I'm a Qualified Old Virgin
Haram Child

A little girl combed her long blonde hair and tied it to a ponytail.

"Syifa, please deliver the cake to Umi Syarifah's house, son!" pinta Rosalina with her daughter.

"Well, Ma," replied Asyifa obediently.

"One more Syifa, don't forget to close the front door? Mama's gonna wash the clothes in the back!" rosa exclaimed as she walked to the back with a basket of clothes containing her dirty clothes and also her daughter's clothes.

"Yes, Ma!" answer Asyifa.

Asyifa then took a large crackle bag containing several Ontbijtkoek boxes that must be delivered to customers. Ontbijtkoek is a typical Dutch spice bread, made from rye, then seasoned spices such as cloves, ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg, then sprinkled with slices of almonds on the top.

Ontbijtkoek is a breakfast cake. Armed with the recipe taught by the mother, Mama Ashifa sells the typical dutch cake to survive as a single mother.

His daily life after school Ashifa helped Fatimah's grandmother sell cloth in a shophouse cloth shopping center not far from where he lived. Fatimah was an old widow of Arab descent. Asyifa and her mother live hitchhiking at the home of Grandma Fatimah in the Arab village area. In Arab villages, most of the population is of Arab descent.

The Arab village comes from Hadramaut Yemen who came to the city of X to spread the religion of Islam while trading spices. During the Dutch colonial era, the city government placed the Arab population in one area to make it easier to identify.

In addition, Syifa residence is also bordering the palace environment. The house of the courtiers and the Arab village is separated by a large wall towering on both sides that was built since the Dutch occupation.

Then not far from the Arab village also many houses of Chinese descent. So that in the city consists of various cultures. Residents of Arab descent, Chinese and indigenous descent coexist with the pillars.

Asyifa put the cake in the bicycle basket. Then he immediately went up and pedaled slowly. This customer order cake is quite a lot, because it is to be distributed for Friday prayers. Then he must be careful so that the cake can arrive in the hands of customers safely and nothing less.

The ten-year-old girl was humming while pedaling her bicycle through the narrow alleys in the Arab village housing. His long blonde hair seemed to be waving when blown by the wind. Plus her pure white skin, as well as her grayish-colored cornea, make Ashifa look different from other girls living in the area.

Cring cring cring.

"Assalamu'alaikum, Umm Syarifah!"

Asyifa rang a bell on her bike when she reached her destination.

"Wa'alaikumussalam," said a middle-aged woman opening the door. Syifa recognized him as Umi Syarifah.

"Yep, thank you, Fa?" he said while taking a large plastic bag from Syifa's bicycle basket. He put it on the front porch of his house.

"Syifa, Umi nitip the money to give to mama, huh?" umi Syarifah.

"Yes, Ummi. Thank you!" asyifa said, then put it in her shirt pocket.

"Together, baby!" said Umi Syarifah while smiling sweetly.

"Where is it, Ummi?"

"Ahead of school Fisa immediately played in the neighboring house. Just try looking in the back alley!"

"Oh, yes, Ummi! Syifa said yes, Ummi, assalamualaikum!"

"Wa'alaikumussalam's chat. Uh, the money was given by my mom first yes, just playing!" syarifah.

"Yes, Ummi!" he answered and then rode his bike back to his house.

However, in the middle of the road he saw Nafisa who was playing with her neighbors fellow Arab descent.

"Shyifa!" call Nafisa when you see Syifa.

Syifa stopped her bike and turned to Nafisa with a smile. However, suddenly Nafisa's friends whispered to each other and pulled Nafisa to follow them.

Nafisa looked at Syifa with a heavy heart. Until they get further away into one of their homes.

"They don't like you, so don't expect to play with them!" someone said.

Syifa looked back. I saw a girl who was the same age as him. The boy is a native descendant of Java who is also crossing the same road.

"There, home!" he said it again to Syifa.

"Where do you know if they don't want to play with me?" ask Syifa annoyed.

"I heard them whispering to each other. They say they don't want to play with you, they say you're a bastard!" bluntly said.

Syifa suddenly gasped to hear it. She was getting annoyed at the girl who blatantly said that to her.

Syifa immediately got on her bike back and pedaled her quickly leaving the place.

Along the way home Syifa tears unceasingly hatched while remembering the words of the daughter just now.

He said you're a bastard! you bastard! you bastard! those words kept ringing in his mind.

When passing through the alley that became the border between two walls that separate the area of the palace and the Arab village, a boy was walking with a large backpack at the end of the alley.

Syifa rubbed her cheeks in embarrassment to look like she was crying. However, her tears just kept flowing from her beautiful face.

The boy looked at Syifa with astonishment as Syifa passed by. However, they did not greet each other because the first time they met. Syifa ignored him and continued paddling until she got home.

Syifa got off the bike and ran towards Fatimah's grandmother who was sitting in front of the house. Syifa hugged her grandmother tightly spilling her grief.

Fatimah stuck a needle on the shirt she was sewing by hand, then placed it on the table.

"What's up, Syifa? why is this beautiful granddaughter crying?" ask Fatimah's grandmother.

"God, is Syifa really an illegitimate child? they don't want to play with Syifa because Syifa's a bastard, Nek!" syifa said with a sigh and sobs that kept flowing on her cheeks.

"Who said it?" ask the grandmother who seemed surprised to hear Syifa's words.

"Kids of the neighbors of the Syarifah, Nek. Nafisa's friends," he said.

"All babies are born holy, and so is Syifa. Don't cry already. If they do not want to play with Syifa, there are still many other children, right," said Fatimah's grandmother.

"Grandmother, where is Papa Syifa, Grandma?" ask Syifa who never got an answer every question it was to her mother.

"Syifa, when you grow up, you'll understand why your mom didn't tell you, son. Don't ask your mama that, will you? Syifa doesn't want to make mama sad, does she?"

"Yes, Grandma!" Syifa looked obedient.

"Oh yeah, Grandma made a dress for Syifa. Soon it will be, later it can be used when teaching," said Fatimah's grandmother while showing the clothes that were being sewn.

"Thank you, Grandma!" syifa said with a happy smile, then hugged Fatimah's grandmother back.

From inside the house Rosalina heard a conversation between her daughter and Fatimah's grandmother. He stood behind the side wall of the door. Risa had no power to hold back her tears when Asyifa was cursed by an illegitimate child. Rosa cried without a sound while smothering her mouth. His heart was sore and hurt.

Since then Syifa has never asked or discussed again about who her father was. Syifa closed her ears tightly if anyone talked about her family background which was much different from other families.

She is the only girl of Dutch descent living in an Arab village. Although he was very curious. However, Syifa chose to ignore him so as not to make her mother sad.

..._________Ney-nna___________...