UWRF Report: In Conversation with Hamid Basyaib

The conference started with a bang.

During the very first panel at Indus, Debra Yatim talked with Hamid Basyawib about his organization, Liberal Islamic Network (Jaringan Islam Liberal or JIL for short), and why it incites many things among Indonesian Islamic communities—-warmth is definitely not one of them. More like burning heat.

Hamid himself is a prolific writer and has edited about 30 books. He wrote humor, religious, and social columns. He also shows both a great and brave sense of humor—since it involves a sensitive issue: religion.

For instance, he once threw a question in one of his columns, "Why did God choose a single male representative for spreading the way of life, when he could do it more effectively by speaking on a platform, in a stadium, during the World Cup final?"

Hamid noted that in Indonesia, "liberal" is a dirty word. A dominant muslim figure once advised him that [the muslim communities] have no problem with JIL views. "But could you please drop ‘liberal’ from its name?"

"What’s your opinion on more and more Indonesian women who start wearing jilbabs?" asked Debra. Instead of giving a straight answer, Hamid revealed an interesting history: jilbab, scarf, or anything similar in function was actually prestigious clothing. When people began flocking to the Prophet Muhammad’s house for guidance, they formed long queues. Mostly were men. And some of them flirted around with the Prophet’s youngest wife, Siti Aisyah. Then came the divine instruction for Aisyah to wrap herself in the most nonrevealing clothes.

Most of the women were jealous of what they considered as a special attention. So they asked permission from the Prophet to wear the same clothes. And then they did the same. So it was more like a prestigious trend at the time. Fashion. Copylefted designer clothing labels, endorsed by the Almighty. Hamid emphasized how we should view instances such as these along with the related condition at the time.

Debra asked Hamid what about the negative voices about how JIL promotes secularism? Hamid responded by saying that most muslims who brag about previous Islam’s contribution towards science, such as maths and optical lenses, didn’t bother to check that those scientists were actually secularists. Islam’s influence became prominent in the world when scientific advancement went hand-in-hand with cultural advancement. However, Islamic countries nowadays cling stubbornly to the practices of the past.

He ended the talk with the focus on de-Arabization of Islam. When asked what was his reaction when confronted by the majority of Indonesian muslim communities that the Liberal Islamic Network views reflect the West point of view, Hamid replied, "Maybe because Islam is also the religion of the West. And North. And South."

Report: The Opening Gala

Continuing from my last post, I was saved by a simple fact: the inn was actually only three buildings away from the internet cafe. I'm not kidding. When I walked out of it, I intended to return to Ubud Palace, and there it was. The sign glowered mockingly, "Yulia."

There. I wrote it. So if I ever forgot it again, I could just connect online and read it.

Back to the report. The Ubud Readers and Writers Festival Opening Gala was something. I’m still not exactly sure what. But it was definitely something.

The thing is, I couldn’t see a thing. The event was packed. I was standing about four lines behind the the rear end of the seats. And everyone in front of me was about twenty centimeters (equals to a hundred feet, or a trillion inches—-hey, if you don’t know metrics, why do you assume me knowing your system) taller. So I relied on play-by-play commentaries from the crowd.

For instance, Janet De Neefe, the Festival Director, looked fabulous in her outfit. And if the sponsorship list got any longer, they might have to cancel the entire festival, because we all would’ve still been standing there, listening to the MC pronouncing it one…
by...
one...
until the end of the week. These are, of course, the results of the Festival Manager, Finley Smith's and the Sponsorship Director, Karen McClellan's hard work.

The canapes were great. Or so they said. Because I was fasting. And by the time I broke my fast, all I could get was a bottle of Sprite and a kebab consisted of a shred of paprika, mushroom, and pineapple.

Yum.

The Minister of Culture and Tourism, Jero Wacik, finally graced the festival with his presence. From what I heard, he graciously missed the previous three. When he addressed the audience, somebody in the crowd actually shouted, "Jero!" I knew that ministers always bring (or drag) their own PR posses. But that was the first time I knew there’s a cheerleader as well—-which I think is very cultural. ("Gimme a ‘J’! Gimme an ‘E’! Gimme an... uhh, what’s that letter after ‘Q’?")

And the event peaked with the art performances of Sekala-Niskala, which is the theme of this year’s festival. It literally means The Seen and The Unseen.

Unfortunately, I’d only been able to watch the latter.

Ubud Readers and Writers Festival: Chaotic Host

This is why they shouldn't have appointed a humor writer as the ghost host: things never go well with one.

The first day I arrived here, I've already made two classic travel mistakes:

1. I forgot to adjust my watch

So when I finished examining the programme schedule and decided to rent a mountain bike to scout around, I realized that fact a bit too late. The clock showed five past four. And it was one hour late. While the gala festival opening was scheduled at five o'clock.

To put it short: whoever made the world record of changing clothes--I've beaten you down.


2. When I asked one of the locals for directions to Ubud Place--where the gala would be--she pointed right and said, "Just go straight. It's near." And I actually believed her.

Apparently, the concept of "near" around Ubud is between 100 meters and 100 gazillion kilometers. By the time I arrived there, I already qualified as an olympic torch-bearer.

So much for ghost host. It didn't help that when I got there, I knew practically nobody. And for the next half an hour, I'd only been successful at being the first part of the phrase. A ghost.

Luckily, I met Kam Raslan, who had the grace to put on his nametag. So I didn't have to make a fool of myself by greeting, "Hi, Kim!" He also brought his lovely wife, who apparently didn't have a nametag--so I'll refrain from referring her name in this post.

I told him my story and he asked a genuine question, "So where do you stay?"

"Uhhh," I blanked out. "I actually forgot."

"So how will you return there?" he asked in amazement.

"Well, it is 'near'," I said, laughing.

And once again, I had to eat those words. Because I had been secretly hoping that I could find the inn by its characteristics. It looks just like a small inn from outside, but next to the entrance, there's a car passage that leads to a broader area.

Apparently, ALL inns at Monkey Forest Ubud are like that. So I got lost. I couldn't find it. And lo and behold, I found this internet cafe' instead. So as a professional humor writer, I did what I should: asking for help online.

HELP! Please inform the committee that I'm lost around Monkey Forest Ubud street. And if they spot a trail of sweat, I must be near.

Se7en (In Five Minutes)

---

Bumpy rides, major spoilers, and bad pun ahead.




Seven of them, to be exact.

---

MONDAY
Sergeant Mills enters the crime scene. Something in the house reeks so much, he has to cover his nose.

Mills:
Lieutenant Somerset?

Somerset:
Yes. Who’s asking?

Mills:
I’m Detective Sergeant Mills. Your replacement.

Somerset:
Oh, good. Then you can start replacing me holding this bucket.

Mills:
Sure—OH GOD! What is this?

Somerset:
It’s a bucket of phlegm. What else? The victim sneezed himself to death.

Mills:
Why did you call him "the victim"? This may be a suicide case.

Somerset:
Would you inhale sneezing powder for weeks just to kill yourself slowly?

Mills:
Sure! Uh, if I have good reasons for it.

Somerset:
Would stupidity be good enough?

Mills:
Of course!

Somerset:
I rest my case. Anyway, we’ll see what the forensics say about this. But I have a bad feeling about this.

TUESDAY
Somerset approaches Mills and The Captain. He slams some crime-scene photos on the desk.

Somerset:
See? Another victim.

Mills:
What victim? Witnesses said that the guy kept being a real jerk towards a waitress until she slashed his throat.

Somerset:
Yes. But that doesn’t explain the word on the rug, written with blood, "GRUMPY."

Their Captain (Whose Name Is Not Even Important):
Maybe the waitress wrote it.

Somerset:
No, she didn’t. It appeared after the scene. Somebody used all the panic and confusion as cover and calmly wrote that word. Using the victim’s blood. We have a calm and calculating serial murderer.

Their Captain (Whose Name Is Not Even Important):
Serial murder? It’s only a manslaughter case.

Somerset:
Look what I found on the yesterday’s scene of a crime. This word was hidden behind the cabinet, "SNEEZY."

Somerset raises both photos.

Somerset:
Sneezy. Then Grumpy.

Mills:
You mean...

Somerset:
Yes. There are seven dwarfs in the Snow White story. Gentlemen, expect more murders coming up soon.

WEDNESDAY
At another crime scene.

Mills:
Somerset, you’re right! Somebody tied this poor man to a bed and ducttaped his eyelids so he couldn’t sleep for weeks. He died of sleepiness.

Somerset:
Sleepy. This is getting ridiculous.

THURSDAY
Yet another crime scene.

Mills:
Now this one died from laughters—-somebody tickled him to death.

Somerset:
Happy? A forced laughter is not happiness. He was forcing this. He knows we’re on his tail. We’re very close to him.

FRIDAY
At the police station. Somerset and Mills were just going upstairs.

John Doe:
Detectives! I was wondering how could somebody enter a police station with blood stains all over his arms and still have to shout to get proper attention.

Somerset:
Oh, the guys here like to do that kind of practical jokes. Walking around, carrying severed heads from their previous crime scenes. Look, there’s Paul doing that now.

Paul:
Hey, Somerset! You should’ve seen the look on that passers-by when I said, "Oh, I just love to keep a-head of things." HAHAHAHA!

John Doe:
...
Anyway, I want to turn myself in.

Mills:
What are you planning, you scum!

John Doe:
Under one condition: you two will accompany me tomorrow to get the other two victims.

Somerset:
Two? Aren’t you stopping a bit short?

Police officer:
Lieutenant Somerset, they’ve found another victim. The wall was painted with the word, "DOC."

Somerset:
Doc? How did he die?

John Doe:
Easy. I injected the good doctor with sugary water. But I told him that it was something fatal so he had to diagnose and cure himself.

Somerset:
Lemme guess, he then overdosed himself with antibiotics?

John Doe:
Yes. You are quite clever.

Mills:
But then what about the blood in this freak's hands?

Somerset:
Since it’s not of our friend Doe, it must come from one of the victims. I guess we’ll go along with you.

John Doe:
Good. Let’s go, then. Only the two of you.

SATURDAY
The three of them rode in a black car.

Mills:
Why the Seven Dwarfs, huh? You’re a Disney freak?

John Doe:
That’s the problem with you people. The Grimm Brothers traveled around the world collecting tales from various continents. Then capitalist pigs such as Disney took them and dare to claim them as their copyrights. And all of you just swallow it whole.

Mills:
And that’s why you killed those innocents?

John Doe:
How could you call those people innocents and still keep a straight face? Wait a minute, you actually didn’t intend to...? I guess acting is not really your forte, huh, Brad?

Mills:
Oh, shut up! As if your stealing Anthony Hopkins’s gestures weren’t equally obvious, Kevin.

John Doe:
I’d love to quarrel but we’ve arrived. Now, Lieutenant Somerset, could you please pick up the package from that truck while Sergeant Mills keeps me guarded? It’s not such a suspicious setup, isn’t it?

Somerset:
(shrugs)
Guess not. Okay, then. I’ll leave you two alone.
(accepts the package.)

John Doe:
Now that we’re alone, lemme tell you how I enjoy visiting your life partner, Tracy, yesterday.

Mills:
What!?

John Doe:
But Tracy was very bashful. I had to force myself to be accepted.

Mills:
You didn’t!

John Doe:
I took a little souvenir... Tracy’s pretty head.

Somerset opens the package and is taken aback.

Somerset:
Holy Mother of...

Somerset hurriedly races back.

Somerset (con'td):
Mills! No! Mills!

Mills:
What? What’s in that box? Is it Tracy?

Somerset
Don’t do it, Mills.

John Doe:
That was what Tracy kept telling me as well. Begging also for the life of the unborn baby.

Mills:
Baby? You’re telling me Tracy’s pregnant?

John Doe:
Oh, he didn’t know. Hahahaha.

Somerset
Don't even think about it, Mills.

Mills:
Hahahahahaha.

Somerset
Don’t do it, DON'T DO IT! If you do, he’ll win.

Mills:
Hahahahahaha. I can’t help myself, Somerset. He said that Tracy’s pregnant.

Somerset
STOP IT!

John Doe:
What’s so funny, Sergeant?

Mills:
Tracy’s a he, fool!

Somerset shakes his head.

John Doe:
A he? Wait. You live on apartment VI, right?

Mills:
No, it’s XI.

Somerset groans. He covers his eyes with his right hand, unable to look.

John Doe:
I’ve got the wrong person?
.
.
.
I feel so stupid. So idiotic. So... dopey. I’m Dopey. Thank you, Sergeant Mills. Now I can die by biting my tongue.

John Doe dies.

Mills:
Dang! He got us all along. His Seven Dwarfs murders are now complete.

Somerset:
Don’t worry, the audience will sympathize with you. Given your position, nobody could resist that urge.

Mills:
Of course they will. That felt good!

Somerset:
You know, Hemingway once said, that "Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know."

Mills:
Whaddya mean?

Somerset:
Nothing. I’m just glad to see you’re happy.

Mills:
The feeling’s mutual, old man.

END.

______________________________

Previously, In Five Minutes: Bourne Supremacy.

Oxymoron or Redundant?

Gay bomb.

I never knew Pentagon is such a kidder. It's like the class clown with an Uzi. And speaking of weapons, apparently Gay Bomb isn't the only non-lethal arsenal Pentagon tried to develop. Laughing Bullet, for one. These bullets would inject their targets with chemicals to make them laugh. I guess Pentagon designed this one for Congress.

The next one is the chemical that causes bad breath. This way, the proposal states, we could identify bad guys easier. But how do we know it's the bad guy we're poisoning? This sounds like a bad stereotyping for me. "His breath stinks."
"Oh, that means he's a bad guy. Let's pretend we don't know him."

Here's an idea for you, kids: inject a school jock with it, and observe the serenity caused by him keeping quiet for the rest of the day (or month).


The Fool's Thought of The Day

"Mosquito is the Nature's way of saying, "Try that positive-thinking crap on this!"