Their voices are often not heard,
considered the wind, and less loud with other voices. However, no one
guarantees louder means more sincere. Great things don't always come from big
figures. We believe that. Sometimes, great things are also scattered around,
sourced from “ordinary people”.
On the 76th Anniversary of Indonesian
Independence, we manifested that belief by asking them the meaning of
'freedom', extraordinary “ordinary people”. We asked “Emak” what independence
was, a 72-year-old old man selling coffee on the side of the road, also to
Grandpa Mustaqim (72), an elderly person who was diligent in caring for,
reading, and selling books. We didn't just find answers, we found something
more valuable: hope, prayers, sincerity, advice, struggles through life and of
course, stories.
This is the meaning of 'freedom' from
them, the (extraordinary) people around us. This is their voice for Indonesia
at the age of 76.
*
The bespectacled woman is 72 years
old, but her hands are still dexterous in blending coffee and tea in her small
shop located on Jalan Sumatra, near the KPRI University of Jember. He is
friendly and easy to smile. He didn't hesitate to greet us before he got off
the bike.
Together with Mother, we talked about
many things, from the impact of the pandemic on her business to her hopes for
Indonesia in the future.
Healthy, Mama? Sorry, rarely stop by
here.
"He's healthy, just yesterday he
got hit by the stomach, a month and a half. Why are you getting fatter?"
he asked, with a smile that hasn't changed since I first went there, in 2017.
Hearing Mom's question, we, or rather me, just laughed.
Stay open until the afternoon, Mom?
"Oh no, now it's only until 3
o'clock, this just came out (at 09.30 WIB). It's quiet now, Le, not like
before. This is just 20 thousand (gross) a day at most. If it's crowded, yes,
thank God it can be 30 thousand."
Hearing my mother's answer, I felt
something hit my heart. The atmosphere suddenly changed. The sound of passing
vehicles in front was suddenly silent. The questions I had prepared
disappeared, my mind was floating. This pandemic, I thought, has made the
struggle to face life even more difficult. However, from the word
'alhamdulilah' that was tucked away, I learned a lot of lessons. There is
something big and valuable there.
Next, the two cups of coffee we
ordered were ready. Mother served it and sat next to us. She then told me many
things about herself: her husband who died six years ago after praying, the
recipe for staying healthy (with gratitude, exercising, and being happy), and a
doctor who has always eaten at her place since she was a student.
“In the past, when (the doctor) was
still on duty here, he often suddenly sent food and basic necessities through
his driver, Le. When he moved his office to Surabaya, he also said goodbye.
Mother embraced. 'Ma'am, I'm not working here, I hope you're in good health' he
said that. Mother was hugged for a long time. When I got in the car, I still
looked at my mother, 'Dada, Mak'," he said, imitating with both hands.
Mama's eyes then looked straight at
the empty street. Like remembering something precious from his past. It seems
that the doctor and the separation he experienced was so memorable.
I am not surprised if the doctor is
so kind to Mother. Because, I'm sure Mom is the same way with him. Mother is
often visited by overseas students to just chat in her shop. Perhaps, they saw
the figure of a 'mother' far away from home when they were with Mother.
Mom, it's going to be seventeen soon.
Is it usually busy at home? I tried fishing.
"In the past two years, no, Le,
the seventeen has not fallen. Quiet. Be'e wong-wong uwes don't think about this,
the pandemic sucks thinking about uripe sek," he said with a small laugh.
It's been two years now, son, I don't feel the atmosphere of independence.
Quiet. Maybe people haven't thought about celebrating it, this pandemic makes
people think about their lives first.
I laughed a little while imagining
the 5th precepts of Pancasila and the absurd billboards belonging to
politicians. Then ask again. If it's for your own mother, how about
independence, Mom?
"Oh, opo yo," he said. Wow,
what's that. Mother was silent for a long time.
If it's hope, maybe, Mak, for
Indonesia in the future?
“Hope opo yo… hope to eat this
already. It's important to be able to eat every day. The important thing is not
too difficult to find food. That's all," replied the mother. What hope,
yes, hope to eat this alone already. The important thing is that it is not too
difficult to find food every day.
This is it, I thought. Independence
does not necessarily mean liberating the nation from the wretched grip of
colonialism. For some, it could mean something simpler: being able to go on
living without the shadow of hunger. Life, and its basic rights as citizens are
fulfilled. Live and continue to live in peace in his vulnerable time.
We continued to chat with Mother for
about an hour. I asked permission to take my mother's portrait and then said
goodbye. I was about to go to Grandpa Mustaqim's residence, our next resource
person.
"Don't worry, Rabbi, Le, keep on
piling cars," he said, as we walked towards the motorbikes. I pray that
you get married quickly, then come here with a car.
I smiled. And of course certify as
strong and sincere as I can.
"Saiki arek wedok wes kari
sitik, kudu ndang rabi," he joked. Now that there are few daughters left,
(you) have to hurry up and get married. I smiled again. Maybe it was because of
my mother telling me to get married soon, but it could be for other reasons. I
said goodbye and promised to come back with or without a car.
After visiting my mother, I rushed to
Grandpa Mustaqim's residence in Ledok Village, RT 2 RW 22 Gebang, Jember, East
Java. We arrived when he had just finished taking a bath and getting ready for
the noon prayer. With his trademark hospitality, he ushered us into his living
room filled with books.
In this 4x3 meter room, thousands of
academic books, comics, novels, and magazines are piled up. Some also hang
above. On one side of the wall, there is a piece of a local newspaper wrapped
in a frame that contains the story of Grandpa Mustaqim 'aging with books'.
Also, which he later advised us, the words 'You are near, I am closer', a
snippet of God's word in Surah Al-Baqarah which became his life guide.
After looking around and selecting
books, we had a long chat with Grandpa Mustaqim. From the beginning, the story
begins with finding books, selling books, to his struggle to stay in the book
industry, which is getting worse and worse by the day. With Grandpa Mustaqim,
we decided not to ask too many questions. We prefer to listen to his stories.
However, that doesn't mean we haven't found the meaning of 'freedom'. We find
that implied throughout the story. Also from the figure.
Mr. Mustaqim healthy? I want to find
a book and talk to you at the same time.
"Thank God you are healthy, oh
yes, please if you want to find books. That's part of the novel, religion …” He
then went into a room for a while, changed his clothes, carried two plastic
chairs and rejoined us.
If you may know, Mr. Mustaqim has
been selling books since when, sir?
“In the past, initially I was selling
newspapers, if I'm not mistaken in 1963. Traveled from the Tanjung market to
the Soebandi hospital in Patrang. Then, there was a bookstore that was closed,
so I was offered to replace the books. At first I was doubtful, where did the
money come from for capital? Fortunately the seller said, 'already, bring it
first, the money later'. Since then I started holding a stall near the Tanjung
market, selling books. It turned out that there were a lot of people who bought
it, so they stood in line. I was hot and cold holding that kind of money,” he
recalls.
He then told how the climate of books
in the past and today. Also the struggle to survive there. Around 1998-2004, he
stopped selling books. Giving up, he said, he felt bad for his wife because
every day none of his books sold.
“I went around to the schools, it
turned out that they were no longer using the old books. The curriculum has
changed. Every day I go around and not a single book is sold.”
I found something valuable from
Grandpa Mustaqim. Because, he is not just selling books, until he is 72 years
old, he is still diligent in reading books. He advised us to read as much as
possible, even if only for a short time.
"The key is, don't leave prayer,
be obedient and please your mother, don't forget to give alms, and keep seeking
knowledge. That's it, that's all, son, you'll see for yourself the fruit,"
he ordered.
Although we did not find the meaning
of independence explicitly in the chat, we found it from the figure of Grandpa
Mustaqim himself. How he chooses and goes through life, how he sincerely cares
for and pursues books, how he continues to learn and thirst for knowledge at a
young age. From his figure, we find the meaning of 'freedom' which is
priceless. *