Mr. Amat Got a Ticket
17 Aug 2010 1 Comment
in Uncategorized Tags: police, speeding tickrt
It was still 10 a.m. when the Si Amat was getting ready to leave work. For the day he did not have anything else to do. He had completed his task. Soon he headed for the parking lot to pick his favorite vehicle up. Yes, that day he was riding his motorcycle. At first he wanted to drive his car of dream but because he wanted to save time too, he rode his anti-jam vehicle instead. Besides, his car will be used by his maid for shopping to the traditional market in the afternoon.
Oh yes. Before I proceed the story, I’ll tell a little bit about Si Amat . As we understandd Si Amat is like a celebrity. From cingur-smelled children (read: anak bau kencur) to old people of seven types of fragrance (read: bau tujuh rupa) know about Si Amat, although they may not realize or be not aware of it. How come? Come!
Don’t be surprised if you are also familiar with him! Or at least you often mention his name. Maybe every-day.
Yes, that’s the fate of the Amat. He’s famous but does not benefit from his fame. Unlike Shinta and Jojo, for example, who in all of sudden became celebrities just because of the poisonous snail (read: keong racun).
Take a look at the following expressions: “bagus amat gambarnya”, “kok begitu amat, sih, ceritanya”, “nggak, dia nggak bagus bagus amat”, “ sepi amat sih. Where is everybody?”
That’s right. Unavoidably I use Bahasa Indonesia a lot in above paragraph because if I insist translating the expressions, I can mislead you, readers. By the way, is there anyone reading it?
Don’t the above expressions indicate that he’s very widely known or at least many people say his name. There are hundreds, thousands, or maybe millions of expressions that include the name Si Amat. Do you agree that he’s very famous person? No? Well, it’s up to you. It is actually not very important anyway.
Although you might not agree, I still give an appreciation to Si Amat’s fame by no longer attaching the label “Si” in front of his name. Now I’ll call him Mr. Amat.
Back again to the original story about the Si, uh, Mr. Amat. After a bit of trouble starting his two wheel vehicle, he was finally successful. The he shouted, “I did it. I did it. I did it.” Oh, yes. I forgot to inform you that Mr. Amat is also a crazy fan of Dora. Without waiting any longer he drove toward home.
At the intersection of which is He often passed by, he took a wrong turn and entered the traffic from the opposite direction. When he was speeding on his motorcycle, came another rider from the opposite direction, tossing his hands like what is usually done by a soccer referee when a player is off-side.
At first he did not even understand what this person was doing. He even thought that the man didn’t have better things to do, or he was having hand cramps. But then his brilliant brain sent a signal that something was wrong. As quick as a flash he realized that the road applied one-way traffic there till eleven o’clock. He usually passed that way in the afternoon.
Obviously reflected in the data base of his head that approximately 300 meters in front of his there is a police post, and five to six police are often seen doing their noble job. Bad news. It could be the danger ahead. He thought his pocket could depleted. Or he had to deal with judges and prosecutors for a traffic violation.
Not far ahead there was a State owned housing complex then he turned left to find a way of rats (read: jalan tikus). It should be understood, in this area many rats have built roads and streets that are often used by humans. Fortunately, the rat was never angry with humans using their streets.
After going round and round he at last got to the right path. His heart started to be stable. Now he was away from the danger. After a few minutes, he saw two police motorcycles, moving slowly side by side affectionately. Mr. Amat smiled as if she had won a lottery of huge amount of money. He even feel more safe knowing that he was close to the protectors of community.
Because the two police motorcycles were running quite slowly, Mr. Amat could easily exceeded them, and he was leading. Now He focused on the traffic ahead.
When Mr. Amat was running his motorcycle fast, you can actually understand how fast the hell a cheap duck motorcycle (read: motor bebek) can run, suddenly, right there on the left side of his vehicle ran a police motorcycle, and the rider waved his hand asking him to pull over. Obviously it was not because of the hand cramps.
He felt he’d done nothing wrong and when his motorcycle had already stopped, he asked, “What is it, sir?”
“Good morning, sir!”, He greeted him without answering Mr.Amat question.
“Can I see the vehicle registration paper and your driver’s license?”, He later observed the documents after Mr. Amat handed them.
“You are going to work?”, He asked Mr. Amat a standard questions. Mr. Amat responded as necessary.
“You didn’t turn on the lights, didn’t you? Answer honestly! “, Now he’s asking question in interrogation style and cornering way.
Mr. Amat observed his vehicle He was not very sure whether or not he had turned the lamp on. He’s also the type of forgetful person and turns on the lights not too often. Besides, it had never been a problem when he didn’t , even when he ran into a police.
“No, sir”, replied Mr. Amat quite honestly, without trying to seek for excuses.
“You now know that you have done a violation?”, said the Police, whose mustache was similar to Inul’s husband’s, in triumph. Later he lectured on the rules that oblige riders to turn on the lights during the day and bla bla bla and bla bla bla..
Then he opened a book containing the rules and regulations and appointed to the rule focusing more on how much fine he should pay if it is to trial. It says the amount of Rp 100,000. Mr Amat was not too concerned whether it was a minimum or maximum amount, but it was pretty much money for him.
“So, sir? Do you understand?
“Yes, sir”, Mr. Amat admitted his guilt like a gentleman.
He went on, “is there any possibility that I don’t have to go to the trial, sir?” Mr. Amat was trying to play with fire.
“How much have you got?”, Mr. Policeman bit Mr. Amat’s bait, and the real game just started.
“Rp 20,000″, replied Mr. Amat. His head still remember clearly that there is money of Rp. 40 000 in the pockets, the change at the filling stations. He had been thinking of saying Rp 10,000, but Mr. Amat was afraid that the amount could make the police felt disrespected. The money was just enough for a bowl of meatballs.
“The penalty could be Rp 100 000, and I also got percentage from the fine. do you have half of the fine?”, He struggled for a higher and respectable amount .
“How about Rp 30,000″ said Mr. Amat without thinking very long.
“You don’t have half? Mr. Policeman was still persistent to struggle.
“No, sir.”
“Then I’ll write a ticket”, then he mentioned the day, date and hour for the trial.
“OK. Write me a ticket, sir!”, Said Mr. Amat without any challenging tone.
Then the society protector began to write something in the ticket, but after just write one word or two, he paused and tried to ask some friendly questions about where he lived and so on and so on.
Then he re-asked the previous question, “So you don’t have half?”. He sipped back his own spit (read: menelan ludah sendiri).
“No, as I said earlier, sir”, said Mr. Amat and he was thinking again about avoiding the possible long and tiring trial.
“OK, then.Follow me and get ready with the money. “Replied Mr. Policeman as he got on his motorcycle and faded away.
Mr. Amat was stunned, and he smiled without being able to interpret what his smile meant. Before his forgetful problem twisted, he immediately got on his motorcycle and tailed the police.
After roughly three hundred yards the police stopped at a “strategic place”. Not far from where he stopped his colleagues are doing the same duties, ticketing riders.
But Mr. Amat didn’t pay very much attention to what his colleagues were doing.
After stopping Mr. Amat approached the police with three ten thousands of bills in his hand. After he was close enough, the police officer gave the command, “put it here”, as he opened the tin box like a charity box (read: kotak amal) in the mosque at the back of his motorcycle without looking at the box.
After the money was in the box, he asked, “How much was it?”
“Rp. 30.000”, replied Mr. Amat.
Next, the police officer, with a high awareness, gave back Mr. Amat documents saying that Mr. Amat should obey the rules next time. Mr. Amat hoped that he wouldn’t see him again when violating traffic regulations.
Win-win solution was reached, meaning that the police won and would win again. Simple Mr.Amat could just bit his own finger and only stopped after his finger was hurt because he bit it too hard.
Very poor Mr. amat!(read: Kasian Amat!)
Note: the story of Indonesian version at http://isikepala-miftah.blogspot.com/
Learn English Language and You are Lunatic
15 Aug 2010 Leave a Comment
in Uncategorized Tags: crazy, english
English is the most widely used language in the history of our planet. It is said that one in every 7 humans can speak it. More than half of the world’s books and 3 quarters of international mail are in English. Of all the languages, it has the largest vocabulary – I don’t know how many but it can be MILLIONS of words. Nonetheless, let’s face it – English is a crazy language. There is neither egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren’t invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren’t sweet, are meat.
We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce and hammers don’t ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn’t the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices?
Doesn’t it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend, that you comb thru annals of history but not a single annal? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
If teachers taught, why didn’t preacher praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? If you wrote a letter, perhaps you bote your tongue?
Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Sh
ip by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? And why can’t noses walk but only run?
How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and wise guy are opposites? How can overlook and oversee be opposites, while quite a lo
t and quite a few are alike? How can the weather be hot as hell one day and cold as hell another? Does hell control its temperature?
Have you noticed that we talk about certain things only when they are absent? Have you ever seen a horseful carriage or a strapful gown? Met a sung hero or experienced requited love? Have you ever run into someone who was combobulated, gruntled, ruly or peccable? And where are all those people who ARE spring chickens or who would ACTUALLY hurt a fly?
You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm clock goes off by going on.
English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn’t a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible. And why, when I wind up my watch, I start it.
So I conclude that English is invented for crazy people on in order to make people crazy. Remember! When you started to learn English, you maybe start to be crazy at to the same time. The more time you have spent learning the language, the crazier you are. Still interested in learning the language?
Taken from the introduction to Crazy English: The Ultimate Joy Ride Through Our Language, by Richard Lederer.





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