The Struggle of a Child
Do'a blessing
The study was done as usual without any shortcomings. As usual every time I teach my father never forget his habit, rattan. This he never forgets, as my father experienced when he was a child learning to teach with his teacher. This is what my father used when teaching us to teach.
Me and my sister who could not sit quietly trembled as it lay before us. Every time I panicked, when I saw it started to put my father right next to him. Highlight the eyes too, as if dimming when looking at the road to my teaching place. My lips, too, wanted to shout forbid my father not to put it. But what is my day is all beyond my power. I could only hold my breath while walking along my weak legs along with the hygaiyah chants that I read in my heart.
Before I sat down before my father along with Iqro' on the recal. I remember the hijaiyah that I have read. I repeat it back in my heart. That's what I do every time I want to teach.
Arriving on the mat a frequent spot on the title before I sat down. I kissed the back of my father's hand first to take a do'a blessing from him. This is how every moment taught by my father before and after teaching.
My father never got tired of reminding us to do every moment. He never wanted to change what had become his decision. My father was a father who wanted to be the best father in the world.
No doubt sometimes this ambitious desire takes us, like being in the Dutch upbringing. His strict rules and prohibitions should not be denied, especially when our father punished us. Every action you have had to accept the consequences, that's what my father said when we asked for leniency from the punishment he gave.
Given that my sister and I must also prepare to be good students for her teacher. We also need to be more careful when teaching. We should also repeat and recall our previous studies.
I sat down where I saw my little brother sitting right by my father's bedroom door. My sister was so serious about seeing Iqro' located above her hand. He seemed to be repeating his study, I thought as I turned my gaze back to look at Iqro'.
Sheet by sheet, I read from past studies to the studies I will read today. That's how it was until I finished and closed my Iqro.
After finishing from me, my father, too, went to teach my brother who was whiny if in the omeli when he was wrong. My father did not want to do to my sister, as he did to me that is, provide rattan before teaching. If my father taught my brother he was very careful because if my brother were to cry he would be sad because my brother's face was similar, like his dead wife. That's what made my father weak when dealing with my sister. That's why my father always kept my sister's heart so that my sister would not shed tears. My father's heart was so broken when he saw my sister crying. He, too, could not make a living quietly.
my sister who knows it is getting spoiled and acting like her true self. He will play as he pleases. Buy snacks at will without thinking about the back of the day.
That too, he is doing this time. In his time of teaching, like this he also used his powerful weapon, namely, tears so that he could escape from my father's nagging when he was wrong in the letters he read. However, it wasn't my father's name, if he couldn't read my brother's ingenuity. My father never scolded my sister, as he did to me. However, my father would repeat it until my brother knew the letter to be true.
My father doesn't want to lose to my brother. My brother is smarter than my father. My father would repeat it until my brother was saturated and finally, he was forced to remember it.
"Try to remember this!" my father told my brother who had given up.
"Dad, I forgot. It's been a long time since I've read it" my brother said truthfully.
"What?!" My father was also surprised. "Have you not read it in a long time?" asked my father as if he could not believe it. "This was just a few days ago. You said you'd forgotten," continued my father. "Son, this is, isn't it, you've been reading repeatedly!" please continue with great emphasis. "Don't make me emotional!" my father reminded my sister.
I was shocked with my mother and kept quiet. My sister's hoarse voice, too, began to sound clearly. The sound made me stand up and look at my brother from the open door of my father's room.
"Dad, I've remembered it, but I didn't find it." My sister is being seen opening the sheets.
"Dad didn't want to hear excuses. Open the sheet and remember until you get it!" My father kept seeing my brother open the previous page. He tried to remember her until he found the answer.
"Sorry" said my sister with relief.
A bitter voice mixed with fear was heard from my sister who was worried about my father's nagging. He grew increasingly tangled with his heart that was wallowing with deep panic.
"Dik, don't cry!" I was standing right in front of my father's open door. "Later, I'm angry with you" I said softly with lips that my sister could read that raised her head slightly to look at me.
Look at her eyes that look teary as if telling her she's okay. I who was still standing looked at my sister so that she would not feel anxious jerked with a clap of the shoulder that shocked me from behind.
Puk!
I also spontaneously saw it. "Mother," I said softly while neutralizing the look on my surprised face. "Ngapain, you're standing here, huh?" My mother stood up after she had prepared dinner at my father's table.
"I just saw Ana teach me." I answered the question directly.
"Is that all?!" My mother asked back with a little face gurat harboring suspicion.
"Yes, ma'am" I replied
"Yes, Mom." I followed her from behind and left my sister to teach.
"Liyan, you're a big boy, and you, too, know how, how to look after your sister?!" tukas mom kibungku. "Well, so look, kid! If your sister ever teaches. Please don't talk to him! Later, he would forget about his studies. You know it, don't you. How's dad?" My mother asked me to remember my father. "So, if your sister doesn't concentrate. He'll get your father's scolding." My contact mother still walked past me who stood following her invitation. "Your sister is a crybaby. He's not like you who's strong and tough."
As soon as I thought, it was true. My father's scolding is like a sharp thorn piercing my brother. It seems, I remember when he was hit by a palm-fringed thorn. How sad his heart was until his tears fell, like a flood. His crying was so sad. His neutral eyes were now red, like chili peppers. I touched it so heartbreakingly that it made my heart slit to see it.
"Now you're here! Help me to prepare dinner." My mother immediately handed the plate in a soft tone. "Don't go too fast! Put it slowly on the table, "he shouted while preparing the next need.
"Yes, ma'am" I answered slowly.
Once on my desk, put the dishes according to my mother's orders. I placed it right near the rice that was located in the middle. After that, I went back to the kitchen to pick up the glass that would be placed on the table as well. After I put the cups and dishes according to our numbers at home. I, too, went back to my mother who took a spoon for me to put it also along with the plate and glass.
"Liyan!" call my mother to me from behind.
"Yes ma'am," I said as I twisted my body.
"Is everything complete?" ask my mother while watching the table.
I did not answer the question because I did not know which was less and which was more. I can only see.
My sister is done teaching. He also, walking while carrying Iqro' and mukena that he used.
"Sister!" call my sister to come near me.
"Yes." Yeah." I also reflexively turned my body backwards. "What's up, Brother?" aska I want to know.
"I'm hungry, sister" he said after finishing teaching.
"You're hungry" said the mother, who then suddenly came from behind carrying a kettle.
"Yes, I'm hungry. It was a long time ago," my sister complained as she gulped.
"If you don't want to pay for long. That's why the letter should be remembered" my father chimed in from behind.
My sister reflexively shut her mouth tightly and stood up straight looking at the table that had been covered in her favorite food.
.
.
.
❤️❤️❤️
Seriate...