Sun, 02 Mar 1997

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