I thought time heals. I thought time makes you forget...
Then why everything else went fuzzy the moment I saw her glossy smile?
I guess even after all this time, I'm still the same ol' hapless romantic, st-t-tuttering p-poet, and a tragic comic.
What is a diplomat?
According to my Widyaiswara*, a diplomat is someone sent abroad to lie for his/her country.
Needless to say, that was not the politically-correct version. But I’m not going to mull or argue on the definitive term.
In my not-so-humble opinion, here in Indonesia a profession of diplomat has its own, unique definition. In a nutshell, a diplomat is someone who leads a double life in terms of lifestyle and bank saving.
When you’re currently posted at home (that is to say when your status being a PNS/government employee), you struggle to make ends meet with your below-par and ridiculous salary (and 70% budget cut). Even people who drive public transportation for a living (read: busway drivers) earn more salary than you [no offense]. Pathetic that may sounds, that’s the way it is and you need to adapt. To adapt here does not signify or justify any act of fraud. I despise people who commit such thing in the name of their hardship. Every option you take has its own consequences, and you should lie on your own bed. To adapt here does mean that you have to adjust your lifestyle to your paycheck. Of course, it goes without saying with your bank account, too.
Now for the sunny side: when an Indonesian diplomat is posted abroad, he/she leads almost entirely a different life. Fat pa¥ch€¢k$ are guaranteed every month, with many much-welcomed benefits. He/she gets to drive fancy cars (could get away with traffic misdemeanor, sometimes), doesn’t pay taxes, and lives in white-picket fences houses. What’s best, especially for men, being posted abroad provides an excellent reason to skip the monthly compulsory visit to your parents-in-laws.
Obviously, I’m taking things to the extreme. But polarization is sometimes necessary to drive your point home. Talking about home, there’s a local joke in my office about which place is the hardest post. Hardship post is a term used for posting places with not-so-convenient conditions, be them high crime rates, exorbitant price index, or simply dearth of water next to your toilet. Well, it is an accord that “home” is definitely the hardest post. Maybe that explains why I never find any mat emblazoned with the traditional saying “Home Sweet Home”, here in my office.
Having said all the above, it all eventually comes down to making your choices and accepting the consequences. I guess I can finally understand what that Englishman with funny hair really meant when he said “To be or not to be”.
[Disclaimer: This post is drafted, written, and posted by my evil twin a.k.a. BFSR* without my knowledge and consent. He owns his own oil company, earns thousand times more than I do, never pays his taxes, cheats on every woman he encounters, and is incredibly good-looking. If you feel like meeting him, leave your comment here, and I surely will pass it on to him next time we meet in our annual family reunion. ]
Glossary:
* Widyaiswara: a formal term for government employees who teach/lecture in governmental educational and training center
* BFSR: Big Filthy Stinking Rich
I didn’t ask to be born an Indonesian. But I didn’t ask to be born any other national, either. It just happened that I was born from a womb of an Indonesian woman, sired by an Indonesian man, and shed my first teardrop onto Indonesian soil.
