FIZAH (Female Kolong Garbage)
PART 2 "Not Sumayyah"
This part contains many metaphors or tropes. Featuring the other side of Ranaa Hafizah that never existed in the previous story.
*Hafizah Palace
“Yes Allah, how long will I pawn You? Forgive me. Hopefully I can keep what I can keep.” I bathed it before I went in like a thief.
My steps were followed by the body guards of Mr. Su. No one is left alone to go to a meeting house with thirsty men. All employees who want to enter under the garbage, said senior employees must behave like citizens in general. Let no one know.
I'm treading this porcelain floor. It's been a little doubtful ever since I found out who they are in this room. Step kutahan. I fear. I honestly fear sin. How could I continue to pawn God over the rotten plans of people to deceive me. Once I make it out of here, I'll be sanctified, removing all the dirt that sticks to my body. I'm really worried. My life may not be calm.
At the corner of the stairs towards the direction where the voice of people grimaced, filled with irregular sighs, and the sound that made the feathers of mekan instantly stood up, my silent body when there was someone who was loudly shouting aaaaaaaa. My chest explodes-letup—what are they doing? Anxiety peeping at me. Tapping into my beautiful imagination in the past. Do I still have a lantern on my chest to give it to my mom?
A human sculptor and a caterpillar passing in front of me. To do the wrong thing in front of a seventeen-year-old woman. Who was only a year ago shocked, innocently asked why there were red patches on the pants? Yeah, I cooked two years ago. It's only natural that I was once considered a late-adult woman. While many girls are new to elementary school, but before me enjoy a period of love and are able to translate the language style of the opposite sex that often stares unusual.
However, I've only understood half of it lately. But, I really don't understand why women as beautiful as them would give up what is a woman's honor. Not only women who let go, men are the same. If I didn't have a conscience, I might have ransacked this place and spit one by one.
Especially to him. The man who gagged Ratna's mouth. What I saw was sitting among five women and trying to finish the bottles. How many times have I seen him sip the pungent scent of all the bottles on the table. Then, sometimes he even pocketed a sheet of money in blue or red from women who voluntarily gave origin to be accompanied. I don't know what concept they're working on.
I hugged myself while avoiding the cynical stares of people. I look small because most of them are adults. Maybe no one will care if I stay here tomorrow morning. Don't want to meet the people in the meeting room. After all, the light was only dimly exposed to the yellow lanterns in the plots of my upstairs room. Also the flickering lights that accompany the music that sparks the ears.
I recited some vague verses that I still remember. I tried to close my eyes between the bends of my knees, but the verse was getting smaller. It seems like God doesn't want me to land him in a place like this.
“I just found out there are people teaching, but the place is here.”
I was shocked to raise my face. I looked into his eyes looking strange. Her lips lifted next to her.
“She knows this place is under the garbage, the stench stings sting, but still she comes. Is he still sane?" Only kubatin.
I've been here a week. Now I have become angry in my heart. I never wanted my heart to be so dirty and hurt. But, I was locked in a nestapa cage.
I was afraid of staring. I don't know him at all. The way he looks is different. Is this what is meant by unusual views? I thought people would ignore me.
That look is deep. Straight away her hand moved wanting to touch my cheek. I threw away my face. I covered it with my hair. Parried hand. I'm getting cowering. I still keep my mouth shut.
“If your whereabouts do not want to be known, try not to look for problems with anyone.” I'm gonna put that on myself.
“Who brought you here?”
Tinker that.
That hand grabbed my chin. Forcing me to look at him. But, I don't want to look into eyes that I can deduce in a moment, beautiful eyes.
“If asked, answered! Hypocrite you.”
“Yes Allah, protect me.” Kubatinkan. Body's gemeter. I'm holding.
He took off his rough hands. My back head was almost wall-shocked.
I hope he gets out of front of me soon. My heart rippled from earlier. Worried that the man I considered to be over forty years old would pique me at will. That would never happen to me. Forever will not. I'm a good woman who doesn't want to be monopolized by men who don't deserve me. Although I grew up between a simple mother and father, not very good at speaking, but they were not sinners. They taught me norms. The values I have to hold as long as I live.
“Company me tonight,” her request in a rough tone. Shoot my whole body. It was painful to see the tip of his lips being interested when the tip of his finger wanted to touch my head. Fend off immediately.
I asked God to turn it into a dream. But that day passed the same. I already stink. Day after day, I quietly performed prostration in a place that no one would know. I fear that if I am truly inattentive, God will become more and more angry with me. I exchanged my fear for darkness and the supernatural things around kuntilanak, wewe gombel, tuyul, and, and his friends just so that I can pray among the bushes behind under the garbage or in the empty building near the houses of the famous haunted servants. I have kept that line to this day.
I am not Sumayyah who chose religion and would not exchange faith for infidelity. He eventually became the first martyr in the history of Islam. Its name is a light lantern. I'm not him. Nope. But, I am Ranaa Hafizah, a creature of sincerity.