Tidying Up Asa, Inviting Hidayah

47. One table in difference.

🌹Diversity is beautiful, if we can respect each other and not impose the will on each other.🌹

String.

“Bu’e!”

I was still trying to restore the consciousness that had not been collected intact, my head felt dizzy and throbbing. The sound of a small child screaming that sounded loud made me frown while closing my ears.

“Mbak’e wes tangi, Buk.” (The mother is awake, Buk.)

The little boy sitting near me jumped down from the bed, then ran through the open door. Not long after, he returned with a beautiful woman who smiled kindly at me.

“Alhamdulillah .. you finally realized also.” said the woman who wore the instant hijab of black shirt material. He pushed a white ceramic cup with a floral motif on me, “drink first, surely you are thirsty and confused, yes?”

I received a cup of tea that was still emitting hot steam. Stick a cold-feeling palm on the surface of the cup. The aroma of jasmine tea approaches the sense of smell. I inhaled a deep, soothing fragrance as I closed my eyes, then sipped a little tea.

The warm taste and distinctive aroma of the blend of tea and jasmine fragrance permeates the body, as if sending peaceful signals to the brain and throughout the bloodstream.

I opened my eyes as the soft voice of the woman standing beside the bed stopped by the ears, “drink a lot, let your energy recover.”

I looked up at a glance then saw around, “mbak who? I where?”

“I Nabila, you are in my house now.” the woman pulled the hand of a small child hiding behind her robe, “anak this is her name Naufal. She was the one who was waiting for you.”

“I Jenar.” I replied with a confused look, “me, kok, can be here?” answering at once asked, still while looking at the surroundings and myself who was sitting on the bed with a thick blanket covered the legs up to the stomach. Researching the clothes that were attached to the body, not the clothes I was wearing before leaving this morning. Who changed my clothes?

“Sorry. Your clothes were wet and dirty, afraid of catching a cold, so I changed. Fortunately my shirt is the right fit for you.”

I nodded while commenting on the smile, “thank you.”

“Hara brought you here, she told you that you met at the tomb and you suddenly fainted. Hara panicked, not knowing where to take you. He doesn't know the nearest hospital or clinic, so take you to this house.”

“Pak Ha-ra?”

“Iya. Hara .. my sister.”

“Adik?” I immediately shook my head slowly, because I had unconsciously looked at Mbak Nabila from top to bottom.

It does not seem to believe that a beautiful woman, graceful and a Muslim woman who is now sitting on the edge of this bed is her brother Pak Hara. Because as far as I know Pak Hara is not a follower of Islam, where might have a brother a Muslim woman with a wide hijab like this Mbak Nabila.

Mbak Nabila smiled, “for sure you are surprised, right? You better eat first, you must be hungry. Let me prepare food.”

“What time is it, huh, Ma'am?” I asked because I didn't see any wall clocks or timers in this not-so-extensive room.

“Now it's almost 9pm.”

“Yes, Alloh! It's past isy’ time. I have not prayed maghrib ...,” I exhale regretfully. It could be passed out for a long time until it was too late for Maghrib prayer.

“It's okay, you don't intentionally salat, there is rukhsah (waivers).”

I immediately grabbed the blanket and lowered my feet to the floor. Seeing that mbak Nabila prevents, “where you want to go?”

“Salat, Ma'am. I have to pray immediately,” I replied while looking left right looking for something, “mbak know my bag is not?”

“Oh! I put it there.” said mbak Nabila while pointing to the only seat in this room.

I immediately grabbed the bag, took the mukena that was always available in it every time I went. It has been a habit since long ago, mukena is an item that I must carry when I want to travel.

“You want to pray now?” I nodded while holding my face.

Mbak Nabila moving, “i interject if you want wudlu, later pray here. Sorry, my house is small, do not have a special room for prayer.”

“No pa-pa, Ma'am. The important thing is clean, right?”

“Insya Alloh clean and holy.”

Mbak Nabila walked out of the room, while I followed him from behind while looking at the condition of the house. True said mbak Nabila, this house is small but neat. As I passed through the kitchen, I saw the cooking utensils neatly arranged. It is seen that the residents of the house are people who are diligent and like neatness. Until the bathroom is clean and fragrant. Characteristics of home hygiene can be seen from the condition of the bathroom.

After performing the isya’ prayer as well as mushrooming maghrib prayer, I approached the Nabila mbak who was arranging food at the dining table. While Naufal, the little boy was engrossed in playing alone.

“At this house there are only Nabila and Naufal?” manya curious.

Mbak Nabila pulling chair, “please sit!” a moment later just answered my question, “bapak and my husband are in the pesantren, there is a regular study there.”

After sitting down, I only realized that vaguely heard the sound of people lecturing, maybe it came from pesantren as said by mbak Nabila.

“Near here is the boarding house, Mbak?”

“Iya. Pesantren Al - Hidayah.”

“Owned kyai Ali?”

“Stool once.”

I nodded my head twice. Just found out that I was not far from the kyai Ali boarding school, when I visited there this afternoon. A little hesitant to ask about the curiosity that has been lingering in the mind since.

“Pak Hara lives here too, Mbak?”

“You could say so. Hara has only been here for a few months, but she is more often in the pesantren than at home.”

Although a little confused and not too familiar with the story mbak Nabila, but I undo the intention to ask further. It is impolite to ask so many questions about the personal lives of others.

“Now Mr Hara to the pesantren too, Mbak?”

“No. He's driving the doctor home.”

“Doctor?”

“Iya. You've been in a long time, Hara's worried. He called the doctor to check on you.”

“Looks like I bothered mbak same Pak Hara, yes?”

Mbak Nabila rubbed my arm, “no one bothered, I am even happy Hara brought you here. Said Hara you're Hara's boss' sister, huh?”

“Pak Hara is the right hand of my sister-in-law, Ma'am. All my brother's business will not be done if there is no sir Hara.”

Mbak Nabila looks mangosteen. He took an empty plate, then filled it with white rice taken directly from the rice cooker.

“So here's enough or less?”

“Enough, Mbak.”

“Sayur same side dish grab yourself, yes! Sorry, makeshift menu kampung.”

The table in front of me was full of food. There are vegetable lodeh, stir-fried chickpeas, tempeh garet, fried chicken and sambel terasi. There are rambak crackers in the jar, also watermelon that has been sliced into small pieces. I was confused which one to take, this is what Nabila said was sober? This is the complete menu.

“Mbak not eat?”

“Today.”

“I eat alone, dong, Mbak?”

“That must be Hara.”

Naufal who was busy playing, suddenly ran out of the house. A moment later I heard the murmurs of the voices of some people talking.

“Om, mbak e wes tangi. Saiki gek arep maem.” (Om, he's awake, you know. Now I want to eat.)

“Tadi asked with kyai Ali, why you are not there. Tomorrow you are asked to go to pesantren.”

“What does the doctor say?”

“No pa-pa, he said.”

The short answer that sounds familiar, I can confirm that it is the voice of Mr. Hara. But who did he come with?

“Assalamu’alaikum ..”.

My curiosity was answered, when three men entered the house, with one of the men holding Naufal. Mbak Nabila immediately approached the three men, kissing the back of the hands of two men between them. Surely the person who came with Mr. Hara is the father and husband mbak Nabila.

I stood up, as soon as they approached. Nodding your head as a form of courtesy.

“Alhamdulillah .. you are aware.” said the middle-aged man whose face is not foreign. Like I've seen, but where?

“How are you doing?” pak Hara asked in a flat tone.

“Alhamdulillah I am fine. Sorry, I made Mr. Hara and everything was a hassle,” I replied, stifled with condolences has troubled this family.

“Who's bothered? No.”

“Father is right, nothing is bothered. Yeah, right, Hara?” the man I guessed was Nabila's husband, patting Mr. Hara on the shoulder, while Mr. Hara was silent without expression. It looks strange sir Hara is in the middle of this warm and friendly family.

“True, introduce. This is my father and husband,” mbak Nabila introduced two different age men who still stand with Mr. Hara.

“Greetings, I'm Jenar.”

“Eh! Like I just warmed up, how about we eat together? Itung-itung accompany Jenar eat.” exciting mbak Nabila with a cheerful sparkling face.

“Good idea. But the mas was full, just finished eating at the recitation. Not fit this stomach.” as long as husband mbak Nabila while rubbing the stomach.

“Bapak is full too, you eat.”

“Wah, actually I am full too. Then Hara's the one who accompanied Jenar to eat, huh? You haven't eaten since, have you?”

Mr. Hara nodded. He took Naufal down from the sling, sat the little boy in the chair. Then he sat down, took an empty glass, filled it with water, and drank it to the toilet. Mr. Hara seemed to be thirsty and tired.

Meanwhile, the father and husband of Mbak Nabila chose to sit on the floor with a thin carpet, not far from the dining table. The place Naufal used to play earlier. They compactly lit cigarettes while watching television broadcasts that have since lit up.

“Mbak get rice, yes, Hara?” ask Mbak Nabila while taking an empty plate.

“Bby, Mbak.”

When mbak Nabila filled an empty plate with rice, Naufal exclaimed, “aku yo peng maem, Buk.” (i also want to eat, Buk.)

“Naufal want, right, wes maem. Saiki pep maem meneh?” (Naufal had eaten. Want to eat again?)

Naufal. Mbak Nabila picked up the rice while giving a warning to Naufal, “dienteke, you.” (Spent, you know.)

“Nek ora entek, mengko dienteke om Hara, Buk.” (If it does not run out, it will be spent the same om Hara, Buk.)

“What do you think is a food cleaner?” said Mr. Hara while scrambling the hair of Naufal who was sitting next to him. I can't believe it turns out that Mr. Hara understands speech in Javanese.

“Biasane, right, ngono. Om sing ngenteke maeman kabeh.” (Normally so too. Om who finished all the food.)

I couldn't help but laugh, covering my mouth with my palm. This little boy was so cute, he spoke in a mocking tone, but his facial expression was flat. If you notice the Naufal's style of speech is very similar to Pak Hara.

“Basic!” gerutu pak Hara's.

“Om maeme akeh, snoring.” (Om eat a lot, get hungry quickly.)

“Who says he eats a lot.”

“Jareku-lah.” (It is I) answered Naufal without looking at Hara.

Successfully made me almost unable to stop laughing, while Mr. Hara pinched Naufal's cheek angrily, but the boy just chuckled amusedly. I was stunned to see Mr. Hara and Naufal joking, they look very familiar. As usual, we joke together.

Just this time I saw it turns out that Mr. Hara can also joke like a normal human in general. Usually he always looks serious, irritable talk and has no other facial expressions, other than flat. If it's like this he doesn't look like a flat, rigid blackboard.

“Already! already douched! Now eat first.” said mbak Nabila stop Naufal and Pak Hara who was joking while chuckling. He gave the plate to Naufal while pointing at my plate which is still not filled with vegetables and side dishes, “True to take vegetables and side dishes?”

As soon as I stopped laughing, I realized that I was at someone's house. I almost forgot the norm of politeness, “I take it myself, Ma'am.”

“Sorry, yes. Cuisine of these villagers, let's eat a lot.”

“At home I also used to cook a menu like this, Ma'am. I, right, also live in the village.” I replied while taking vegetables and side dishes.

“oya? Should match, dong, with my cooking.”

“It looks like so, Ma'am. Just saw how it looks, it feels like I want to eat all.”

“It's greedy his name. Don't you faint from hunger? From morning not yet eaten, heem?” I frowned, hearing Mr. Hara's words. Want to respond but it feels inappropriate, because it is in the middle of his family.

“Hara!” mbak Nabila snapped, “ such question time, soft little can, right?”

He turned to look at me with softened talk, “sorry, yes, Jen. Don't take heart my sister's talk.”

“No what, really, Ma'am. It's usual.” replied I glanced cynically at Pak Hara who was about to start eating.

Suddenly Naufal brushed off the hand of Hara sir who almost put the spoon in his mouth, “dongo dhisek, Om!” (Berdo’a first, Om!)

So I was curious how Nabila and her husband educated Naufal. This little boy can be smart and funny. If Naufal does not remind, maybe Mr. Hara will not do’a before eating. I could have forgotten berto’a because I was too hungry. Hours of fainting caused worms in my stomach to protest for feeding.

That night I felt the real life of the religious people. Respect each other, even if different beliefs. Such is islam rahmatalil’alamin. Religion as the mercy of all nature.

“Naufal also do not forget berto’a.”

Naufal raised his hand, obeying his mother's command. He buzzed do’a before eating out loudly.

“Allohumma bariclana fiima razaqtana waqina azabannar.

I raise my hands to my chest, reading do’a only in my heart, and Pak Hara links her fingers on the table while bowing her head.

At the end of do’a we say ‘aamiin’ together, although still the loudest Naufal sound. Naufal and I cupped both palms to the face, while Mr. Hara did as he believed. After that we ate together in silence. Just the sound of a clink spoon colliding with a plate and the sound of television is airing a live broadcast of a ketoprak show from one of the local government-owned television stations.

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