Fiction Campus
SEQUENCE 9
Intelligence swapped under the skies of Sumbawa that morning. Mr. Bima included the ‘debating’ course as an intellectual fighting exercise for paracademic students. It was a new morning in my fifth semester. It is flowing in 2017. New students from the lower economy class have signed up a lot.
The results of Pak Iwan's educational philosophy in the routine plan blusukan fruitful reality. Although it looks relaxed, in the man who built the green campus, flowing planning and mature problems that are endless to think about calmly.
Like I said at the beginning of this story. Every year those changes grow real and not imaginary. When I got word that Mondo had set foot on Queensland, Austalia land for his Master's. And my spirit is soaring to chase them both.
My campus began to be noticed by the Governor of NTB regarding its construction. And when I returned from a long holiday as usual after the second parting, a group of construction workers adorned the green simplicity of our place. Mr. Iwan informed me about the development costs of the NTB Governor at that time. He was also a member of the Nahdatul Wathan family.
In addition to that information, I was also invited to news of the arrival of the International Debate from Bima. The sisters of the teaching students at our Majdiyah MTS campus reported it to me. And we do not only hold the status as lecturers or students here. We are all family. The family green house. The Nahdatul Wathan. The Paracendekian Laskar Family.
At some point in the month of Ramadan …
“Bee, you need to change your ethics in order to participate in the debate competition in Bali next year,” said mr. Milky.”
“I don't like to argue Sir!”
“This is not a debate coachman lah, Bee,” response mr. Bima lowered the tone.
“Terus?”
“You've seen Rocky Gerung speak wildly full of philosophy on the ILC show?”
“No.”
“Why? Students should know such arguments!”
“No, Sir. I'd rather be an observer.”
“What's the other student talk about you at the Student Executive Board?”
“Indeed they talk what?”
“They say you are a thinker who can only criticize without a solution.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? You're so flat, son.”
“The solution is just a bonus Sir. Criticism is the primary function of being human.”
“You got such enlightenment from where?”
“From Bung Rocky!”
“Loh! He said he never watched.”
“Ah, stop. Let's go back to college. Mr. Bima wants a bow at Nurul Huda Mosque, right?”
Mr. Bima nodded off.
Those were the moments before mr. Bima plans to bring a debate expert lecturer who is familiar with him. His name is Mr. Furqanul Hakim. He was present at the request of Mr. Iwan as well. In addition, Mr. Iwan brought a linguist also to our greenhouse.
He was a 40s head man accented batak. That father was a Medan man. His name is Mr. Irfan Hamonangan Tarihoran. His degree is S.S.Hum as a sign of his field in linguistics. Linguistics discusses ‘morphology’, ‘semantik’, sintax, ‘pragamatic’, and more severely enter in sentence error surgery like a doctor's diagnosis.
Our average lecturer who is like his own father and mother, holds an M.Pd. Either English or Maths Lecturer. Only Mr. Iwan is a doctor. Just like the background of the students who study here, our lecturers are also the result of the struggle as economic hunters.
Take Suparman for example. Chairman Puket III who first greeted me at the OSEK event first, is a former young leaf of Ngali Island. Ngali Island itself became the wealth of Sumbawa with ‘teripang’nya abundant. He was also a poor coastal boy once.
Then Mr. Umar. The guy we agreed on as Rocky's dude. His leadership style reflects peace in the hearts of his students. He is also a man who takes care of agriculture outside of his work as a lecturer. And you were the first to say, “It doesn't matter where you study, but what you do where you study.”
And Bang Alen and Bang Monday, became a real transition of his words. I don't know the news of ‘Amak Toak, Raizo, and my other level brothers after the simplest judicial event, attached fragrant above the second floor of our greenhouse. Only Bang Alen and Monday were first agile in setting their future screens. And only the two of them that I knew about for a while .
While the women lecturers I do not really understand as a characteristic. Naturally, it is in my department only Bu Iga and Bu Rahma who color our campus education philosophy. Young lecturers from other women, set up family life as teachers and parents in the department of Mathematics.
In 2017, our green campus proved itself slowly as a genuine struggle. Blusukan prospective new students before is also part of this. But it's more accurate and powerful. I'll tell you.
Sir Bima took me on an adventure to the head of a goat in his garden. His own garden is located behind the borders of our campus. The living space at the back of our campus does display a fresh and beautiful nature. Away from pollution and smoke. Beside the garden of Sir Bima is the house of Mr. Umar. And you'll never find the inner connection between a lecturer and a student on another campus like here.
“You don't have papaya anymore, Bee!” Sir Bima exclaimed uncontrollably as his hand held back the rope that bound a female goat.
“Bee, don't you see my trouble?”
“Iya Sir, I help!” my response while smiling slanted. “This goat will give birth to young leaves of paracendekia also Pak?”
“Ah, what are you talking about? You didn't know we were going to quarantine the selected students?"
“What race?”
“This is for the preparation of the debate competition in Bali that I told you at that time!”
“Oh, yes. Alright. Then?”
“You should also join.”
“But my English is less effective as a debate tool. It will work better if used to string poetry and short stories, sir!”
Yes, my major is English Education. But my intellectual embalming major is also complemented by linguistics and literature. And pure Lingustik became the scourge of novelty for me to fight for later.
“Then you join the Indonesian language alone,” Sir Bima breathed more blue air later.
“Hem ... Why don't you tell Tridayani or Rahmi, sir! My semester buddy isn't that much more chatty and unwilling to budge than me?”
“Do not them.”
“But .. arguing it should not have a selfish soul as well, right?”
“Not all debaters are selfish.”
“But ..”
“KDMI and NUDC! You can be one of them. Each debate group consists of three people for Bahasa Indonesia and two people for English,” explained Sir Bima sincerely.
A week after the ranch ended, our campus was supported by the debater I told you about. Mr. Furqan, a debater who has been predicated ‘go International’ was the pride of the land of Sumbawa as well. He became a judge with Sir Bima for the selection of students who will leave for Bali.
The theme Mr. Furqon has raised for general selection is the issue of the role of the United Nations in peace. A council was formed that wanted the five permanent members of the United Nations to be abolished. It is part of the Government group. If exposed to the section ‘opposition’, it will be a group that sometimes voluntarily laughs conscience. That is, whatever the group of parts, there is always an actual opponent of conscience. You understand what I mean. We really can't choose him.
At that time I was with Picolo and Harry Potter became a second wave team. Our team name is ‘Blackpink’. Don't ask the reason. We are on the government side. That means we have to support the title of the debate. You know what it's like to support hypocrisy that goes smoothly?
“Time for the second!” exclaim Mr. Furqon from within the room of a simple debate. Yes, even though our room is so fragile, the presence of a human class really makes our campus at that time feel like it was in the International debate room.
Inside, it turned out that the jury was not only Pak Furqon and Sir Bima, Sir Batak was also present. Sir Batak is my call to Mr. Irfan. He is indeed elegant for the matter of connecting intellectually in concept.
Deep on that, my mentality was shattered from the moment I first entered the room. The cause you might be able to guess. The girl who was also late to say goodbye to Bang Alen while at the airport, became a member of our opposing team. From the first second I sat down, he directed an unusual eye beam. I was hypnotized to escape immediately. I don't know, my soul was really unusual that day.
While from the outside, the debate team for English was reverberating without voicing their fatigue. I also reflected directly on focus. But then again, when I looked into those glowing eyes, I lost my self-steering. What kind of chemical vibrations are eating away at************* my heart?
“Good, we start,” said Sir Batak. Then mention formally the names of and parts of each team. From speaker I to speaker III. This is the reason ‘Debating’ became a ‘speaking’ replacement course from lower semester to senior. Mr. Iwan himself approved the idea of Sir Bima gem considering that an International ‘go has been present in our simple greenhouse.
Okay, we're back. Even when speaker I of our team presented an argument and passed it on to speaker III of the opposition team, I remained incessantly throwing delusion at the girl. And since then, I have a special ‘nickname’ for her.
“Alright, speaker III of the Blackpink team . Bee ..”
I'm not saying what's kuanalisakan. I convey all the framework of my heart to the United Nations. As I said to Sir Yadin, I would rather be an observer than a debater. I even only delivered four points out of the seven points I had in mind. While time is still faithfully waiting for me to finish arguing. But I choose to keep the rest for an abstract intention.
“If we talk peace, then we don't need to talk arms! For me, peace in this world is just an illusion. There will never be peace because people will never be able to understand each other. History has said it all,” my book is holding back the nervousness. “If you argue that the five permanent members of the United Nations should not be abolished on the grounds of strong weapons, then my statement on peace earlier is true. All countries just position themselves like sweet dolls that hug each other. While behind it there is a cold war that roams invisibly.”
More or less like that the outline of my brief argument. I said three minutes but the jury said there were still four minutes left. I chose to close my turn session. One thing that was stored neatly behind my mind at that time was the philosophy of compassion belonging to Mr. Iwan. I decided to keep the world's incomprehension shut up.
“Good, next last speaker of the team ‘Kera Sakti’, Hajar Aswad!”
I knew the girl's name as if I had received the news that the moon would bow down on earth. Yes, the student who was both late with me met Sir Alen's departure earlier. Hajar Aswad, a name that is half a mystery. The next day, the announcement of the results of the debate selection was echoed through the oral of Mr. Furqon. From NUDC there are 6 people and KDMI there are ten people.
They will be quarantined for a month and will be selected again until remaining as needed from each section before leaving for Bali. Clearly, I did not receive the award because of my lack of full argument. Not only that, my ethics in arguing are still far from what it should be. I still lack control over my emotions in my opinion. And that was indeed the advice of Sir Bima before me about ethics.
Among the sixteen people, the name that had soared my consciousness became the best speaker. Yes, that girl. I'm getting curious about him. He was present in tenderness and in later times, he incarnated into the soft thorn of my dream piercer. But I don't blame him. Because the chronology of this story makes me thank him as a man to a woman.