Grow_old@dignity.net.com

JAKARTA (JP): When the death of Romo Mangun, the popular priest who was also an architect, a novelist, and a philanthropist, was aired on TV, I was shocked. I felt it was not fair.

He couldn't die just like that. He still has a lot to do for this nation, especially for the poor. I know him as a down-to- earth person, who dedicated his life to fight for welfare and dignity of the poor. Everybody knows he is one of a few good men in this country.

I was still staring at the picture of him and me (taken a decade ago when we both introduced our newly published books to the public), when Mr. Bagyo called.

"The old man is gone," he said sadly.

"Yeah," I sighed. "In dignity."

Mr. Bagyo is a retired general who always spends his leisure time surfing the Net, looking for information and chatting with anybody around the world who would like to share thoughts with him. We met at the chat site and become buddies.

"I just need somebody to parlez-vous-Francais with," he reasoned the first time he paged me, adding that he knew me from an anonymous source. And, just to please him, from then on we have bee communicating in French.

"Why waste your time doing this pointless thing?" I had asked.

"What do you mean, pointless?"

"You could do something better than wasting time surfing the Net. At your age, with your background, and with the power you may still have, you can be anything you want."

"Are you being cynical?"

"No, I mean it. You are not too old to plunge into the political commotion and, who knows, you can put everything at case."

"Oh, let me see your point. You want me to form a political party and then start condemning others? No way, Jose."

"You don't have to condemn anybody. In fact, you can give a good example on how to become a politician and play the role elegantly. then you can be a member of the cabinet or, at least, the House. Isn't it dignified?"

"That's right. But once you are there, you have the tendency to get carried away. Remember, power tends to corrupt. I take it from an old friend. He has been in the House, and now in one of the most prestigious government institution. And what has he reaped? A rain of protests and law suits. I don't want my grandchildren and my great-grandchildren to read that kind of story about me in the future. I want to grow old and die in dignity."

"To grow old in dignity," I had thought to myself. It has been the genuine wish of Pak Harto since he was in power. But circumstances did not lead him to what he craved.

The caring and loving father of six children has to live in a tight security and pressure amongst the rain of condemnation.

Whatever people think he has done, Pak Harto sure deserves a nice and happy life after working hard for such a long time. He could play golf, his favorite sport, go fishing, or spend his leisure time with his grandchildren. Pressure is the last thing he need in living the rest of his life.

"I agree with you," said Mr. Bagyo when I asked for his opinion. "What else could an old man wish?"

"That is not relevant to you," I said. "You are not old enough to call it quit. You still have a long way to go."

"Yes, but not to the direction you have in mind."

Mr. Bagyo's point of few generated my curiosity. I wondered what he looked like the person who has to kill time exploring the Net and uninterested in going into politics. It's quite strange.

Nowadays, with the wide opportunity to take part in the development of the country, everybody feels obliged to contribute something, including the role in the political stage. Only, most of the roles are deteriorating and misleading.

I tracked Mr. Bagyo down and found out from some source that he run a small restaurant in a shopping complex. And to my surprise, he runs the French pastry restaurant with his wife as the chef ad he himself as the waiter. The employees are two cleaning boys who also help out in the kitchen.

"Te voila!" I shouted. "I finally find you."

"What do you want, a medal?" he joked, pulling a chair for me. "And who are you?"

He soon remembered our last communication when I mentioned my user ID. "And just what makes you go through all the hassle to find me?" he asked after he served my order, soup du jour and a croissant au poulet, his specialty.

"We have an unfinished business," I began. "The line was disconnected when we were in the middle of conversation. And since then, I have failed to page you."

"Yeah, recently, I always hit the sack as soon as I get home. I am too tired to touch the keyboard, what with the raising number of customers. I think I have to hire a couple of waiters."

Our conversation did not go far as his customers always kept him busy. We departed with a promise to chat again on the Net.

"I've been wondering," I said when he paged me, "why you choose this kind of business. You could be a head of the board of commissioners in a prestigious company. Owners of large companies will kill coach other in competition to have you in their organization. Isn't that some kind of dignity?"

"It's not my cup of tea. I was once offered that kind of job. The salary was great, and all I needed to do was sit all day and say yes to what the owner say. That's not my idea of a decent job. Besides, running my own restaurant has been my greatest ambition."

"How about your children? Aren't they embarrassed with your job as a waiter?"

"No way! They are proud of my standpoint. In fact, they brag about their father being the one and only general a votre service in town."

"Oh, really?"

"Young man, if ye sow your seed in love and care, ye shall reap respect and understanding."

"And ye who sow in hatred and prejudice, shall reap in tears," I finished the wise words for him."

-- Carl Chairul