TV soaps - ice breaker for father and daughter?

By Hera Diani

JAKARTA (JP): If you watch Indonesian television, you must be familiar with soap operas or sinetron (an acronym for sinema elektronik).

Some people love them, others hate them. But who would have thought they could bridge a widening gap between a father and his daughter?

Well, they did just that to my relationship with my father.

It's not the ideal father and daughter relationship pictured in episodes of The Cosby Show. But neither is it like those in Married With Children.

When I was a little, my father was a stranger who suddenly appeared after leaving for months -- when he came back from his studies in Germany.

But after that, long after that, he was still a stranger to me.

Being a reporter, he was rarely at home. The way we communicated was through my weekly allowance and report book. (Long speech in high-pitched voice when I got bad grades. Not a single compliment when I did well).

When I hit puberty, communications went no further then "no- boyfriend-and-no-sleep-over" and "come-home-not-later-than-6-pm" speeches.

The situation improved slightly when I started university, despite a dispute over what major I should chose. (He wanted me to go to medical school, I preferred engineering). We started to discuss politics, history and culture. He has a broad knowledge, and wherever I had a question about those three subjects, I could always turn to him.

But that was it. No heart-to-heart talks, no goofing around, tickling, teasing or telling dirty jokes. There was a time when my father and I would leave town without even exchanging words.

He is not a bad guy. He is just ever so conventional and stiff.

His idea of having fun is gardening, which is not bad, but for me is dead boring. He does not like music, or film and his favorite TV program is the news.

If we happened to be watching TV together, he would frown and looked at me in a puzzled way like I was some kind of alien because I laughed so hard I cried over Seinfeld, while he didn't get what the fuss was all about.

The situation was reversed when he was giggling his way through traditional sketch show Srimulat, during which I preferred to leave the room, thinking its jokes rude and sexist.

At other times, it was like in the movie Girls Just Want To Have Fun. He would scold me for coming at home at midnight, and I'm thinking, "Hey, it's the weekend. Beside, I'm not drunk or anything ... ". But rather than just spit my thoughts out, I'd stay quiet and go to bed.

It was always like that. He got angry, and I ignored him and went to my room.

Actually, we have some things in common -- which is reasonable since we share the same DNA -- like an addiction to reading, the same taste in food and clothes and a bad temper.

Apart from that, we just do not understand each other, and sometimes refuse to try to do so. Rather than trying to communicate our feelings, we choose to keep them to ourselves.

So it's strange how cheesy sinetron could touch us -- well, just a little bit.

The first time we were in the living room and the only watchable program was a sinetron, of which I don't remember the title nor the actors.

A father was advising his daughter to do her best at whatever she choose to do.

"I don't care what you become, a doctor, a teacher, or even a prostitute, just do the best that you can," he said.

My father laughed at the dialogue, but when I said, "Well, at least her father loves her the way she is," he stopped laughing and fell silent, with a certain expression on his face.

Oops.

The other day, we were watching TV again, along with my cousin, who is in senior high school.

Another father in another sinetron was furious that his son had chosen to be an artist while he had wanted him to be a doctor.

My father laughed again, as the story was exactly the same as my cousin's.

"Haha ... this is exactly like you and your father, Adi," he said to my cousin.

My cousin only smiled, while I mumbled, "Yeah, parents ... I mean, hello ? Who was it who forced me to be a doctor?"

I was expecting my father would explode with anger, but instead he again fell silent.

The last sinetron showed a man about to go and rescue his mother who was being taken away to be murdered. But, like most sinetron characters, the son was so moronic that instead of rushing to save his mother, he took a pose and delivered a long goodbye speech to his girlfriend.

I didn't know why, but that scene annoyed me so much that I yelled out how stupid, ungrateful and useless the son was. I mean, his mother was going to be killed!

I accidentally glanced at my father and was kind of surprised. He seemed to be touched by my remark. His expression was as if he was the one who was going to be killed and her daughter was about to save him.

Those three scenes, especially the last one, really got to me afterwards.

I began to think about my relationship with him.

I began to remember how, when I was a little, he took me to the bookstore every weekend to buy the books I liked.

About how he took me to art and photography exhibitions. About how he stayed up until midnight to help me with college assignments, although he sometimes overdid it, resulting in an assignment so good that I got punished.

I remembered about how, during his report assignments, he took me to places all over Indonesia. About how he brought me dinner when I had to sleep over at the university laboratory to finish my thesis.

I especially remembered all his kindness. Now we are 200 miles apart, I have found that the cliche "absence makes the heart grows fonder" is true.

And I'm beginning to understand why he got angry if I came home late, after watching ABG (trendy teens) at the mall or in cafes getting drunk and making out with each other.

I think the same thing struck my father also. Although he has never said it straight to my face, I knew from my sister that he misses having me around.

It's still difficult for me to talk to him, as it is for him to talk to me. And I'm still annoyed at how he still gets mad at me for coming home late if I am at home for the weekend. Or how he always tells me what to do.

But at least there is something improving in our relationship. Something that makes my father call me every other day.

"How are you?" he says.

"Fine, you ?"

"Good. OK then, take care," and then he hangs up.

Well, somethings never change, but that's okay.