Tidying Up Asa, Inviting Hidayah

11. Another Job, another experience.

Doing unusual work, can find an amazing experience.

*Are you the miracle of destiny? You asked for the good\, but God gave the best*

Immanuel Kagendra Hara's.

If I knew the job Reyfan was giving me was going to be this relaxed, I wouldn't have thought long to accept it. I won't take a long time to work on it right away.

I do not need to dwell on stock prices, MOUs, corporate agreements, tenders, deadline proposals and others. Because here, my job only follows one person. Which turned out not to be too difficult, as I once imagined.

A few days after Ghufron, I knew a little bit about him. Where he lives, hangs out, who his parents are, and roughly how he is.

Nothing interesting to me. Ghufron was an ordinary person who behaved accordingly. His family is like everyone else, and so are his friends. Clear. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing to worry about, even if he's in a relationship with Jenar.

Ghufron is a diligent, smart, dedicated final-level medical student, and he is devoutly devout. According to his friends Gufron was also a good and responsible person. One of the managers of the literacy community in this student city.

“Kang Ghufron has a target of graduating this year, already accepted as a young doctor at the campus academic hospital. He will continue his specialist education to earn his SPa.” degree The light of a friend of Ghufron I asked yesterday.

Oho! gufron is a pediatrician.

“Kang Ghufron is also planning to open a cafe, in cooperation with his friend.” The light of Gufron's other friends.

I am convinced that my assessment of Ghufron is not wrong. He's a good man, it's impossible to use Jenar. Moreover, he was obedient to worship, it was impossible to do anything. Even as far as I can tell, Ghufron never went alone with Jenar, there was always her sister together.

My assessment of the young man improved, when I accidentally met at a diner. One afternoon, when mbak Nabila asked me to replace the Akmal mas to deliver merchandise. Because Akmal is sick.

Mbak Nabila and mas Akmal are suppliers of organic vegetables in several restaurants and hospitals around Jogja to Magelang. Yesterday Akmal happened to be sick when the demand for trading was high. So Mbak Nabila asked me to replace Akmal, because between me and my father only I can drive a car.

“Please, yes, Hara! Unfortunately if you have a holiday, mumpung request is a lot and trading is also easy to get.” Pinta mbak Nabila.

I'm undertaking. Since morning I've been traveling with mbak Nabila. From picking up merchandise at some farmers and collectors, going to the mother market looking for merchandise, to delivering merchandise to the ordering location.

I got a new experience while delivering Mbak Nabila. Experience the process of distributing organic vegetables before getting to the restaurant and can be enjoyed by end consumers like me.

Harvest from farmers, will be purchased by middlemen. Usually the middleman will sell to the parent market, then bought by retail traders. From these retail merchants vegetables can get to the end consumer. Can be housewives or processed into ready-to-eat cuisine in restaurants and restaurants.

“You must be unusual with an atmosphere like this, right, Hara?” Mbak Nabila looked at me regretfully as we arranged the trades obtained in the parent market.

“No pa-pa, Ma'am. I have a new experience, who knows later I can be a distributor of vegetables as well as Mbak Nabila and mas Akmal.

“Do not, Hara! You are already a real office worker, do not be as odd as mbak.”

“Why? Work like fun, you know. Businesses have their own, do not have to follow the rules because they do not have a boss. Mbak himself the boss, and the most fun can meet many people.”

“You mean ... the girls who were?”

I nodded, confirming Nabila's guess. Since then, there have been many beautiful girls who have charmed me. Maybe because I'm not used to seeing him.

“Mbak Nabila traces brondong, jal.”

“Wah! Listen ono artist soap opera ning kene.”

“Mbak Nabila by seko ngendi wong guanteng e koyo ngene?”

“Wah! Iki ono filming ning kene, po?”

Immediately I became the moons of the people there. They tease me, and I don't really understand what they're talking about. Mbak Nabila to laugh out loud because I was overwhelmed serving the guyonan people, precisely the girls in the market.

“Tomorrow to come again, yes, Ma'am?”

“Wah! Addiction seduced chick nggunung.”

“Cantics, Ma'am. Her skin is pure white met with red.”

Mbak Nabila laughed at my frankness. Indeed, the girls who had met us at the market, mostly pure white and instantly became a reddish when exposed to the sun. Typical skin girls who live in the mountains.

“Live to see the pure white.”

I laughed discordantly in response to the grunts mbak Nabila, ‘What is certain they are still innocent, unspoiled, Mbak.’ Of course it's just a voice in the heart, not until I throw it to mbak Nabila. It could shock Nabila if she knew who I was and how I really was.

From a stocky parent market of pick up cars carrying a wide variety of vegetables, we headed to several places to drop off orders.

I didn't expect it before, if we were going to cross paths with Ghufron at a diner. He is not alone, but with two people. Yeah, guess what, she's with her sister and Jenar.

I was moved to take a picture of all three, as proof I could send to Reyfan. That Ghufron was the right man to be the husband of his sister-in-law.

clique.

The picture of the three young people who were talking while looking at the map containing several sheets of paper I had managed to take. As a digital footprint, a clear proof that I work earnestly.

Sent.

I sent Reyfan a picture, captioned. ‘It looks like your sister-in-law has found a one-server liver patch with her.’

Don't we? Midwife candidates and prospective pediatricians, they are compatible, right?

“Hara! Go to the toilet first, okay? Wait here! Someone will pay for trading.”

Nabila's voice moved away along with his departure rushed through the entrance of the restaurant, disappearing behind the boisterous atmosphere inside the restaurant. I did not even have time to answer, could only be glued to silence in place, waiting as ordered by mbak Nabila.

I didn't expect my whereabouts to be known by Jenar. I also didn't think he would come over and be angry with me. All of a sudden he was already standing before me, asking in a stern tone and a full gaze of inquiry complete with his hands folded in front of his chest.

“Pak Hara why here?”

I frowned, reflexively pointing at the pick up car with the tub open behind my back. “Business,” My answer is short.

“Pak Hara asked dad or sister to follow me?”

I gawked, staring at the talking jenar without giving me a pause to answer, “tell me the same anyone who told Mr. Hara! Jenar is not a child to be watched anywhere, anytime!”

Without waiting for my answer, Jenar just passed by. Walking quickly left me who could only be silent. Approaching Ghufron who nodded while smiling at me from afar. I answered his nod, my eyes following their steps walking out of the parking lot. I'm sure they'll find a taxi to get home,

I stared at the backs of the three until I got into a car that I thought was an online taxi. Until a man in a red shirt comes near, “tell Nabila, double tomorrow, yes. Pay off for today.”

I just nodded, letting the restaurant employee pass by without my answer. Still too shocked to just answer, because the flash of events that happened so quickly.

“Hara!” a pat on the shoulder resuscitated me. I immediately took off the view of the online taxi that was moving away.

“Already, Mbak?” I handed over the money and notes given by the restaurant employee to mbak Nabila.

Mbak Nabila nodded while receiving the money I extended, “thank you, yes, Hara! We stopped by the mini market before we got home, yeah. Buy souvenirs for Naufal.”

I followed Nabila's step into the car. Next I drove the empty pick up car, out of the parking area of the restaurant. Our work today is done. merchandise has been distributed to all bookers.

“Rame, yes? Weekend, anyway.”

I nodded in response to Nabila's mutterings. A moment later, I received a message notification on my phone. I read the writing from the screen that looks without unlocking, just one sentence.

[Goog job, Hara!]

I put the phone in my pocket again, more interested in listening to mbak Nabila talk than answering chat.

“Sorry, yes, Hara! Should be your weekend break, not even help Mbak like this.”

“Anytime, Ma'am. Let my weekend be useful.”

“Quiet ... later I pay.”

“My payment is expensive, you know, Ma'am!”

“Wah! Could lose the city, dong, i.”

“Ngak, Ma'am. Just pay with a cup of coffee ples ketela fried sugar content java.”

“Cemplon you mean?”

“That's his name, Ma'am. Love it so much if mbak Nabila make food it.”

“In Jakarta no, yes?”

I'm shaking. After that we talked about cemplon, food from shredded tree ketella, plus coconut and filled with sugar Java then fried. Ms. Nabila has been making food since I lived in her house.

At first I was a stranger to such food, but seeing my father and Naufal voraciously, I was tempted to try. It turned out that the food was delicious, the best compared to junk food that I often eat.

“Let's Make.”

But Nabila's words made me feel bad. How long have I lived in his house. Surely mbak Nabila bothered because the residents of the house increased.

It's not that I shamelessly continue to live in his house, but I'm being selfish, not wanting to lose the comfort I've been craving.

I don't want to just stay at Nadia's house. One day I bought rice and a variety of staple foods. I even glazed over while continuing to thank you. While mbak Nabila always refused subtly.

“Tomorrow no longer need like this, Hara. You can stay here, without giving us anything.”

Also when I bought Naufal clothes and toys, Nabila also refused. Though asked Naufal to say thank you.

“That's enough, Hara! Don't spoil Naufal.”

A similar sentence was said by Akmal, when I bought him a cigarette and a sarong for him and his father.

“Don't be like this, Hara! Use your money for your own needs. You definitely need.” more

They always refused my gifts, but I never objected. There is no hidden purpose either. Purely as a thank you for being allowed to stay a long time with them.

“You're part of the family, Hara! No need to hesitate.” That's what you say every time I feel like I've been a hassle with living in their house.

With the tail of my eyes, I saw that Nabila was stuck, dissolved in the reading of his holy book. Activities that always mbak Nabila do if there is free time. As if you do not want to waste free time, there must be benefits.

I noticed how Mbak Nabila read Al-qur’an. Without a sound, but as if he was living the contents. Something that always interested me. Actually about what he was reading, what kind of word of God Nabila was learning.

Even at home I often pay attention to the father and Akmal who is solemnly reading his holy book. They are people who live in simplicity, but never forget to read the scriptures. Unlike me who always had to be reminded by mbok Jum, I often ignored.

I forgot the last time I opened the Bible. Or when was the last time I went to church for morning? Every time you remind me to go to church, I go to Magelang to meet with Faiz.

Ever since I lived in New York, I've had other experiences. The work I did brought me into a different interest. I'm interested in knowing how family fathers live. I was interested to know how a child as small as Naufal was used to living a simple and makeshift life.

All my interest began when I saw Naufal learning Arabic letters, as well as when I saw how romantic it was for Nabila and her husband to humbly recite letters in their scriptures. I'm interested, when I heard you mumble softly before going to bed, ‘please this child, yes, Alloh!’

Maybe you don't know, if that night actually I haven't slept. Maybe they don't know, if during the stay together, I always pay attention to what they do. Maybe even Nabila does not know, if every night I watch Naufal who is berto’a.

They must also not know, if every home traveling I must visit the grave of mama. Even one night I felt the presence of my mother in the house, watching us who were watching television together. With Naufal who continued to talk non-stop.

“Om, as bad as a meneh meneh robot tumbaske, yes?” (Across tomorrow buy another robot, please,

Then mbak Nabila will rebuke, "Naufal, mboten pareng!" (Naufal, can't!)

“Om, as bad as a week of ice cream tumbas ning indo july, yes?” (Om, tomorrow the week buy eskrim to indo july, yes.)

Then mas Akmal advised his son, “Om Hara suk week action.” (Om Hara tomorrow Sunday will go.)

I felt the presence of mama among us, but I could not touch her, I could not reach her. Mama stood up, silently staring expressionlessly. Her face was pale, yet she looked very beautiful.

Mama like to tell me, ‘you shouldn't be here, Hara! This is not your place, you are not part of us.’

If I remember our differences, I want to go back in time. I wanted to ask my mom, why didn't you teach me to be like you? Why did you let me follow you? As for now, my mama's shadow flashed as if asking me to follow her.

Mama .. whether I can still do’a for you, with a God different from you ….

This new job made me feel a new experience as well. And I don't want this new experience to pass ....

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Seriate....

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