Every cloud has a silver lining
JAKARTA (JP): "Dear Zatni, I am following all the news out of Indonesia and was wondering how you are doing. Is everything okay with you and your family?"
That was a recent e-mail from an American friend in Oregon. I replied right away and assured her that my family was still OK.
What I said was only partly true, of course. I wish I could have told her that the economic crisis had not affected me at all. I wish I could tell her that the news she had been hearing was exaggerated. But, of course, I couldn't.
How could I tell her that I had not been affected by the slump? In addition to all the problems that most of us share today, here's one that's more unique: While I still receive the same amount of honorarium for each of the computer articles that I write (thank God The Jakarta Post has so far managed not to cut it down), the prices of the computer magazines I need to stay up- to-date have risen in price beyond my wildest imagination.
PC Magazine now costs Rp 49,800. Byte costs Rp 41,000. I have not seen February's issues of PC World or PC/Computing in the bookstores that I frequent.
As a writer, I strongly believe that writers should read far more than they write. That's why I always read Reader's Digest. To my surprise, this favorite magazine of mine now costs Rp 27,000, up from Rp 6,000 just a month ago. For the first time in 26 years I have not bought the latest Reader's Digest because I've decided I cannot afford it.
But, no matter what, my family and I will survive. At least we believe that we will. Because both my wife and I have been through equally harsh -- if not worse -- periods in our past.
As a child, I grew up in Payakumbuh, a tiny town in West Sumatra. Back in the late 1950s, when the province was just picking up the pieces after a civil war, my parents had no money and we had no food. My parents, my two older brothers and I ate rice mixed with sugar, milk powder and margarine for days.
We jokingly called this family recipe kuah kolu. I no longer remember how the name was coined.
We still had some milk powder and margarine in the house because my parents had, luckily, stockpiled these things. Did I say "stockpile"? I did, and there was a good reason for it. Our house was a little more than two kilometers from the market and horse-drawn carts were the only means of transportation at that time.
Because of this, my parents bought the basic necessities only once a week, so they got into the habit of keeping some of these things in stock.
And that was by no means the only time that I have hit the bottom of the abyss. There have been many others, although they may not be as memorable as kuah kolu. Still, they are memorable in countless other respects.
So, when my wife decided a couple of days ago that we should have only spinach, tempeh and salted fish for lunch and dinner, I heartily considered it a treat. I could have insisted that we go to the nearest shopping mall and have lunch at the food court, but somehow I knew that wouldn't give me a fraction of the enjoyment I was getting from the tempeh and salted fish combo.
Besides, it wouldn't seem the right thing to do while so many of our countrymen don't have any food to eat.
But, most important of all, it reminded me of the hard times that I've been through. Despite the hardships, those were truly some of the most beautiful memories in my life because it was during those times that I particularly felt how my father, my late mother and my brothers provided the strongest support for each other. It was during those times that I realized how my family was the most reliable line of defense against any form of hardship.
Indeed, good things do happen during hard times, although we may not always realize it. Just think about this: As many of us have been forced to stop indulging in our own individual pleasures, we now spend more time with other family at home on weekends.
We all have the chance to see how others have problems much bigger than ours. We have the chance to thank God for things that we'd normally take for granted. Most important of all, we have the chance to be reminded that nothing in life is permanent. Power, fame, fortune -- none are permanent.
And even the current bleak condition is not going to be permanent. When things hit bottom, they'll have nowhere to go but up. Sooner or later, there will be light at the end of the tunnel. We only have to support one another and keep on moving.
-- Zatni Arbi