Oh! Bahasa Indonesia, it's so easy

By G.S. Edwin

JAKARTA (JP): I've come across a lot of people who proudly utter, "Oh, it's so easy." Mention "computer" to one of them, then comes "Oh, it's so easy."

For God's sake, how? Then, they put you in place: The computer knows you are an ignoramus. So, it tells you all that is to be done. The implied -- can anything be more easy? -- is almost as bad as a slap.

I am one of those at the opposite end of things. In my range of experience, nothing is easy, much less "so easy". So, to me, "oh, it's so easy" is an odious, overused expression. A stand-in for fatuity, not flamboyance as the conceited would fancy.

When I arrived in Indonesia, wherever I went, the refrain was "Oh, Indonesian, it's so easy." Strangely, I fell for this swoop. The clincher was what a hostess, an old Indonesian hand, said: "In Indonesian, context, not words is the key.

So, a combination of an expressive mime and even the use of a few unrelated words, in the manner of spoken shorthand, are enough to communicate." This proclaimed genius of Indonesian, though from rank outsiders, got me. I was expecting the context to do the trick.

Soon, I discovered that the expression "oh, it's so easy" was a cliche in the case of Indonesian too. When I used the language for the first time, the invisible but the vaunted and vibrant connection between context and Bahasa was not there.

One day I was in a hurry to go to the office. I spoke the key word kantor and then used appropriate gestures like an exuberant both thumbs-up, and considerable rolling of eyes to amplify the context and communicate "today, let's get cracking fast." My driver smiled broadly as if our wavelengths had fused. A little later, when I rushed down, he was busy polishing the car and the car was facing the wrong direction.

Dismayed, I had to put in a bit of spot running to bridge the communication gap and make the context more vivid. This time, he guffawed, as if a little earlier, there was a wrong fusion of wavelengths.

Later, he told my wife that he had taken my gestures to mean: go all the way for "a spit and polish" treatment for the car and had added gratuitously "I thought Tuan wanted to give a buildup to our company riding in a gleaming car."

On another occasion, a confrontational context unwittingly had a tame ending. My car stopped at a light in Menteng. Unfortunately, the car doors were not locked. Suddenly, a gang of singing, clapping and swaying transvestites got into the car. There was a crisis. I gestured, they quieted and waited for parleys to begin.

But, how to start the parleying? The tutor book on Indonesian was inside the glove compartment. With hardly any words but with frantic gestures I signaled my driver to take out the book. The driver, unnerved by the stench and menace inside the car tactlessly lunged across.

The street smart guests, sullen by now, not clearly knowing what was going on, panicked and thought that I had asked my driver to take out the gun. They rough handled the driver and pushed him out of the car.

When the guests in the rear were absorbed watching the melee in the front, I slipped out of the car. With both of us out, those still inside the car seemed like abandoned cargo. Sheepishly, they got out of the car.

There are harmless contexts which go terribly against you because you just don't have the right words. Once, I needed five 100 rupiah notes. So, in the Sari Pacific cake shop, I gave a 500 rupiah note to the cash register girl and it seems asked for five 1,000 rupiah notes.

It was a simple case of confusion between ratus (hundred) and ribu (thousand). Any other girl would have giggled and hammered the absurdity. But, not this one. Stern and matronly looking and lacking in sense of humor, the context simply went above her head. She thought either I was a nut or acting fresh and brought the roof down.

There was, however, one memorable occasion where the context pulled its full weight, with barely any exchange of words. I shot through a red light, a case of bad judgment. The ever alert Jakarta cop whistled me down. He was hard. I was dumb.

Then, the universal language that transcends boundaries took over: I apologized using the word maaf profusely and sincerely. The cop disarmingly grinned. Probably, this was the first time an expat had apologized to him so sincerely instead of giving him a pecuniary treatment.

So, we saluted and went our ways. I could not help recalling that whenever the word "cop" came up, the chorus would be "oh, it's so easy..... ." Anyway, not always.

Now, whenever I hear this, I protest: "Don't say so. It destroys confidence, creates a mental block and makes an expat Indonesian-retarded." This was usually dismissed as ranting.

Unexpectedly, David, a new arrival, startled me with a confession. One day, his secretary asked permission to go some place during office time. After nodding his head, by way of small talk, he asked "are you going alone?"

"No," she said, and brightly added "I am going with myself." David wailed. "Imagine me telling her 'oh, English, it's so easy.'"

Impressed by his contrition, I gallantly gave him a hand. "David, your secretary was not all that wrong. Perhaps, she spoke American English. When Americans invite you, they hardly say "please come". It's mostly "Hey you, bring yourself, OK."

Quaint, perhaps, but feisty all right. Anyway, I was happy for David. Now, we are two souls passionately sharing the belief that inasmuch as there is no free lunch, there is also no -- anything -- easy, either.