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arindadiaha-blog · 7 years ago

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Small Thoughts on Big Changes

Change is an inevitable part of one’s life. It can come unexpectedly, either like the steady flow of a river or a sudden flash of lightning. The challenges that it brings is capable in breaking and rebuilding one’s perspective of themselves and the world. Change enables the opportunity for one to grow beyond what they think their limits are in many ways; but for me, it came in the form of new people, different customs and norms, and separation from everything I had known for half of my life. My world was turned upside down by a one-way flight, and change came to me like a lightning storm.

I was twelve years old when my mother finished her doctorate’s degree in Canada. We had to return to Indonesia as part of the contract she signed with her scholarship grantees. I had been living like any Canadian child up to that point; so when my mother packed our things and handed the apartment keys to the superintendent, I knew I was going to face major changes in my life. When we landed at the airport, I was embraced by my father and extended family - people who I have not seen for the past five years. It wasn’t easy to communicate with my them; my Bahasa Indonesia was limited to certain words and phrases, and they could not speak English. Misunderstandings were a common occurrence between us. This also rang true for my teachers and friends. Though my classmates were nice to me, I felt that we had nothing in common. I felt the teachers at my school to be normative and couldn’t help me with my studies. I had to adjust my behavior as well; I couldn’t speak as freely as I wanted anymore and had to recognize the role that power distance played within the Indonesian society. I had to academically and socially catch up with the rest of my peers using an unfamiliar language and a different way of thinking. My daily life in junior high became an exhausting loop of reprimands and lessons, which eventually caused me to sink into a dark hole. I felt alone, and was left to figure things out on my own.

I decided that I had two choices after spending some time in the darkness; either to continue feeling sorry for myself or start doing something that can better the situation. I was very insistent in not failing and did everything I could to climb out of that hole. Though sleeping kept away the pain, I always woke up and prayed that I could make it through the day. I smartened my studying strategies and tried to put others’ perspective into mine. I imitated verbal phrases and paid attention towards social cues. I plucked the courage to perform in front of crowds to break my timid streak when my school asked me to compete in story-telling competitions. I slowly started to let others in, and tried to become more open towards my family. Little by little, I was quickly transformed when I finally learned to accept the circumstances I had been given. The angry child that I once had been was disappearing, and in place was an optimistic young woman who was happy to look on the brighter side of things.

Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that”. I believe that I climbed out of my hole by embracing the light that was acceptance, tolerance, and ongoing support from the people who loved me. By resisting the hand I was dealt with, I held myself back from becoming the person I wanted to become. By accepting my pain, I was able to play my cards right and achieved personal victories. I know I still have much to learn, but I believe recognizing one’s own efforts will help one come full-circle with themselves.

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arindadiaha-blog · 7 years ago

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Mengenai Kemerdekaan Hati

Di dalam dunia psikoterapi, terdapat suatu metode yang digunakan oleh para psikolog untuk membantu seseorang dalam mengungkapkan perasaannya. Dari pengungkapan emosi-emosi yang dapat dinyatakan secara terbuka hingga perasaan seseorang yang selama ini dipendam, gambaran dari Terapi Kursi Kosong* adalah sebagai berikut: Seorang klien akan dihadapkan pada sebuah kursi yang tidak ditempati, dan akan membayangkan bahwa sosok yang dianggap perlu untuk mendengarkan isi hatinya menduduki tempat tersebut. Lalu, ia akan menjelaskan segala perasaan, pemikiran, dan pemahaman yang selama ini disimpan olehnya. Setelah mengekspresikan diri, klien akan bertukar peran sebagai figur yang tadinya ia ajak bicara dan akan menanggapi segala hal yang sebelumnya telah dinyatakan, selagi diawasi oleh seorang psikolog.

Tahukah dirimu bahwa salah satu penyebab konflik internal paling umum adalah ketika seseorang tidak dapat mengungkapkan keinginan dan perasaannya? Pergolakan psikis yang seringkali dialami oleh seseorang biasanya diawali dari hal-hal kecil yang lambat laun berkembang menjadi kanker jiwa. Untuk melindungi diri, seseorang akan berkecenderungan untuk menyampingkan penolakan dari lingkungan serta perasaan bahwa ia tidak layak didengar. Namun, dengan mengesampingkan perasaan-perasaan tersebut, alam bawah sadar individu akan menimbun segala negativitas yang telah ia abaikan, dan menekan kemampuannya untuk berekspresi secara perlahan. Seperti balon yang diisi dengan air secara menerus, penimbunan bertahap yang dilakukan oleh seseorang lama-lama akan melebihi kapasitas penampungnya. Ketika penampung emosi seseorang sudah tidak lagi sanggup untuk memuat segala hal yang dianggap negatif bagi ego dan harga diri, maka yang ada hanya masalah waktu sebelum balon tersebut meledak.

Aku dibesarkan dalam lingkungan yang mendukung ekspresi diri, dan memiliki mindset yang telah dibentuk untuk berani beropini. Kemajuan teknologi juga telah memungkinkan diriku untuk berbagi, mendengarkan, dan didengar oleh dunia. Namun, pada suatu masa dan tempat yang membebaskan setiap orang untuk mengungkapkan segala opini dan ide yang berkeliaran dalam benak, salah satu ketakutan yang membuat diriku merasa kecil hati adalah ketika aku ingin menyuarakan pemikiranku.

Kepalaku bagaikan rumah untuk pemikiran dan khayalan yang merajalela dengan leluasa. Berkeliaran tanpa batas, pemikiran yang kukonsepsikan terkadang dianggap terlalu berbeda bagi beberapa orang. Hanya segelintir personil yang benar-benar menanggapiku ketika aku mencoba untuk berbagi ide. Terkadang, aku merasa bahwa diriku akan diterima dengan lebih baik apabila beberapa pemikiranku disesuaikan dengan mindset yang berlaku. Namun, aku akan menciptakan suatu rantai yang menahanku untuk berekspresi bebas apabila itu terjadi.

Rantai pertama dalam rentetan penyebab terjadinya konflik internal adalah kenyataan bahwa kita tidak akan pernah terlepas dari pengaruh budaya. Pembentukan pola pikir dan perilaku yang dihasilkan budaya setempat merupakan suatu hal yang melekat sepanjang hidup. Kita tidak dapat seutuhnya mengabaikan norma dan pemikiran orang lain, karena keduanya merupakan umpan balik bagi keberlangsungan diri. Di luar pengaruh budaya, terdapat pula suatu rantai yang seringkali menahan seseorang untuk melangkah keluar dari cangkangnya. Penahan tersebut tidak lain adalah diri kita sendiri. Baik dari disposisi, kepribadian, trauma masa lalu, atau ketakutan akan masa yang mendatang, kita seringkali menjadi pengungkung kebebasan diri. Oleh karena itu, ketika dikatakan bahwa kita hidup dalam suatu era yang memperkenakan adanya konsep keterbukaan bebas, kita harus bertanya: apakah kita benar-benar merdeka dari ikatan yang selama ini kita miliki?

Menurut Okky Madasari**, kemerdekaan adalah ketika kita tidak lagi merasa takut untuk mengakui segala hal yang selama ini disimpan untuk diri. Agar dapat bedamai dengan sisi-sisi yang kurang kita sukai dari diri, kurasa kita harus mulai dengan mengakui keberadaan kekurangan-kekurangan tersebut; lalu mempelajari untuk menerimanya sedikit demi sedikit. Pengakuan kekurangan diri dapat dijadikan sebagai langkah pertama dalam meraih kemerdekaan untuk berekspresi. Luka-luka yang mungkin dijumpai selama proses pencarian suara perlu diperhatikan dan diobati, bukan disampingkan. Aku belum pernah dihadapkan pada sebuah kursi kosong, namun aku berhadapan muka dengan laptop dalam sehari-hari. Berkembangnya media massa dan media sosial telah membuka kesempatan bagi setiap orang untuk bersuara, dan aku berniat untuk sepenuhnya memanfaatkan teknologi yang tersedia dalam mencari suaraku.

Aku sadar aku selama ini bersembunyi. Namun, dengan menciptakan suatu mimbar untuk diriku sendiri, seperti Blog Therapy, aku dapat menulis dan mengekspresikan opini yang kumiliki tanpa takut akan penghakiman massa. Selain melakukan katarsis, aku merasa bahwa berbagi pengalaman dan sudut pandang dapat membantu individu lain untuk tidak merasa sendirian; dapat berfungsi sebagai pemantik semangat dan harapan yang selama ini terbengkalai dalam lubuk hati; atau bahkan menjadi lentera bagi seseorang yang merasakan hal yang sama tetapi tidak tahu cara mengekspresikannya.

Siapa tahu.

Memang, belum banyak usaha yang kulakukan untuk mengelola salah satu keterbatasanku ini, tetapi setidaknya aku bergerak satu langkah lebih dekat dalam memerdekakan diriku.

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*Untuk mengetahui lebih lanjut tentang Terapi Kursi Kosong, berikut adalah artikel popular yang kugunakan sebagai referensi:

https://www.mentalhelp.net/blogs/gestalt-therapy-the-empty-chair-technique/

**Okky Madasari adalah salah satu penulis yang mengkritisasi isu-isu sosial masyarakat dalam karyanya. Berikut adalah beberapa karya Okky yang kurekomendasi untuk dibaca dalam waktu senggang: Entrok (2010), Pasung Jiwa (2013), Kerumunan Terakhir (2016)

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arindadiaha-blog · 8 years ago

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The Jambi Diaries: My Two-Month Stay in the Village of Pendung Talang Genting

Part 1

The sound of shrieking children and popular music accompany me as I write cross-legged in the room that I share with my four roommates. They are all on their backs, all wrapped in blankets while trying to fall asleep on a mat that separates us only centimeters from the floor. Two of them are on their phones, and two are tossing and turning as nobody is used to sleeping on a mat so thin.

I look around at what seems like a small room.

On adjacent sides, more than half a dozen suitcases and backpacks are lined neatly against the wall, all filled with things we’d need for the upcoming months. Our luggage also serves as an insulator against the night chill that no one has figured out how to beat yet. The sound of dripping water coming from the small bathroom inside the room only adds to the nightly orchestra, along with the clicking coming from my keyboard.

It is nearly midnight, but no one seems ready for bed. Rushed footsteps and the occasional laughter only increases the volume of noise in the house. It seems like the TV is on, and someone has just scored an important goal. Two of my other housemates are probably smoking outside with a cup of coffee placed beside their knee, casually talking on the phone to a different person every few minutes. The front door opens and closes, indicating someone has just entered or exited. With a steady stream of people constantly coming in and out, it is never quiet weather day and night at Posko 1.

It will be Eid soon, which is why the children are still awake at this late of hour, and everyone is either fussing about what they’re going to wear or how much they need to cook for the incoming guests in two days. I look forward towards the feast that will take place when Eid arrives. Even though I am still getting used to the food served at this certain area, I am already enjoying the rich and spicy flavors of Sumatran cuisine. I look at the new clothes that we bought several days ago in town especially for the occasion. Though unwashed, they are a pristine shade of white, and hang neatly on the railings of the curtain. As we do every night, my four roommates and I lock the door shut to block out the excessive noise and surprise visitors; we can only tolerate the sudden entrances and constant attention-seeking by the children for so long. Besides, sleep is necessary when you need to get up in a few hours for suhoor, or the pre-dawn meal before the obligatory fast during Ramadhan.

It seems like a rather hectic situation, but I smile at the thought of how fortunate I am to be here tonight.

As a third-year student enrolled in Universitas Gadjah Mada, I am currently taking part in a compulsory three-credit course where students from the various faculties in the university get together and create a program that could be implemented the less developed areas of Indonesia. Although negativities emerged from the student body on program fees and aims, I was actually looking forward towards meeting people from the other parts of my country, getting to know how they lived and the cultural ties they are bound to, and actually having the chance to contribute to society through our program. After countless changes in group arrangements, and many interviews and negotiations, I finally landed myself in a team of thirty around one month before the course started, and flew over to the island of Sumatra during the second week of June to take part in a program that has made my university famous.

It would be a lie if I said I was excited when we went. I was off with 29 people that I had never met before; all from different majors and all with the most diverse of personalities. I would be living with them for the next two months, and I often worried about us getting along. We’d only met a handful of times before we were due to fly, and I felt like I didn’t know them enough to be able to show them my true self yet. I highly considered a friend’s offer to join her group, where I’d at least know someone and would know my way around much faster. I also considered the fact that going to Sumatra would also mean I wouldn’t be able to spend the holidays with my family. But, after much deliberation and many convincing arguments from many different parties (and yes, quite a bit of tears, too), I decided to leave all the comforts I had known up until now and waded into the deep jungles of whatever awaited for me in Sumatra.

My team and I had to take two flights to get to the island. While the plane ride was nice, everyone was mentally preparing for the ten hour car ride we’d have to go through in the coming hours. Sumatra is famous for its unpaved roads and sudden twists and turns. Accidents were daily occurrences, and drivers were labeled as either insane or brave as they’re known to steer with a combination of speed and stubbornness. Though we’d be traveling at nighttime, there’s never any guarantee of what the road was like ahead; and no guarantee that anyone wouldn’t get carsick. But all my worries went out the window as soon as we arrived at the village in one piece. As I stepped off the car, I took a look at the surroundings that were to be my home for the next couple of months.

Like one would expect of a village, the place was relatively quiet, save for the slight commotion coming from the arrival of our team. I took a deep breath and smiled at how clean the air was. The chill that seeped through my denim jacket made me realize that the temperature was much cooler than anyone had expected. I shifted my gaze towards the houses on each side of the road. It seemed like they were newly built; shiny, clean, and decorated with the latest ceramics. If you turned southwest, you would be met with a breathtaking view of Kerinci Lake and the grand hills that surround it. On a sunny day, the lake would be a rich shade of blue, and the ridges of the hills would appear to show us the ripples of forests that still continue to exist in an island known for palm oil plantations.

We were welcomed by the Head of the Village and his family, and were introduced to the customs and ways of Pendung Talang Genting, or Pentagen, as the village is affectionately known. I noticed that though the Head had chairs in his house, everyone sat cross-legged on the floor together. After a few words from our supervising professor and head of unit, we got down to business.

Since the village population is 100% Muslim, the first village rule laid down upon us was that all girls over the age of ten must wear a veil when going outside of their homes. In places far away from Pentagen, rules such as the one mentioned would’ve immediately caused an uproar within society, and only feeding into the notion that when Muslim women cover their heads, it is not by their own choice. The regulation would’ve also been considered controversial as it applied to all females, from Muslim girls who do not currently wear a veil to non-Muslim women who would probably never wear one in their entire lives. A dress code also applies to men and boys. Covering their legs are also a must for men when they are outside of their homes. Pants, jeans, and sarongs are allowed, but shorts are for when you are inside the house. Any violation of the dress code will be addressed by the religious police force.

It does seem slightly extreme for someone who is used to a completely different way of life in terms of daily habits, dressing, and religious values in a deeper sense, but I figured that was where the authenticity was - where the heart of the program is. If we were to become one with society, then it was what we must do to achieve a sense of what the community was like. Since the regulations are actually a village law with constitutions, I prepared myself by thinking why don’t we give this a try and see what happens?

The Head of the Village also addressed the manner of how we were to sit in the presence of others during gatherings, since members of the team are also to attend the weekly pengajian on Fridays. We were not to stretch or fold our knees to our chins in front of others, for it is considered improper. Women must wear long skirts to these gatherings, and the men sarongs. Despite the nit-picky details the village regulations addressed, we were encouraged to blend in and be a member of the community by attending these gatherings, greeting villagers as we pass them by on the streets, or simply go to a neighbor’s house just for the sake of it.

After hours of introduction and small talk, we were finally divided into groups of ten to meet our host families and settle into our new homes. I was placed in Posko 1, the house nearest to the Head Villager’s and closest to the lake. When we arrived with our luggage trailing behind us, we were greeted by a family of four.

Their house was large and clean, with a homely design. On the front were iron gates that were as tall as an average person. The outside walls of the house seemed freshly painted and the ceramic floors shiny to a fault. We found out a short while later that the house was equipped with running water and electricity. The kitchen had a complete set of cooking utensils, and the three bathrooms were completed with a tiled bathtub and squat toilet.

I had not expected my homestay to be so modern.

At the door, there was Mother, or Emak, as we called her, who seemed very happy to have ten additional children for the next two months; Father, or Bapak, who greeted us with a friendly manner, but then excused himself to go to the lake to fish for lake clams before the sun sets; Mudia, the eldest daughter, who politely shook each and every one of our hands in greeting, and her younger sister, Naura, who seemed shy at first but showed her true colors not long after she learned our names. I liked my new family immediately, but I was exhausted and wanted to rest. Emak told us since there was only one guest room, the girls would occupy it, while the boys would stay in the living room. Because the family didn’t have ten mattresses, we were to sleep on the floor with tikars and mats. They provided us with pillows and got the room ready before our arrival. After we hauled our luggage in, we took our first baths in two days. Later, we sat in a circle on the floor while we broke fast together with a rich mix of rice, surprisingly non-spicy balado, and potato gulai. We settled into our new beds after our stomachs were full and we had completed our nightly prayers. I was relieved that I was finally able to turn off the lights, and put my head down to rest on a pillow for the first time since I had waved goodbye to my parents in Yogyakarta.

As I think about it, one could consider my journey so far to be exhausting, but I never seemed to mind the long hours or have my body tire as I take in each event little by little. I enjoyed getting to know the members of my team and my housemates, who turned out to be quite hilarious in their own way. We have already established a treasury, scheduled clean-up shifts, and a wake-up system two days into the program.

I have come towards the end of another night, and the noise suddenly subsides. The TV is turned off, and I am sure that the children have either gone to another house or are too tired to play anymore tonight. My roommates have all gone to sleep, and it seems I am the only one awake in the house at this hour. I rub my lower back. As much as I wanted to rest, I couldn’t imagine how it could support me anymore when I am lying down. We’ve only been here for a couple of weeks, and my backache from sleeping on the floor is becoming a problem. The cold is something that I worry about as well. I had only brought a thin jarit as my blanket, and barely made it through the first night due to the chill. So now I share a blanket with my friend, Ria. She has been kind enough to not let me freeze in my sleep, but I am thinking of alternatives as I don’t think that the blanket would be able to keep the both of us warm for an extensive period of time. The dripping water has decreased in noise, and the room feels somewhat peaceful. I quickly look at the time on the bottom right side of my laptop. It is late, and suhoor starts in four hours. I must sleep and rest as much as I can before we start the day again; where Emak would wake us up and have us eat before the sun rises, and to do what we came to Jambi for: subserve.

Oh, and also, I’m on clean-up duty tomorrow.

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