FIZAH (Female Kolong Garbage)
PART 125 "Searching for Justification"
*Nizami's Ibban
Ibuk. His hands continue to massage my thighs. Then, ask my hand to straighten it out. Ibuk. Moves up to the elbow. I grimaced sickly.
"Because it's never been observed like this. Everyone's sick. Tomorrow if you've got a wife, a good yo, Le. Sing gemati tenan (the dear one). Ayem if your wife will be able to mijitin you. Your wife is flinched, you are salawatan."
"Oh Allah, the book is romantic."
"Loh Iha yo must, Zam. Your father used to be like that. Your father said, Your father is the most fondness if I'm a massage. Just your dad doesn't have a good voice. So that's Ibuk's treat."
"Buk, cobi njengan. Huh, Buk! I used to say he was a former balasik singer."
Her laughter broke out. Hit me hard on my thigh. I grimaced softly. Throw away the hand of the mother who was about to hit again.
I'm smashing. Recumbent. Pillowed ibuk thigh. I closed my eyes. I was ready to listen to my mother chant a song, a salawat that I had never heard in such an atmosphere.
Slowly I heard the voice of ibuk humming nasamatu hawak. Although it sounds a little old, but the clear voice is still very typical. Although, now only trained with routine activities are read' in the homes of neighbors.
"The rutinan barzanji, my mother remains his raw?"
"Yes, Zam. I really want something else. The young ones voice more clingy and fashih."
"Matchable ladders. In addition to Ibuk has become a belief, mother became a senior, Ibuk's voice was also typical. Not changed."
"It is He, Zam. How come Ibuk, luwe opo (what hunger) are you hemm?"
My laughter gushed into the air.
"It's late, Buk. Just take a break now. Remember that you have to take care of your health. I have to live a long life until I get married, nggeh, Buk."
"Aamiinu. I hope Ibuk can accompany you, Le."
Ibuk stroked my head. Groping my hair that I have had four days is not hard.
"Oh, my hair stinks, right? Four days of no shampooing."
"Le, look your comb. Still a virgin if appearing mbok primpen (rapi)."
"That's it, Buk."
My activities with my mother when I was at home were sometimes like this. Since I only have two sons, I am a ragil who is treated like a daughter. Hearing my mother continue to bounce without breaking up, I was lulled. My eyelids feel heavy.
*Fakharuddin Akhyar Al - Ameen
We went to Tulungagung. It's half the journey. But, Iza refused to be invited even though it was better if he did come with us. As everyone was impatiently waiting for the real status of Iza, I was worried from then on. But I don't deserve to worry about it because what we're going to do right now is the most anticipated thing. If I pray for the best.
I see abah and ummik constantly on the wire.
"The baby I used to give you the name Shanna Zazlyn" said Ms Syawa.
"Mister, are you sure?"
"With us meeting Iza's parents, it eases our steps, Mas Fakhar. Because we already know Iza has the same birthmark. He also happened to be in Tulungagung. Who knows. I also want to make sure that I also continue to feel guilty for abandoning the child."
"Fakhar, sampeyan kudu trimo reality yen eg Iza tenan your sister."
Translation: (Fakhar, you have to accept the reality if for example Iza is really your brother)
"Your marriage to Nduk Ulya iso ndang dilaksanakne."
Translation: (Your marriage with Nduk Ulya can be done immediately)
"God willing."
I gave an aba so that the car would follow in my footsteps. There was one teenager who entered the courtyard by riding a butut bentor. I called the boy.
"Assalamu'alaikum's chat. Deck, this is really Iza's house. Ranaa Hafizah?"
"Hoo.oh. She's Mbakku. Who're you?"
"Who are you, by the way?" ask the young girl across the door.
"don't know. He's looking for Fizah. Au ah."
The teenager was indifferent.
"Who, Nduk?"
I grinned as soon as I recognized the woman who last asked. I looked back. I signaled with a nod. Those in the car got off. Ummik leads abah. The car door was closed at the same time. I'm ahead of the road.
"Mother Mini came home last month?"
"This is anu to.that's Gus Faf. Yes Fafar ngggeh?"
"Fakhar."
"Owalah. Monggo, Gu! Oh, my God, what a hell. Ngapunten." He kept letting us in.
Bu Mini told the girl and the teenager to quickly get rid of the chair and to replace it with a toilet (a type of woven carpet).
I'm holding back the steps. Let them prepare what they will prepare. Mini looks so rowdy. Pacing here and there while scolding the two men for not quickly obeying his orders. Then, the girl let us in without a cold face. Estimates he is Iza's brother. The girl turned on the lights. The boy took off his T-shirt, then entered the room. The only thing that caught my attention was the glass cabinet that contained the trophy and the award certificate. Although not much, but the room with a dark view looks more alive.
"Most kae pialane Iza." Umi said.
Translation: (Mostly the cup is Iza)
Bu Mini out. Bring tea and coffee that exceeds us.
"Not much, Mom. Matur worship nuwun," I said.
"Snouts, Gus. Lha rather than mangke mboten purun ngunjuk (later not to drink). Monggo Pak Kiai, Bu Nyai, Ma'am, Mas, drink. As if."
"Mom, I'm sorry I don't understand the language. Just use Indonesian, okay. I am the Lord of Madura. It's a husband."
Bu Mini immediately agreed.
"Attent." Rise up in a hurry.
Five minutes back. There are salak fruit, bananas, and guava.
"Home harvest. Please tasting." The Mini offers very friendly. Typical of mountain people who, if said by the village, it is called blater.
"Asrep ngggeh mriki" said abah.
Translation: (Cold here)
"Alhamdulillah. The air is like this, Mr. Kiai. The mountain. If the night is colder. Like these fruits, Mr. Kiai, cold. Don't use the refrigerator."
Abah and ummik smiled.
"Whose it belongs to?" ask ummik.
"It belongs to Fizah, Nyai Ma'am. Alhamdulillaaaaah Fizah can do well in her school."
Sorry the big ups these few days are still faltering. Thank you and always thank you for the support, prayers, and series of comments that I just read, but not sure I reply all. Love you all... đˇđđšMay God bless all our good intentions and ideals to be implemented..