"Divide et impera" — Latin for divide and conquer.
A brilliant strategy in warfare, yes. But also, apparently, a hobby for Tante Suri.
Lately, it feels like she’s been running her own private campaign — not on a battlefield, but in my personal life. Subtle, manipulative, and disturbingly effective at times.
The saga began innocently enough, maybe three or four months ago, when Om Suri, out of nowhere, suggested setting me up with a teacher. His reasoning? We’re the same age and both single. How profoundly insightful.
A clumsy matchmaking attempt, harmless on the surface.
Then came Mr. Traveller. The day I told Tante Suri about him, her face was a theater of emotions — shock first, then excitement, maybe even genuine happiness. But not for long.
The moment she learned more about him — his nationality, his culture, his difference — the enthusiasm curdled into skepticism.
And then, came the words. The kind that sound like concern but drip with something colder.
“Kamu berani banget sih sama orang luar?”
("You're so brave to be with a foreigner.")
Followed by the absurd parenthesis: (He eats normal food, right?)
As if his culinary choices determined his worth.
“Udah mending sama orang Indonesia.”
("It’s better to be with an Indonesian.")
Conveniently forgetting that I’ve been there. Done that. Survived that disaster.
“Berkaca dari pengalaman sebelumnya, kamu udah pernah gagal.”
("Looking at your past, you’ve already failed.")
A brutal reminder of pain I never asked to relive.
“Selidikin dulu latar belakangnya, jangan keburu-buru.”
("Investigate his background first, don’t rush.")
Reasonable advice — on the surface. But was it concern… or a subtle attempt to plant doubt?
“Pikirin lagi deh, kita maunya happy ending. Iya kalau happy ending, kalau nggak…”
("Think it over. We want a happy ending. Sure, if it ends well, but if not…")
And all I could think was — Astagfirullah. Is it really that hard to just say “Insha Allah, everything will be alright”?
“Sambil cari-cari yang lain, jangan cuma fokus sama yang ini.”
("Keep looking, don’t just focus on him.")
At that point, I wanted to scream: I’m the one getting married, not you.
When those direct attacks didn’t work, she switched tactics.
The new approach? Slower, quieter, more insidious.
A few words here, a raised eyebrow there.
Just enough to stir unease.
And you’re right — it is sneaky.
It’s divide and conquer, Tante Suri-style.
Honestly? I’m speechless too.
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