Every cloud has a silver lining

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