Pewarta Dari Jakarta

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  1. (Abang None from the eyes of non-Indonesian. Tasha and Treen May are sisters from Melbourne, Australia. You can visit their website over at welovejakarta.com).
An invitation from our friend Abdul Qowi Bastian at Jakarta Globe to attend Pemilihan Abang None Jakarta Pusat 2012 where he was one of 30 finalists led to yet another evening of magic in Jakarta!  Not aware of what the event actually was, I went along with a new friend Lynne from Korea who recently arrived in Jakarta.  We arrived at The Hall in Senayan City to a lobby full of people carrying banners with faces and numbers and we were so confused as to what was actually going on as is usually the case in my days wandering the streets of this chaotic city..  As soon as the doors opened to the auditorium people scrambled to get a good position and there was cheering and laughter and it ended up being such a great night filled with dancing, bands, questions to the contestants and finally the winners were announced…
Abang None is a competition aimed at raising cultural awareness to the youth of Jakarta aged between 18 and 25 years old and the winners become culture ambassadors for Jakarta for a year.  Apparently this annual event is very popular and has been conducted here for more than three decades.  Five cities and one administrative regency in Special Capital Territory of Jakarta choose fifteen pairs of Abang (males) and None (females) before determining three pairs of delegates for the provincial competition.

    (Abang None from the eyes of non-Indonesian. Tasha and Treen May are sisters from Melbourne, Australia. You can visit their website over at welovejakarta.com).

    An invitation from our friend Abdul Qowi Bastian at Jakarta Globe to attend Pemilihan Abang None Jakarta Pusat 2012 where he was one of 30 finalists led to yet another evening of magic in Jakarta!  Not aware of what the event actually was, I went along with a new friend Lynne from Korea who recently arrived in Jakarta.  We arrived at The Hall in Senayan City to a lobby full of people carrying banners with faces and numbers and we were so confused as to what was actually going on as is usually the case in my days wandering the streets of this chaotic city..  As soon as the doors opened to the auditorium people scrambled to get a good position and there was cheering and laughter and it ended up being such a great night filled with dancing, bands, questions to the contestants and finally the winners were announced…

    Abang None is a competition aimed at raising cultural awareness to the youth of Jakarta aged between 18 and 25 years old and the winners become culture ambassadors for Jakarta for a year.  Apparently this annual event is very popular and has been conducted here for more than three decades.  Five cities and one administrative regency in Special Capital Territory of Jakarta choose fifteen pairs of Abang (males) and None (females) before determining three pairs of delegates for the provincial competition.

     
     
  2. Notes From the Abang None Jakarta Pusat 2012

    The late nights and long hours have ended. After about a month of interviews with the judges; classes on Jakarta’s history, governance, art and culture, marketing, character development, public relation; intense traditional dance practices, I am finally able to return to my normal schedule.

    I spent almost everyday at the City Hall of Central Jakarta from 4 p.m to at least 12 a.m, and the floor started to feel like home. The first public performance of Abang None Jakarta Pusat 2012 was held at Hard Rock Cafe where the finalists (divided into three groups) performed a combination of traditional Betawi lenong and contemporary culture. Despite being awarded as the best team who won at Malam Keakraban (Salute and Gathering), I personally slumped on that particular day as I couldn’t answer one of the judges’ question about environment. From that day on, I knew I had a slight hope of winning this competition.

    Moving on, the finalists of Abnon Jakpus 2012 did community service at PAUD Puspita, Tanah Abang, where we taught children under 5 year olds basic things i.e. ethics, courtesy, nutrition, etc. This early childhood education program marked the first direct interaction between the finalists and the community. 

    Last Sunday, we went on to the Amazing Race (hint: the TV show?). Divided into five teams, the finalists raced across Central Jakarta’s tourism destinations from Monas, Museum Nasional, Gedung Kesenian Jakarta, Gedung Antara, and Taman Prasasti Museum. We managed to use the minimum way to get to one point from another. We hitched garbage truck in Monas, and pick-up truck out front the Istiqlal mosque. Again, my team basked in glory. My favorite spot would be Taman Prasasti Museum (Memorial Stone Park). A former cemetery, Taman Prasasti is a final resting place of historical figures from the first wife of British governor general Thomas Stamford Raffles and Indonesian youth activist Soe Hok Gie.

    Then came on the final night. On Thursday, we got on stage and performed traditional Betawi dance called nandak (or ngibing in Betawi slang), walked on the runway for fashion show, parade Abang None, and the terrifying Q&A session.

    I returned home with empty hand. Nonetheless, it was an amazing experience. My super creative friends invented online meme #GoQowi — named after the city of Solo Mayor, Jokowi (clue their shirts in the photo: Jokowi - Ahok’s trademark checkered shirts). The aim is to pair the running candidate of the next Jakarta’s gubernational candidate with me as the Abang Jakarta 2012. Sadly, that didn’t happen.

    If there’s one achievement I get from this competition, it’s this: There’s a None finalist named Makiyah (she was born in Mecca, Saudi Arabia. In Arabic, verses in the Quran that are revealed before the Prophet’s historical pilgrimage is called surah Makkiyah), people call her Kiya. I made her my own nickname, Kiyamatun (from qayamatun, meaning doomsday in Arabic). I still laugh whenever I think of that “accomplishment”.

    (Photos courtesy of Laura Harris, Sabrina Anggani, Dirgayuza Setiawan, Ikatan Abang None Jakarta Pusat).

     
     
  3. If you’re anywhere near Jakarta on Thursday, May 24, do come and support yours truly (number 14) on Abang None Jakarta Pusat 2012 final night which will be held at Senayan City, 7 p.m.
Graduates from the Abang None (Mister and Miss) Jakarta will be the city’s cultural and tourism ambassadors for the year that follows.
More updates to come.

    If you’re anywhere near Jakarta on Thursday, May 24, do come and support yours truly (number 14) on Abang None Jakarta Pusat 2012 final night which will be held at Senayan City, 7 p.m.

    Graduates from the Abang None (Mister and Miss) Jakarta will be the city’s cultural and tourism ambassadors for the year that follows.

    More updates to come.

     
     
  4. Texts From Mrs. Buchanan

    “Abdul, can you come over? My husband’s out tonight,” was the first text message I received from Mrs. Buchanan (not her real name).

    Mrs. Buchanan is a divorcee who’s about 15 years older than me. She is a hard worker, dedicated to her job — which could possibly explain the separation from her husband — and overall an astonishing woman. She is the CEO of a fast-moving IT company.

    I just had graduated from university when I first met her. It was my “The Graduate” moment. She was my own Mrs. Robinson. 

    What you’re about to read is texts, emails, letters — any form of correspondence — between Mrs. Buchanan and me from the past couple of years until only a few weeks ago. We had a promising beginning but things just didn’t pan out.

    There were times when we found ourselves on guilty beds. There were moments when we couldn’t see each other’s eyes. Sometimes our lips needed no introduction, sometimes we talked about who did greater sins. What followed then was awkward friendship. And later on in our life, we became total strangers.

    These texts — or letters or whatever — were an essential part of our short-lived relationship as they were our main mode of correspondence. She wanted to keep it a secret and I had no problem with that. Through these letters she confessed her deepest secrets, her darkest memories, her wounds.

    I was ready to bury our memories with my gloomy past but a friend told me over chorizo and beer that I have to re-tell the tale. Our story, according to him, is too good to pass up. 

    I was never going to use the phrase “Texts From Mrs. Buchanan” as it’s completely unoriginal — e.g. “Texts From Last Nights” and “Texts From Hillary Clinton” come to mind — and this isn’t the most righteous thing to do but my friend was right: The story is in the letters, the texts, the emails or whatever.

     
     
  5. Wendy let me in, I wanna be your man. I want to guard your dreams and vision.

    Some few hours later, Wendy and Ian were sitting at a relatively isolated table in a restaurant called Seroeni. A highly favored place among Jakartans. The President’s son once sat at the same table the pair were sitting at.

    “What do you want to order? asked Wendy.

    “I’m not that hungry. All I want is some sandwich,” said Ian.

    She ordered ordered beef black pepper in hot plate and a bowl of red rice. Ian looked at the menu again and changed his mind.

    “Yeah, I’ll have the same,” he said to the waiter.

    “Drinks, Sir?” asked the waiter.

    “Just water please,” Ian said. He looked at Wendy and she nodded. “Two water, thank you.”

    When the waiter had gone, Wendy said, “It’s been a long day.”

    “Yeah?”

    Wendy looked at her wrist, checking the time. “I’m sorry I have to make a phone call. Would you excuse me?” She got up and headed to the restroom.

    Ian, sitting alone at the table, shrugged his shoulders. He sat up a bit in his chair and adjusted his sitting position.

    He was puzzled as his date left him for a phone call that could or couldn’t be important. 

    As there was nothing to do but waiting, he took his phone out from his jeans’ pocket. He didn’t even know what to do with it. He hoped he didn’t look terribly bored.

     
     
  6. Last day in Melbourne. 2010.

    Last day in Melbourne. 2010.

     
     
  7. Words to go by.

    Words to go by.

     
     
  8. “Saat ini kita prihatin, Nak. Semoga suatu saat nanti kita bahagia,” tulis Ibu padaku yang masih berumur 4 tahun dalam buku hariannya tertanggal Januari 1992.

    Tapi kebahagiaan itu tak kunjung datang, Bu. Bahkan 20 tahun kemudian.

     
     
  9. Hey baby you got girlfriend Vietnam? Me so horny, me so horny. Me love you long time. Me suckee-suckee, me love you too much.

     
     
  10. Enough said.

    Enough said.