LOVE SONGS OF LOLOBATA

MY BEGINNING

I flipped my body over the wooden bed. Kreeet, the wood of my bed rang when I rolled my body to the right.

Kreeet, that creak of wood was making a sound again as I rolled back my body violently to the left side. I was amazed at my own feelings.

Why like this? The shadow of his smile will not escape my memory. I'm afraid I want to see him again. The curvature of her lips seemed to contain a mouth that immediately entered my heart, heart and brain without control. But really, I don't want that at all. I feel like I can't control myself.

Damnit. What kind of feeling is this. What mistake did I make that I felt tormented like this? God, please. What do I do to kill this feeling?

The night is getting late. The lights have been turned off. It should have been quiet and dark to make me fall asleep quickly. This time it was dark and my tired body couldn't force me to fall asleep. I have been trying to close my eyes for hours. I have also recited a sleep prayer and tried hard to dispel my memory of him. But my hard work has not yielded results.

My mind kept floating around imagining her smile and everything that happened to us that day.

“You can't sleep, Fifa?” Mama looked at my room which was only covered in curtains. May be disturbed by the movement and sound of a creaking bed.

Baffled. What do I have to answer?

Mama stepped in, turned on the lights, then sat on the edge of my bed. I am more confused as to how. My anxiety has made my mother wake up from her sleep. I feel so guilty.

“Still sad to think of that parrot?” ask mom in a soft voice.

I am still saddened by the death of my beloved parrot. But that's not what really makes me sleepless. Should I talk to my mom about this embarrassing thing? Of course not. I better just nod.

“Do we need to find a similar bird to treat your grief?”

“How to find it?” I asked him a stupid question. Though I know there are people who hunt and trade parrots in our village. Maybe mama thought she'd get a surrogate parrot from that guy.

Mama frowned, “Maybe there is someone who wants to sell her pet parrot.”

I shook my head, “No. The forest police said the parrot was a rare and protected bird. Fifa won't keep Nuri.”

Mama understood that the parrot's position was irreplaceable. The parrot was not my pet, but a wild bird that used to perch on the walnut tree next to my father's old house. Nuri's been friends with me for years. “Sorry. Mama just doesn't want to see you sad, Fifa.”

“Fifa is fine, Ma.”

“But you often have trouble sleeping like this.”

“Maybe not used to living in this house.” I got one precise answer that might answer my mom's question why I often can't sleep at night.

“You are uncomfortable because of this curtain?”

Not really, but I decided to nod. All this time I used to live alone in my father's hut. There are also differences when it comes to living with a mother who is now married to someone else. Although my stepfather is rarely at home, but it feels better if my room is given a door like my sister's Fifi room. More comfortable for my privacy.

“Tomorrow mama will order a handyman to make the door and fix your bed that seems to have rickety.”

“Thank you, Ma.” I smiled sweetly and hugged my mama with a spoiled hug.

“Other times if there is something uncomfortable, say the same mom yes.”

“Heem.” I nodded in agreement.

“Now pray and think a lot so that your soul is calm. Don't save your own problems! Your mother will always be there for you. No matter how small the problem is, it is not good if it is constantly buried. There will never be a solution. Talk to someone else who can be trusted, so that your heart is relieved. Sometimes other people have better thoughts and solutions because their minds are more free from emotions than people who are being overwritten by problems. If we're emotional, our minds can be locked."

“Iya, Ma.”

Mama stroked my hair before leaving the room. Not long after that I heard water. He must not go back to sleep in his room. Mama takes ablution water for evening prayer.

I should have followed in my footsteps, but I couldn't force my body out of bed. My body feels tired and weak. He just wants to lie down even though he can't sleep. I cannot force myself to pray and pray at night. Maybe in me there is more of a demon than an angel so I can't dispel my laziness. Could I really be knocked out?

He was the one who helped me when I got lost in the woods the other day. His hair was straight, his nose was sharp and his body was firm and tall. But the most interesting thing about her was her charming smile. I don't know what she used to wake me up from the exhaustion, dehydration and hunger in the woods. All I know is that when I woke up I became a crazy girl who was suddenly fascinated by her. The shadow of his smile followed my every step as if it was my own shadow. I can't forget it even though I want to forget it.

Did I fall in love at first sight with that stranger?

“Hai, you have realized apparently Miss.” The first sentence that came out of his lips that had a smile full of charm never escaped my memory. Always ringing in the ears along with the memory of his smile that made my soul no longer the same.

Maybe I should go to a mental doctor. I've gone mad.

If I can choose, I want to fall in love with the figure of Arfa my little friend who always accompanies, defends and accompanies me in joy and sorrow all this time. Not to a stranger with my own eyes caught shooting my beloved parrot.

The arrow is the thing I hate the most because it has made me lose my father, the man who became my first love.

“Baba Syarif found near pe ngoni have fields. Die by baracun arrow.” Afra, my best friend who ran the fastest among our villagers gave me news that made my world feel almost collapsed.

Afra came in and knocked on the door of our house hard until almost deaf ears we heard it. Sweat on his body. His speech was also slightly interrupted.

I who welcomed him could only be sculpted. Can't say anything.

“Baba can't leave us. Moreover, the mother is pregnant with our new sister candidates. No. gabe. Baba will definitely go home,” my screams without a sound.

My heart rejected the news. Arfa's lying. Baba is not dead. Baba just went to the fields and will be home soon to pray the jum’at prayer in our little mushola.

I'm shaking. “You're crazy, Arfa. Babaku is not dead.”

“People bring their bodies home here. Let's get ready we pulasara.”

“NO!” I screamed loudly while closing my ears. I shoved Arfa's body while widening my eyes. The man was clawing, almost falling. I hate this news. Arfa, the bearer of bad news suddenly turned into a red-horned demon in my eyes.

“Baba will be home soon to pray jum’at.” I continued to scream in my heart while shaking my head.

While my chest gets claustrophobic because the heart beats like a horse hunt. Brains boiling. But I couldn't put out the taste that was squeezing my chest and head. Can't scream anymore. Crying does not come out with tears.

Arfa approached and grabbed my shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Fifa.” said the curly-haired young man with a face full of regret. His eyes look at me with sadness. Presumably he had just realized his stupidity of delivering the bad news in such a hurry that it made me very depressed. His voice sounded very low.

I tried to neutralize my heartbeat so I could think more clearly. But I can't.

“Ngana can mange me pe kefe,” he said slowly while patting. His strong hand carried my head leaning against his shoulder gently and slowly. I'm resigned. Usually I feel more comfortable when I can wake up spoiled on the boat baba. Maybe Arfa's shoulder can replace it.

The village women came to flock. Most of them are excited to ask what is and why baba died. Mama Geza deftly guided the mama whose body was stretched to sit in the wooden bale in front of our house. Mama Tiya carried Fifi inside the house. The men who came because of the screams of one of the residents were immediately busy looking for a banana stem, discussing the plan of the recovery of the corpse and swiftly took a hoe and shovel to prepare the tomb hole next to the house.

While I'm getting dazed. Stay still without knowing what to do. Is my chapter really gone? What can I do without baba?

“Ngana should be strong, Fifa. Ngana must be patient.” Arfa patted me gently on the shoulder.

I glare.

What did you say? Must Strong? Must Patience? It's good you said that. You don't know how I feel. Others may die or disappear, but not with my chapter.

Anger and sadness made my head grow dizzy. My chest is getting crowded. Breath is getting shorter. My eyes slowly began to blur. I shook off Arfa's hand, threw her down, then went inside the house and lay on the wooden floor. I don't remember what happened after that.

Arfa was still by my side when I opened my eyes. The smell of eucalyptus oil was pouring out in the air. Maybe that scent was used by my mother who was around me to wake me up. Seeing me sober up, with her eye gesture Arfa asked some mama out of our little hut so we wouldn't feel claustrophobic. Only Arfa, Deya and Tiya's mother left behind accompanied me in my hut.

Now my body feels weak and my heartbeat is very slow. There is no spirit to rise. I was helpless when Deya and Arfa helped me sit down and thrust a bamboo glass filled with clear water.

“Tarima love.”

I pushed back the bamboo glass that had been finished.

Arfa nodded. Deya hugged me in silence.

There are people reciting prayers out there. Is my chapter being shodded?

I took a lot of oxygen and slowly threw it away. I breathe more regularly and my heart beats normally. I think my body feels limp like a boneless worm.

“Baba?”

Arfa chose silence and nodded slowly. He seemed confused as to how to answer the short question and the look in my eyes. The man may be afraid of choosing the wrong word that might even make me more sad. He's been my best friend all along. I know he is sad for me too.

“Propa is home?”

Arfa nodded.

Baba has come home. Whatever the circumstances, I must be able to rise to welcome him.

Free to fight destiny. If baba really is gone, I have to see her body one last time.

My body is too weak to get up on its own. With Deya, Arfa led me to walk to a bale in the yard of a house made of banana stems where the bodies of baba were laid. The speech of the village head was heard as a last tribute.

“Baba Syarif good people. He was martyred and died on a good day. Insha Allah husnul khatimah.”  The words of the village chief injected positive energy into my body.

“Husnul khatimah.” The parrot that often perched on the branch of the walnut tree next to the mushola repeated the last word spoken by the village head. The sound of the bent beak bird sounded more raucous than usual. Like I've been crying.

I looked at the parrot and raised my own heart with a smile as a thank you for his testimony. I have to be sincere. I cannot burden the burden of the baba with tears and tears. Insha Allah baba husnul khatimah.

Baba was martyred and died on a good day. In my heart I repeated the words spoken by the village head father as well as the testimony of the parrot and most of our villagers. Everything comes from God and will come back to Him. All creatures will die. Happy are those who die in good condition. Baba was one of the people who got that good chance, husnul khatimah.

I turned my gaze to look at my baba's body that looked calm and peaceful. Face's clean. Looks the same as when baba sleeps every day. His lips turned into a smile as if to tell me that he had completed his duties on this earth well. The people of our village decided not to bathe and forgive his body. They consider Baba a martyr. Baba was buried in her blood-soaked clothes.

Baba has gone to heaven, a place far more beautiful than the earth. Lkhlaskanlah! Don't follow her steps with tears. I must be strong. I can certainly continue the struggle baba as hard as possible. In fact, death must have happened and I just have to wait for when it was my turn to meet Baba in heaven.