After 'Lebaran' comes the blues

After 'Lebaran' comes the blues

JAKARTA (JP): We must admit that the past two weeks have been
unusual for everybody, for those who celebrate Idul Fitri as well
as those who do not. For the second group, life may be unusual
because of their servants' mudik (exodus to home villages).

Every housewife knows that her servants need a break. But why
do they all have to go at the same time? Employers warn them
about the traffic jams during the exodus, they remind them that
they always get car sick, they tell them that it is much better
to go home during quieter times, but no, servants are determined
to go home for Lebaran. They are willing to brave the traffic and
the difficult traveling conditions, especially while fasting.
They cannot be bribed with money, or a treat to Ancol or the
Safari Park in Bogor. No, go home they must.

And so, you are left alone in the house and decide to roll up
your shirtsleeves. First, you do the shopping because food has
the most importance. Most people seem to think the same thing and
that is why the supermarkets are very busy.

Shopping can bring happiness; meeting old friends you haven't
seen in years. There was, for instance, Professor K. and his
wife, Mrs. K., who was carefully selecting what she was going to
buy and giving it to her husband. He arranged the shopping
carefully in the cart. That was how he had always taught us,
"arrange all your data carefully, then make your conclusions."
And here he was, applying his own methods to shopping.

In another isle I met my two bachelor friends. They had a
shopping list and a menu for the whole week, except for two days.
Those were the two days they would go to friends houses to wish
them Selamat Lebaran. They are familiar with Indonesian
hospitality and know that food will be offered. In case they miss
a meal, they had stocked up on some instant noodles. Easy cooking
for a hungry day.

I was a little ashamed because I was heading for the ready-
cooked food counter, where delicious food was on sale. On the
way, I met the proprietor of the store, who said: "Welcome, just
head that way, we have everything for the busy and the lazy
housewife."

"Do you have something for the bingung (confused) housewife?"

Yes he had and he led me to the canned food isle. No, no
canned food for me because last year my can opener broke and I
was stuck without food. He then showed me a counter full of
marinated food. "Just put it in a wok and stir-fry it a bit and
it's ready to be served."

I was so happy he had his store just around the corner from my
house. I did not have to buy much because on the day he reopened
the store I could come back.

I would meet different friends every time I went there and we
would stand there, complaining of our trials and our sufferings
but also boasting about our achievements. And then we would tell
each other how happy we would be when the servants came back.
That was a must, because missing your servants is a status
symbol. It means that normally, you do not do menial household
jobs, like tidying up the house, doing the laundry or the
cooking.

As the week wore on, the store was getting emptier as servants
started returning home. I would also receive calls from friends
to tell me of their joy that their servants were back. But I
didn't mind that mine were not back yet. Thanks to the store, I
could get up every day, prepare the breakfast, do the laundry and
housecleaning on alternate days and then go for my exercise,
which was a walk to the supermarket to buy food. I was beaming
with energy.

I was fine until last Sunday morning. I did the same thing as
the previous day and even bought food. "The servants may be back
today," I thought, "but they may still be suffering from travel
fatigue because that is what we usually feel when we come back
from holidays."

But that Sunday evening after dinner, my maid, who had come
home a few hours before, immediately took the dishes to the
kitchen. I was free! But instead of joy, I felt lethargic and
went to bed immediately. I think I was suffering from post-
Lebaran blues...

-- Myra Sidharta