Hari ini, 24 Maret 2009: Pah abi kirimin uang 150 ribu doank buat survey, tugas ke wonosari pa, nie anakmu tersayang. abimanyu.
Kemarin, 23 Maret 2009: Pa, Nindi mau browsing ke gedung M, boleh ngga?
Bandung: Banyak minum vitamin aza pa, gak ah, tin gak mau ganggu keluarga pa lagi.
sebelumnya: Hp tin yg 1 soalnya habis pulsa, makanya pake hp kyla, soale tin udah gak mau ganggu pa lagin ngrepotin. ok GBU.
bkn smsku yg per 1 kok td nyampe, pdhl tin gk jdi sms loh, y udah banyak minum vit aza semoga cepat sembuh.Loh pesanku nyampe padahal tin gak jadi sms, kta terakhir bilang gak mau ganggu pa lagi n ngrepotin klg pa ok. cory pa, tin bnr2 td gk jadi sms knp smpe ya. Pa punten banget, tin lgi kepepet ni, tinmw pinjem 300rb u byr spp kyla pa, mslh mas tom gk bs dhub.ktny hr niymw krm, mna bsk t'akhr.hbs niy tin gk ganggu pa. oh.., soale tin gk ngrti mksd ny ap.y udh gpp.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Part OnE
Part OnE
Denpasar
The barracks Halmahera became the witness of heart solitude. Quietly the Halmahera Barracks path. Slam me to the dark past. But lived of the kind what this, if I continually visited behind while I continued to run headed towards the certain future did not yet be. So how with the period now, when every day continued to wrestle with the tasks of the routine. The tasks of the routine that I did not know, until being finished so as I could take a walk in the fresh air the freedom. I always waited the moments. My moments could write and depicted again. Depicted available objects in and around me without the burden anything. Or depicted available objects in my dreams. Or wrote the heart nervousness like previously-previously when we were still studying theories in the classroom. Whether. But the obligation to adhere in everyday routine, prepared the plan taught, stood in front of the class, explained the Indonesian glory the past, invested the spirit of the feeling of the nationality in the chest of each student that his face was still plain. Without could realise reality in fact with compared with the period
Now that was dealt with by me everyday was zarah dust that adhered to each door to the barracks. Not the actual barracks because of his rooms was dull. The wall- his wall was grey. The askew painting in the middle of the guest room stayed askew until holiday time arrived, until I entered the school taught again. Light twenty-five watt was not clear enough to light dark spaces in corners of the bed compiled that was made from the iron. Books were scattered about in sembarang the place. One small table that only enough to place one book, a glass coffee and a pair of seat and one small cupboard to keep clothes for two teachers.
In the wide sitting room, only had one old rattan seat, one guest table that faced the entrance. Other seats, his couple in brought friends was placed in front of the door to his room was their respective. Apart from the main door also had the other door, the door that located on the left appeared the alley road. His windows were not given the curtain. The window berterali the iron with his window glasses that were dull because of being not cleaned. If I sat on the old seat, visited to left, visible the bananas tree and pawpaws that withered by the barracks. From his windows that appeared the main road could be seen by the group of the yellow bamboo tree that his old leaves fell out and were scattered about in the barracks terrace. When having his strong wind of the leaves flew, scattered contaminated the Halmahera road in front of the barracks. So then friends named this barracks of “Asrama Halmahera”. This name melekas continues now on the chest of his occupants, although without the appointment ceremony like the appointment of hotels that continued the lustre all over the Balinese corner.
From the life sinting so I threw out dippers to make the batik painting to corners of room space, the place of inflamed souls struggled personally opposed quiet, menafsir the dream. Every day dreams were from my subconscious nature described by me on canvas, occasionally was in the form of Koesdaryati, the child Muhammad Purba, the AD intelligence colonel who lived in the Jasmine road. Each night the week, was slammed by me my desire that ran aground, that once was carried by me protracted in the sorrow in the Sanur coastal bank, mused gazed at waves, threw the long daydream, threw very far your letters to the middle of the wave, although sinking was brought by the roll of the wave of the Selatan Ocean. Letters in the dingy envelope bandage, our love letters previously, but always the meaning in the articles did not want to sink far inside Hindia Ocean troughs, troughs in my heart. He always adhered in my body silhouette, in my spirit's silhouette, my spirit that always restless, became excited will attack all the barriers that menghalang in front, anywhere my spirit that the wound will go. Our love silhouette always became the difficult burden that must was hidden by me meetings, was wrapped by me in coquettish laughter girls who smiled to me at the edge of the road, in the cinema, in clothes shops, or shops kelontong that walked all along Street Gajah Mada. But the silhouette did not want to disappear, only could in brought the wind went whether where, my time continued swung foot berkilo-kilo metre surrounded this city, swung the two steps foot I, until foot I was speechless could not be moved again. Threw this tired body, on the old rattan seat, and could not feel again, one thousand bedbugs bit my meat, sucked-sucked my fresh blood. The night has been protracted, keremangan all the room of the barracks wrapped all the coloured paint green dull from doors to the room sarama that has been closed was in a meeting. Only of friends's snores in turns, became special music, that took a short cut quiet.
Now in the old well ravine, Herman the old man my friend from Flores, sat personally in front of his room while reading the newspaper in the last two days, in keremangan the night, only was lit bohlam 25 watt, was biting the chicken claw while swallowing the black wine and put a rice bribe to his black lip ravine that was smelly palm wine and while sucked-nyesap nicotine from cigarettes that for some time had died, continually gazed at his face that was wrinkled in the old mirror of well water. His face that was full of disappointed scratches was hidden in his face that hardened and his curly hair. I myself sat on the opposite side, in the old rattan seat that was itchy because of being full of bedbugs, inhaled his aroma that was rancid disela-disela the naughty wind that meluruhkan the bamboo leaves. I had for some time hesitated to open the thick envelope contained berlembar-sheet of the letter that was received by me earlier today from Mr Pos that was not very tired of pedalling his bicycle delivered letters all through the corner of the city. Was opened by me slowly and was full please because never he wrote berlembar-sheet of the letter with a thickness of this, his sentence was always very short like chemical formulas and theories of education that was studied by him in classrooms nun away in there, in the student's city that currently reportedly began to be dirty. His contents long prayers and long sentences that meruwat loved and interrupted words.
I could not talk anything, fluttered personally, in solitude of barracks paths. Fluttered personally sucked air that was full of the smoke because the barracks neighbour burnt wastes. His smoke entered, stabbed the lungs that have been full of dusts that adhered in walls of his cavity, went around in circles made crowded breathing. That not to mention Herman's cigarette smoke that always billowed from his nostrils and was blown out by him very strong to air. But he had not complained because quiet. Quiet and solitude was in barracks paths swallowed by him personally, with the sip of nicotine and tenggakan hot the black wine every day. Every day was passed through calmly, read the newspaper, did not care what date the appearance, breakfast or the lunch by not caring what time he ate, provided that having his friend that is coffee, cigarettes or the black wine, safe already. If having his friend chatted, that left his mouth lip that was black that, abused-abuse to the Church or the leaders of this country, that was incapable of carrying out acceptance of money from the oil mine that again booming. The rest he again was quiet, sank in his contemplation, in front of the door to his room, in front of the old well. Had not gone to the Church. Except in Christmas Day. Or I myself who possibly whined faced the hard life in this shoreline land. The letter for the sake of the letter, the sentence was for the sake of the sentence read by me came back the last letter from Ipung (the Nickname from his friends during the period of the SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL previously).
“ Surat Mas that told about the business activity Mas, apart from taught already I received. The prayer and praised thank heavens I was always raised by me to the Lord, it is hoped Mas always was blessed in undergoing the life in the shoreline land, like us. Like tonight when was written by me the letter for the sake of the letter in sentences in this letter, I could not keep dinggin him city air Bandung.Mau did not want indeed must was written by me this letter, although my tear continually flowed until I repeatedly replaced paper.”
Since Mas sent money to Bandung the time previously, Om continually asked me, every day. I could not be evasive because I still numpang in the place Om. So as I could not very old was evasive, must inform all of our secrets. While I was not yet frank to Om, my heart was restless. Moreover every day I must prepare teaching materials for children. Likewise, every day I must also think about my brothers's fate in the village. Still was very small and I must help him because I the first child. Mas would knew personally, Sir-you have begun to be old, was not possible continually to go round from the market to the market in cities around Wates, rose the bicycle with two buntalan merchandise in jok behind, paddled five or ten kilometre came home went to Sebokarang traded in batik cloths and sarong cloths, striped cloth or mori from the cotton thread. Was not possible to be able to remain continued, no longer must go to the field weeded field lands garapan him so that the soybean harvest, the shallot, corn or his tree yam satisfactory. I was proud of my parents, every week we as a family said Praise Syukur to the Lord, in the church. But I stayed worried, lived father-you could not continue menerus like that, who could be opposing the old age, while brothers needed my guidance. Mas knew personally, we for quite a long time shared the feeling, how long, ah already seven years. Old not? ...
Seven years. The sentence continued to throw me to our adolescence. From periods when we only fell asleep by words, the feeling of astonishment by the sparkling rays from our body were their respective. I still remembered, in the spacious land the western part, in front of the Prison, there was the Volli field. When commemorated the independence day, always was the match from various branch sorts of sport. You always went with the team of Volli SMA we. I must be the sponsor of the match. When meeting the team of the other SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL, with other friends continued to cluster at the edge of the Volli field, shouted, clapped until our voice was hoarse. Not only that. Secretly I admired silhouet lines of your body that lentur, when jumping in front of the net, memukulkan your hands palm, askew in the future struck the ball to the side of the team of the opponent.
Then sekelebat visible the white rays yellowish from your thigh, loncat above and descended down. The rays puti yellowish, the rays Mas on the thigh. Like the fairy tale in the history of Ken Dedes. When Ken Arok most amazed-amazed with Ken slice thinly, the wife of the Ametung Stump, he said, “paha with the golden rays like that caused fortune, grandeur and the authority for that could grasp him. By chance of the fortune could dipertanggung-answered, I did not know. Setahuku, after Ken Arok could kill the Ametung Stump and seized Ken slice thinly became his wife. He became King Singosari. The Singosari history was the history of the government of the kings that be full of gelimang blood and the revenge of the political elites. And the history lesson, not count on, had not delved and tell about how the people's fate if the leaders all the time fought for the authority? Guru, had not succeeded in explaining him. I stammered. I indeed had not been successful explained to children, the history that explained how the life of the community member, not only the life of the elite that fought for the authority.
Denpasar
The barracks Halmahera became the witness of heart solitude. Quietly the Halmahera Barracks path. Slam me to the dark past. But lived of the kind what this, if I continually visited behind while I continued to run headed towards the certain future did not yet be. So how with the period now, when every day continued to wrestle with the tasks of the routine. The tasks of the routine that I did not know, until being finished so as I could take a walk in the fresh air the freedom. I always waited the moments. My moments could write and depicted again. Depicted available objects in and around me without the burden anything. Or depicted available objects in my dreams. Or wrote the heart nervousness like previously-previously when we were still studying theories in the classroom. Whether. But the obligation to adhere in everyday routine, prepared the plan taught, stood in front of the class, explained the Indonesian glory the past, invested the spirit of the feeling of the nationality in the chest of each student that his face was still plain. Without could realise reality in fact with compared with the period
Now that was dealt with by me everyday was zarah dust that adhered to each door to the barracks. Not the actual barracks because of his rooms was dull. The wall- his wall was grey. The askew painting in the middle of the guest room stayed askew until holiday time arrived, until I entered the school taught again. Light twenty-five watt was not clear enough to light dark spaces in corners of the bed compiled that was made from the iron. Books were scattered about in sembarang the place. One small table that only enough to place one book, a glass coffee and a pair of seat and one small cupboard to keep clothes for two teachers.
In the wide sitting room, only had one old rattan seat, one guest table that faced the entrance. Other seats, his couple in brought friends was placed in front of the door to his room was their respective. Apart from the main door also had the other door, the door that located on the left appeared the alley road. His windows were not given the curtain. The window berterali the iron with his window glasses that were dull because of being not cleaned. If I sat on the old seat, visited to left, visible the bananas tree and pawpaws that withered by the barracks. From his windows that appeared the main road could be seen by the group of the yellow bamboo tree that his old leaves fell out and were scattered about in the barracks terrace. When having his strong wind of the leaves flew, scattered contaminated the Halmahera road in front of the barracks. So then friends named this barracks of “Asrama Halmahera”. This name melekas continues now on the chest of his occupants, although without the appointment ceremony like the appointment of hotels that continued the lustre all over the Balinese corner.
From the life sinting so I threw out dippers to make the batik painting to corners of room space, the place of inflamed souls struggled personally opposed quiet, menafsir the dream. Every day dreams were from my subconscious nature described by me on canvas, occasionally was in the form of Koesdaryati, the child Muhammad Purba, the AD intelligence colonel who lived in the Jasmine road. Each night the week, was slammed by me my desire that ran aground, that once was carried by me protracted in the sorrow in the Sanur coastal bank, mused gazed at waves, threw the long daydream, threw very far your letters to the middle of the wave, although sinking was brought by the roll of the wave of the Selatan Ocean. Letters in the dingy envelope bandage, our love letters previously, but always the meaning in the articles did not want to sink far inside Hindia Ocean troughs, troughs in my heart. He always adhered in my body silhouette, in my spirit's silhouette, my spirit that always restless, became excited will attack all the barriers that menghalang in front, anywhere my spirit that the wound will go. Our love silhouette always became the difficult burden that must was hidden by me meetings, was wrapped by me in coquettish laughter girls who smiled to me at the edge of the road, in the cinema, in clothes shops, or shops kelontong that walked all along Street Gajah Mada. But the silhouette did not want to disappear, only could in brought the wind went whether where, my time continued swung foot berkilo-kilo metre surrounded this city, swung the two steps foot I, until foot I was speechless could not be moved again. Threw this tired body, on the old rattan seat, and could not feel again, one thousand bedbugs bit my meat, sucked-sucked my fresh blood. The night has been protracted, keremangan all the room of the barracks wrapped all the coloured paint green dull from doors to the room sarama that has been closed was in a meeting. Only of friends's snores in turns, became special music, that took a short cut quiet.
Now in the old well ravine, Herman the old man my friend from Flores, sat personally in front of his room while reading the newspaper in the last two days, in keremangan the night, only was lit bohlam 25 watt, was biting the chicken claw while swallowing the black wine and put a rice bribe to his black lip ravine that was smelly palm wine and while sucked-nyesap nicotine from cigarettes that for some time had died, continually gazed at his face that was wrinkled in the old mirror of well water. His face that was full of disappointed scratches was hidden in his face that hardened and his curly hair. I myself sat on the opposite side, in the old rattan seat that was itchy because of being full of bedbugs, inhaled his aroma that was rancid disela-disela the naughty wind that meluruhkan the bamboo leaves. I had for some time hesitated to open the thick envelope contained berlembar-sheet of the letter that was received by me earlier today from Mr Pos that was not very tired of pedalling his bicycle delivered letters all through the corner of the city. Was opened by me slowly and was full please because never he wrote berlembar-sheet of the letter with a thickness of this, his sentence was always very short like chemical formulas and theories of education that was studied by him in classrooms nun away in there, in the student's city that currently reportedly began to be dirty. His contents long prayers and long sentences that meruwat loved and interrupted words.
I could not talk anything, fluttered personally, in solitude of barracks paths. Fluttered personally sucked air that was full of the smoke because the barracks neighbour burnt wastes. His smoke entered, stabbed the lungs that have been full of dusts that adhered in walls of his cavity, went around in circles made crowded breathing. That not to mention Herman's cigarette smoke that always billowed from his nostrils and was blown out by him very strong to air. But he had not complained because quiet. Quiet and solitude was in barracks paths swallowed by him personally, with the sip of nicotine and tenggakan hot the black wine every day. Every day was passed through calmly, read the newspaper, did not care what date the appearance, breakfast or the lunch by not caring what time he ate, provided that having his friend that is coffee, cigarettes or the black wine, safe already. If having his friend chatted, that left his mouth lip that was black that, abused-abuse to the Church or the leaders of this country, that was incapable of carrying out acceptance of money from the oil mine that again booming. The rest he again was quiet, sank in his contemplation, in front of the door to his room, in front of the old well. Had not gone to the Church. Except in Christmas Day. Or I myself who possibly whined faced the hard life in this shoreline land. The letter for the sake of the letter, the sentence was for the sake of the sentence read by me came back the last letter from Ipung (the Nickname from his friends during the period of the SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL previously).
“ Surat Mas that told about the business activity Mas, apart from taught already I received. The prayer and praised thank heavens I was always raised by me to the Lord, it is hoped Mas always was blessed in undergoing the life in the shoreline land, like us. Like tonight when was written by me the letter for the sake of the letter in sentences in this letter, I could not keep dinggin him city air Bandung.Mau did not want indeed must was written by me this letter, although my tear continually flowed until I repeatedly replaced paper.”
Since Mas sent money to Bandung the time previously, Om continually asked me, every day. I could not be evasive because I still numpang in the place Om. So as I could not very old was evasive, must inform all of our secrets. While I was not yet frank to Om, my heart was restless. Moreover every day I must prepare teaching materials for children. Likewise, every day I must also think about my brothers's fate in the village. Still was very small and I must help him because I the first child. Mas would knew personally, Sir-you have begun to be old, was not possible continually to go round from the market to the market in cities around Wates, rose the bicycle with two buntalan merchandise in jok behind, paddled five or ten kilometre came home went to Sebokarang traded in batik cloths and sarong cloths, striped cloth or mori from the cotton thread. Was not possible to be able to remain continued, no longer must go to the field weeded field lands garapan him so that the soybean harvest, the shallot, corn or his tree yam satisfactory. I was proud of my parents, every week we as a family said Praise Syukur to the Lord, in the church. But I stayed worried, lived father-you could not continue menerus like that, who could be opposing the old age, while brothers needed my guidance. Mas knew personally, we for quite a long time shared the feeling, how long, ah already seven years. Old not? ...
Seven years. The sentence continued to throw me to our adolescence. From periods when we only fell asleep by words, the feeling of astonishment by the sparkling rays from our body were their respective. I still remembered, in the spacious land the western part, in front of the Prison, there was the Volli field. When commemorated the independence day, always was the match from various branch sorts of sport. You always went with the team of Volli SMA we. I must be the sponsor of the match. When meeting the team of the other SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL, with other friends continued to cluster at the edge of the Volli field, shouted, clapped until our voice was hoarse. Not only that. Secretly I admired silhouet lines of your body that lentur, when jumping in front of the net, memukulkan your hands palm, askew in the future struck the ball to the side of the team of the opponent.
Then sekelebat visible the white rays yellowish from your thigh, loncat above and descended down. The rays puti yellowish, the rays Mas on the thigh. Like the fairy tale in the history of Ken Dedes. When Ken Arok most amazed-amazed with Ken slice thinly, the wife of the Ametung Stump, he said, “paha with the golden rays like that caused fortune, grandeur and the authority for that could grasp him. By chance of the fortune could dipertanggung-answered, I did not know. Setahuku, after Ken Arok could kill the Ametung Stump and seized Ken slice thinly became his wife. He became King Singosari. The Singosari history was the history of the government of the kings that be full of gelimang blood and the revenge of the political elites. And the history lesson, not count on, had not delved and tell about how the people's fate if the leaders all the time fought for the authority? Guru, had not succeeded in explaining him. I stammered. I indeed had not been successful explained to children, the history that explained how the life of the community member, not only the life of the elite that fought for the authority.
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