New Year's Eve — Brooklyn Heights, NY 1991
My wristwatch shown that is 6 hours before the new year's final countdown. We are still in the living room at Sastrowardoyo's place. Mrs. James refused to go with us to the Times Square. Marty agreed so I tell him to go to the Sastrowardoyo's first with Donny and I. So we went to theirs.
Sastrowardoyo seems like a big family. There is many Sastrowardoyos here in America. New York, Washington, California. Most of them graduated from notable universities back home. UI, UGM, you name it. There are scientists, artists, politicians, musicians, professors, businessmen. And this one's artist. This one is the most happy Indonesian family I've ever met. Iwan, married to Dewi, had one and only child. This little kid, maybe about ten years old is a cute one. She wanted to be artist like his father, she said. A little happy family just like in the movies. Donny Siegers seems quite instantly close with Iwan between conversations, but no business talks like he used to when he met fellow countryman. We speak in English so that Marty could understand and didn't feel disrespected.
So we went out from this small house of theirs, walk along the pedestrian with this fussy little kid who made us smile with his half English-Indonesian accent.
"Dian, Dian, yang anteng ayo." her mother said when she walked around in circles along with us. Then she crashed into Marty.
"Wow, mister you are so tall." then her father laughed. So do Marty.
"Udah berapa lama di sini, mas Iwan?" Donny asks him in Indonesian.
"Well, it is about a week. To visit my uncle here. As the kid's on vacation, and the country is you-know-how-it-is, so why not go here and settle for a while."
"Oh, another Sastro?" I ask.
"Yup, you bet. Subagio, he is an artist. An Ivy League graduate back in Cold War times."
"Actually, I've never met any Sastrowardoyo back then when I was just a college boy in UI."
"My uncle went to UGM, then to Cornell and Yale with his MA. Oh you never mentioned you graduated from UI. What was it? Sastra?"
"Politics, Mas." as Iwan and I converse, we took a couple steps back, and Marty and Donny converse with slightly milder topic. The little girl and his mother played along the pedestrian. Clark Station is still a bit further.
"Have a mind for S2?"
"Well, I took several short course back in Paris, Mas. I was a librarian in Sorbonne, after the big 'escape' from Indonesia."
"Oh, gitu. Gimana Paris?" he asks, his curiosity increases.
"Keras, Mas. Everyone demanded perfections. All the time. Saya di perpustakaan saja kalau terlambat mati sudah. Pernah dimarahi staff, but you get used to it."
"Why move to America?"
"It is like everybody is wanted here, Mas. It is like every citizen's reunion. Dan lebih ramai dari Perancis. Apalagi saya juga tahu kalau banyak orang Indonesia di sini yang menetap."
"Hahaha, correct. Setuju sih. But, we must go home someday, Soes. We have to. Tapi nggak tahu kapan."
"Yes, someday, Mas."
"Pasti di sana cantik-cantik, ya?"
We laughed, and Iwan went to the expression of "if you know what I mean" gesture.
"It sure is, Mas. Tetapi, hidup di sana seperti monoton saja. Cocok untuk orang tua. Mungkin bahasanya juga agak susah jadi saya agak gak familiar. Much easier in English."
YOU ARE READING
True Wanderers
General FictionA citizen thinks, living in his own country is not a wise decision. Haunted by the New Order regime, a monster who grows mightier everyday, are the signs of unbecoming a free country. History written, or waiting to repeat itself. Living as foreigne...
