"Yo, boss, I just passed by your house. Why haven't you put up the flag? I thought your late grandfather was in the Armed Forces? What happened to his grandson's nationalism? Independence Day commemorations are just around the corner."

My best friend sent me that text message last week.

OK, my friend's right. Independence Day commemorations were just around the corner. People across Jakarta witnessed various celebrations for Independence Day, from competitions and performances to carnivals. One common characteristic is the omnipresent red-and-white flag.

My friend was right, I hadn't raised the flag at my house. But his text message got me thinking about something else.

The reminder of my grandfather and the August 17 commemoration brought up something which happened to me 18 years ago.

I was 8 years old and on my way with my grandfather to a big department store on Fatmawati street. My grandfather drove me and was going to help me buy a new tire for my Tamiya car. (Tamiya made model cars popular in the 1980s.) Tamiya was a childhood addiction of mine.

I was ecstatic because my grandfather had said he would buy me a new Tamiya tire as a present for my passing on to the next grade.

On the way, my grandfather suddenly pulled over and rolled down his car window.

"Hey, you! Yes, you! Stop!" my grandfather shouted at someone.

"What's up, Grandpa? Why did you stop? What's with the shouting?" I asked, confused.

"Just a minute. I need to get out," he replied.

My grandfather stepped out of the car and walked over to where a vendor was selling Indonesian flags off his bike. Some flags were attached to the saddle and draped to the ground.

"How could you let these flags drag? You cannot let them fall like that. Indonesian flags must not touch the ground! People sacrificed their lives for the flag. Millions of lives were lost to be able to raise the flag!" my grandfather barked.

"Look, sir, I'm the seller. It's up to me where and how I put them," the vendor replied. I remember his expression vividly. He was confused and annoyed, thinking he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Just roll up the flags, don't let them fall loose like that," my grandfather suggested.

"If I roll them up, how will people know I sell flags? Oh, stop telling people what to do. I'm the one making and selling the flags. As far as I can tell, I'm not hurting anybody," the flag vendor retorted. He was starting to look upset.

"Hey, let me tell you something. The Indonesian flag should not touch the ground or be left in the rain. It should be raised after the sun rises and lowered before it sets. A salute before raising the flag is mandatory. There are rules and everybody must know and respect them!" my grandfather roared.

"I don't care. I just need to make ends meet for my family. Just stop fussing and telling people what to do," he snapped back.

Then my grandfather did something I never expected.

"Alright then. Let me buy the three flags. Give them here," he said.

"But I don't have change. It's too much," the flag vendor replied.

"You can keep the change," my grandfather said.

My grandfather came back to the car with the three flags.

I didn't say a thing because my grandfather was pretty strict. We drove on to the store.

When we got there, I ran straight to the Tamiya shelf. When I gave my grandfather the new tire so he could pay, he turned pale.

"Oh my God, son. I think I spent all my money on the flags. He didn't have any change..."

We drove back home in utter silence. I didn't say anything. I was furious.

When we got home, my grandfather merely said, "One day, you'll understand how precious a national flag is."

I did not answer because I was still fuming. I refused to speak to him for at least a month.

It took me 12 more years for me to realize how precious the flag is.

The flag I proudly raised when I was a member of the fifth grade flag-raising team. The flag my friends and I raised during an international volleyball match for college students in Perth, Australia. The flag I proudly raised during the Asian Cup matches in Jakarta in 2007. And, most importantly, the flag symbolizing Indonesian independence, freedom from colonialism, freedom to stand up before the world.

The money my grandfather paid for those flags back then was obviously incomparable to the fighters' sacrifice for our independence. However, it was better used to respect the meaning of a remarkable national flag than simply to buy a toy car tire.

I did reply to my friend's text message.

"Yeah, you're right. Time to buy another toy car tire to rekindle my nationalism."

My late grandfather was right. I finally do grasp the remarkable meaning of a national flag.

And not getting that useless toy tire helped me realize it.

--Bram Maro

We invite readers to contribute to this section about things happening in Greater Jakarta. Personal experiences, rants and protests are also welcome. Please send your story to city@thejakartapost.com. The article should be between 600 and 800 words.

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