STUPID CLASSES

Kopaja

In the copaja crowded with people from various professions, I could deduce a little of all of them on this bus, he said,

Most of the people who see someone using a t-shirt, t-shirt, hats and towels criss-crossed at the neck is a bus that often doubles as an impromptu driver when the main driver who looks fat and often difficult to turn because the steering stuck in the stomach is obstructed present .

On the back of about three people with the appearance almost the same as the bus but in addition to the levis jacket and glancing at each other are the pickpockets, the pickpockets,

Among the three of them who stood up while trembling because they were approached by one of the pickpockets was a nomad who had just taken the first kopaja bus, nervous attitude like going to a job interview by the head of the dish shop, looks more striking because it is easy to be deceived .

Including someone in a suit beside my seat was a fraud, in the sense that the outline was a slender, the appearance of the members of the council, the hair neatly combed and fragrant as well, authorize from the facial features that he trained in order to seduce consumers, saying all kinds of advantages of a plate that he said is anti-break, even though once a bite has been crushed .

There are also buskers who hum without caring about the lyrics or tone and only armed with applause, making the atmosphere in this kopaja more chaotic, he said,

Not to mention a hawker who blackmailed passengers with cold drinks for five thousand even though in the stalls only two thousand just because of 'additional services' without the need to go down to buy directly to the stall,

"Sir of cold drinks ".

" please one"

"Five thousand, sir" The buyer was surprised, even to open his mouth, changing the money of two thousand to five thousand while in a palpable fear that something was tucked away .

"Hmmm"

I understand very well the meaning of the murmur .

All of this becomes a thing that is always in every copaja and the rest of the passengers are just additional figures that do not care about each other, including me, as well, not that I don't care about the victim who is at the stake of the scissors, it's just that in reality there is no one who wins if in the three thugs even though they are all flat .

The essence of it is not about the buskers or clapping his hands, but about all the activities in this kopaja, every activity of the passengers becomes a familiar thing, he said, not that all the things that are going on I always pay attention to, but because the story of the neighbors who became nomads is very clearly visible in my life today .

How I saw every single thing he ever told me, about the life of a society that is sometimes individualistic, the rigors of a life that knows no one, no neighbors, no one, whoever has power will succeed and those who ask without ever doing anything.

That's what I've seen all this time and it's all the same as what the neighbors told me.

I once thought about quitting school when I graduated from Junior High School, because everything I do in school will only lead me to a puddle of rice fields that are hereditary treasures to support the whole family, but all my thoughts ended until Refa wanted to continue attending school with me .

If at SMK I had never met Woro, Sano and Cayo, I would not be able to be in this place right now, knowing various people who have their own uniqueness, he said, exploring various places that I can only see in the old fried newspapers and have a job that can provide a better living for my family.

I just thought that no matter how high I went to school, the end of my journey was only in a paddy field, but because of the stupid dreams of the three people in my life.

Showing the way that I should have a high education, otherwise I would be like a mojair fish out of breath in this black and smelly catfish pond in Jakarta .

Although in the end, my journey and the three MADESU humans had to separate because they got different jobs.

Time goes on, bringing all the busy work and forget all the happiness as a comrade in arms.

We forget each other, confined by the circle of office management between pay and needs.

"I miss my old life." I muttered by seeing the outside view of Kopaja glass full of endless traffic jams.