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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. *