NADIRS
Nadir ~ Go
Last night we arrived at our cottage. Eliminate the expanse of sweet potatoes and chili in front of the house. The flame of the bottle light sitting between me and Ama was fluttering against the wind. From here, I can hear the night birds cheering. Voicing their search for life. But, there was nothing for them to make up, the banyan tree that grew towered to the north of my house was ripe for fruit. I can imagine how they behaved in the thick underarms of that tree.
I helped Ama tidy up the fifty pieces of money I received from Mangge Hanif this afternoon. For some reason, every time doing a counting process like this, Ama divided the money into two. Equal, twenty-five pieces per section. Some put it into the kosau (pouches of cloth), some in the rolls per sheet, then put it into a bamboo stone that is the size of Ama's thigh. I helped her too.
From inside the crackle, Ama attached her order battery to a rusty aluminum plate-skinned tiger flashlight on some sides. The old flashlight has a history, its services are unsung, whether how many ferrets have fled flushed by the light. Not a few****-***** unfortunate who died at night by the spear Ama, of course because of the help of its light. That's why Ama really appreciates her tiger flashlight. So, even though the lights die many times, Ama does not intend to buy a new flashlight. Just replace the broken part. Ama took me down the mountain in the middle of the night just to bring her tiger flashlight to the house of Mangge Raden, her father Wira, if the flashlight suffered shortness of breath, heart failure, or senewen. For repair.
Oh yes, you need to understand too, this Mangge Raden is a reparator of all kinds of tools. His expertise in the field of repair need not be denied. Let alone a tiger flashlight, eighteen-wheeled truck car lights were stripped. Let alone the truck with its wheels, the tractor cart was dismantled. Oi, do not you wonder, it is not difficult to fix a wooden cart that was pulled by a rough tractor that sounded rogue. You can be crazy about making it. Not to mention the lubricant that can vomit at any time, you can stress instead of the clogs it makes.
Ama presses the flashlight button, checking the light when it is stable. He smiled, I was satisfied.
“Tonight, we slept in the corn cottage!” Said. “Babi-**** start logging in again. Some young corn trees are falling.”
“Iya, Ama.” I said.
In the middle of the corn field, east of the yam garden, Ama made a cottage measuring four times three meters. The roof of lontar leaves, the floor of round wood. The walls are bamboo. Everything is tied with rattan. Approaching the harvest day like this, we used to spend the night there. Keep, in case there is a herd **** forest that wants to destroy. Pest *** does often upset the farmers in this village, because they come when the night has come, when the farmers are sound, lulled by the silence of the night.
Ama watches around the grounds with her flashlight. Eyes alert. The spear in his right hand was raised, anticipating. I walked behind him carefully, tightly hugging the bag containing the books I wrapped in a sarong. Fear, if such a valuable object must be lost in the middle of the field that shows a creepy silhouette at any time.
Sometimes Amaku looks back, making sure that his son is still there. Behind him, I can't wait to get to the cottage. There's something I miss about an Amaku there. In the cottage later, Ama who I know is very quiet, transformed into another figure. A great man, capable of making anyone fall in love with him.
Suddenly Ama's steps stopped, I stuck behind her. I followed the direction of the flashlight, there among the corn trees, a flock of **** was partying, knocking down the young corn trees.
“Hya... hya... hya!” Ama tries to expel, but ******** it does not budge. They are busy destroying the young corn. Feeling his bluff was not successful, with the expertise of an accomplished hunter, Ama immediately raised her spear. I heard the sound of Ama's energy. I couldn't see for sure what the process was like after that, because the dark didn't give me a chance. As far as I know, right among the collapsed corn trees, ********** it ran off the ridge, except for one that was large. Unfortunately the fate of the father**** that, he can only scream bitterly, when the spear Amaku penetrated his back to the ground.
“Kena, Ama!” myrag.
“Iya!” ama sahut. We immediately rushed to the unfortunate**** that could not be separated from the flashlight.
“Man our garden tonight, Uti!” ama said. I grimaced watching the blood coming from my back ****. “Babi-****that won't dare to come back here again tonight!”
Ama pulled out the spear that was stuck in the body**** slowly, I hissed at it. I closed my eyes with the palm of my hand watching the blood spew out as soon as the spear was completely uprooted. I faintly witnessed the unfortunate**** it convulsed, squealing in pain, until finally its consciousness. Destiny has come in time.
I was still sculpting, staring at the *** that was soaked by the blood as Ama cleaned the spear's eyes with soil and leaves. I stared at the glint of his haggard eyes, I can read the pain there regret. Had he not interfered tonight, his life might not have ended. His family did not have to lose him. Oh, poor luck, Uti.
Apart from the unfortunate***, we headed straight for the cottage not far away. Arriving at the cottage, Ama and I started a fire under the cover, to repel mosquitoes and warmers, he said. I see the sky is getting brighter, the stars are getting more cheerful flickering. The moon is bright, perfectly round. The fifteenth month. I was amazed, for a while.
The door creaked as we entered. Ama immediately grabbed the bottle light on top of the plank attic. Fusing it with a match. Lost my heart for a while, let alone seeing the string hanging in the corner there, my eyes do not want to escape.
“Play kakacapi ondong⁸ tonight, Ama!” door, instantly.
“Shortly, Uti, let's take a break. Not tired of you after the trip and ******** that?”
I'm silent. Amaku lit his kretek cigarette fire. I often advise Ama that smoking is one of the bad habits. But Ama did not want to give up, he said the kretek moaning was his comforter friend since long ago. His closest friend. With the kretek smoke he found calm every time he passed the day, he said. I can only resign when Ama has spoken so. You think it's easy to separate a person from his best friend?
Not wanting to disturb Ama who was drifting in a puff of kretek smoke, I took out a book from inside the bag― net weight 10 Kg. Do the work that will be checked tomorrow. Ama poured coffee from the thermos she carried into two plastic cups. One glass for me, one for him. The more immersed he is in the pleasure of kretek plus coffee, the more itchy my head solves these confusing problems.
I persistently do things, though my head is fretting. Up to the last question, my brain is working hard, reaching to the limit of my understanding of the root (√). I wanted to ask Amaku, but I was afraid he was offended. Don't matter this complicated, even the SD diploma he doesn't have. As far as my understanding of Ama's education level is in the 4th grade. Not better than that number. Fortunately, he could read and write, otherwise Ama's name was included in the search list for illiteracy volunteers, such as those who often visit the village.
“Akar from 81...” I flocked myself. Folding my fingers, the others wrapped into the palm, my little pair stood up. I spelled there. I hope to find an answer. “4 + 4 \= 8, 1 x 1 \= 1... yes, the root of 81 is 9!” myrag. I smiled, it turned out that the fingermatika taught by Mr. Rano Karno who is not an artist let alone a singer, was very helpful. I sighed, it was my job. I close the book, I slip a pencil between the covers, then I put it back in the bag. I don't have my coffee that I've been roasting since. Ah, it feels like all the burdens.
Ama stood up to grab her ondong kakacapi. The sampan-shaped object with seven strings running across his body was rubbed. Ritual Ama every time you want to play it. Attennisiku. This is the moment I've been waiting for.
Ama was sitting at the door of the cottage, I was next to her. I let my feet hang between the stairs and the mouth of the door. Intense I noticed Ama tuning the strings, the grunting of the fishing line was already sounding melodious in my ears. And when Ama began to pluck it gently I smiled.
That said, kakacapi ondong is used by ancestors to accompany their Umaumanan⁹, every time the night comes. My ancestors were excellent storytellers. Although it has eroded the wheels of the era that is ready to crush anyone who is weak, I am grateful for the concern in the hearts of the community for the culture of mongunguman that is entrusted by ancestors, still alive.
“What song do you want to hear, Uti?” ask Ama, after the initial improvisation. Test, just in case the tone is right.
“To gaati golung¹o, Ama!” myrag. I am very happy with the song, because in addition to the beautiful verse, this song to gaati golung contains historical elements. Legend. Fairy tales, which until now is still believed by some people the truth. Including me, so I asked Ama to sing the Lord Kelana; the man of heaven who brings love to the man of the earth. I've often heard these tales about Mr. Kelana from old people. Ama also often tells me every time I ask her.
“Not tired of you hearing it, Uti?”
“No Ama, tell me about Mr Kelana!” I can't wait.
The string of the ondong kakacapi is plucked gently. The sound is unique, at first glance it sounds like a kulintang sound, but the rhythm is much more soothing.
I looked up at the night sky, much whiter, like a silk mattress stretching out. Up there, out the faces I missed. Sky people. The inhabitants of heaven. Tahbis creature. And I smiled, right in the middle of that obvious month, I saw Ina¹¹'s face. Yeah, I'm sure he's my In, even though I've never met him. Ama's story of the beautiful Ina, her hair was as straight as a shoulder, her nose was pointed, her smile was sweetly dissatisfied, her lips were red despite not wearing dye, her shady eyes promised peace, her face book described her dignity, her eyes were red, I'm more and more convinced that the angel in the moon's circle is Ina. Oh, prameswari.
Oh, mr. kelana
Come when the night is coming
Full face
Oh, mr. kelana
Touch jwa kian nestapa's heart
A repressed soul
Your love is reconciling the universe
Nirwana 3 times four with bamboo walls roofed lontar leaves are instantly evaporated. My entity is no longer there. Flying far between the brightly flickering stars. My hands were raised, flailing at the smiling face of the moon. For a moment I closed my eyes, I caught the peace offered by silence. The rhythm of the kakacapi ondong Ama, the verses of the Kelana Lord, melodious inserted into my heart. In this sky, the air was much cooler.
Look, he is sitting on that white cloud. The soft clouds were like a pile of marble in front of the smiling moon earlier. The man had my eyes, his hands crossed arrows, his chest glistened with diamonds. His robe was the wind, golden-tongued with white silk. Oh, is he Mr Kelana? I was amazed, staring at the legend that brought a favor named love to his grandchildren on earth.
At first I was amazed, then I realized, if he was really Mr. Kelana, then, the smiling prince in the circle of the moon was Beine―the village girl who became the lover of the wandering master, then, in legend. Yeah, he's Beine. Not Inaku. Oh, my heart withers. My dream fell away for a moment. The celestial and starry universe was slowly disguising itself. Shrinking away. Finally lost.
Remaining me and Ama Saru with the rhythm of kakacapi ondongnya in this corn cottage. I looked down next to Ama.
And when you come later
Bring love to a universe
Humming in rain umbrella
Sowing cahya in river ripples
Oh lord kelana
Fire of your love soul blanket
Blooms bloom in the mihrab of the heart
My sepiku miss oh lord kelana.
Hearing Ama's shrill voice echoed the night with the verses of the wandering master. Heart aches. Like a rattan thorn. It's amazing the pain. My legs that were half-hanging between the steps trembled faintly. Kuremas my chest, strong, there's a pain that's been inflicted in there. Longing. Inas. Oh, I'm crying.
Footnote :
¹. Storytelling
². Bamboo Webbing
³. Father; Father
⁴. Bamboo; Bamboo iron
⁵. Om; Uncle; a term for people who are the same age as parents.
⁶. Call for boys.
⁷. Coconut
⁸. 9-string stringed stringed stringed instrument shaped like a pda rowboat generally. (This musical instrument is simply the result of the author's imagination).
⁹. Fairytales
¹o. Fairytale creatures that are said to come from heaven.
¹¹. Mother; Mama; can also be used to greet women who are the same age as our parents.
¹². Shamans
¹³. Grannies
¹⁴. Freshwater fish; similar to mojair
¹⁵. Mother; Mother
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