk while dancing, for when a man dances he wants to dance. I talk to my dance partner, talk, flirt, kiss, you name it. And that’s what make dancing so interesting. I don’t think any guy that I dance to want to dance to a silent doll.

Another example is rule #9. Don’t talk about clothes or try to describe your new gown to a man. Please and flatter your date by talking about the things he wants to talk about. If my date just want to talk about himself and only what he’s interested in, I’d dump him or at least there wouldn’t be a second date. Who wants a date that’s full of himself? I know he wouldn’t want me to be self centered too. Its about mutuality and finding our similarity and sharing our different perspective. I think that’s what makes a date interesting and spicy. And why can’t I talk about my new gown? It depends on how I try to describe it, really. I know I can make it sound sultry and I know he’ll like it.

Anyway, these tips needs some adjusting to the current culture situation and condition. Yet, its still amusing to read and understand that life way back then was totally different. Specially the chivalrous point of view and back then was the heavenly era for the chauvinist.

1. Do your dressing in your boudoir to keep your allure. Be ready to go when date arrives; don’t keep him waiting. Greet him with a smile!

The Ninjas of Jakarta

It was another manic Monday for me. I had a busy night and woke up late with a hangover. I rush myself to work with my heart beating like drums. I have so many things to do today and I can’t afford to get late. I know what awaits me as soon as I head out to work.

As always, whenever you’re in a hurry the world seems slowing down somehow. Maybe it’s a cosmic curse, maybe it’s just me being cranky, either way I’m not in my best mood.

I have to use public transportation, as I don’t own a car or a bike. And the thing about using public transport is, you have to depend yourself to your surroundings. The traffic is extremely busy and worst part is I have to get through one of Jakarta’s hot spot for traffic jam.

As I try to calm myself down and embracing my inner Zen peace, I look around. Everything seems so chaotic. The road that I’m going through seems like it’s going to explode bursting with overload of tense. The roaring madness of angry steel horses, burning engines of the hundreds of cars crammed up in an uneven line with motorcycles in between, trying to cheat their way through the traffic jam. Buzzing horns screaming in the hot air and exhaust pumping up smog that blurs your vision and suffocate your lungs. Street vendors filling up space on the side of the road, trying to earn their piece of fortune, not to mention every piece of space left next to them is use as parking spots for every kind of vehicles. Even the pedestrians have to test their patience, as they try to fold their body so they can fit in between the craziness.

I don’t care about time anymore; it’s practically useless because I know I’m bound to come late to work. I might as well observe the scenery. That’s when I realize they were everywhere. The ninjas of Jakarta. They come with different size, age, gender and most of all colors. They are the people whom in their daily lives trying to strive, adapt to their surroundings. They only show their eyes as their faces are covered with masks, as an attempt to defend themselves from the smog, pollution caused by vehicle engines. Who can blame them. With the increasing numbers of vehicles in Jakarta, by the hundreds or even thousand each months, even if the government add more roads or flyovers in wont change a thing. It just slow down the cause, but the effect is inevitable. Still the air is not even safe to breathe and yet we all have to survive somehow.

There’s a pair of eyes with heavy eye make up in front of me, they belong to a girl probably in her early 20’s. She wears a purple mask that matches her purse and shirt. There’s a guy wearing hoodie and a surgical mask sitting next to her. If I ever bump in to this guy at night on an empty street, I would probably freak out. But then his hood is probably another act of self-defense. He probably prefers to strain himself over heat than to Jakarta’s sunrays that pierce through your skin like thousands of needles, or maybe he just avoid getting his skin darker. Two middle aged woman sitting next to each other and talking through their mask about their daily lives. A couple went by with their motorcycle, both also wears mask. The police officer in the corner of the street wears a mask with police force logo on it, I can barely see his face. Even people who use the Trans Jakarta bus that have aircon inside, wears mask too.

These masks are sold everywhere, from the malls to the side of the road, men selling them on buses, even online. Form the cheapest surgical mask to the plain one colored fabric type or even with quirky cartoon prints on them. You can choose the one that catches your eyes or best fits your mood.

It amazes me, a bad thing such as air pollution can bring pennies to people pockets. It always amazes me how some people can seize a chance, an opportunity from whatever life brings. Yes you can complain all day because of the smog and yet you can’t change a thing, or you can make your ways through it just like the ninjas did. In the end the ninjas teach me something, there’s always a solution to everything, it may not be perfect, it may not fix the problem, it may not be permanent, but you must not give up, there’s always a way no matter as simple as a mask, but there’s always something to get you through, to live another day.

August 22nd, 2011 – December 11th, 2011
on the road

Pada Sebuah Hari Selasa

Pagi itu pikiranku melayang pada hal-hal yang harus ku lakukan, kata-kata yang harus kuucap, kalimat-kalimat yang harus kutulis, orang-orang yang harus kutemui dan pekerjaan yang harus kuselesaikan.

Di perjalanan menuju hal-hal tersebut ku hentikan semua pikiran-pikiran itu sejenak dan berusaha memperhatikan sekelilingku.

Arus laju kendaraan di jalan protokol mulai memadat.

Seorang pria tua menyebrang jalan dengan santai.

Dua orang wanita pada kisaran usia 40an sedang berbincang di depanku.

Seorang pria berkemeja hitam dengan rambut sebahu merokok di pinggir jalan, di samping sebuah karung besar berwarna putih.

Bus kota melaju cepat, berlalu lalang warna oranye kusam, putih-hijau, biru, abu-abu.

Langit mendung dan udara mulai terasa lembab.

Motor-motor menyelip diantara jarak sempit kendaraan pribadi, taksi, angkutan kota dan sisi jalan.

Seorang wanita mengeluarkan kipas angin berwarna merah dari tasnya dan berusaha mengusir udara panas yang melanda tubuhnya.

Pada sebuah tikungan, mobil-mobil terjebak kemacetan karena tidak ada yang mau mengalah memberi jalan.

Sebuah pengendara motor hitam membunyikan klaksonnya dengan kesal pada sebuah bus kota yang memotong jalannya.

Sekumpulan orang di sebuah halte menunggu dan memilih bus yang akan mereka naiki. Beberapa dari mereka hanya berdiri disana untuk menentukan akan pergi kemana.

Seorang satpam dengan masker diwajahnya, mengenakan vest warna kuning neon berusaha mengatur arus kendaraan yang akan masuk ke pelataran parkir gedung tempatnya bekerja.

Tanaman disepanjang sisi jalan mematung tanpa bisa berbuat apa-apa, seiring dengan semakin menebalnya debu yang melapisi dedaunan mereka.

Seorang pria berjaket ungupudar dengan tali yang mengikat pinggangnya bergelantungan disisi sebuah jembatan penyebrangan. Ia tampak kebingungan mengecat sisi pelataran jembatan tersebut.

Seorang pria menjual air tebu di kolong jembatan sedang menunggu pembeli berikutnya.

Deretan tukang ojeg menatap nanar penuh harap pada sekumpulan oranh yang baru turun dari bus kota.

Sebuah truk pick up yang penuh muatan tanaman, melaju dengan kencang.

‘Hati-hati jalan licin’, begitu tulisan yang terpajang pada sebuah plat logam besar berwarna kuning yang diletakkan di tengan jalan raya, tepat di depan lubang besar di jalan tersebut.

Seorang pria paruh baya mengayuh sepedanya, bersaing dengan kendaraan bermotor di jalan itu.

Jam yang perpancang disebuah perempatan jalan menunjukkan pukul 9.30.

Asap pekat knalpot sebuah bus tua mencekik paru-paru siapapun yang tak terhindar untuk menghirupnya.

Pada sebuah hari selasa di bulan November, dari satu ujung kota menuju ujung lainnya, dalam kurun waktu satu jam.

Tersesat

Tanganku menggenggam udara, berharap ada yang bisa ku gapai. Hidungku menghirup helaan napas dari lusinan manusia dan paru-paruku terasa terbakar oleh gumpalan asap pekat yang mengepul dan berputar disekelilingku. Kelopak mataku terasa berat, wajahku kaku bagai terperangkap dalam topeng, bahu menegang dan sepatu yang ku pakai terasa menyempit.

Aku ingin lari, tapi entah kemana. Aku hanya bisa duduk disitu, menunggu. Menunggu entah apa. Menunggu waktu, jika saja waktu dapat ditunggu. Menunggu pertanda. Menunggu aba-aba. Apa yang harus kuperbuat.

Apa yang harus kuperbuat?

Aku ingin bertanya. Bertanya apa yang harus kutanyakan. Bertanya pada siapa? Pada lusinan manusia tak ku kenal, tak berwajah karena ku tak berani menatap satu pun dari mereka. Bertanya dalam bahasa apa? Apakah mereka dapat mengerti apa yang kutanyakan?

Kenapa aku bisa berada di tempat ini?

Kemana aku harus pergi?

Aku ingin pulang, tapi bukan pulang ke tempat yang ku sebut rumah. Aku ingin lari, tapi yang ku bisa hanya duduk diam dan menunggu.

Aku tak dapat berpikir dengan jernih. Kepalaku hanya terisi pertanyaan-pertanyaan yang tak dapat ku ucapkan. Pertanyaan yang tak kuasa ku jawab.

Perlahan aku tenggelam dalam ketiadaan. Aku lelah, lapar, sedih dan takut. Semua bertumpuk. Merasa kecil dan tanpa daya. Satu-satunya pertahananku adalah dengan diam membisu, bersikap seakan aku memang sudah seharusnya berada di situ. Berharap tidak ada yang mengambil kesempatan dari keadaanku.

Aku duduk diam, namun bangku yang ku duduki terus melaju dan aku kian tenggelam. Tenggelam dalam ketakutan yang kuciptakan sendiri.

Berlalu satu demi satu bangunan tinggi yang menggapai langit malam.

Berlalu satu demi satu kendaraan dengan lampu-lampu menyilaukan.

Berlalu waktu, detik demi detik dan manusia-manusia tanpa wajah.

Aku tak tahu harus berbuat apa, hanya diam menunggu. Diam dan mengikuti kemanapun perginya benda yang ku tumpangi. Berharap, berdoa, semoga akhirnya aku tiba pada satu titik yang ku kenali dan aku tidak tersesat lagi.

December 1st, 2011
- Anomali Café, Senopati -