ONE LOVE, TWO CONTINENTS
The Kampung Children's

Twenty-six years ago I was born, today it was the first time I set foot in an International Airport and for the first time I was able to fly without the wings I had, equivalent to a bird. I was worried about what Zahra told me about her misguided theme experience.

But let me face it, now I must find the right reason for my departure. I'm waiting for the right time to talk to Mommy. At 6am I had to get to the airport, I had an hour to get to the airport and explain the reason for my departure. I see Mommy is still perfecting her morning prayer rakaat. All the luggage I have prepared, the plan is two days I get time for various tourist and culinary coverage and cultural variety where President Soekarno was exiled.

“Rel, please buy Mommy coconut milk!”

“Iy..iya Mother.”

I tried to obey my mother's wishes in the hope that she would allow me to leave for only two days. Although it took ten minutes to get back home, it was not an important matter that I had to look for an opportunity to ask for permission.

Arriving at the market, the usual place Mother bought kitchen spices looks crowded visitors, forced I have to follow the queue. My heart is upset, the queue is quite long those who buy unmitigated, in the forefront of a mother who buys vegetables, so rowdy.

“Masha Allah.”

I had to take the initiative of finding another tradesman who sold coconut milk. I surrounded all the stalls and other merchants, hoping that someone would sell the coconut milk.

“Pak selling coconut milk?”

“There. But the sister must be patient, the problem is that the ship's shipment has only arrived in about ten or fifteen minutes.” The man wearing the black skullcap answered.

I couldn't wait any longer, because I was worried about being left behind by the plane.I ran to find another stall. Indeed, in this place there are only no stalls that sell coconut milk. One stall down the street, this is my last wish.

“Pak, buy coconut milk all shredded well?”

“Sorry son, there is ready-made coconut milk. Want no?”

As far as I know Mommy never buys packaged coconut milk, because the food is too diluted.

“Oh no need Sir. Thanks.”

God, I have to go back to the beginning. Then I have to start a new queue. I had forty-five minutes left, it took me thirty minutes to get to the airport from where I live.

“Mas, want to buy coconut for mommy yah?”Ask one of the traders.

“Kok Mas know. Yes, it's until the Mother's child. Pie after Mas?”

“Oh yes.”

“You buy how much?”

“One Only Mas”

“Drawn?”

“Iya Mas, all grated.”

“Lain times ask. Shame to ask astray on the road. Right then?”

Right, what the merchant said. I just went around the market. Suppose I ask with this Mas, maybe I don't need to be tired of looking for a coconut milk vendor stall that is quiet visitors. After all, in the end I bought at the place of the mother subscription as well.

“Thanks Mas.”

“Sama-sama.”

I rushed to leave the market, it took ten minutes to get home, five minutes to ask permission and twenty minutes I had to get to the airport.

“Wa’alaikum salam.”

“This mama coconut food”

“Thanks Rel.”

“Iya Mother. Can I ask permission? I have business to do!”

“Where?”

“Out of town. Maybe just one day, one night only.”

“If it's good for you, please son. Take good care of yourself.”

“Insya Allah Mother. I'm sorry, Assalamu’alaikum.”

“Wa’alaikum greetings."

Although a little relieved, but the remaining time is only thirty minutes. As soon as possible I left the house with a potluck and clothes for two days only.

I asked Mr. Parmin, a motorcycle taxi driver who used to drive airport employees, because there wasn't much time I needed to get to the airport. The rest of the time I have twenty minutes. Ten minutes for ticket reservations, boarding, metal detection, and getting on board.

“Masya Allah, where do I put the ticket!!!”

Even though I had arrived in front of customer service, behind me there were about ten people queuing up, out of respect for them and tolerance I took the initiative out of the queue and had to start a new queue. I checked all the pants and shirt pockets, until I reopened the luggage. It's because I'm in a hurry, is it possible to fall? I was a little embarrassed to go back to finding a ticket.

“God willing, it's in the wallet. Thank goodness!” The cold heat I made. Although I had to wait in line, but I breathed a little. The problem does not only happen when waiting for tickets. There is another problem that I face, when entering the examination alaram metal detector sounds tight. All around me I see apathy and weirdness, as if they are justifying me as a criminal or *******. It turned out that there were materials made of metal that I was wearing, such as a belt head and shoes. Again I should be ashamed, all these things I should take off.

“Sorry sir, please take off your metal-smelling belongings." The advice of the security guard who checked all my luggage.

“Yes bothered to get on a plane, mendingan rickshaw ride,"my murmur in heart. But the incident did not last long, after the advice of the officers I followed.

Huf, until I was on the plane, it was not too difficult to find a seat number that matches what was on the ticket, thank God my position was right near the window, indeed this is what I hope, in order to see the view of the equatorial universe from the air, I wait for information from the flight crew. After that a flight attendant demonstrated Information comfort in air travel.The plane was getting ready to take off from the runway. I put down the safety belt, and saw the flight attendants demonstrating the in-flight safety system.

“Good morning Boing 737 passengers for your safety and comfort in flight, we will explain some ways the use of safety equipment that we have provided. when the plane looks off hopping to tighten your safety belt on your seat.and when the plane experienced an emergency landing, please use a life jacket which we have provided under your seat. If you are experiencing a shortage of air you please take a breathing assist Already provided to us in the box above your head and below the box for storing your luggage.and if you need information or other servicing please contact our staff. thank you for your attention and please do not leave the safety equipment is provided. safe and pleasant journey," more or less like that they say, I pay less attention to it. My mind is still confused by the working system of the plane. Strangely, iron of this magnitude can float in the air.

It's not just the working system of the airplane engine that I'm thinking about. I don't know why my daydreams suddenly mixed with my longing for Dita, after I saw there was one of the flight attendants who was almost similar to Dita's stature.

“What is Dita now? Does she think of me too?” I tried to disturb my daydream.

The plane began to speed up from the runway, getting faster and faster, just a few seconds I was already in the air. Subhanallah, so great did the Khalik create nature and the greatness of man create a vehicle like this, which sends me flying like a carefree bird in the air. So skilled the pilot carrying out the task, keeping passengers to the destination. I'm not like the other passengers, who take breaks.

“Oh, like this cloud," I said in my heart, as the plane was enveloped in clouds.

I looked down, a stretch of sea without edges. The vast sky was unresolved, the mountain loomed green, like the nails of the earth. Never thought of me, boarding a plane like this, besides the cost is quite expensive. So remember Mommy, if he goes on Hajj maybe the picture is like this. It only took me an hour to get to the city.

There was waiting for the travel driver who would take me to fulfill my duties, who is now a writer, maybe if I could use the term I am now a journalist. Ah, but I think I'm just a writer, because the perception of journalists for those who complete the level of journalistic science alone.

That discourse that I often meet, for those who are journalists, that the level of education that is appropriate to pin predictions as journalists. While I was just a high school graduate, I did not deserve to be a profession as a journalist. Later if I use my term as a journalist, hundreds of journalists will protest, or laugh.

“Hahahahah, High School graduate as journalist. BODREK Reporter or MUNTABER REPORTER!!.” Maybe they'll say something like this, MUNTABER, Appear Without News. This is the reality I will face later, if I meet with academic journalists. After all, in fact they only win titles, in the field all the same. For that I will not use the term journalist, I am a writer.