Taboo: Talking about it rather than doing it
MEGAMENDUNG, Bogor (JP): The quiet wooden grandeur of the Sadaparibhuta Vihara did nothing to absorb the muffled murmurings of some of the 700 people seated in the temple.
Gathered for a two-day discussion on sex, drugs, violence and alcohol, parents, youngsters and the elderly were attending the seminar held by Indonesia's Nichiren Syosyu Buddhist society.
The recent seminar zeroed in on teenage problems. It is held year after year to promote openness between the young and the old.
Most of the audience found it easier to believe that moral speeches condemning all subjects would be more the order of the day than the promised, true-life anecdotes and stories.
"You think they'll speak about what they did in their high school toilets?" a bespectacled Argo asked her father, regretting she came at all.
Her father, however, sat unfazed. Like the others, he was a member of Buddha Dharma Indonesia, a foundation boasting several hundred members of the Nichiren Syosyut sect spread across 14 provinces, and prominent local dance company Eksotika Karmawibhangga Indonesia (EKI).
His eyes were fixed on the line of Buddhist speakers, both parents and youngsters, on stage.
Throughout the night and the following day the audience heard revealing experiences about sex, drug use and physical abuse.
A shy-looking lady sporting a casual bob and blue jeans, Noriko Kaptini Senosoenoto, sat cross-legged on stage and began her story.
Noriko, a young rebel in her teens, said she had found entertaining ways to "rid her mind" of what she described as a protective family.
"I felt a guy's barang (thing, Indonesian slang for genitals) through his school uniform. But I didn't go beyond that," she announced decisively.
She said six months passed and then she met a "really handsome" guy who "genuinely cared" for her.
But he began draining her savings account, got her pregnant, beat her up, and refused to marry her after several vain attempts of "getting her to abort the baby".
Her boyfriend repeatedly forced her to take pills to bring on a miscarriage. But Noriko insisted on having her baby, but said: "I got my karma. My daughter Sasa was born with physical flaws."
The seminar found Noriko, a sister of the Nichiren's abbot, was no exception to teenage troubles here.
A stream of similar stories followed.
Accept
EKI public relations coordinator Frisca Saputra added that discussions usually educated teenagers about sex.
She explained why young Nichiren Syosyu members, like most teenagers, feared rejection by their parents or society.
"So many of them (societies) breed hypocrisy, it's no wonder children end up doing just what parents fear. They end up as vagrants, drug abusers or prostitutes," Frisca said.
"Worse, they end up feeling they cannot trust anybody with anything in closed societies, for fear of rejection."
Frisca said the teenagers should realize that their parents would always accept them, because parents belonging to Nichiren were aware that teenagers' problems differ from when they themselves were teenagers.
Besides, she added, "Buddhism teaches that just like sleeping, eating, talking and playing, sex has it's own place and time in one's life."
Some instances during the discussion led to a lot of laughs. Others instances dumbfounded people.
EKI dancer Helene, who is in her early 20s, said she feared she would lose the only friend she had if she refused "to do things" with her boyfriend, a top basketball player.
Moderator Rusdy asked her what kind of things.
"Petting," she answered.
Asked if she knew what petting meant, she answered it was "a lot of hugging and kissing".
Organizer Indra Safera laughed and asked if there was anybody in the audience who did not know what it meant.
When several raised their hands, he raised his palms, rubbed them vigorously together and went on to explain that the Indonesian slang for it was eges-eges.
Helene was later asked what she did to compensate for her boyfriend's absence now that they had split up.
With only a moment's hesitation, she answered, "I masturbate, while thinking of a certain person."
Pandita (abbot) Aiko Senosoenoto, chair of EKI and facilitator of the talks, told teenagers that abstinence was better than sex for them; but they should use protection if sex could not be avoided.
The discussion led to some making peace with themselves.
Kojak Bensiswanto, a student, was one of them. Kojak said there was a time when drugs meant a lot to him.
"You feel out of this world, like nothing else matters. You get to live the life a teenager should, with no responsibilities."
Kojak admitted that once one grows older, different perspectives come to view.
"When you are living a life, you have to be responsible for it. It's not only about you depending on others, but others depending on you too."
Parents told their stories, too. Yenny Ekowati, who never became interested in other men after her husband's death, told of her shock when confronted with the fact that her daughter had engaged in sexual relations with married men in her early teens.
"Initially, I was shocked. But when she came to me and gave me her reason for doing so, I embraced her," Yenny said.
"She told me that she needed a father figure ... any father figure because she missed out on the love only a father could give her. I felt strangely peaceful after that."
The tales must have been embarrassing for those who told them. But Lilies, who fell pregnant at 16, put it aptly when she said there was "no shame left to feel ashamed about once truth is revealed. You only feel relieved." (02)