The President Enters the Village
Orphanage
The car was driven by Mr. Kirjo, a driver who worked in Dirga's rice warehouse. Hana sighed harshly, staring at her appearance with a red kebaya. The beautiful kebaya, contrasting with the white skin, unfortunately the thick makeup of the village salon style, covers the natural beautiful face. Her hair is bun, like the makeup of mothers or sindens.
Beauitiful? For the people in her territory is beautiful. But unlike the people in the city who now use more natural makeup. Thought too thick with bright colors, looks kampungan.
Hana is a practical person, not wanting to waste an opportunity. The car they were riding in right now was a rice truck in yellow. Don't forget the strange writing perched behind him. 'There's money dear brother, no money brother kicked' that's the writing on one of his earth-carrying trucks.
Rich people? Hundreds of acres of fruit, vegetable and rice fields, owned by his father. There is nothing less than him, except his legs must always use a wheelchair, as a result of some of his leg nerves suffered interference after the accident.
Hana smiled proudly, will have the lover of a young specialist doctor. The clinic? Maybe he wants to create a clinic in the village for Haikal after getting married later. Today is the graduation day of her lover, of course, she must come, right?
To the salon from 5 am, wearing a kebaya shirt he ordered from one month ago at the village tailor. Haikal will be amazed, that's his belief, when the truck filled with rice entered the campus, horn with a strange sound was heard, while looking for a parking space.
The student stared at the large truck, thinning his lips holding back his laughter. I don't know which students his family came to the graduation event using a truck. How humiliating...
Until Kirjo sir got off, opened a wheelchair, lowered his employer to sit in a wheelchair.
"Buk RT, who's going to the wedding?" the lips of one of the freshmen got off the car which probably cost about a hundred million.
"See the writing on his truck 'There's a dear brother's money, there's no brother's money in the kick', '" another student who just got off the online taxi snickered, laughing incessantly.
"How much is your car worth? Is there half the price of my truck? The price of my truck is about 800 million." she smiled with a pompous smile.
As the students fell silent, unable to answer, the piercing words of a scorching-mouthed woman dressed in sinden-like clothing were heard.
Full of confidence, even from the village only SMU sub-district, that's Hana. The townspeople, not necessarily richer than the villagers, that was what his father had always taught him. Life is simple and down, still tenacious and persevering, the teachings of the father. Until now, they became the people who can be considered the most capable in his village. The son of a landlord, who raised his head proudly when it came to the city.
***
He was late, given the distance to go, and there Haikal is now. Wearing a toga, on stage with the name called.
But slowly the smile on Hana's face faded when she looked at a beautiful woman hugging her lover who had just stepped off the stage.
Wh who? It was just a question in his heart, trying to keep his tears from flowing. In order to make cheap makeup ala village salon does not fade.
Waiting, he prefers to wait."Sir we just wait outside the university building." he said with tears held back. Trying to think if he just misunderstood. However, the fire in the husk will emit smoke. It even caused even greater fire.
After waiting for about an hour, the students who had attended the graduation began to come out, just to take pictures with their families. Mr. Kirjo was away asked by Hana to buy a drink.
Hoping to get an explanation while staring at the young man kissed a woman on the forehead. Beauitiful? Hana is more beautiful, but again. Difficult feet to move into its shortcomings. A face covered in thick makeup, slowly trying to move his wheelchair.
"Geek!! Haikal!! A.. I'm coming, congratulations to my doctor.." call him red kebaya and batik cloth on his body.
However, Haikal fell silent a step back, this he should do. Not wanting to get entangled to take care of a wheelchair girl before him. Zara has boutiques in the city with a large turnover, ensured to have a higher social status than the children of disabled landlords who live in the village.
"Who are you!?" he snapped, annoyed at him starting to be talked about being the center of attention.
"I'm Hana, we'll get married after you graduate. We promised together." he tried to smile, to reach Haikal's hand.
Haikal sighed harshly, starting to make up his mind, "Hana listen!! I know you like me, because I'm the son of the richest man in the village, as well as a young doctor candidate. But this is no way to get me by humiliating me in front of everyone..."
The woman bowed clenched her hands, finally a drop of those tears flowed as well, passing through the cheap mascara that would wear off just because of a little bit of water. Spotting traces of black mascara flowed down her white cheeks.
"A. I." she said, people started laughing at her, sneering at her as a shameless woman. Is this humiliation worth her? He is from the village and why?
His eyes were twitching as a result of the tears flowing uncontrollably. He looked towards Haikal. The man she loved for 12 years. The young man who even ate and drank it was financed by him. Renting an apartment for him in the city.
Stupid right? His heart was just a toy.
The woman beside Haikal began to approach, "It turns out that only a cheap disabled woman tried to approach Haikal,"
"I'm not a cheap woman, she came to me herself. Saying love me, will marry me." she said down crying still sitting in her wheelchair. Her makeup had worn off, melumbering everywhere looking terrible. Even the cheap powder that was on his face did not escape weariness by his sweat and tears.
Haikal was silent for a moment, the memory was still there when the most beautiful girl in the village near him. But this is not true, he does not want to marry a disabled woman. Zara, who is independent, has her own business hundreds of times better.
Plaque...
A slap landed on Hana's cheek, not Zara's. But the hand of his own lover, Haikal.
Late into the night Hana helped her father arrange the freeze, giving fertilizer and irrigation calculations, sometimes staying up late to make money. Money flowing in the wallet of his lover the young doctor candidate.
Sick? Of course, but his heart hurt more.
"I understand." one word came out of his lips.
Clenching his hands full of hatred, Haikal's mother who was like a leech, Haikal's sister who often asked for various things, even the father of the young man relies on life to be a porters in the warehouse owned by Dirga. What good is less than the city woman Haikal is embracing.
Her tears grew increasingly eager to maintain her last self-esteem. Better to go, hold back the pain of the former slap on his cheek. Until, close an open sewer to scuttle the wheel of his wheelchair. A wheelchair fell, along with his body.
"There's a monkey mask falling!!" laughter of one student followed by another. Even the woman who was with Haikal laughed at him.
Haikal's? The young man was silent, with no intention to help. Let the disabled woman who waited for him to attend college in the city for 8 years cry down. Condemn his helplessness...
Until Kirjo sir came with a drink in his hand. Putting it origin, re-establish Hana to sit on her wheelchair.
"People say the prayers of orphans will be answered! The father is an orphan so the father's prayer will be answered. Haikal, you saw yourself growing up with Hana!! The village people don't know themselves!! Hana will get a better match than you!! Can buy this campus one finger flick!!" the brazen curse of Mr. Kirjo, a 58-year-old middle-aged man.
The orphans? Of course, Mr. Kirjo's parents died at the age of 86 and 90 years, a few years ago.
Hana can smile a little, because of the strange old man's babble.
"Sir we go home, leave the poor doctor," he said, who had been sitting in a wheelchair pushed by Mr. Kirjo to the truck.
Seriate