The Black Valley Becomes the Empress
Sequel to My Dear Sister's Past, My Sister Malang Part 2
I'm still waiting for the baby's cry to be heard from mom's room. Waiting with a feeling of anxiety. It's been a long time since Mak oneh came to mom's room. I had thought if the mother would give birth to many children at this time.5 or even 8 children at once. Because the process is so long. Not like on TV for a few minutes. Still harboring anxiety, silvana began to whine. I tried to calm Silvana down. Silvana was still terrified. Just like me. The silvana whimper turned into a cry. I'm smothering his mouth. Tells stop. Lunch this time is fried tempeh. I tried to persuade Silvana to stop crying in exchange for my ration fried tempeh she could eat without rice. Things that I could never do or even silvana do. Economic limitations make us unable to eat anything without rice. Nambul rencang sangu, that's how the term here is a luxury for us. Silvana finally hiccupped. I took her to bed. Both of his hands held the fried tempe in his left and right hands. The tempe in his right hand had already eaten a quarter, as he dropped the tempeh onto the mattress and began to fall asleep. I picked up the tempeh for me to put back in the kitchen.
"Tea" shouted the father. I rushed to run towards my father.
"Metik dodi leaves the same cassava leaves" said the father again. I'm nodding. Then move on. The atmosphere today felt so tense. Waiting for my sister to be born into the world. Looking for leaves that you mean is not difficult indeed. There is still a lot of growth in my area.
After everything I needed, I got me home. Boil cassava leaves with a little salt and sugar, while dodi leaves I grow and add water. to get water thick like oil. I put the water squeeze the dodi leaves into a tall glass and add a little brown sugar to add the tasteless taste. I gave the glass to my father. Back I waited for the sound of the baby crying in my room with a huff.
At about 15:25 with the sound of the Adhan I heard the crying of a baby in the air. The heart that had been lost was gone. Replacing the immeasurable sense of happiness. I ran to the front of my father's room which was still tightly closed. Dare not knock on the door of the room. I'm just waiting behind the door.
Moments later, Mak oneh came out of the room. While chewing betel leaves and I don't know what else makes his lips glow red.
"No money, keep children" grumbled oneh. I was silent in front of the door that was now starting to open. The fishy smell of blood pierced my nose. I saw him holding a baby in his arms. The sound of iqomah was heard from the father's mouth which he approached in the left ear of the baby's sister. I'm still looking for another baby, which might be there.
"It's tea" said my father. When my eyes looked at me, I could see there were tears in my eyes.
"The baby's only one pack?" I'm as innocent as an 8-year-old boy.
"How much do you want it?" ask father. A smile spread across his face.
"Add one more child is difficult especially a lot" said the mother with a ketus voice.
"So old mom in the dalem, so eteh think there's a lot of baby"
The seeds of my hatred for my mother began to grow here. The father told me to sit on a chair and give my little baby sister who was wrapped in a shabby cloth into my arms.
"Hold it for a second. Don't move. Eteh diem. I want to take care of my mother first" said my father. I just nodded. The first time I saw the face of a sister who had been 9 months in the stomach of the mother. His eyes were swollen as if he had cried. His eyelids are still closed.
I glanced at my father, without moving my body. I was busy cleaning the red liquid on the mattress that had been coated with a plastic bag of garbage that had been opened on the side until wider. "Blood" I said in my heart. Towards the adzan magrib the father took the baby brother who was in my lap and told me to prepare food for the mother. I just nodded, even though I was really tired.
The food was on the tray I brought into the room. Rice with fried tempeh side dishes and boiled cassava leaves. Without expecting her mother to pull her hand. Make the handsome one in my hand fall to the floor. Rice and side dishes splattered on the floor were fused with broken plates and glasses.
"Mr.." cried mother. I picked up broken plates and cups of rice scattered on the floor. "Do you have no mind?" snapped mom. At first I thought my mother was talking to me. I looked up my head at my mother's face. His eyes looked at the door, and I quickly turned my eyes to the door. You are standing in the doorway. You just keep quiet, do not intend to answer the words of the mother that I know hurt you very much. "Useful men. Even feeding meat to a wife who has just given birth you can't" continued the mother. I hurriedly finished my work, hoping to get out of the place soon.
"Prophey ma'am" replied the father. Low voice. That is so father. I never heard you yell at anyone. Except once when I was about to get hit by a car, because when I crossed the road with my father I let go of his hand and ran. But after that, he took a hug and apologized.
"Patience to be patient until when? Is my body dead?" snarl mom again. You just fell silent. Approaching the mother who was still lying down while stroking her hair. "Tomorrow you buy" promised you. Mom just fell silent. Anger still appeared on his face.
...****************...
The baby's age is now 1 week. There's no name I can call when a baby's sister cries. I've never even seen a mother breastfeed a baby's sister. When crying, mom would just yell at me and tell me to make baby sister not cry anymore. During this time the father who feeds the baby's sister with sharp water. Every time you cook rice, you add more water and put the water into a plastic bottle of used mineral water to give to your baby.
I don't know why mom wouldn't breastfeed my baby sister. I've only heard the mother threaten the father will not breastfeed or give the name of the baby's sister before the father mortgaged the house we occupy to the landlord to open a stall business. So during that time also the baby's sister was never given a name nor did she have a name. The more embedded is my hatred of the figure I should call mother.
