The Path to The Source

Book Review: Mimi Bo and the Missing Diary by Catharina Indirastuti

mrumia — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 22:49:09 +0000

(A review on the first book of Raisa Affandi).

I heard about the book over a year ago. Egi, my work partner, was the aunt of this enviable 11 years old genius and she excitedly told me that her genius niece was writing a book. We have been discussing about this special girl for a while, talking about how she would be the perfect girl that every parents would have wished for.

I didn’t get to see the manuscript until a while ago – when it was ready for printing with some draft illustrations. I took a peek onto the manuscript, a few pages, to taste the beauty of Raisa’s words and imagination. But, it was so good that I decided to wait until it is printed nicely and I can fully savor it, pages by pages. Where I can fold pages where I just want to stop, to close my eyes and enter the imaginary world young Raisa.

So, when it was finally published, I jumped with joy.

The book was written by an 11 years old (she was just 9 or 10 when she started writing it). An Indonesian girl writing in English impeccably. But it was not the perfect choice of English words or perfect grammar or perfect sentencing that made it superb. It was the story.

And the story was about an imaginary world of a Baby Academy. Not about an ordinary life. It’s about Mimi Bo, a 3-months old genius baby who entered Baby Boo Academy, an academy for genius babies and all the adventures that Mimi Bo had in the academy.

The book allows you to enter the mind of a kid, to see the world using her eyes, to read words in Baahian language of babies, to understand the world and its magical phenomenon using a child’s mind. This is a rare work where a child tries to conceptualize her perceptions about the world for us. And this is what makes it genius.

Do not imagine a discipline plot. This is a book written by a kid. Whose mind is yet tamed by rules and regulations, unstained by orders and unnecessary norms. Her stories jumped from one idea to another (it is about the world of magic, and you are not suppose to keep up with magic), so if you are a reader who seek logical pattern … come on… nothing is logical in the world of kids, the very reason we want to be kids all the time.

Do not imagine that the title stands for the whole story – as she happily told you one story after another, and not being bothered whether one story link to another or not. It is more like a compilation of spontaneous thoughts a child would have upon seeing the world with its impossible incidents.

The funny thing is that, being a genius observer of her own self, she is very aware of her tendency to runaway from her own plot. As she gave herself a 6/10 – for writing test in the Baby Boo Academy (see page 38). It is almost like she did it intentionally, to be free from her own plot of story, to create a story within a story within a story within a story.

This is how life is, actually, and she sees it with more clarity than most people would.

My favorite excerpts from the book are the way she explained the world. Using her main character in the book, Mimi Bo, who I think is actually the smartest of all the babies – though not the ‘know-it-all’ Hermione type, to explain her perceptions and understanding about the world. I took the liberty to copy a passage from the book, so that you can have a taste …

……

“What are rainbows made of?”

“LIGHT!” Mimi Bo blurted out. Lara-Sin seemed impressed.

“Correct. Second question; can we touch a rainbow?”

“Yes, but it’s made of light, so we don’t feel anything.”

“Very Good! Are rainbows useful?”

“Well, its bright colors can cheer us up when we’re feeling blue.”

(Mimi Bo and the Missing Diary, Raisa Affandi, p.76-77).

…….

Raisa also has a great ability to observe things and people around her, and took a very diligent note about these things … this was how she explained the baby’s characters, which I think would come from all the kids and babies around her …

…….

Isobel has brown skin, browner eyes, and her hair is almost black, but it is actually brown. I want to call her “brown girl’ because of that but I can’t because Lara-Sin would think I was being rude, but I’m not, I’m just telling the truth about people. (Mimi Bo and the Missing Diary, Raisa Affandi, p.28).

…….

Notice how she marries her own honest perception as a child about her friend’s look with adult’s value of ‘accepting differences and not mocking on other’s look’. She is a child, who are aware of social values, but still uses her own naive way to see these values.

And of course, the joy of reading the book also comes from the quizzes she created at the end of the book. Funny quizzes that would come only from a smart, humorous writer.

I shall not spoil your joy of reading and shall let you choose parts of the story that will stays in your heart for a long time. This is a book that freely chooses its path and opens the door to the minds of children.

This is not JK Rowling writing about the complex, magical world of young Harry Potter.

This is not the maker of ‘Look Who’s Talking’ movie trying to imagine how babies would talk.

This is a kid telling the world how a kid thinks about things.

This is Raisa, a genius in the making.

(and I wondered if Raisa herself has entered the Baby Boo Academy, an academy where most of us might not have the priviledge to enter).

PS.

The book is the first of 9 series she is making (she is now almost finishing her 2nd book).
Parents beware of the envious feelings that might blurt out as you read her words, she is a true genius, while most of us might still have a long way to finding the genius being in our own children.
The book is available at Aksara Bookstore (Kemang, Plaza Indonesia, PP or Cilandak Townsquare) but you can order from us (me being one of the supporter would happily collect your request). Please inbox me if you’re interested.

Dear Raisa by Marlina Ardiyani

mrumia — Sat, 05 Mar 2011 22:12:24 +0000

My feet, wrapped in thick shocks and thick sole shoes, walked above the cold earth of London, heading towards Chiswick Station. It was early winter 2000(2001?). The tube, the District Line, was on time in quite quiet late morning, too late for those London workers. I jumped in the train. And as always my eyes met the cold faces of Londoners. Their faces were as cold as the air outside. The train was heading to Upminster station. I stopped at Westminster station, and changed to Jubilee Line that was heading to Stratford station. At last, I got off at Canada Water station. Wrapped in a jumper and a long mantle, I walked for a few minutes in the cold air of London.

I finally arrived at Patina Walk. I stood in front of a modern flat. Most of London flats are modern unlike most of the flats in Edinburgh. I pressed the door bell then the door was opened. Raisa’s father popped up. I gave him salaam and he replied my salaam. Raisa’s mum also popped up and we exchanged salaam. My job that day was to babysit Raisa, almost a one year old baby. Father had to go to campus and mother had to work. I had the day off. Mother was very discipline. She made a list of Raisa’s activities and the time…. snack time, play time, lunch time, nap time, bath time. Morning snack with biscuits and tomatoe juice. Lunch with what…(sorry I forgot already, Raisa). Mother explained and showed me many things, the cupboards, the wardrobe, the milk, the bottle, the toys and so on. I assured her that I would have a great time with baby Raisa. After mother and father left, I started playing with the baby. It seemed Raisa quite liked me. She was very contented. We turned on the Indonesian children song. We sang and we danced. We played baby wooden blocks and we played many things. Also reading a story book. Raisa was a quiet, shy but smart girl. I had a great time with her until I had to go back to my flat as her father had arrived.

***

My eyes jumped from words to words as I was reading Raisa’s book last night. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It’s hard to believe that the book was written by 11 years old girl, and it was written by Raisa!! Raisa was still a one year old baby in my old memory, but now she has grown up to a beautiful wonderful smart girl. She can absorbed all my mind into her book. I felt like I was reading John Grisham’s novel which was always absorbing. “Raisa, you have nicely and systematically written your book. The novel has got a fantastic flow of words. You really had a wonderful idea and super duper high imagination. I would love to visit the Baby Boo Academy and played in Funhouse. It must be fun playing in Funhouse. I would love to visit the Cloud Station and reached the highest Cloud to hopefully meet Anisa’s late father. I’m pretty sure the Rainbow slide is perfectly amazing! And wow I would love to try the world’s longest curliest waterslide!!

I was stunned by your beautiful English, Raisa. You spoke very little when I babysat you ages ago, of course… Oh I also love the watercolour illustrations, Raisa. Uncle Didit is a great designer. I did enjoy reading it, for sure, as much as you enjoyed writing it! I read it almost non stop. We had a power cut last night, but I used my mobile light since I couldn’t stop reading! Congratulations Raisa!!! I’m so proud of you. I’m sure father Yoga and mother Titi are very proud of you too, much more than I am. And I’m really glad to meet the big family of Affandi yesterday. But it was unfortunate that I didn’t see you. Next time hopefully, insyaAllah. Thanks a million, Raisa. And thank God for all His Blessings. Alhamdulillah…..”.

Special for Raisa Affandi.

Tiga Kelahiran

mrumia — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 02:58:41 +0000

Seorang kawan bertutur tentang tiga kelahiran. Satu, kelahiran fisik. Tidak ada yang baru disini. A physical birth. Setiap manusia mengalami, merayakannya setiap tahun. Ucapan semarak di facebook, di BB, di twitter mungkin menjadikan hari ini sedikit berbeda. Setidaknya teman-temanmu mengingat keberadaanmu. Kadang menjadi saat yang tepat untuk melakukan refleksi, perenungan, namun lebih sering hanya berlalu begitu saja.

Dua, kelahiran psikologis. A psychological birth. Satu hal yang sudah lama saya tahu, namun mungkin baru saya mengerti. Sudut pandang yang berbeda. Katanya, hampir semua mengalami. Usia balita adalah saat pertama kelahiran ini. Anak saya, berusia 3 tahun Januari nanti, adalah contoh yang tepat. Semua mainan di rumah adalah miliknya. TV di rumah adalah miliknya. Anda hanya bisa nonton Playhouse Disney, selama Kayla belum tidur. Kursi sofa di ruang TV adalah miliknya. Tamu yang datang tidak boleh duduk di kursinya. Bahkan, “ayah itu ayah Kayla aja, bukan ayah Raisa, bunda itu bunda Kayla aja, bukan bunda Raisa!”. Raisa, kakaknya, kadang merengut, tidak terima, sulit untuk mengerti ‘kelahiran psikologis’ adiknya.

Hal yang menarik, ego dan keakuan tidak akan berhenti tumbuh. Semakin dewasa, ‘aku’ makin meraja. Ini mobilku. Ini rumahku. Ini istriku. Ini anak-anakku. Ini pekerjaanku. Ini jabatanku. Ini tulisanku (termasuk tulisan ini). Lihatlah diriku. Lihatlah aku. Lihat saja facebook, ruang dan waktu penuh sesak oleh berbagai status update, seolah penting mengabarkan kepada dunia, bahwa aku ada. “Gak narcist, gak eksis” kata bahasa gaulnya. The cult of me, kata bos saya.

Tarikan duniawi akan makin memperbesar ruang ‘aku’. Mengapa tertarik? Tak terhindarkan. Karena manusia memiliki dua unsur: dunia dan langit. Tarikan akan makin besar, makin cepat, makin lebih cepat lagi. Progressive materialization. Inilah saat kejatuhan Adam ke bumi. Adam turun dari langit jatuh ke bumi, bukan karena tarikan Hawa. Hawa tidak menarik bagi Adam, karena Hawa adalah pelengkapnya, bukan hal yang baru. Hal yang menarik adalah pohon. Ya, sebuah pohon. Kata sufi, pohon adalah lambang ‘dunia’. Tarikan dunia menyesatkanmu. “Rivalry (of piling up the good things of this world) diverts you”

Tiga, kelahiran spiritual. A spiritual birth. Mungkin inilah saat kita mulai gelisah. Saat unsur dunia mulai letih, saat unsur langit mulai lirih memanggil. Saat diri mulai mencari sesuatu yang hilang. Saat diri mulai rindu akan sesuatu yang dulu pernah ada. Ingin mengetahui ‘who we are’, ‘what we are doing here’, ‘why we’re here’, ‘where we come from’ and ‘where we go’. Inilah saat jarak ruang (spatial distance) dan jarak waktu (time distance) tidak lagi penting. Inilah saat jarak kesadaran menjadi lebih utama, a consciousness distance.

Selama ini, kehadiran-Nya mungkin tertutup oleh berbagai tabir. Hijab. Kelahiran spiritual adalah saat menyingkap tabir yang selama ini menutupi kehadiran-Nya. Saat tidak ada lagi jarak antara mahluk dan Sang Pencipta. Saat Tuhan hadir langsung di hadapan kita. Saat Ia mengingatkan: Iyya kana’ budu, wa iyya kanastaiin. Hanya kepada-Mu, kami menyembah, dan hanya kepada-Mu, kami mohon pertolongan.

Maka Dzikrullah. Maka mari mengingat Allah. Karena kita pernah disana. Cause you’ve been there. I’ve been there. We’ve been there.

Selamat tahun baru 2011.

Macet Jakarta

mrumia — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 03:03:01 +0000

Email menanggapi keluhan seorang sahabat tentang macet Jakarta:

“Saya sepakat, macet tidak bisa dijadikan tanda2 kebaikan. Itu tanda kemandegan bahkan kemunduran. Tanda bahwa kita lupa untuk menanam, tapi kita bergegas ingin cepat2 meraih manisnya buah. Kita tidak pernah berinvestasi, tapi kita ingin menikmati konsumsi tinggi.

Macet jadinya.

Kita semua tahu solusinya, bangun MRT, bangun tube, bangun monorail. Tapi ini jangka panjang. Lama. Dan, pastinya, tidak akan mengurangi macet saat ini. Kita serahkan pada ahlinya saja. Sambil terus bersuara: Implementasi, Implementasi dan Implementasi !

Tapi utk masalah mendesak, saya mengajak teman2 untuk berbuat yang kecil dan sederhana dulu. Jangan gunakan mobil pribadi, gunakan transportasi publik. Kereta dan Bis. Ini lebih baik. Daripada kita menambah sesak Jakarta, mari kita menyumbang ruang gerak Ibukota.

Dan, jika boleh mengimbau, jangan pernah melanggar aturan lalu lintas. Kehadiran kita di jalan, jangan sampai merugikan orang lain. Hanya karena tergesa, kita mengorbankan hak orang lain. Saya jadi teringat kata-kata Cak Nur: “Jangan berpikir Tuhan tidak marah ketika kita langgar aturan lalu lintas”. Dan percayalah, barang siapa memudahkan jalan bagi orang lain, jalan-jalan semesta akan terbuka untuknya.

Selamat berpuasa (terutama di jalan).”

What have I done in this life to deserve this?

mrumia — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 03:02:33 +0000

“What have I done in this life to deserve this?”, demikian ujar Hillary Swank, ketika memenangkan Oscar untuk kedua kalinya. Dalam nafas rasa syukur yang sama, di hari ultah saya, pertanyaan ini terngiang pagi ini, di kereta yang penuh sesak sepanjang Pondok Ranji-Tanah Abang. Hujan gerimis rintik, stasiun becek, tukang koran penuh senyum, tukang semir sepatu yg gigih, seorang wirausaha baru yang amat bersemangat –menjajakan roti panggang (Rp 5000 per bungkus) dan nasi uduk (Rp 4000 per bungkus), seorang ibu yang membawa gembolan hitam besar –yang dengan rasa salah namun tidak berdaya menghalangi jalan keluar orang–, semua ini tidak menghalangi rasa syukur ini.

Apakah hidup ini serentetan kejadian yang saling berhubungan? Jikalau ada seorang statistian yang berusaha mencari pola distribusi hidup seorang manusia, dapatkah ia mencari bukti, bahwa hanya karena kejadian “A: dulu saya memberi uang kepada seorang anak muda penjaga WC secara tiba-tiba” dengan kejadian “B: saya berkesempatan menyaksikan rumah Allah dari dekat” dalam hidup saya tidak ada hubungan sebab akibat. Apakah karena kejadian A terjadi lebih dulu, maka kejadian B adalah akibat dari A. Atau tidak?

Pertanyaan sama juga dengan mudah diajukan ketika berhadapan dengan situasi, dimana –meski seluruh hidup telah dijalani dengan prinsip hidup jujur dan amanah, namun pada puncak karir difitnah, dicerca dan dimaki. “What have I done in this life to deserve this?”. Apakah hidup ini adalah a series of independent, unfortunate and fortunate, events? When you look back, you just don’t have a clue what has happened, what’s going on, not to mention, what the future will be. You simply don’t know.

***

Terimakasih kepada teman-teman sekalian yang telah mengucapkan selamat. Di hari ultah ini, rajutan utas-utas benang yang tak kasat mata–bak benang-benang pada suku Na’vi di Avatar– yang membentuk jalinan perkawanan, rajutan pertemanan dan simpul persahabatan terasa amat indah. Utas-utas benang ini mungkin tidak terlihat oleh mata manusia, tapi jelas terasa di hati. Terimakasih.

Jalan Unik Pak Boed

mrumia — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 02:33:33 +0000

Sebagai staf gubernur, sering saya bertugas mendampingi Pak Boed. Sepanjang perjalanan menuju tempat acara adalah waktu mengenal sosok Pak Boed lebih dekat. Bagaimana tidak? Hanya ada kami berempat. Supir dan Ajudan di depan, kami berdua di belakang. Pak Boed berpesan agar rambu lalu lintas harus dipatuhi. Mobil pengawal tidak boleh menyalakan sirine untuk menembus kemacetan. Walhasil, makin macet Jakarta, makin lama waktu saya dengan Pak Boed, makin saya mengenal Pak Boed. Dalam mobil, jika tak bicara, jika keheningan sejenak tercipta, hal unik yang saya perhatikan adalah kebiasaan Pak Boed untuk menepuk-nepukkan tangan kirinya ke paha. Pelan dan mantap, dengan irama teratur. Tap…tap…tap. Terkadang saya larut dalam ketukannya, sambil menduga-duga, “pasti Pak Boed sedang berpikir keras”.

Pak Boed suka bicara banyak hal. Hal ekonomi materi utama, hal pendidikan membuat Pak Boed bergairah. Namun, Pak Boed berbeda. Unik tepatnya. Kebanyakan orang, apalagi yang sudah merasakan asam garam kehidupan, senang berbicara panjang lebar tentang dirinya sendiri. Tentu saja tentang kehebatannya di masa lalu. Pak Boed amat berbeda. Setahun saya menemani Pak Boed, Pak Boed tidak pernah membicarakan dirinya sendiri, apalagi membanggakan prestasinya. Tidak sekalipun. Padahal Pak Boed adalah ekonom terbesar Indonesia saat ini. Kerendahan hati dan disiplin diri ini amat mengagumkan. Ini mengapa Pak Boed adalah orang besar.

Saya percaya orang besar memiliki jalan hidup yang unik. Jalan yang jarang ditempuh oleh banyak orang, bukan karena tak terlihat tapi karena lebih sulit. Sepenggal ungkapan penyair Robert Frost dalam ‘The Road Not Taken’ terasa lebih pas:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

…

Two roads diverged in a wood,
and I—I took the one less traveled by,
and that has made all the difference.

Jalan Pak Boed tempuh tak banyak dilalui orang. Jalan Pak Boed adalah jalan unik. Karenanya, Pak Boed orang besar.

(Gambar diambil di Patung John Harvard, Harvard University, 20 April 2009)

Utas-utas Benang

mrumia — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 22:55:45 +0000

Saya percaya bahwa kita tidak dapat hidup hanya untuk diri sendiri. Karena hidup kita sesungguhnya terhubung oleh ribuan benang yang tak kasat mata, yang membentuk jalinan perkawanan, rajutan pertemanan dan simpul persahabatan. Utas-utas benang ini mungkin tidak terlihat, tapi terasa di hati, melalui berbagai ucapan selamat, doa nan tulus, kata-kata indah yang menyejukkan kalbu, yang telah rekan-rekan sampaikan.

Memandang bayi merah yang baru saja lahir*, saya boleh sedikit lega. Ah, ternyata ayah bayi merah ini punya juga sebuah kampung. Ya, sebuah kampung untuk membesarkan anak kelak, meminjam istilah Senator Clinton [yang kini sibuk kampanye] : ‘it takes a village to raise a child’. Saya boleh bilang jika rekan-rekanlah teman sekampung saya, di kampung yang bernama BI. Terimakasih telah mengijinkan saya untuk tetap menjadi warga kampung [setelah sekian lama mengasingkan diri]. Semoga Sang Pembuka Jalan [Al Fatah, The Opener] membukakan pintu-pintu rahmatNya bagi rekan-rekan sekalian.

*Menyambut kedatangan Kayla.

This city needs many gardens

mrumia — Thu, 20 Sep 2007 11:34:22 +0000

This city needs many gardens. Places where we can have a rest, breathe the fresh air, lie down under the tree, and take a little nap. Not only because of the traffic and our lifestyle have heavilly polluted this city, but also because people are becoming so selfish that they need places where they can share and play together.

In the garden, we can enjoy the beauty of trees. This was what I often did in Cambridge . I usually went to Jesus Green, chose one of that magnificent trees and just lied down under the trees then stared at the sky. Their green leaves gaves me a comfortable shade and their branches reached out the sky. These shall remind us how beautiful God’s creations are. How I miss that garden. The place where I took a rest cycling from campus to home.

Gardens are paradise of this world. There should be. A paradise is a garden. Because a paradise is always described by a garden. And the utmost happiness can always be described by a garden. This what has been said by the great Yusuf Ali with his insightful comments. Take a look at verses Yaasin 55-58.

Verily the Companions of the Garden shall that Day have joy in all that they do.

They and their associates will be in groves of (cool) shade, reclining of Thrones (of dignity).

(Every) fruit (enjoyment) will be there for them; They shall have whatever they call for.

“Peace” a Word (of salutation) from a Lord Most Merciful.

Happiness stage one is similar when you enjoy a garden (verse 55). It gives you pleasure in your eyes. No one will deny this. But, you will never be happier if you can not share this happiness. And this is happening to me as I would never go for holiday without my family, because I don’t feel happy if I am away from the ones I love. This is the idea of verse 56, in which Yusuf Ali said that happiness can only be felt if it is shared together. And it should not be limited to your family, but it can go beyond that. Happiness shall also be felt by your neighbours, your friends, your human fellows. Of course, happiness would even be higher, if after sharing, we could feel and taste the beauty of happiness, as described by the sweet fruit coming from the garden (verse 57). But, the most that you can have from a garden is peace in your heart (verse 58). That I suppose shall be the ultimate description of happiness. Peace.

Our Last Day in Cambridge

mrumia — Sat, 18 Aug 2007 22:49:35 +0000

After almost four years, the final day had finally arrived. On Sunday morning, we departed by bus to the airport from Parker’s Piece. As sad as our heart, that morning was very gloomy and it was raining. Our heart will always be with Cambridge. We’ll miss you!!!

God’s greatest gift

mrumia — Sun, 29 Jul 2007 06:32:34 +0000

So, that was it. That was it! The moment I’ve been waiting for years. “Has it finished?”. I asked. The examiners seemed quite satisfied. “Yes. Congratulation”. I was so relieved. Hours in the viva seemed very long. The feeling that somebody scrutinized your work, paying attention to every word and detail, was really annoyed me. I felt that they could see through my mind. I felt naked in front of these two experts. But, it’s over now, I guessed.

The windy days and long nights in Cambridge have nearly come to an end. Life has never felt this good when you finish your job. Mission‘s accomplished. Wonderful. I felt in a bliss, as if I can taste that tiny little drop of the Kauthar, that heavenly Fountain of unbounded Grace of God. Alhamdulillah. Praise only be to God.

***

I came home. My daughter rushed and asked me “Have you passed the exam?”. I smiled. And she jumped and hugged me. “So, does it mean that we’re going to Indonesia now?” asked reluctantly, knowing that she must leave her happy days here. Soon, my dear, fairly soon.

My wife stood next to us. She congratulated me and said in her heavy Javanese tone: “Gusti Allah kok baik banget*”. Hearing to her words, I felt thunder electrifying my body. Tears were in our eyes. It’s true, I suppose, that God’s greatest gift to a man is his wife. Her faith and love of God are my constant inspirations, continue to shape and fulfill this journey.

*God is the Most Kind