General Election: A Long Leap of Faith

At Jalan Dipati Ukur Bandung, there's a place which sells delicious gado-gado. Several years ago, a great fire burned the place down, along with several houses besides it.^[1] Some of the fire even leapt across the street and singed some roofs.

The government said that the buildings on Jalan Dipati Ukur don't comply to the city's building code and regulations. They're jointed walls-to-walls, providing easy targets for spreading flames.

Only several months after that, a new facility was constructed near the site of fire. A restaurant? Nope. A fire department? You couldn't be more wrong.

It was a gas station.

I couldn't help imagining the discussion went on something like this:

Officials #1: Dang! Jalan Dipati Ukur is dangerously susceptible to fire!

Officials #2: Yes. We need to build something which will lower the chance of incidents. Something that's resistant to fire, for instance.

Officials #1: How about a place which sells gasoline?

Officials #2: Sounds great!

This is just one example of the "common" sense displayed by our government.

And that's the thing about 2009 General Election. Today (April 9th 2009), us Indonesians are supposed to elect our representatives for the local and national legislative bodies (those who make the rules). However, what we also need are executive bodies (those who make daily decisions based on the rules) who can think straight.

Problems are:

1. We can't see (and haven't seen) how better representatives in the legislative bodies will lead to more competent people in the executive bodies


2. What's worse, we can't see how there could be better representatives in the legislative bodies, when their campaign posters look like they're selling fried chickens, assimilating themselves with imaginary figures like Gandalf from Lord of the Rings and Mr. Bean (the latter isn't exactly popular because of his intelligence) or gladly showing that they're still babies.

As long as those two problems exist, voting in the General Election will always be a long leap of faith and have worse percentages than gambling. So if you'll excuse me, I need to get my dice before going to the voting booth.


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[1]: The place reopened only a month after the fire, which shows how tenacious we can get sometimes.

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Don't forget to collect the next series: Toys with Lyrical Lyrics!

The Keyword is "Pleasure," Not "Knowledge"

Family Values

Family values play vital roles in our social interco--uh, interaction. For instance, many Javanese families share one similar tradition with the Italians: reporting every major occurences to the elder(s).

The difference is there's no Godfather. We do need to touch the elder's hand or cheek to show respect. But failure to do so doesn't result in dramatic consequences. It's pure social relationship. We do it because we think it's natural. Sometimes the situation is far lighter than we expect.

Like the story of a friend of mine, Arga. He had recently got his postgraduate title. They attended a family gathering at his uncle's house. The eldest one present was his grandfather, 93 year old of age. So his parents urged him, "You must convey the good news to your grandfather."

Arga was reluctant. "I don't think it's necessary," he said. "Grandpa won't even remember it."

Yet his parents insisted. "Don't be silly," they said.

Knowing he couldn't convince them otherwise, Arga approached the elder, who was sitting in a comfy chair, "Grandpa?"

"Yes?" his grandfather answered. Suddenly, he looked around in amazement. "What hotel am I at?"

***

Another friend of mine, Andry, experienced similar thing with Arga's grandfather. During one occurence, the grandfather beckoned Andry and asked, "So you're a friend of Arga?"

It took Andry a while before answering, "Yes."

A long silence passed. Then the grandfather frowned, "I've asked that question before, haven't I?"

"Yes," nodded Andry immediately.

I Want to Ride My Bacangcycle

Many food peddlers offer their wares around my neighborhood. They usually push around a cart, carry their stuff on foot or bring them on their bikes.

One particular peddler rides around on his bicycle, selling bacangs.^[1] He shouts about his wares with a certain rhythm, like a chant, "Bacang, baaacaaaang. Caaaang, baaaacang!" He has a lot of customers in my hood. I'm not sure whether his chant works the charm or his bacangs are that good.

He got so successful, three months ago he rode in a brand new motorcycle. Yet, his sales dropped. Because then, every time a neighbor heard his "Bacang, baaa--" and came out of the house, he only saw flying dust and heard a faint "caaaaang...." somewhere.

In the distance. Out of sight.

Yesterday I saw the bacang peddler, back on his old bicycle.

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[1]: A traditional Chinese food which is popular in Indonesia. Read: bah-cahng. Some people spell it as bakcang, but it's still pronounced the same way. This makes bacang a wonderful entry for a spelling bee.

Here's a nice site with its recipe.