The Staircase
My neighbor 1

"Fresh, cheap crispy carrot. Please glance. Buy one for three hundred rupiahs, buy two five hundred rupiahs. Got a hundred rupiah cut. Come on, gentlemen, mothers. Limited stock. It's a vegetable from his own garden. Guaranteed fresh and not disappointing."

"How many people is this, brother?"

"Oh, this one. One tie is three hundred rupiahs, brother. But especially for sister two tie this five hundred rupiah."

"Well, I bought this one four tie. That means a thousand dollars, right?"

The woman who looked more like the mothers I called the sister was bidding on price-this is a merchant technique so that buyers of spirit in our field said the father a month ago. The mothers were interested in the promo that I gave in the middle of the busy market, dawn on this Sunday. My father was to return the rest of the buyer's money and wrap the vegetables in plastic. Dad sat on a wooden chair, looking exhausted because for four months more selling in the market without pause. But the sale proceeds were saved in a piggy bank, box-shaped made of triplex, in front of the piggy bank was written, for the school Aki-managed to encourage the father. My mother urged me to make the piggy bank. Mother said, who knows, someday it will be useful to me.

"Yes, brother. Want to buy four ties let me pack it?" The selling style of most market people has been ingrained in me. The style of language, how to serve buyers, promote merchandise, and calculate change without having to use a calculator I have mastered.

"Yes, brother. If you can get a one-tie bonus." Chuckles softly. I glanced at Dad, my gaze understood.

"It's more than a bonus, brother." I smiled sweetly as I thrust out a plastic bag containing four fresh vegetable bundles.

"Yes, brother. Thank you, yeah."

The word, thank you, of the buyer is what we as traders expect. Although sometimes there are buyers who have been given a heart, instead ask for a heart like a buyer just now. Only a reject strategy in the right way - can make buyers understand.

The buyer doesn't know how much profit and loss my father and I bear. It's been a risk in the business said the father repeatedly when he heard me complain that there are neighbors who owe.

My mother who is proficient in the world of per-omelan immediately shriveled when dealing with neighbors who have not paid debts for a long time. Only the awareness of them will think the debt must be applied.

"There's no money yet, Aki ma'am. Wait tomorrow, my husband's payday tomorrow." Reason for the neighbor who adjoins the wall with our contract. Mom's charging seriously on the porch of her house this afternoon.

"Yes, mom. If I can finish it tomorrow, yes. We don't have any more money to turn around." Answer mother. Reasoning not have money for capital, that's just my mother's strategy, although the vegetables we sell include capital and rent stalls all from the Tibetan pack. Although many owed, we did not lose the Tibetans really did. If left unchecked, the debt will accumulate. For example now, the word tomorrow from my neighbor confirms that the time of repayment is uncertain; there is no determination of the date and time. The reality is, tomorrow my neighbor means tomorrow for the next day again.

"Where's your mother?" Ask dad still with his market clothes, approaching me who was sitting on the porch. It had been almost an hour I was sitting on the rented terrace after coming home from the market; I had not had time to shower and change clothes - I was exhausted. I'm looking for a mother she didn't meet at home.

"That's mom." Pointing my mother on the neighbor's porch.

"Hurry and get your mother home." Urge dad.

"Yes, yeah." Reply, quickly. As soon as possible I put on a sandal, then headed to the neighboring house which made the mother astonished.

"What's wrong?" Ask mom. I don't usually catch up with my mom who's visiting a neighbor's house. Just this time, at my father's instructions.

"Dad looking for mom. He said hurry home." Repeating my dad's insistence just now.

"This is your son, yes." Neighbors are in the shade. Turning his face away, his nose bloomed as if looking for fresh air.

"Yes. This is my only child. Third grade of Elementary School this year." My mother replied a little proud of herself that her son would soon be in the third grade of Elementary School. I smiled broadly.

"Why are your clothes so dirty? Still clean it looks like our feet doormats." Ask neighbor.

The comparison he made seemed to demean us. My neighbor spat beside his porch many times. I'm speechless. Eyes blink rapidly. My mother was silent too. Remember uncle's message; life depends on how we think about it.

My mom and I went home without further ado. When I got home, I took a shower and changed my clothes.

"Bad our neighbor. Debt hasn't been paid but it's been insulting my son's clothes. He didn't know it was clothes for him to sell to the market. Wait a minute, I'll prove my son's wearing toga." Just entered the house; have not had time to sit-mother has nagged.

"Already, already. Don't exaggerate. You are also, right, who is busy even relaxing to his house. That's why I said no, yeah, no." Said my father's bullshit.

"Casual what are you saying? I collect his debt." Mother protested. "The debt remains, Rin. You see there. Our piggy hole is wide open. We have to close that hole with the money in it. No pity for your son? Nothing has been such a despicable neighbor." The intonation of my mother's voice was a little withheld, not for the neighbors to hear. Except to think and think together. Dad was silent for a moment, sitting down. Occasionally holding his stomach.

"Allow you. I'm hungry." Dad cut the conversation.

Mother turned her gaze towards the kitchen, it seems that mother's emotions were not right if thrown to my father who only responded in a perfunctory manner.

My mother's nagging didn't stop there, until she arrived at the kitchen, "His right, it was as easy as insulting my son. He doesn't know my son is number one in school. He thinks my son's clothes are just that. Notwithstanding. Lots, tuh, in the cardboard. What does it mean to be cleaner than a foot mat. It's an insult to his name." Nagging at length while facing tempe.

I was silent, feeling guilty. My mother's long nagging seemed to possess my soul, feelings, and thoughts. There was a great struggle in his head like his fist ring. I leaned against the wall, thinking of what my mother said, toga and ranked first in school. Mom, if you're upset, it's this way. All his dreams are expressed freely without thinking long if to achieve it is not easy. But for the sake of calming my mother and father can only be silent.

Dad took out a black plastic bag in front of me, unpacking the contents inside. There are thousands, tens, and coins. I split money by nominal. A hundred rupiah coin stacked higher than a five hundred rupiah coin. So is the money of twenty and ten thousand rupiah which is no more than a thousand rupiah. After everything is collected per nominal, the father counts them one by one.

The grumbling in the kitchen is still smoldering, the radio is broken, the father said. I chuckle softly. The nagging stopped. I knew I was counting money.

Dad counted the money. His mouth was muttering like reciting a spell that only he understood. Mom stood full of question marks, curious. I looked down at the money that counted so fast.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand rupiah" answered the father calling his nominal. The results of today's sales increased, increasing fifty thousand rupiah from yesterday's sales. That is, the percentage of Tibetans also increased. It's good to meet the needs of the kitchen and pay for the rented house next month, as well as for my tuition tomorrow.

During the sale of vegetables in the market, my father always set aside his money for my snacks. Sometimes five hundred rupiahs, sometimes three hundred rupiahs - not far from that nominal range. But no matter what you give me, the pocket money I don't use for snacks; but I save it. Incidentally a month ago the school held special savings for students. Without hesitation, I opened the savings. Father and mother do not know, I deliberately saved my pocket money in school secretly. Later, his money will be a precious moment for the rest of my life. I'm sure of it! I am in a heart full of ambition.

After all, half-day school didn't make me hungry and thirsty; even if sometimes Toni wanted to treat me.

"Hows it? I have plans to add some vegetable stock. It seems our vegetables are selling hard. This is our chance together. That is, the more stock vegetables I bring, the more percentages you get." The Tibetan sir lobbied the father who was nodding in agreement in the living room.

As usual, the Tibetans came in our rented. If not late afternoon, surely these nights the Tibetan sir delivered his freshly harvested vegetables.

Hearing the Tibetan sir's voice, I opened the room door, making sure. It turns out there are Tibetan sirs. I came out to him, and endured it. The Tibetan man looked at me in amazement.

"It doesn't feel big, yeah. How's school?" Ask the Tibetans.

"Yes, sir. School is just fine."

"Your friends in the village are like losing one member of their family. They're lookingfor you. Almost every week there are those who hang out at the store just to ask you the news."

"Who's looking for me, sir?" I asked excitedly.

"Still know Aga, right? Well, he's the one who's been asking me about you."

I will never forget Aga and the others. I also asked the Tibetan sir how the Aga is doing now. Tibetans say the Aga is looking for a job. Occasionally Aga helps keep the Tibetan pack shop. Today, Aga is the backbone of the family. Her father died a month ago. Mother's sickly. Alternately with his sister taking care of his mother. Mr. Tibet continued, "His sister is going to school next year. But they're not enough money."

I nodded, pity. It turns out that Aga seriously did not continue school. I understand the Aga situation. If we are on his side, we will make the same decision. I'm sure Aga's a smart kid. He's not completely lazy to learn that he's focused like me. A lot of things that Aga takes care of in his home, including his father who used to be sickly, help his mother make a living. Surely a little time Aga left to study. But I was thinking, who knows someday Aga could be like a Tibetan sir. Amens. I murmured in my heart.

The Tibetan man stared at the weapon, his gaze solemn behind me. Then the Tibetans turned their eyes to my father. I wonder what the Tibetans just saw. I turned my head back. The writing of my mother's chain, for Aki's school, was as if waiting for a donor at the door. I forgot to close the door.

"Please Tibetan sir. It's still hot." Mom served her fried banana. "Wait a minute, yeah. The water just boiled." My mother, back in the kitchen.

"Well, this is the best banana fritters ever. You add with what spices can be this delicious?" Tibetan sir asked, half a pot of black coffee followed.

"No other seasoning, sir. It's just a simple concoction of a blend of flour, salt and chicken eggs." Mom poured coffee from the teapot into the cup, then gave it to the father and the Tibetan sir.

The smell of coffee is very tempting. White steam billowed in the Tibetan sir, then took him away full of fantasy.

"Why hasn't it been sold? It's delicious, loh. Aki, have you seen fried bananas sold in the school cafeteria, haven't you?"

"So far only bakwan sold bu canteen, sir."

"How's bakwanan? Sweet sell, right?"

"For sure, sir. Dozens or even hundreds of pairs of eyes are more interested in bakwan bu canteen than other foods."

"Well, then why don't you help your mom drop her banana fritters in the school cafeteria?" Tibetans take off their coffee again.

I fell silent, thought and considered the idea of a Tibetan sir that had a point as well. Indeed, the school cafeteria break hours are crowded, even those who protest full of disappointment if the bakwan runs out before the clock goes home.

"Sell three hundred rupiahs per fried banana. Don't cost. You will profit a lot. You get pocket money, and your mother can buy kitchen needs with the results of selling fried bananas. Oh, aye. For canteen owners just give ten percent of the total fried bananas sold." Continue the Tibetan.

"There is our intention to sell it, Tibetan sir. But every time we plan to increase the stock of fried bananas, it has not been sold out first." My mother glanced at me. "His elpiji gas field is exhausted. Cooking oil. Even the banana, the money to buy flour." Mother detailed expenses.

"Oh, then we'll work together. Tomorrow or the day after tomorrow let all the equipment make fried bananas I brought here. Write whatever is necessary." Mr. Tibet became an investor immediately, my mother a producer. Without a doubt, she took the paper to my bag, wrote everything she needed.

"This, sir. Hopefully soon, yeah." Handing paper pieces to the Tibetan pack. Said hopefully, stressing that my mother was very hopeful.

"alright. Remind me that tomorrow I forgot to bring it. Capital all of me. You just make the best banana fry and peddle it, Aki can leave it in the school cafeteria. So you can make as many bananas as possible. I only take ten percent of total sales."

So, twenty percent overall reduction in sales results later. This means I still have more. My hit in the heart.

Mom smiled happily. Dad took off his coffee, nodding in agreement.