Christopher Torchia

Indonesian Slang


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      A Sundanese folktale from West Java begins with the prince’s mother fussing about how long it was taking him to find a bride. He joked that he could find no one as beautiful as her. She said: “Do you wish your mother to become your bride? That’s a despicable act. You’re like a big monkey.”

      The gods agreed, and struck her son with a bolt of lightning. Black fur sprouted from his skin, and he turned into a monkey (lutung). A booming voice in the heavens said the boy was doomed to wander the forests (kasarung means “being lost somewhere”) until he found true love. Only then would he recover his original form as a handsome prince.

      During his travels, Lutung Kasarung met a princess who had been banished by her eldest half-sister in a power grab in a nearby kingdom. The older sister had cursed her sibling, transforming her into an ugly, deformed girl. The lutung fed the exiled princess, gave her a potion to restore her beauty and helped her regain her kingdom. His loyalty won her heart.

      Another bolt of lightning flashed when she introduced the monkey to her family. The lutung turned back into a prince. The couple married.

      A song from this story was a favorite of Indonesia’s first president, Sukarno. Decades later, some Indonesians complained that the tale implied that a woman always needs a man’s help to get out of a jam.

      

Sepandai-pandai tupai melompat, sekali akan gawal juga

      “However deftly the squirrel jumps, once in a while it falls down” = Even maestros make mistakes.

      

Anjing menyalak takkan menggigit

      “A barking dog won’t bite” = All bark and no bite. All talk and no action.

      A widely told story in Indonesia explains why a dog’s nose is always wet. During the Great Flood, a dog tried to secure passage on Noah’s Ark, but turned up late for boarding. There was only room on the open deck, and the shivering hound caught a cold. The dog’s offspring and descendants inherited the sniffles.

      

Bagai anjing menyalak di ekor gajah

      “Like a dog that barks at the elephant’s tail” = Like banging your head against a wall. A fruitless exercise.

      This expression can refer to someone who lacks responsibility or credibility, and has little sense of value. The person tries in vain to impose an opinion or achieve a goal.

      Other expressions about futility are menggarami laut (putting salt in the ocean); menjaring angin (netting the wind); and bagai mencincang air (like chopping water).

      

Kuman di seberang lautan tampak, gajah di pelupuk mata tak tampak

      “A germ across the sea can be seen, an elephant in front of the eyelid can’t” = It’s easy to spot the mistakes of others, but not your own.

      

Bangkai gajah bolehkah ditudung oleh nyiru?

      “Can a dead elephant be hidden by a flat woven basket?” = You can’t hide a bad deed.

      Or, “No matter how well you wrap it, a rotten thing will smell right through.”

      Sepandai-pandainya membungkus, yang busuk berbau juga.

      

Gajah sama gajah beradu, kancil mati di tengah-tengah

      “When two elephants collide, the mousedeer between them dies” = When leaders fight, the little people suffer. Caught in the crossfire.

      The tiny mousedeer is a cunning survivor. A staple of Malay folktales, it outsmarts bigger, ferocious creatures such as the tiger and crocodile. It’s like Brer Rabbit, the “catch me if you can” protagonist of folktales that originated in Africa and were collected in the American South in the 19th century. Another equivalent is the crafty coyote of Native American tradition, and the mischievous Anansi the Spider, which dodges the fish and falcon in Ashanti tales from West Africa.

      The mousedeer has big, piercing eyes and keen hearing. Its long canines resemble fangs. In some rural areas, it’s a pest because it eats crops.

      

Gajah mati meninggalkan gading, harimau mati mening-galkan belang, manusia mati meninggalkan nama

      “A dead elephant leaves its ivory, a dead tiger leaves its stripes, a dead man leaves his name” = Man must build a good reputation. He is remembered only by his deeds.

      

Nyamuk mati, gatal tak lepas

      “The mosquito dies, the itch doesn’t go away” = Memories are forever. You can never get over some things. Stewing in your own juice.

      Indonesia is obsessed with obat nyamuk (mosquito medicine): oils, coils, sprays, lotions and electric mats.

      Vendors sell traditional medicines billed as cures for the symptoms of malaria and dengue fever. They tout jambu kelutuk, a sweet, red-fleshed guava, as a treatment for dengue, and the leaves of sambiloto, a plant with anti-inflammation properties, as malarial medicine.

      Dengue is widespread in Indonesian cities and rural areas during heavy rains. An outbreak in 2009 killed 1,300 people and sickened more than 150,000. Malaria is a threat in many areas outside major cities.

      The mosquito has a foothold in folklore. A children’s tale ends with the rain telling the gecko that it must let each animal do its job. If rain doesn’t fill potholes in the road with water, then the mosquito won’t have a home. And if the mosquito has nowhere to live, then the gecko won’t have anything to eat.

      

Cacing telah menjadi ular naga

      “The worm has turned into a dragon” = Rags to riches.

      Bagai cacing hendak jadi naga (the worm seeks to be a dragon) refers to a poor person who aspires to be rich.

      Chinese revere the dragon as a symbol of prosperity. The beast also symbolizes wealth in Indonesian mythology, which tells of dragon-like creatures that rule the earth and the underworld.

      The naga of Javanese lore is a dragon that rules the underworld and hoards immense treasures.

      Batak lore from Sumatra tells of an upper world where the Gods rule, a middle-earth for men, and an underworld that is the home of a dragon called Naga Padoha.

      The serpent was banished to the underworld after it lost a battle with the Gods. Carvings on the gables of traditional Batak houses depict the story of Naga Padoha.

      Indonesia has the real thing: Komodo dragons, giant lizards armed with toxic saliva that serve as a major tourist attraction. Stories about these reptiles circulated among Chinese traders and Dutch sailors centuries ago. The carnivores are solitary, but they gather to feast on a big carcass. They eat snakes, rodents, wild pigs and water buffalo. Sometimes they eat their own. They are efficient eaters, consuming just about every scrap of their prey. They can survive for weeks without a large meal.

      It is said that a Swiss baron disappeared during a tour of Komodo island in 1974. He was presumed eaten.

      Chapter Two

      Characters

      Indonesia is home to all sorts: tailors and tycoons, street strummers and the king of pickpockets.

      

Pak Ogah (Betawi)