CETHU: My most reviewed writing to date

One of my Malay short stories was published in an anthology titled KOPI by FIXI a few years back (March 2012). There were only limited copies, and was sold out pretty quick.

As an  archive and a reminder to myself that I actually do have at least one good writing worthy of  comment both bad and good; here are the reviews I could find:

1) 

TRANSLATION:
Phew, this is a short story I took some time to digest. But I like the language. I like the detailed and interesting scenes, which were infamiliar to me but I learned from them. I like the naughtiness imagined through a language that perhaps when used by other people, might not be very polite. Sometimes I think the characters should have been better in Bali rather than in Yogyakarta. A lot of "what-if's" in this story. Similar to Kau Kopikoku, the idea in this story is unique. Coffee dregs which no one would have thought to spun into a tale, made me imagine many things when turned into a short story. But if Nabila Najwa was to write a book, I think it would take me centuries to finish her writing. Her style of writing sort of strays from the concept of a typical Fixi book, which are more casual reads. But there's nothing wrong in learning new things. Right?

2) You can read the beautifully long, whole review dedicated to my short story by clicking the link here.

TRANSLATION:
In a nutshell, this short story has an interesting emotional voice, channeled with shocks and an effort in poetic writing about same-sex love which sediments in the soul like "cethu". The protagonist is a girl from a rich family who studied medicine in Yogyakarta, meeting an Indonesian partner who opened her eyes to seeing the culture of Yogya and the beautiful things associated within.

3)

Do I really need to translate this? :p

4)

TRANSLATION:
Cethu I feel is one of the "heavy" short stories in the Kopi anthology. This writing by Nabila Najwa needs time to sip and understand. However all that effort is needed a little to understand the love spell mantra which was tried to be conveyed.

5)

TRANSLATION:
Perhaps another short story that is quite hard to read (after Luwak dan Kretek by Ridhwan Saidi), the writer tries to bring readers through the city of Yogyakarta and accompany Cethu, a type of coffee mixed in with charcoal block.

Honestly, eventhough I have read the story three time I still could not truly grasp the story in Cethu. Is it the remains of love from far? Is it a soliloquy of unrequited feelings? Is is a dream fragment of someone on a high?

6)

TRANSLATION:
The writing style reminds me of Ophan Bunjos (Ghost Writer), the author of Kontrol Histeria and also BIN. In Indonesian language - as the first background was an area in that land over the seas. I could not review further about this, but I can say the flow and arrangement of the short story - about the life of a doctor makes us nod, become silent , read, nod and focus again.

7)

TRANSLATION:
A story of... A story of... okay I fail at this one.

Comment: language, plot only understandable by coffee people. And I am not a coffee person. And maybe I only read it once. But the setting in the story is beautiful, I could feel that.

8)

TRANSLATION:
The memory of a girl who studied medicine before, in Indonesia. Full of metaphors and flowery lingo which left me "blur" in understanding the short story.

9)

TRANSLATION:
What I can summarize, is that the story is filled with metaphors, flowery lingo of which a level 1 reader might find hard to understand the intent of the writer. But what I can say is that the story is of a girl who studied medicine in Indonesia, specializing in the research and treatment of venereal diseases. She has a rebellious mother and the girl is a smoker!

And cethu the writer mentioned I did not quite grasp as well. I have vainly tried to imagine it but failed. Maybe after this I need to travel to Indonesia to find out what is cethu. Overall, I think it is a brilliant short story! Congratulations to the writer.

10)

  

TRANSLATION:
In conclusion? Who cares for a conclusion, this is the kind of fiction I want to surf the imagination and the beauty of the word strings. I read it 3-4 times, to understand this short story.

11)

TRANSLATION:
Perhaps many are clueless to what exactly is this cethu thing. Some call it 'cethe coffee'. I also don't know how to pronounce it but it is one of the famous types of coffee in Indonesia. There is a special way of making this cofee. Especially when the coffee dregs are allowed to sediment in the cup's base. Even when you search on Google, the cethu dregs could be mixed with water and milk for 'nyethu' or also called 'nyethe': as explained in the short story. Nyethu is considered "a must have" for hanging out while drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. To nyethu, you only need to smear or rub the cigarette sticks with the coffee dregs, that's all. About the short story? It tells of the memory of someone during their studies. What the person does, everything. An addiction that could not be discarded.

THANK YOU so much to all the reviewers. This has been a good writing and translating exercise after so long; good motivation too. I guess I should start writing again for reals.

P/S: I like bad reviews too. Give them to me.

Pong Pang Bunyi Kompang!

Bahagia aku tak datang terhidang dalam dulang hantaran

berhiaskan bunga hutang

Ayah ibu kan bukan gembala?

dan aku bukan lembu

tak ada tindik tanda harga di telinga

dua belas ribu

serba satu

Sekolah tinggi-tinggi tapi jual ikut kati

ikut sedap hati

ikut sedap mulut

itulah nasib anak gadis

"Kita hantar belajar jauh,

belajar oversea

duit hantaran kenalah tinggi!"

Cincin risik macam resit

jadi bukti deposit

cukup bulan, cukup wang tinggal ambil

Direnjis-renjis dipilis

ditepungilah tawar

hai beras kunyit ditabur

disiram si air

...mata

Adat dibiar hidup

anak pilih mati

anak pilih lari

anak lebih rela jadi headline berita terkini.

ANAK DERHAKA

tu kata media

anak derita tak ada yang tahu

dek adat jadi belenggu

dek tradisi jadi tak menentu

mak bapak sibuk jaga muka

anak haru biru

Jiran kata mesti begini

Mak Cik kata harus begitu

anak sendiri kata apa semua buat tak tahu

Siapa yang nak kahwin

orang lain yang dijemput dulu

anak sendiri dibuat musuh

Mungkin sebab aku bukan kera di hutan

jadilah aku tak dikasi susu

aak aak uuk uuk.

Paper Girl

paper girl was folded over

seven times is the limit they say

try it

it's scientific

you can never get the back doubled to eight

but still paper girl curls the corner of her pages

like wings of a white crane but filled with 

scribbles

she curls at the corner of a hall holding back

tears

there are no more blank spaces

red ink splatters

mark her back with angry letters

screaming alphabets that march towards her ears

crawl through grey hemispheres and reside there

her head bows with the weight

with the pressure

she loses her composure

paper girl unfolds

baring her soul, perforated

a cobweb of words tied with hatred

...and then it was over.

Sacrifice

When he punched me in the face

I offered the other cheek

because love is sacrifice, right?

When she pulled my hair

down the stairs and into the toilet

I resigned my cries for another day

because patience is a virtue, it's true!

I signed away rights to my own self at seven months gestation

born premature, my lungs were not developed to carry enough air for me to scream out

the umbilical card forever wrapped tight around my windpipe

Obedience is a ritual we carry on long after we're born

Fueled by hopes for a higher heaven

Dreams carried on generation to generation by the medium of television

Shows where women burn at the altar of sin and admiration

We share laughter after every lashings

time forgives the faded marks on my back

as did the tears and ointment my mom rubs

admonishing me for being so stubborn, at age seven

"What will the family of your future husband say?"

Must

Save

Face

Don't talk back

Must 

Save 

Face

Close your legs

Must 

Save 

Face

It's for your own good anyway

Like cattle are branded and trained to be given away.

Because when a woman and a man marries,

it binds two families

but mother, you look away from signs of my slow slaughter

am I no longer your daughter?

Candu sekarang mahal bhai

Kamu itu candu
bertamu di lidah
tak lama bersinggah
Hijau hati ini terlalu dini
untuk keterburuanmu.

Kau aku cumbu dalam mimpi
Ujud nyatamu adalah aksara ya, tidak dan tapi
aku takkan dapat sanggup 
berlabuh di bayangmu yang tak pasti.

Kau yang pergi
bersinggah di sana dan di sini
di sini juga tapi tak lama
dan tak sama
dan tak ada namaku
di tenunan alas ranjangmu.

Aku ingin
aku mahu
aku tahu lengkung senyummu
Bersinggahlah lagi
di tempat rambut dan bahu bertemu
seperti malam tadi.

Aurat

Brothers and sisters,

You say nowadays purity is scarce,

because you judge purity by the length of my scarf,

to you purity is a shy virgin

a woman's value trapped within our hymen

Some countries prize me by the absence of a driver's license

as if by being mobile I would drive myself straight to hell without their guidance.

But no matter how much skin I cover,

you will still find fault with the cloth's colour

Too bright!

Too pink!

Too many flowers!

As if my veil is the ground to plant your gaze

and I should provide you that space without complaints.

Should I not be bothered

that these brothers from a different mother

deign to write book after book after book

discussing the sins "caused" by my looks

Shaming the blame women shoulder for every single society's disorder.

From folk tale "hadith" you repeat

"Eve was created from Adam's bent rib

so treat women gently for their will is weak"

Is this why prisons are filled with male convicts?

and yet none of my sisters are ever in FBI's top ten most wanted list?

(I wikipedia'd this)

I get it, men are perhaps too strong for their own benefit

But that would be blaming God, wouldn't it?

As if He had made His creations imperfect

Blasphemy!

And so strong that you would rather

blame the weakness of the masculine gender

for bullying, rape, Justin Bieber's behaviour

and say "boys will be boys!"

Our hymen forcibly taken,

you then propose marriage as an only solution

to the bad credit you let us inherit

your seeds sown grow into gossip

and the nine months make ample time

for you to catalogue ways to criticize our robes becoming too tight.

Three definitions

In the Quran

Only three mention

Aurat (1)

A gap vulnerable to an enemy's worst intentions

Aurat (2)

Embarassing nudity with audience participation

Aurat (3)

Contents of the room of a couple bound by marital sanction

And yet

As a girl I was taught to be gentle and not talk so loud

To not be seen, to not be heard

In classrooms teachers teach me to read, but not to utter a single word

Especially when that word was "why?"

And so I grew up burrying questions deep in my silence

Building a labyrinth of tangled passions

Leaving a pile of "why"'s behind.

When we talk about purity

Start talking about integrity

talk about kindness, talk about intelligence

Let's talk about bravery because

these clothes conceal more than just skin

this cloth is not for hiding.

Meiliani (the birthday girl)

May musk, her month
she mouths
this darkness she likes
embers lit her lips
sweet smelling light
cloves and cigarettes 
curled like the paper of 
her
Nyctophi
lia

She readies the reminder:
trouble trains of
twinful thoughts
think alike, sexual
a scratch and a bite
mindcest partners. 

Nights
unarmoured it frets

We're Asians, polite
with a smile yet
disregarding advice
Shoot on sight! 
Camera obscura in our minds

Askholes
two of a kind. 

Writing Warmups

The busy traffic blares a Tchaikovsky at my feet. That's Jakarta for you. 

I wish the red pool in my cupped hand was wine instead. The warm liquid trickled through my fingers unto the green vines that looked grey in the dark of the jutting balcony shade and dust. I wiped a wet left palm on the back of my jeans.

I noticed how hushed the crowd was on the roof of the Rainbow. The noon clientele of Plaza Semanggi (Plangi) were made up mostly of bored housewives with not that much money. They were dressed up, bright and tacky. If they were married to rich husbands, they wouldn't look that way. They wouldn't be here.

I have a rich husband, yet I too am here.

He took me to TIM last night, to a musical. I smiled at the heartwarming moments he aww'ed at while cringing inwardly. To say it was a crappy performance would actually be a praise. He gushed about it all the way home.

I was at the peak of my depression, which means I lied about the cringing. 

I was not lying when I told him I knew about Linda. I even had photographs I printed out of him and her together. Threw them calmly on our bed where they fell beside the play's booklet. Maybe I'm biased, but in that fleeting moment I noticed how much warmer her smile was when playing a character.

Or maybe she was acting when her arms were wrapped around my husband's waist, I don't know.

He called me a hypocrite.

Linda had smiled her warm smile in this room before. 

Maybe she was also acting when she had her thighs wrapped around my head. My husband did have a camera rolling by the bedside.

Linda had smiled her warm smile many times in this room. My tongue had rolled over that smile, drinking in her seawater sweat. She was the ocean, wild and wandering and effortlessly takes over those who tried to conquer her.

A guard in his grey uniform approached me. Don't stand too close to the edge, bu. We've had accidents happen before, bu.  

I smiled wanly at his words and nodded. Thinking he had done a good job, he ambled heavily away. I could hear his breathing even after the tenth step.

My husband and I tangled after the confrontation, twisting fitted sheets out from their rounded corners. We whispered and shouted truths to each other. He loves me. I love him. He loves her. I love her.

She loves him second and herself first.

It was not falling that I fear. At least I was a bauble in her effervescent world. 

He had pushed into me hard, grabbing a handful of my hair and making an arch with my back. I cried after our lovemaking in his arms, feeling unworthy of the shelter in his strength. My husband cooed from behind, sensing something was not right. He was a man of little word, and I never shared with him the vocabulary of my mental health. I withheld my sobs until I was sure he was not faking his snores. 

My tears streamed for three seconds. I guess when you're drowning in an ocean, sadness becomes insignificant.

The Tchaikovsky was not ending any time soon. I inched closer to the edge of the shore of rooftop cafes before another set of fingers wove itself into mine.

(Based on an exercise generated by WriteThis - 21/9/2014 8:05:15 PM)

What's A Girl To Do? (TRIGGER WARNING)

(I opened the door

and let him in)

Thanks for coming

It's been nothing but

cough-vomit-sniffling

also hostile inner heat

but I feel clammy cold.

(I offered him a seat)

It's the flu I was told

No antibiotics needed just yet

but man my clothes get soaking wet.

It's no biggie my dearie

I brought you some mee

in spicy sour soup too

and your favourite tofu.

You look so pale

it makes me sad.

By the way, I broke up with

...that girl

it went really bad

I need your advice.

Can't believe such a nice

lady like her 

could break my heart and say

"It's over."

Well, errr...

Every end is a new start?

But hey, I'm sorry for your loss

What did you do to make her so cross?

From Facebook updates you both seemed so happy

Man, you don't even spend any more time with me

It's always cosplay this,

or gathering that,

(I specially praised his realistic Luffy hat)

So tell me bro what made her unfurl

and I'll opine with my views as a girl.

You better lie down

you look like you'd faint

(...so I did)

I'll tell the whole tale

a short story it ain't.

It's her parents, man

they want me away from their daughter

said she's too young

said she has exams

said she needs to focus on her future.

They don't understand

I REALLY LOVE HER!

Calm down bro

take it slow

Have you talked it out?

You know,

try to gain some clout

prove that you won't be a bother

show good things regarding your career.

What about her?What did she say?

Did you tell her all this?

Did she promise she'd stay?

That's the problem, man

That's the whole issue

I'm all alone 

She pushes me away too

Here, read her texts on my phone

Careful with the screen

It's a Sony, it's brand new, it gets wonky

And tweets nonsense in between randomly

Yeah you laugh now

but imagine how

I'm being all emo

(she stalks my Timeline, I know)

and "Houston rabbit giddy bath tub" pops up?

That was not a laugh

that was me holding in a cough

Give it to me here

let me see the BS you kids can conjure.

(So I scrolled the whole way through

from "will you be mine" up to

spur-of-the-moment I hate you's

It definitely was a childish fight

being older I might

slip some sense into his skull

and make things right

He's like a brother to me

My real brother is way cuter but still...

Good deeds are supposed to be easy

and he brought me food when I'm ill.

I was thinking this until...)

Can I touch you?

What?

I said...

No.

Don't be a twat.

I'm in no condition to get laid

It's totally inappropriate

let's leave it at that.

But you're not wearing a bra!

Just let me cop a little feel.

No.

I brought you a meal!

I'll just sneak through your skirt

you're so wet with sweat

I can see rosebuds under your shirt

I can't help it, I'm a man

Help me just this once if you can.

(And he was quick

and his hand reached

under my slip

and he squeezed

I was shaking as I sneezed

but I didn't find it shocking

that he did as he pleased.

I was filled with rage

How could someone

I trust

I adore

I care

indeed

even in my weak state of need

assault me this way?

What should I say?

No?

Fuck off?

Go?

All in my head.

I opened the door

and wished him good luck with his girlfriend instead).