Namoras
Chat with two different age people

Bugh... Bugh.... Bugh...!

Sandbags swinging back and forth hit by Namora's fist. His body was taking a sweat bath this morning. Before he left the sandbag that had been the target of his fist since, do not forget he gave a locomotive kick so that the sandbag again swung irregularly.

Namora walked towards the bench. Take a towel, then wipe off his sweat before resuming another portion of the exercise routine that he does every morning. Only then did he not forget what his teacher had taught him.

Namora took a face down position, before long she did a push up, and she did that almost a hundred and fifty times. Until he felt that his hand veins, calf veins, thigh veins and stomach were stiffening, then he stopped.

Namora took a deep breath, held it for a while, then released it slowly. And that he did a few times.

In the same room, it appeared that the old man was watching what he was doing while casually enjoying a cup of coffee and some kind of breakfast food. If you notice, actually the old man is still not 50. It's just that it might be a hard time living, a lot of burden and always working hard, so that his face looks more strokes and wrinkles everywhere.

Namora noticed the old man who seemed to be enjoying himself so much that he greeted. "Sir Karim. Are you interested in exercising?" Ask him kindly. Friendly in itself. While Mr. Karim heard that his tone was not pitched at all, aka flat.

"No. I am used to exercising freely. It used to be a young time to lift rice when the harvest. It is not light because each sack exceeds eighty kilograms. You don't have to punch that sandbag either. You used to hoe the rocky soil and pound the rice," the answer. Come to think of it right too. Maybe when he was young, it was very rare to have a rice mill. Even if there is, maybe in one subdistrict at most there is only one. And also the culture of working wages lifting rice in the rice fields. It is used to doing it during the harvest season. The work was obviously very heavy and only the men and the strong could do it. Just imagine walking on muddy and slippery ground while carrying a sack of rice that exceeds the weight of eighty kilograms. That's not close. Even up to three hundred meters to reach the diesel cool car that is parked waiting for the load. Some are even forced to go to the shaman to install the stacking so that the power can be strong. It is against the law in certain religious teachings.

That image alone had made Namora shudder in horror. If he was in that era, maybe he had broken his waist or at least fainted.

"Different times, different ways of people. In the past, every rain will fall, we will be very enthusiastic waiting to be able to shower with rain. Do not even forget to play perosotan with pinang midribs and immediately plunge into the times. Today, children are even very afraid of the same rain as the fear of fever. I love seeing young people like you. Whether you are my employer or not, you do not rely on the wealth you have. You like to work instead of enjoying this all-new life with a fall in the room. If it is so, let alone a rain shower, then just have a fever first," said Mr. Karim again sneering.

"Truely said the father. Different times, different people, different ways, different challenges. If the old days thieves brought a machete, today thieves wear a tie and bring a suitcase," said Namora anyway. Win right what he said. Thieves are equally dangerous. However, it is more dangerous for thieves to wear suits and ties than to wear ninja masks and cleaver. If thieves wear ninja masks and cleavers are most capable of stealing a house or two, deserted thieves are able to harm one country.

"You're 17 years old. But your insight is quite broad," praise Mr. Karim sincerely.

"I'm smart because there's Google" Namora replied as she packed up her sports equipment and began to step out of the training ground to take a shower. Today he has to go to class. Otherwise, maybe he would stand on one leg beside the blackboard.

After finishing the bath, he immediately got dressed and went out to see Mr. Karim.

"Sir. I went to school first. I'll probably be home at one more time. You can eat at any cafe or restaurant you like. Call it Namora!" He said while handing over a hundred thousand bills and a member card with a restaurant logo not far from the apartment location.

Mr. Karim was surprised. He alternately stared between the money given by Namora, and the face of the young man. "It's too much" she said feeling bad.

"Take it sir. I don't have a lot of cash. There's just that. Although you don't really need money to eat because the card covers everything in the restaurant, just in case, it should be enough money" Namora said as she shook her hand, then walk to the elevator to get off the parking area.

Mr. Karim put a card on his thigh, then calculated the amount of money given by Namora earlier.

"Weird are these rich people. Eat up to spend a billion. The food was delicious just down the throat. When it reaches the stomach, the edges will become dirt as well" said Mr. Karim again in the heart. Surely he thought of it based on his simple way of thinking as a lower class society. Not so for high class people.

Looking at the money, he immediately thought of his family at home. He could not eat good food while his family at home only ate salted fish and sambal belacan with boiled cassava leaf vegetables.

He separated the money into two pieces, then folded another thirteen and slipped it in his pants pocket.

"This is more than enough. Later I'll go shopping for vegetables, wet fish and spices. My wife and nephew can have a good meal tonight" he said with a happy face.

Bru...! Bruuuuum...!

Mr. Karim's happy daydream was caved in when he was startled by the sound of a motorcycle engine. From the balcony, he looked down. And he saw a young man in a school uniform taking off his helmet and started shouting Namora's name.

"Woy Mora's. Hurry on! You told me to pick you up. Where's your bike going?" The young man screamed.

"My motorbike lives in the city of Kemuning. I was worried that if I was driving, the school gate could collapse," a voice came in and a young man wearing the same uniform walked out of the door. Earlier he forgot that his motorbike was living in the city of Kemuning so he headed to the parking lot first. It was only when he reached the parking lot that he remembered that he came home by car with Mr. Karim and his motorcycle stayed there. There was no other way for him to go to school than to ask his best friend Jol to pick him up.

"Let's hurry. We could be late. If it's too late you know for yourself. The old man won't open the gates for us. He doesn't care what your status is. When it's past time, and he closes the gate, the governor's son will be ignored," said Jol half-forcibly.

"Ok, come on!" Reply Namora also while sitting in the splat.

"Depart?" Jol asked in a loud voice while laughing.

"Go go!" Namora Sahut.

Bruuuuum...! Once again the sound of a deafening machine was heard followed by a motorcycle darting away from the Rock Hill towards the Tunas Bangsa State SMA.

While on the balcony, Mr. Karim only smiles himself to see the behavior of the two young men. He remembers the times he was a teenager. It's just the difference, if the two young people ride a motorcycle, he used to ride an onthel bike.

Seriate...

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