Myra - This Arabian Man Is Mine

I have never known having relationship with Arabian is that hard. Especially when he is 100% Arabian (means: his mother and his father are Arabian also with no half blood). Actually my family and his family have a good relation before we have a relationship. His mother is a friend of my aunts. I thought by this fact, it will make things easier but sometimes thing goes beyond your expectation.

I forget the time when I realize that I am declined but every time he is suddenly disappeared, I know his families are persuading him not to be with me. I have ever loosened him in a long interval without knowing why? He just faded. I knew something bad is going to happen … I solved it by replacing him with someone, until then I knew it’s vain. Being with someone just made me more and more wanted him. I remembered how pain to see it is not him who sit beside me watching a good movie, it’s not him who’s spending his time on phone with me. I thought those things I did with other men supposed to be his. Sometimes I want to shriek I am worth having all treatments those men grant me, but why it doesn’t come from him? Every time those men tried to get close, then I began to be mad … really mad at them. It is not because they do the wrong thing, but it’s simply because they remind me that he does not do the same. I thought if people do efforts to get close with me, why doesn’t he?

For about 3 months he did not contact me. He is like enveloped by the earth. Every time the phone’s ringing, my heart leaped up. Especially when they said it’s for me. I tried to have a deep breath and wished it was him. Until I knew that it wasn’t him. I just wanted to say, “why should you call, don’t you know how it’s hurt knowing that it’s not him who calls!!!” I didn’t want to hear any ringing anymore. I didn’t want any cell-phone near me. The last time I picked up the phone is when my friend (who is also his friend and our neighbor) calling to inform, “His mother came to our house, she asked my mother to make you leave him.

3 days before Lebaran’s day I thought it was impossible if he did not appear. But Adidas might be right, Nothing’s impossible. He did not appear. A day before Lebaran someone rang the bell, I let other else opened it though I was near the door. My mother said, someone’s looking for me. I tried to convince myself that it was not him, but all my heart wished it was him. Then again I was disappointed, it was not him. It is his other friend … who is later I know arranged (by his mother) to replace him. At Lebaran’s day, he did not appear even in message on my cell-phone. I typed a text for him, ‘Did I do your family wrong?”. Then I placed it in my inbox, it is never sent.

I was lying on my bed, tried to wonder what he was doing, is he missing me, what’s wrong exactly … and I prayed, the anxious pray I had ever begged. I begged and begged … then like a miracle I heard annoying sound of motorcycle. The sounds were like his motorcycle’s. I ran eagerly just to find that it was the sounds of my new neighbor’s motorcycle. I felt something that I can’t describe … I could only signify it by the words “Hurt”. I collected all stuffs that remind me of him. I locked it on my drawer.

It had been a year since he was disappeared I went to his neighbor to get any voices of him that he has. I got his record. I went home, listened to 5 songs and I realized I was so far … far away from him. I tried not to forget his voice and face … I tried to keep all memories we made into a bundle then I placed it in my brain!! I called all the powers that this universe has if they do really exist to bring him back. I knew people would see that I exaggerated it. I know that every one must has felt what I felt. I know I have to cope with it, but I felt my body could not stand for this. It seemed to explode but it couldn’t. I came to my friend’s houses asking what makes his mother hates me. He said he doesn’t know. He guessed it perhaps because of the arrangement of Arabian marriage with the same farm. He thought I ruin it. Knowing that I learnt Arabian culture, I bought National Geographic’s Women of Arabia. I came to my Arabian friend, I learnt how the women behave. I tried to cook Ashida, Sambosa, Maryam Bread, and other Arabian food. I tried to wear Tarha and sometimes I tried to use Abaya. I listened to Amr Diab’s songs. I blacken my eyes. I pinched my noose before going to bed. I am a half Bataknese and half Sundanese, but I have got Indian blood from my father. My eyebrows are thick. For the first time I felt happy with my Indian blood. I did all those things just to set my anger free. But then people begin to ask, are you Arabian? I smiled … it works . Some friends said I looked like Arabian woman. Then I brighten, I asked them again and again …”Do I? Do I?”

One day, I tried to gain all the courage I have … I called his home. His sister picked it, and I put it … lost all my confident. Second try, his mother … I was shaking, I put it again. One last try, it was him who picked up. I didn’t know where to start … Nervously I said, Hi How are you? Later I couldn’t help saying I really want to meet you. I needed a very huge courage to say that, just to set my adrenalin free. He kept silent … it was a long silent until he said, “I know it is hard, but you know my mother ….” Then he continued, “If there any man who loves you, you may have him … “ I could not forget how the words pierce my ear, at that time I knew what was going on.

I knew … it was hard for him. I am not Arabian, he is the elder. He has to keep his family respected. I knew it was shameful for his mother, when he’s bringing the non-Arabian blood and introduce her as his wife. I knew she was afraid I could not get accustomed to their culture. I knew she was afraid her grand-daughter could not inherit their blood. I knew I wouldn’t be familiar with their custom. I knew she’s afraid it will lead our marriage into aghast. I knew she will feel more comfortable with people she knows, people from her culture. I knew it … I knew it … then I begin to deal with it. I decide to let him go … I felt a sentimental feeling that heals me. I felt relieved. I thought if he is really mine … he will be back … I arranged a meeting, the meeting that I really desire … but unfortunately it’s not a meeting to heal my missing but to end our relationship.

I went to Jakarta (where he was) from Bandung with thousand of nerves. I planned to meet him in my uncle’s House. He agreed and knew the purpose of our meeting. I wish him refused it, but he didn’t. The door’s knocked. I was so sure now it was him. I opened the door and I saw him. I finally saw him after a long long time only could see the picture of him. I could hear his voice saying hi after a long long time only could hear his voice on the record. His sharp nose, sharp eyes, his glasses, his curl, his all. I could see them all. I was lead by a big invisible force to touch him. And like a magnet he seems to be absorbed by the same force to touch me. It’s only our feet that are touching each other but it feels like a sign to say that you are mine. I stared into his eyes, he did the same. He didn’t have to say that he still loves me because I could see it from the way he’s staring. Then after a minute left he grabbed me then we were hugging. Then along the meeting, there was no one saying goodbye.

It has been 3 years we maintain this relationship. I am so sorry I disappoint his mother. All I can tell her is ‘sorry … I borrow your son, but I don’t know ‘till when?’ I won’t let him go because no one can ensure me to escape from that horrible moment he was not at my side. I keep him … I keep him because I believe this Arabian man is mine …