By: Rosadi Jamani
MOh, sorry for boring you with my diploma. Joko Widodo alias Jokowi, The story continues. Because there is a new story. It's not about the war between Roy Suryo and Termul. Listen to the narration while munching on pisgor and sipping Koptagul, wak!
Indonesia is once again holding a common sense culinary festival. Complete with a main menu called “Ijazah Asli” (Original Certificate). On December 15, 2025, in a large kitchen called Polda Metro Jaya.
The investigator lifted the legal cover and revealed the premium dish: Jokowi's diplomas from high school to his bachelor's degree from Gadjah Mada University. Complete with watermarks, security features, stamps, signatures, and the aroma of perfectly matured state paper.
Everything was served warm in front of the suspects and their lawyers, such as 12-hour rendang that had been tested by fire, coconut milk, and patience.
Jokowi's lawyer, Yakub Hasibuan, tasted it first and declared that it was authentic rendang, not mixed with other ingredients. The chairman of Peradi Bersatu, Zevrijn Boy Kanu, nodded while wiping his sweat, saying that finally the public could enjoy a portion of transparency.
Activist Palti Hutabarat smiled, saying that from the beginning he only asked for one spoonful of authentic evidence. Everything looked neat, like a tumpeng rice cone that had been blessed and was ready to be cut. The data was clear, the forum was official, the process took almost 12 hours, and the legal kitchen was lit from morning to night.
But at the table across from him, Roy Suryo chewed slowly, staring at the side dish for a long time, then concluded with the precision of a nutritionist that it was 99.9 percent fake. Not 100 percent, because 0.1 percent was left, perhaps as a cosmic chili sauce, its spiciness undefined, but a must-have.
The world fell silent. It was like Lamongan soto, which uses authentic koya, squeezed lime, and boiled free-range chicken, but is still called instant soup because the bowl is considered not white enough.
The arguments came out one by one, like fried snacks at breaking fast time. The photo on the diploma was deemed inappropriate for his age, as if a person's face must follow the kitchen calendar. The format and signature were questioned, even though the ink had already been examined by forensic experts.
The thesis was brought to the table, and they asked why the names of the examiners weren't listed, as if tempe mendoan had failed because they forgot to add spring onions. UGM was accused of being less transparent, even though the plate was already placed in the middle of the table, ready to be eaten.
The investigators have shown it, the administrative experts have nodded, but the final spell is uttered again like a closing prayer after a meal: court.
That's right, under Indonesian law, a final and binding decision is the last resort. Jokowi himself said in an interview on December 9, 2025, that he was ready to bring all his diplomas, from elementary school to UGM, to the courtroom. They can be tested, cut, weighed, photographed, and even X-rayed.
However, just like Palembang pempek, which is still referred to as sago by those who have always been allergic to fish, that promise is considered insufficient.
This is where the absurdity reaches its climax. Diplomas that are officially presented are still considered invalid. The law that is enforced is considered lacking in fervor. The evidence presented is considered superficial.
This is no longer a cooking competition, it's a contest of belief. Roy Suryo stands as the sole judge of MasterChef Persepsi, striking an imaginary bell and saying, “I'm sorry, it doesn't match my memory of the taste.”
This country is also bustling. Some are satisfied with evidence, while others remain hungry with suspicion. Some enjoy a thick black stew called procedure, while others seek a clear broth called opinion.
Jokowi's diploma has changed from a graduation certificate to a special martabak: sweet for those who believe, salty for those who doubt, and burnt for those who come with the intention to burn.
Finally, we realize that this is not about diplomas, nor is it solely about Jokowi. It's about taste. At the same table, with the same side dishes, tongues can argue for a lifetime.
Enjoy the December 2025 edition of Legal Delights. For some people, rendang is still rendang. For others, it will always be 99.9 percent fake, because the truth, like nasi uduk, sometimes loses out to the more tempting aroma of prejudice.
Meanwhile, in a corner of a shabby coffee shop in Pontianak, a man wearing glasses and a red hat was seen enjoying a glass of Koptagul and pisgor wrapped in srikaya jam. He just smiled from a distance.
**). The author is the Chair of Satupena Kalbar.
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