Stumbled upon a nice article in Kompas about a teenage girl who cannot love Indonesia, it got me thinking. The publication of this article is a miraculous coincidence with my thought in the previous day.
Having too many things to do, I decided to open youtube and listen to some songs. Started by Geef Mij Maar Nasi Goreng, I got carried out to various national songs. One of them succeeded in forcing the tears to roll on my cheek. Indonesia Pusaka, a favourite song since I was in elementary school, brought back the sense of nostalgia and sentiment. One by one, the pictures of rice fields along my way home sprung into mind. Yes, I lived in a village, surrounded by the green fields and harsh karts mountain. Those memories took me to a deep contemplation over my hesitation of going back home. Do I really hate my country? Or is it the political atmosphere that I hate?
The article about Nawa, the girl who can't say she loves Indonesia, tickled my mind. In a way, Nawa is lucky. She still lived in Indonesia. The bond is still there. No matter how much she hated the country, it is the country where she stayed. But in my case, I've been away from my motherland for months. Yet, the more I stay away, the stronger the wish to remain adventurous, just because I got fed up with the condition there. Both Nawa and I (and probably more people back home) can't seem to find a nice figure there. All we know are chaos, riots, disputes, "civil war", and oppression. It may be true, we are thirsty of a good leader, an inspiring figure that can rejuvenate the nationalism.
Yet, here I cried over those nationalist song. While scribbling this, my youtube playlist constantly playing Indonesia Pusaka, Rayuan Pulau Kelapa, and various songs about its nature. They took my mind wandering around the green fields, the mountains, the rivers, and the dream of peaceful country. Like it or not, the songs used to give me a very big pride to be Indonesian. A pride to live in a "great" country. But, what is so great about Indonesia anymore?
I burst into tears not because I miss going back home. No! The home that I recall through those songs is no longer there. I cried over the loss of my home. A home that I once loved and cared about. A place where everybody smiled at each other, along with the sweats running through their tanned skin. A place where children laugh happily while swimming in the clear river. A place where people greet regardless the different religions. Sounds utopic, eh? But I used to live in that situation.
Perhaps, one day that home will come back. Perhaps....
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