His Grumblings, Never to be Heard Again
“Badilski, I want you to go with me to the Netherlands under some conditions!”
“OK,” Tom told me yesterday, “What conditions?”
“For this Euro 2000 coverage, I’m the boss.”
“Ha, ha, ha, OK!” “There is another term!”
“What?” “You won’t get mad at me!” “Ha, ha, ha, OK, I won’t, you’re the boss!”
This is just a hint of how my discussion usually went with Rudy Badil, my senior, mentor, teacher and “debate opponent” in arguing story ideas. Kompas managing editor Suryopratomo, nicknamed Tom, had assigned us to cover the 2000 Champions League in the Netherlands and Belgium.
Tom’s orders were clear: I was to cover the matches and Rudi was to cover everything else at the world’s most prestigious soccer tournament after the World Cup. “You just do your thing and I’ll do mine. You go to the stadiums and I’ll muck around at the markets, docks, museums, massage parlors and the red light district,” Badil laughed heartily.
In the Netherlands and Belgium, Badil was a free agent and wrote unique stories: light fare peppered with details on culture, language, habits and even local jokes. A trained anthropologist, Badil’s clever writing style was incomparable. With his “colorful” language, written in a uniquely conversational linguistic style, he guided his readers through a variety of interesting facts through jokes and anecdotes.
On Thursday, the figure whom I affectionately called “Badilski” departed forever. The teacher and mentor for many journalists at Kompas-Gramedia died at the age of 73. (He was born in Jakarta on 29 November 1945). Rudy David Badil – his full given name – left behind his wife Xenia Moeis and only son, Banu Adikara, also a journalist. The unique journalist, kind-hearted yet famed for his griping, has departed this world to embark on his eternal journey.
For many Kompas journalists, Rudy Badil was truly unique and even eccentric. A senior journalist with tons of experience, he often “broke in” new reporters. Despite the large age difference, Badil always refused to be called “mas” (big brother), let alone “pak” (sir). “Just call me Badil!” said the cofounder of the Indonesian Forum for the Environment (Walhi).
In calling him “Badil”, we all became close to him, though we always had to be ready to be scolded. His perfectionism and explosive style of speech could make him seem ferocious – and many cub reporters regarded him thus as he taught them about life in the world of journalism.
Kompas chief editor Ninuk Mardiana Pambudy said that she viewed Badil as a mentor who could teach her about real life in Jakarta, truthfully. “Badil put me, when I was just a cub reporter, on a team to cover informal traders. I went with him to the slums where noodle sellers live,” she said. “It was a huge challenge for me to see how they made the noodles. I was horrified. Even now, I cannot forget how Badil pushed me to take a plunge into the real world,” she recalled.
Despite his ferocity, Badil had a great sense of humor. This is not surprising, since long before he joined Kompas in August 1980, Badil cofounded the legendary Warkop DKI comedy group with Nanu, Dono, Kasino and Indro. Of these four, the first three have passed on. “Badil is actually very funny, but his stage fright is just terrible. He sweats and can’t say a thing,” Dono once said.
As an early member of the University of Indonesia’s nature lovers community (Mapala UI), where his membership number was 033, Badil visited several remote regions across Indonesia to cover stories. A jokester, he easily established close ties to the local people and customary leaders. His close friends at Mapala UI said that, no matter where he went, the local leaders always welcomed Badil warmly.
Badil was not only talented in writing articles in his unique style. He was also an eagle-eyed photographer. His pictures reflect his love for people, especially those in remote regions.
Badil was also a great cook. He often brought dishes that he had created to the office. Sometimes, he brought raw ingredients and cooked them in the office kitchen. Whoever helped him in the kitchen, though, had to be ready to hear whatever gripes he might have.
Upon hearing the sad news of his passing, many of his colleagues at Mapala UI immediately sent in their heartfelt testimonies.
Godspeed, Dil. We may never hear your gripes again, but your admirers will never forget them. (JOY)