What it means, to be protected?

If you ever walked from Sudirman station straight to M.H. Thamrin street through the Bunderan Hotel Indonesia, you’ll realise that there are many, many buildings are shaped almost like prisons. High walls, wires on top, and at least three securities guard the front door with stoned faces. Not much space for parking lot and seemed like only few people come & go through the building.

The Embassy of Germany for Indonesia is what I was talking about, and what amazed me for the most. The walls that surrounded the building is likely up to four meters in high, with curled wires on top, CCTV(s) at the pedestrian walk, and four people guarded the main gate. You can’t even see the entrance door of the building from the outside.

My stop was the Embassy of Japan. It was only ten minute walk from the former one, past Grand Indonesia. When I was crossing the road using the hanging bridge, I can see the building clearly from top. From the outside, it just doesn’t look friendly. Indeed, almost looked like a prison. The building is dark brown in color, and there’s just barely any window glasses can be see-through from afar.

The standard security system here in Jakarta, Indonesia is to leave your ID card to the security (you can bring it back after you finished your business), body check, and belongings check. After you are confirmed free from harmful things, you’re allowed to go inside afterwards.

The part of the building that I visited was rather small, compared to other buildings in the street. It was only a two story building, but I took a lift upstairs because I felt tired after quite a walk. I visited the library and from there, I wished to see the street from above. But then, I couldn’t.

There were windows there, but the windows fence are striped horizontally, and block the access of the window to be opened from inside. So you’ll feel like in a cell, really. But the good thing is that the library is really comfortable. There weren’t many books there, but quite understandable since it is just a part of an office.

I also made another visit to Institut Francais d’Indonesie (IFI) last year, and I remembered feeling confused with the entrance gate because it was just a one story building, so I really, really couldn’t see anything from outside, with high, pure black walls around it.

It’s crystal clear that many people feel traumatized with bombing attacks that happened many times in the capital city, and how many foreign embassies do everything they could to protect their people inside their work area.

But it’s also crystal clear that we, civilizations, are just exposed to any kinds of attack. It makes me wonder, if there’s a bad person go to my school bringing a bomb—and nobody knows because there’s no such of security system in my school—aren’t the hundred students in my school is just really, really vulnerable to that attack? We are the youths, the ones that people keep saying as the country’s next leaders, but at the same time there is no mean of protections that we received (or to the ones we loved ; family, friends).

And it also makes me think, that even people who work in high buildings with many kinds of security system, after they got home, they’re no longer receiving that protection. They’re unprotected as ever, as vulnerable as ever.

So what do we need to do exactly?

I think for the most part, we’re not THAT afraid with the attacks we don’t know. It’s just we are THAT scared with death. The fear lie beneath us; the fear of leaving the world, the fear of not able to feel the things we are feeling right now, the fear to taste death in the worst way.

The fear to be alone inside the earth mother’s womb, the fear to be surrounded by pure blackness, the fear of not knowing anything what will happen after we die.

But we know, don’t we?

We know what will happen there. It’s just a matter of willingness to believe in it, or not. We know it’s what we do today that will affect our lives later. We know today’s act means a lot to the dead version of us. We know that every decision that created our actions will be counted for good or bad.

I’m not here to scare you. I am also a sinner. We’re all humans are sinners.

Either we die in places we want to be or in places we don’t want to be;
either we die in time we want to be or in time we don’t want to be;
either we die in a way we want to be or in a way we don’t want to be;
death will still find us, and it won’t stop to take our souls even if we don’t want  it to be.


It is a destiny, a decision, a fate He has wrote a long time ago, before the entire universe was made.

So, be prepared.




My grandpa is someone serious. I think I inherited that personality too, because sometimes, I feel like I actually have zero funny side. When others seemed to enjoyed and relaxed and laughed hard at one moment, what I did was stared blankly and found nothing funny.

Anyway, let’s move on. 

My grandpa is an old man. He’s 73 years old now, and once in a while he will tell me how hurt his legs and he need to stop walking ini a far distance. He currently stays in my house, because my aunt just gave birth and my grandpa wanted to see his newborn granddaughter. 

He is the type of man whom everyone respect. My mother said, in her hometown, my grandpa is an imam shalah in a mosque close to his house. Each day, many among the folks who live there follow his command in prayers. He always managed to come to the mosque at least half an hour before the adzan heard by the houses complexions.

The nearest mosque located in my residence are 100 metres away. Maybe it took only five minutes to get there. However, my grandpa, doesn’t like the ambiance there. He prefers the mosque that is located almost 600 metres away from home. Usually he goes there by bike. But when his legs feel numb and start to ache, he will stop riding the bike, and choose to walk instead.

Walking may sounds better, but to a 73-year-old man, walking could be such a pain even though he walked as slowly as possible, and walk with no rush at all. 

But he never stop walking. Five times a day. He’ll took off from home at 4 am, back at 6 am, and so on. Fitting his time with the prayers time.
My grandpa bear the pain, just to pray in the mosque, in the first line of shalah and in the exact time, and he put prayer first before everything.

Pain is not supposed to slowed you down.

It supposed to lift you up, and make you stronger than before.

Make you feel you ought to and must overcome the pain to get things you desired, and not giving up because you can’t hadle the pain well.