Muhri
Back when I was little, who would have known? Known for being
critical and argumentative, I was teased with the nickname tokang kritik
or "criticist." This nickname emerged because people were annoyed by
my habit of constantly debating others' opinions, even if they were older than
me. Of course, those taunts were irritating to me.
In the mind of a naive elementary school kid, I thought I should
always say what was on my mind. Right was right and had to be defended tooth
and nail. This was, of course, the perspective of a child who believed the
truth resided solely in his own head. A strong egocentrism that was still
prevalent.
Well, that was my character. It was only natural to be nicknamed
according to my behavior. However, it was different at the Islamic boarding
school (pesantren). My unusually tall stature at the time earned me
another taunt: Kompenni with two 'n's. That taunt was actually first
given to my uncle who had studied at the pesantren before me. We were
both taller than average for that era. This was during Islamic junior high (MTs).
It hurt. I wanted to shrink my body, to become average height. My height back
then felt like a flaw. Sometimes, that feeling still surfaces even today.
Actually, kompenni in the plain language of villagers was
another term for the Dutch, who were physically taller than Asian races. Of
course, it wasn't derived from the Dutch acronym VOC, Vereenigde
Oostindische Compagnie, meaning the United East India Company. Rather, it
came from martial arts films set in the colonial era. Barry Prima, George Rudy,
and Advent Bangun were famous action stars at the time. And in those films, the
Dutch side was called Kompeni.
That dark period brightened a little when I started taking English
courses at EQC (English Quick Course). My habitat shifted from the pesantren
to the Langkap Barat Mosque. Let's abbreviate it as MLB. MLB was a transit
point between Pesantren Timur Duur (PTD) and EQC. I won't dwell on that. This
was just before senior high school (SMU).
My critical and argumentative attitude apparently didn't diminish.
In fact, it increased because I had more references. And the nickname my
friends at MLB gave me was “dosen”. Of course, in quotation marks.
My time at the mosque ended when I enrolled at the Orange Campus (Kampus
Jingga), a name derived from the color of the building of a college on the
outskirts of Bangkalan. Tokang Kritik vanished; Kompenni
vanished; and Dosèn vanished too. The seniors from my village had
dispersed, many working as migrant barbers. Others became farm laborers. More
than ten years had passed since elementary school. Enough time to erase those
two words from their memory.
Kompenni also disappeared because I had become a teacher at the pesantren.
An English teacher. The seniors had returned home, while my peers and juniors
were reluctant to call me by that name. It was subsequently replaced with
"Sir" (Pak). Even seniors started calling me by my name
instead of the nickname.
Dosen? My mosque friends had scattered, each following their own life's
destiny. Some went to Saudi Arabia, to Jakarta, some to Surabaya. Another one
went to Kediri to join his older sister. I'm sure they too have forgotten that
nickname. I'll tell their stories another time. But, let me reveal one secret.
We were called the Klompen Group.
Time marched on. God always has a humorous plotline, only realized
after it unfolds. After delving into literature at the Bulak Sumur Campus,
through the referral of a lecturer, I ended up teaching at the Orange Campus.
The taunt “dosen” materialized. Sweetly. Although briefly. This new profession
gave me the opportunity to read literary works. I first analyzed Bangkalan. Tokang
kritik materialized. Several researches on the literary history of
Bangkalan and one book, Sejarah Ringkas Kesusastraan Bangkalan ‘A Brief
History of Bangkalan Literature’, solidified the profession of a critic. An
amateur one, of course.
Besides my interest in literary history, after publishing the Kamus Madura Indonesia Kontemporer ‘Contemporary Madurese-Indonesian Dictionary’, I realized its weakness when Mas Adrian Pawitra published his Madurese dictionary. I manifested that interest by completely revising the dictionary I had published. On this journey of developing my lexicographic world, I encountered a dictionary written by H.N. Kiliaan titled Madoereesch-Nederlandsch Woordenboek ‘Madurese-Dutch Dictionary’. The first volume was published in 1904 and the second in 1905. It was, of course, in Dutch and published during the colonial era. You can surely connect the dots. The word kompenni materialized when I was forced to learn Dutch. And... Isn't that destiny humorous?



