Holy Prison

PS 22 - Process Withstand

I just got out of Ndalem Abah, and Farha and the rest of my friends came up to me. They are all friends ‘my room’ that I never knew his name one by one, I only know their faces because several times met.

“Mbak, to the room yuk get the book! Yesterday the book of Mbak was shared but I forgot to say.” said Farha. I was about to refute Farha but I felt watched, so I just followed the plot.

“Oh, yaudah come.” I said, directly pulled Farha's hand.

***

After taking the book. All the santri dropped again because the announcement using Arabic had been announced by the caretaker on duty. We all came out of the hut and flocked to the road leading to the Mosque. Arriving next to the mosque, they stopped. Some stood, squatted, and some sat on the edge of the large pot that was on the side of the road.

“Cock not directly to Masjid?” manya curious.

“Iya, Ma'am, his dawn lecture is not finished.” said Farha.

I was just fooling around, lazy to hear Farha's long explanation.

Soon Farha stood up and asked me to stand up too. It turns out that not only we did it, but other students did the same. Actually from a lot of people who invited me to chat with sparkling faces, I don't know why they were so happy when I answered their questions briefly using Indonesian. Uh, wait, we're communicating using an interpreter, Farha. If there is no him maybe I just keep quiet because I am confused to answer what. That’s not good!

“Udah selawatan, Ma'am, the sign is that his dawn lecture is finished.” said Farha. I just according.

We all stand. And without being given the cue we were split into 2, we all moved aside on the right and left side of the road. Instantly I was stunned, if only I brought my favorite camera, I would make this moment and I posted on instagram, blog, and all social media that I have.

From the direction of the mosque came droves of villagers. Their age can mostly be considered ‘aged’ because there are most fathers, mothers, grandmothers and grandparents. Many grandmothers brought their grandchildren, and many mothers brought their young children. They greet the santriwati he meets one-on-one. While the fathers and grandfathers continued to walk without the scenes shaking hands, I didn't know the reason, which I knew was that they just passed by.

Now I see a grandmother carrying her granddaughter start approaching us. In my heart I can see all the grandmothers and grandfathers who attended this dawn lecture event by bringing grandchildren. I want to ask them where their children are so they have to take their grandchildren to the mosque. If I may conclude, it seems like they are also raising their grandchildren at home. But from all that, I salute the grandmothers and grandparents who despite their old age still with the spirit of four five attended the dawn lecture event held by Abah Kyai. Gus Faiz's.

I observed Farha's shaking hands, then followed her. And the grandmother came to greet me, she smiled with her teary eyes. I smiled back, and you know what he did next? He kissed my right and left cheeks and hugged me tightly. I glanced at Farha. He smiled sincerely at me.

The grandmother gave me a message in her thick Javanese language. I could only smile and nod, even though I didn't know what he meant. The grandmother patted me on the back laughing and then she just passed by with her granddaughter. It seems that what the grandmother said was a prayer for good things.

After the streets are empty. Santri-santri immediately ran towards the mosque. Farha pulled my hand to run as well.

“Hey, why run anyway?” I shouted at Farha.

“Let the front row, Mbak.” said Farha again.

We all went up to the 2nd floor. And when it arrived at the 2nd floor, it turned out that the front row was filled with everything. Farha was disappointed. I can only gawk. I remember back in school. There, we flocked to run to class to get the back seat. Very different from here. When the atmosphere is getting rowdy, there is a sound of someone shouting using Javanese, maybe telling the santri-santri who are fighting over the seat is silent. That's just my hypothesis.

“Yeah, Ma'am, sorry we can't sit in front.” said Farha.

“Lha, why behind?” my many.

“Padahatan earlier I intended to invite Mbak to sit in front so that he can see the son.” said Farha while whispering in my ear.

“Putra? Who is he?” my many.

“Santri son means, Mbak.” he said again.

Farha started telling stories. It turned out that on the 1st floor it was for the son santri, while we princesses were on the 2nd floor. I'm not a santri so I'm not part of our word. According to Farha's story, the reason why the santri fought each other sitting in the front row was because from the front could see the santri son, also could see Abah who stood on the pulpit gallantly.

“Ana Gus Faiz, ana Gus Faiz!” scream someone. I reflexively looked for the source of the sound.

The mood is getting rowdy. At that moment my eyes met with Linda, 'Si's Management Sucks'. His eyes are so cynical looking at me. I could only give him a lazy look by rolling his eyeballs, then refocusing on the book I was carrying.

Besides not paying attention to Linda. I also have no interest in paying attention to the students who are racing ahead so that they can see the face of Gus Faiz, centil. Until finally I started to look around when all the santri suddenly silent, apparently because of the noise of the manager around carrying a note that no matter what the contents. Maybe it's some kind of point-of-offence book.

I saw Farha writing something in her book in Arabic. Farha, who noticed that I was watching him, looked up and smiled at me. He seems to be writing the name of the book.

“Sini, Ma'am, I wrote.” said Farha. I gave her my book. He began writing in Arabic. Maybe that's my name. I can only guess.

“That's what it read?” my many.

“This is it, anu, her name is Mbak, Anindya Athaya Zahran.” said Farha. Right it?

“Certain this what?” my many. I pointed to Arabic letters written in a row.

“Oh this, hehe this writing biking, biking, biking let the book ndak eaten by termites, Mbak.” said Farha with a laugh. No matter what is the relationship between the word and termites, I don't know. Whether he's kidding or how I don't know and don't care.

“Sttt..... Abah rowdy!” said someone in the front row. This time I have understood what the word ‘rawuh’ means to come.

The voice is now completely silent. Not a word came out of the lips of the santri-santri. Abah opens the event, then continues by telling us to open the book that we bring the 4th page because the previous page is a cover, a welcome, etc. I am grateful that Abah uses a mixture of Indonesian so I can understand a little.

Farha directed me to open the page Abah mentioned earlier. Then he came back to his book ready to write what.

“Later what Mbak heard just write yes.” said Farha. I just nodded like a obedient rabbit. Signs to end the conversation faster.

This time I was no longer surprised to find the Arabic alphabet Gundul without harakat. Also not confused anymore with an activity called ‘ngafsahin’.

If I'm honest my head is very heavy. On the one hand I don't speak Javanese on the other hand I don't speak Arabic either. Living in this area is very torturous, but if I could be honest than my previous life, my life feels a little better. And I hope that in the future I can feel better. I put my book on the floor. But hastily taken Farha.

“Mbak, the book contains Science, so you should not put it on the floor. So, we have, that, anu, must respect science, hehehe.” said Farha. And handed the book to me again.

I said and took it. I'm so sleepy, so I don't want to argue. After taking it, I placed the book between my arms and my knees. My eyes are a few watts. And I really need to sleep.

“Mbak wake up, later if the manager knows reported to Abah.” said Farha again.

Tuhaaan! What other rule is this? - I cried out in my heart.

Well, I'm trying to get better. But if in the heart just curse the law, right? Like I said to Gus Faiz, everything needs a process. So, I consider holding back the curse that is in the heart is one of the processes to get better.

When I began to really curse in my heart, again I remembered the message of Gus Faiz. In order to hold back the anger and vent it only on him, it must not be on others. However, there is no Gus Faiz right now but my anger is mounting right now. Because of that, I decided to take a notebook and start making it a diary this time and it looks like it will become a diary that will describe the events I experienced in detail in the pon-pes these. Indeed, daily writing is far more interesting than writing down everything Abah says quickly and in a language I do not understand. Never mind the language, any letter I don't know.