Love Fighters Al - Aqsa
CPA 8: By Al-Aqsa
The motorboat seemed to want to sink behind the curve of the ocean waves because of the load he carried. Only Afrizal and Andu were on the red and white motorboat. The rest is more than 20 troupes (bamboo skin embroidery baskets) containing anchovies. It was all Afrizal's catch last night.
It has been six nights, the Afrizal chart is always along (there are abundant fish). To the extent that a number of other fishermen shifted the position of the chart to near the Afrizal chart to increase sustenance. Indeed, some who approach get a decent catch, but still the best sustenance is centered on the Afrizal chart. He still has a lot of his own. To the extent of rumors that Afrizal main shaman.
“Al-Aqsa! Al-aqsaa! Al-Aqsa!”
Afrizal who stood gallantly on the boat without fear of the bell falling into the sea, shouted loudly to the people gathered at the auction dock. His red holster was tied tight at the waist like a sea champion. While the background of the rising morning sun made the people at the auction look at him like the son of the Sea God who stood gallantly carrying a million fortunes.
People on the dock and other fishermen, in recent days often heard Afrizal shout the name “Al-Aqsa” while laughing. Some people understand whose name it is called, but many more do not understand the name of what it is called.
“Jampe Al-Aqsa Afrizal works once,” says a fisherman in black long sleeves in a green sheath. Name's Karahang. He was weighing his fish which was only three groups.
“Newly this time there are people who paddle up to a week in a row. A day and two days I am sure, Afrizal immediately married,” said Junaidi while hanging a group of fish belonging to Karahang.
While Karahang's view continues to be on the arrival of motorboats carrying Afrizal's fish approaching the crowded dock by fishermen, buyers, and fish sellers. In addition, breakfast traders and others who take advantage of the crowds of fish auctions every morning. The fishy and unpleasant smell has become a distinctive aroma that is considered fragrant by fishermen.
After receiving the money for the sale of fish, Karahang immediately went to the edge of the dock, he waited for a motorboat carrying Afrizal.
When the boat was approaching the dock, Andu turned off the engine, letting the boat slide among the other boats that had docked at the dock. Afrizal immediately moved to hold back so as not to be so hard hit.
In addition to Karahang, some men are also ready to welcome the arrival of the boat that was boarded by Afrizal. They are the fish men who buy all the fish caught by the fishermen in the city of Kalianda. At the auction there are several fishermen fish. Afrizal already has a manager where he sells all his fish, his name is Haji Daeng Marakka.
Afrizal threw the boat mooring rope to Karahang. The men who had been waiting immediately jumped up to the small boat that had moved slowly docked to the dock.
“You till when does the along continue, Izal?” asked Karahang while laughing receiving the boat rope.
“Until Al-Aqsa free, hahaha!” afrizal replied half-shouting with a small laugh.
Afrizal took his mother's basket and jumped from the boat to the cement dock. The basket used by mothers to the market contains a number of fish and squid, machetes and saws, and empty bushels of food supply.
“How many entourage?” karahang asked with the viscosity of Bugis dialect in his words.
“Two three. You how much?”
“Only three,” replied Karahang while smiling wryly. He followed Afrizal walking away from the edge of the pier.
Meanwhile, Haji Daeng Marakka's men were busy transporting fish-filled troupes from the boat up to the dock.
“Can we marry,” said Karahang who already has two children. Karahang is 36 years old, eleven years older than Afrizal.
“Hahaha..!” Afrizal laughed at the words of his friend.
“I want to test the guts of the war to Palestine, if you go home safe, then I am applying Wetto, hahaha!” afrizal said.
Both stopped in front of a table. Behind the table sat a fat man in a black Bugis copy with gold thread embroidery. He wore a white shirt size XXL to balance the size of his body. He sat wearing only the original sarong of Samarinda in black. On the table in front of him, there was a thick notebook and his large right hand finger was holding a pen. On the side of the book is a calculator and a good phone. The 60-year-old has a pair of red eyes. Haji Daeng Marakka, the boss of Afrizal.
“Teri 23 entourage, Daeng Haji,” said Afrizal reported.
Haji Daeng Marakka then pressed the numbers on the calculator with one finger only. He counted. After pressing “ equals”, Haji Daeng Marakka then wrote in the book. After that he offered to Afrizal to be seen.
Haji Daeng Marakka then pulled open his desk drawer. From there he took a wad of money and began to count.
“Sisa yesterday two million plus 20 groups today,” Daeng Haji Marakka said while giving a pile of money that he had calculated to Afrizal. “Count again. So, the rest of the three troupes.”
With solemnity, Afrizal calculated.
“Yes, Daeng Haji. Thank you!” afrizal said, smiling happily.
“Hmm, don't forget to mate,” said Haji Daeng Marakka with a cold expression.
“Hahaha!” back exploding Afrizal laughter alluded to mating problems.
After securing the money behind his clothes, Afrizal went to the rice-smith.
“Bu Bacem, eat we all paid Izal!” exclaimed a young man to a middle-aged woman selling rice. The young man named Sofian was sitting cross-legged on the dry cement dock while eating rice sitting with two other fishing men.
“Yes, Ms. Bacem, let me pay,” Afrizal said with a smile.
“Hahaha!” laugh all three heard the generosity of Afrizal which was abundant in sustenance from the sea.
“Not that you get five snapper troupes, Sofian,” said Karahang.
“Stay down to the sea champion, Hang,” Sofian said with a smile.
“Uduk, Zal?” ask Bu Bacem.
Afrizal took the existing newspaper rips to wrap the rolled up pancakes that Bu Bacem was selling.
Bu Bacem's name is attached to the seller's woman because the tempe bacem he sold is famous for its deliciousness. Her real name is Samina, but for decades she has been known as Bu Bacem.
Afrizal stopped, he read the writing in the newspaper that made him feel interested. In the paper there is a writing entitled “Kround the World Walking Foot”. As the writing in the paper was cut off by the tear, Afrizal looked at the pile of newspaper on the table and looked for the rest of the writing.
“What are you looking for, Izal?” asked Karahang while taking a paper to wrap the cake he bought.
“This is good writing, I find the piece,” Afrizal replied. “Ah, here it is.”
Afrizal listened for a moment to the writing on the two pieces of newspaper, then folded them and slipped them behind his clothes.
After wrapping, after paying the tracts of the fishermen, Afrizal and Karahang went back to the edge of the dock, where the motorboats and other boats were moored.
“Why do you always talk Palestine and Al-Aqsa, Izal?” asked Karahang as he walked from boat to boat, then stopped on a boat on which had sat several middle-aged men and two women.
“It has Muslims who must be liberated. I want to be part of the people who fight,” replied Afrizal while also boarding the motorboat, then sit down and put the basket of fishermen.
“It has nothing to do with you about that. Aren't there Arabs there?” karahang. “We are fishermen who can live it is grateful. Eating three times a day is already luxurious. There are still a lot of closer things to be done. If only for the reason of helping fellow Muslims, Bu Eni is more entitled to help, if you need to apply.”
“Hahahak!”
Afrizal laughs, as well as the laughter of those on the boat. Including one of the two women. The woman named Bu Eni just silently frowned and frowned. She was the widow of two children who worked as a traveling fishmonger, including neighbor Afrizal, her home was only a few houses away from the Afrizal residence.
“Eh, Karahang!” hardik Bu Eni's. “Why did you ask Afrizal to propose to me? Why not just you. I also do not mind being the second, as long as you get the ration of a living.”
“Hahahak!”
They laughed again, including Karahang himself.
“Blessed to you, Hang!” the man who sat by the boat engine laughed.
“As if we go home, Asse!” afrizal said to the man who owned the boat.
“Different feeling if you have brought a lot of money, the inn wants to rush to the house, even though there is no beautiful wife waiting in the room,” Asse said jokingly.
Now Afrizal is laughing.
“You think my mother is less beautiful to wait for her child?” ask Afrizal to Asse.
Asse then moves to unbind the mooring rope.
“Asse!” shouted someone from the dock while waving a hand.
“Hold! Prospective in-laws don't be left behind!” karahang exclaimed as he saw who was calling.
A thin middle-aged man with a fairly tall posture, moving from one boat to another boat to get to the boat owned by Asse who is black and yellow with writing on the body of the boat “King Dumay”. That man is Made Sadika, the father of Wetto, Afrizal's dream woman.
“Alhamdulillah,” said Made Sadika upon arrival on the boat and sat on the left side of Karahang on the edge of the boat.
Asse pushed the other boat as a repulsion for the boat to slide away. Next he turned on the motor engine so that it caused a noise.
Those on the boat lived on the other side of the Kalianda beach. The distance of the house with the pier is quite far. The best way to get home from the auction is to take a boat ride which they will pay the rent for.
“How many entourage, Izal?” tanya Made Sadika was a bit loud, so as not to be outdone by the sound of the boat engine.
“Twenty-three, Daeng,” replied Afrizal who also somewhat shouted.
“Weh, add a lot from yesterday. Want you to buy a motorbike what is a lot of money?” ask Made.
“Do not want to buy anything, Daeng. I was thinking of going to fight,” Afrizal replied with a small smile.
“Izal was again dizzy to get a lot of money,” timpal Karahang while bringing his face closer to the side of the head Made Sadika. Then ask the old man next to him, “Daeng Made, Wetto is there already a betel or not?”
“Not yet. Why are you asking my son?” made Sadika replied and asked back.
“Hahaha!” Karahang just laughed while looking at Afrizal, as if giving a code to Made Sadika.
“Why see me?” hardik Afrizal to Karahang, he understood Karahang's laughter.
Meanwhile, the boat quickly moved away from the pier towards the other side of the beach. Seemed houses fortified with sea stone embankments lined up along the beach. A number of stilt houses typical of Bugis ethnic houses can also be seen on the coast. While the foot of Mount Rajabasa provides a green view full of plantations Kalianda residents who live in the fields. (BH)
