Independence Day

Perhaps it’s kinda late to talk about Independence Day. Anyway, approximately a month ago, I celebrated the 60th anniversary of my country’s independence day. That day was supposed to be a holiday for the nation but like other civil servants in Indonesia who still afraid* (*read: respect) the “invitation” and the presence percentage, I joined the ceremony at work.
Like the previous ceremonies, I believe, this one was also not solemn. Just like when we were kids, you preferred to stand in the back so you can sit occasionally or chatted with your neighbors. I remember I did that a lot but in the end I would pretend that I followed the ceremonies knowing that strict teachers were standing behind me… :) It was fun.
If calculated in hours, I think I have been spending more than one thousand hours to attend Independence Day ceremonies as long as i live. Yet, never had I filled my eyes with little tears like this year. Sounds stupid perhaps..but it happened, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
I remember when I was in The Hague, I was assigned to a meeting with my roommates. It was quite significant I recall, because you discussed peace-building alternatives in Indonesia with representatives from non-governmental organizations, other governments, Amnesty International, Newspapers, and friends from the RMS.
Many things were discussed but apparently the complicated situation in Aceh and Papua had been the favorite. We knew it was coming but what we did not expect was the harsh welcome from some parties.
Notice when you sit on a couch and watch news on TV where you hear how people protesting your government and swearing at your country. You could not blame others for what they believe in and think to be true and news is being observed as news. I was one of them and sometimes still am.
But things get different when you face it directly. It still clings in my head how people who supposed to be a part of us (at least that’s what some parties hope) disregarding and swearing their brothers and the place where they were born with the f*** word. It hurt. For a moment it surprised me that I hurt too by it. But when you stood representing your country in an international forum, you would understand how it really felt. You don’t have to be a diplomat or work for your government to represent your country. Simply by being a student abroad, or in a cultural exchange mission, or just as being a backpacker somewhere around the globe, or when you talk to a foreigner giving him direction, you already represent your country in whatever you do.
A couple of days ago, I was riding a bus on my way home from work when a man tried to earn some money by doing a monologue on the bus. It is always interesting when you see something new on a bus, something else than singing a song. I remember he yelled something about being independence and earning freedom. Somehow, it “annoyed” me, tingled one censor in my brain when he said “is this what we call as being independence and living in liberty when we still live in poverty?”
I personally understand that many people still live in poverty, but I disagree that liberty and independence have something to do with you being poor. America has earned its independence and liberty so many years ago and not all of its people are rich. Being poor has something to do with you being hard worker and a little bit of luck. Being poor has something to do with what you do in life. Just like being miserable has something to do with what do you want in life and how do you achieve it. Ck.. life’s tough.