ONE LOVE, TWO CONTINENTS
Embroidering Hope
Upon arriving Syahrel from Jambi, he immediately tidied up the luggage and souvenirs for the family of the late Hajj Arsyad, but Syahrel hid the souvenirs from his mother. Not that Shahrel chose love or not affection with him, but he had to hide his current professional identity. There is one goal and goal that he must achieve for him and mother who always accompany every step of his career.
Around the house he noticed, looking for the whereabouts of the mother. Safe situation, Syahrel was as soon as possible to check his bamboo savings on the roof of the house, the salary of writing and the rest of the transportation trip to Jambi he set aside for saving the mother or the cost of taking the Hajj.
“This fourth bamboo piggy bank. Alhamdulillah, hopefully there is more sustenance for mother”, lips Syahrel murmured when he saw the roof of his house there are already four bamboo piggy banks of his efforts for mother.
“Rel!”, jerk mom, surprise Syahrel.
“God's Mass. Mother just ngagetin!”
“What are you doing?”
“A, anu mother..”, Syahrel nervous, do not know what to answer. This is mom, Syahrel
hearing the sound of a cat fighting, afraid of the roof of the house more leaked because
those cats.”
“In the past two days, often the cats roam on the roof
homehouse. Already, here down.”
“Iya mother, Syahrel down.”
Syahrel also tidied up his bamboo piggy bank and as soon as possible came down from the roof of the house.
“Mother, this is a little sustenance for just money kitchen”, Syahrel gives six
a hundred thousand bills.
“God, money from where nak?”
“Halal cocoon.”
“Yes, where is this money?”, you are still a little surprised to see the money Syahrel gave you. It is not often that Shahrel gives money at once like this, usually every day he gives mother thirty thousand or twenty thousand.
“Today I helped a friend write a coverage for his lecture”, again Syahrel lied. “I'm sorry Mother,"sorry in heart.
“Mother did not use this money, the rice supply is still there. Let your mother keep the goods two or three days, be afraid if anyone is looking for you because the money is not so much.”
“Mother..the money is absolutely halal. Syahrel earned from Syahrel's own labor.”
“Iya, Mommy understands. It is also not wrong if you save first.”
“Ya already, all I leave to mother.”
the OoO
After the ashar prayer, the sun began to slant to the west end. Two plastic bags were flanked by Syahrel towards the family residence of Haji Arsyad.
“Assalamu’alaikum.”
“Wa’alaikum greetings. Eh Syahrel, please come in!”, Ummi Halimah welcomes the arrival of Syahrel.
“Iya Ummi.”
“Where have you been Rel, how did you look again?”
“Three days ago I came here, Zahra said Umminya is asleep.”
“Time
that night? Ummi has too much activity in the morning. Rel bias, since
Pak Haji does not exist, Ummi's business takes care of all.”
“Don't be too tired Ummi.”
“After how else, it is difficult to be happy we have to dare to shoulder.”
“Ummi, this is a gift-by little.”
Syahrel gives a typical Jambi feeding bag in the form of durian dodol and some embroidered cloth strands.
“Where are you from?”
“From Jambi, there is a little work.”
“Wah, nice also embroidery fabric Rel!”
“Zahra where is Ummi?”
“After Ummi call, usually he breaks in the room.”
Before long, Ummi and Zahra went out to Syahrel.
“Eh Brother Syahrel, how are the streets? No nyasar?”
“Alhamdulillah smoothly Zahra. Here, brother bring your order.”
Syahrel gave one more bag to Zahra, the contents are different from Ummi Halimah's. A white hood with Jambi motifs and some long-sleeved t-shirts bearing Jambi tempo doeloe.
“Kak Syahrel, Zahra was not really asking for souvenirs..”
“It's okay Zahra, count you teach me how to get on a plane.”
Syahrel with Hajj Arsyad. When he was alive, he often told me about his way of life. Here, yes, in the chair they now occupy. For a moment Syahrel's lips and heart bowed and prayed. May his kindness be rewarded.
“Andai Haji Arsyad is still here. Want me to pour out all the happiness of my life, Shahrel murmured in the chair that Zahra now occupied and the large aluminum glass that was always on the table, that's where the late Haji Arsyad told me about youth and the way of life.
“Zahra, Ummi, Syahrel back home, soon adzan maghrib.”
“Thank you, Brother?”
“Sama-sama Zahra's. Assalamu’alaikum.”
“Wa’alaikum salam.”
Lekas Syahrel left the two and stepped into the mosque. Indeed the original plan after giving souvenirs he still remembered with his duties at the mosque, although he had left three days. Usually Syahrel continues from Maghrib time to isya. After the prayer Syahrel must prepare news material that tomorrow he will copy in the editorial office.
“Yes Allah, thank you for the favors you gave. The path of science that leads the servant to know things that the servant never learned, by Your power, You change everything. Give the pleasure of long life to those who are dear servants until later the servant is useful to them. O Rabb, make your servants among those who are grateful.”
c OoO
The sound of birdsong still sounds harmonious even though it is mixed with the noise of motorized vehicles. Shahrel had to play with his new profession, he hid it all from Mother.
As far as Mother Syahrel is still a newspaper seller and mosque manager. This seems to keep Syahrel running. Every day Syahrel keeps his journalism attributes in a kiosk. So, every day he had to go to the kiosk to replace the attributes of a newsboy with a shirt the style of an office worker.
“One day I'll be honest with you. Yes, if my name is big and it must be big with power at the end of my pen. As long as I'm going to keep writing and keep writing, "Sahrel's determination begins his days as a budding writer or journalist.
So the spirit of Syahrel carrying out this new profession, although sometimes magazines and newspapers in the stall whisper and look, “Where is my old master?”.
“Pak, I have completed my task at jambi.”
“Oh, good, good Rel.”
Mr. Rismawan read the results of Syahrel coverage and saw some pictures of pictures that Syahrel attached in a bundle.
“Rel, can I ask?”
“Bo, may Sir," Syahrel answered nervously. Afraid of the results of the coverage and the report sentence is not pleasing.
“Where did you learn nulis?”
“O,nottaught Pak.”
“But the sentences and terms you use are equivalent to the sentences of journalists who are studying academics.”
“Meanour?”
“Ya...the arrangement is so neat and orderly, the placement of sentences and terms that you enter is right and in accordance with the theme of the news. This style of language can only be obtained from college graduates.”
“Thank you Sir.”
“Sorry Sir, if I may name me in the redaction just changed Mr.”
“You mean by pseudonym?”
“Iya,"Syahrel nodded his head.
“OK. What name do you want to use?”
“Fakir Musyorn.”
“What's that name mean?”
“No mean anything, but I just love it by that name.”
“How about Musyfak?”
“Mmm..agree Pak.”
“Rel, before publication you must attend an editorial meeting tomorrow."
“Siap Pak.”
It turned out that in the meeting discussed the editorship and title of the publication that was interesting to the contents.
“There is one column still empty, my idea how about filled with short stories?”
Syahrel felt he got a fresh breeze and a chance to include some short stories that he had made.
“But to pay the author cerpenis honor, our budget has been allocated to the production and promotion of Pak”, input and complaints made by Mbak Irez as an administrative and administrative staff.
“If friends agree, let my short story column that will fill.”
“Originally the budget is in accordance with Rel”, between Mbak Irez.
“For honor issues I do not demand more.”
“How are friends?”
“I agree Sir. But is Syahrel able to lift the selling point of this magazine?” Mas Warya one of the circulation staff doubted Syahrel's ability.
“If I personally do not doubt the writing that Syahrel made and I guarantee it,"Pak Rismawan gave a defense. “How? You agree?”
“Agree,"as well as the staff and editorial board agree.
“Alright, meeting this time I close and for Syahrel immediately give the short story material to Mother Mira.”
“Good Sir.”
It is amazing, the short story that Syahrel made to get reader comments that are quite surprising to the editorial board and marketing staff. The short story that he first fit was titled Illution Girl, Mother-made Glass Shoes, Cambodian Flowers at the Headstone, Sesuci Cinta Keyla. With the short story Syahrel is able to add selling value for the company. But it is not the nature of Syahrel that big heads because of the praise he received, Syahrel remains humble and appreciative of his senior journalists.
Since then Syahrel was trusted by the company to keep writing in the short story column. Slowly the value of the honor Syahrel is taken into account. One thing that surprised Syahrel, the company took the initiative to book all his short stories. This is where the name Syahrel began to be known as Musyfak or MF.
“Syahrel, the owner of the company wants to meet you after he returns from abroad.”
Syahrel's heart pounded, waiting for events that still hold a mystery, waiting for the moment of the meeting.
“What exactly happened? No fatal mistakes I made.” Every night this becomes a question for Syahrel. “About Mr Rubby when to arrive in Jakarta?” Syahrel confirmed the return of Mr. Rubby to Indonesia.
“Two or three hearts more Rail. No, there is no mistake you made. He has read some of your writings. For that he wants to know the figure of MF whose works shook the hearts of the readers”, replied Mr. Rismawan remove the anxiety of Syahrel.
“Pak Rismawan exaggerates only. May my writing not be worth reading?”
“True Rail, I'm not lying. Sometimes I was moved after reading a few short stories, such as your short story called Marsya, the Poor Little Girl. I felt as if I were Marsya. Or I remember my son who was the same age as Marsya.”
Mr. Rismawan commented on one of the titles written by Syahrel.
“Thank you Sir.”
“And one more thing, some short stories you plan we will open. It is likely that two more weeks are in production. Any form of contract and administration please contact with Mbak Irez.”
“Ready Sir!”, tucked in a proud smile and thanksgiving.
“This is for mom and Dita.” Shahrel opened his eyes and prayed.
è 0)(0 ç
Lerhter Strasse 16 - 17, 10557 Berlin, Germany
The city I visit every day, here Papa is assigned, Republic Indonesia Embassy. My days are not too difficult to adapt to the population because the environment and where I hang out are inhabited by many Indonesian citizens. Although there are some friends who are German but slowly I can blend in with them. After all, they are also able to use the international language, English.
The first time I set foot in the city that was once the center of the Nazi regime was indeed very difficult, the first climate adaptation that I had to face. The first days I filled with a walk to see the situation of the city, college, studkoll or language course. There is something different from the pattern of population administration in this country, although it looks difficult but this rule they make for the order of population administration, even though it looks difficult, in addition, the completeness of this administration is our beginning to take care of some temporary stay in Germany.
I had to register with Auslanderamt, Einwohnermeldeamt, Ordnungsamt, the resident office in the city where I lived by using the address, attach some completeness of the affidavit such as passport, financial guarantee, etc, and description of the intention of settling in Germany. After the requirements were completed, then I set up a Bank account to get the account number, Laufende Jugend Konto, gesetzlichen Krankenkasse, etc, general health insurance with monthly premiums ranging from €50 - €55 (for ages under 30 years), free doctor's facilities, cheap drug purchases, hospital fees. Replacement glasses & teeth dependent contract Insurance, private Krankenkasse, personal health insurance, Monthly premium €30 - €60 (valid for first 6 months). Although actually I do not need to be difficult to take care of the completeness. All of these facilities, have been facilitated by the KBRI where papa is on duty.
Praise God. Shortly settled in Germany, I got a position as a staff publishing and editing writer in one of the famous media in a country rich in green field celebrities. Well, even though there was a little interference papa, but I am still professional in carrying out my duties.
Today dozens of short stories and articles I have to read, three or four more days magazines are produced. The weather in Germany, especially where I live, Berlin, is not the same as Jakarta, whose weather conditions are easily analyzed. I tried a glass of wine to warm my body. At first I thought by drinking coffee alone is enough, but the calories I need are not too much produced a cup of coffee.
Uhft, although my task is fairly difficult easy, but if you have been told time is afraid not the maximum result. Fortunately there are some colleagues who are a little more can help me translate German, because it is not too proficient. Hehehehe, so remember Shahrel. If I knew I would stay in this town, maybe I could learn a little German with him.
“So kangen Jakarta, "the view of Dita drifted in his memories in Indonesia, a piece of article still held two fingers.
Some of the stories still need to be translated. I was swept away while reading some of the literary works made by several writers such as Michael Root, Fallenshiel, including among them famous writers from Germany such as Ilija Trojanow, Wladimir Kaminer, Sasa Stanisic, and others, Terezia Mora or Feridun Zaimoglu and MF, I don't know what they are. These are the writers I have often read.
Michel Root often reviews the life and social of marginalized people, Fallenshiel more to the review of mystery story scripts, and MF I like some of the prose works, such as Love at the Foot of Rinjani, a Glass of Poison Waiting, and so on, There is no Snow White on Christmas Day, all the works of MF I like, because it is not difficult for me to read his work, besides he is Indonesian, automatically I have to translate into German and I have to be able to understand what is the company segmentation for those great works.
And the plan is that some of their prose will be exhibited in the form of musical drama, in collaboration with formal institutions such as Akademi der Bildenden Kunste, or so-called Academy of fine arts and Music Academie.