The Sun Becomes a Star
Nostalgic
I got in front of Grandma's house when the sun was almost setting. The sun is visible to the west in a reddish color. Big wind blowing making whistling sound – whistles. Tree – tree swaying makes a rustling sound. I can feel walking with my hair swaying – shake because of the big wind. Some coconuts whose old leaves fell on the ground. Fast – fast I run into the house. Meet Grandma who looks fresh from bathing after a day in the rice mill.
The rice mill is heard not to run anymore. Some people still I saw covering the dried rice next to the mill with thick plastic so as not to get wet again because of the rain that might soon fall. Sure enough, the big wind that was blowing brought cloudy about – about fifteen minutes later. The red color of the sun is no longer visible because the sky began to gray followed by the water that fell bergeriericik. Entering mid-November, it began to rain frequently in Malang.
“Shower Har first,” I quickly go into the room, fetch Imelda a comfortable place, and take a shower.
I then sat down next to Grandma who was sitting on the porch. In a chair of teak wood that has been repeatedly – times re-plitur. My grandmother just sat there enjoying the rain. Enjoy smelling soil when it collides with rainwater. I sat next to Grandma. Trying to establish familiarity as Papa asked. Trying to get to know Grandma so that she can love her. And so that he could love me.
“You know your Papa's assignment to where Har?”
“Ke Jakarta Nek,” I replied not looking at Grandma. Just like Grandma who asked while looking at the rain. Maybe Grandma felt compelled to accept me here.
“What news is he chasing there ?”
“Not yet know exactly. But Papa told May to buy a newspaper. May's reading time, she said in Jakarta, in front of the Australian embassy office, was bombed..”
Grandma grunts softly. I saw his chest go up and down. I noticed her wrinkled skin and her body that was not ‘make’. Someday, maybe fifty more years, I'll be like Grandma.
“This house is Har, it used to be not a wall like this. What Grandma still remembers when she was little, the walls of this house are made of bamboo and the roof of coconut leaves are stacked – stacked. Only when Grandma was getting married was this house built with walls.
Imagine Har, this place smokeless car, without paved roads. As far as the eye can see, you only see a stretch of sugarcane. We were all very dependent on nature. Every time the growing season begins, everyone here goes to the rice fields carrying offerings for the protector of the rice fields. The only – running machine Grandma ever saw was a small steam tram pulling dozens of trains transporting pieces of sugarcane from plantations to sugar mills.” Grandma still looked at the rain. It seemed like he wanted to parse out a story, a story from memory that he might not often remember or retell. I imagine the land on which this house now stands. Tens or maybe hundreds of years ago, this land could be a dense forest. Then came people to open land and villages. Maybe in the past on this land stood a tree – big trees, many tigers and snakes.
“Looks, Grandma's life as a child used to be beautiful once ..” I said.
“Not always Har. Not always beautiful. We often live with a sense of unease. Was – was at any time. Still heard sometimes – sometimes our soldiers clash there – here.” The rain is a little bit off. The stint is not as hard as before.
“Grandmother was born when Holland was still here. It was the time of the Har War.
Everything is hard. School is hard, work is hard. Grandma still remembers when Grandma was still this tall table,” Grandma pointed at the table in front of her. If it is that high, I think – Grandma is about four years old.
“If the army is clashing, everyone shuts down his house. No one dared to stand up. Everyone sleeps on the ground. If possible, everyone wanted to sleep as low as the ground. Look up a little, can – can stray bullets perched on the head. No one is moving. Breathing is not done if it is not true – really forced. Only when the sound of gunfire stopped, one by one the house began to open the door.” I heard Grandma's voice that remained clear in the rain.
“When Grandma started her teens, Grandma also wanted to go guerrilla, like her other Grandma friends –. Join to help become a health worker, help soldiers – wounded soldiers. But .. Your grandfather and great-grandmother didn't allow it. They don't want to lose Grandma. Their only daughter..” Grandma took a deep breath. It's so long that his chest bulges, that I don't think it's gonna stop.
“But Grandma used to be a stubborn girl. Hide – hide Grandma go with some friends Grandma. All girls,” One more reason I found that girls – girls deserve to take care of themselves.
“Being in the middle of – middle of the battlefield will not be able to Grandma forget Har. Every day Grandma hung out with soldiers' wounds and blood. We don't have bandages. Fabric to dress the wound we rarely find. Instead, we use banana stems that are chemically cut lengthwise. Countless times how many times Grandma cried. Until finally Grandma had no more tears to cry. From the stubborn and spoiled girl, always dear to parents, Grandma turned into a strict girl. Just like other – warrior warriors. There was no place for a spoiled person at that time. Rifles and bullets do not know whether a person is spoiled and loved, whether male or female. Can you feel Har ?”I'm nodding. I understand, many have fallen. There may even be many who do not have a tomb. All that effort, for whom?
“Then ?” i asked.
“After more or less ehm ...,” Grandma stopped for a moment. “ehm .. seven months .. Grandma came back here. Welcomed sobs parents Grandma. They lucky. Grandma was also lucky to be able to go home. But some friends aren't as lucky as Grandma. Many are missing ... many are also dead.” I can feel Grandma's heart.
“But Har, at that time they all fell with pride. They have – ideals to continue. To merdeka Har.” I look at myself. At least now I know that such a word is true and not only in the book – history books.
“After Grandma returned, Grandma still often received news from the soldiers who passed by or stopped at Grandma's house. From them, Grandma heard a lot of stories. Many times Grandma's heart cheered Grandma to rejoin the other soldiers. Even until now Grandma still often regrets Grandma. Why did Grandma not return..” Grandma's eyes looked towards the increasingly rare rain. Just a small – point drop like a dew grain.
“The situation gradually improved after we gained independence. School – schools opened and healthcare facilities are much better than before. Grandma understood that there used to be a lot of bombs. Because we were at war. But now Har, with whom do we fight until there must be a bomb?” Grandma asked me something I couldn't answer because I didn't understand. In the newspaper I read some victims who were hit by a bomb. I read a woman who died and her son, a five-year-old little girl who had to be taken to Singapore for treatment. He is still in a coma. I'm sad. His fate will be the same as mine. Living without a mother. We are the same – equally speechless. In my heart I also asked why there should be a bomb. This brings its own anxiety in my heart. Grandma went inside. I sat by myself hugging my feet. See a large yard and wet plants due to rain.
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Check out other stories written by Eveningtea81 in Noveltoon
1. Play your guitar, Sophie
2. The Sun Becomes a Star
