Abby- Ane, maafkan aku..

Dua post terakhir dari Ane sebenernya gw yang post.
Gw menemukan file ini di tumpukan CD yang berserakan di kamar gw yang sedang dalam proses pemberesan.
Format file-nya udah HTML Ne, jadinya langsung gw post aja ya..

Ane katanya memang nggak bisa-bisa posting disini.
Susah cenah.
Yo wis, diriku bantu okeh..

Eh, Taufiq banyak fansnya ya..
Ahahaha.

Yasudah, silakan posting guys..
Kalo belom terdaftar jadi kontributor, silakan mail me,
absolutelyblack@hotmail.com, atau
thecolorfulme@gmail.com

Ciao!
Dag! (setelah belajar bahasa Belanda, gw tahu ternyata fungsi si dag ini sama sama ciao. bisa buat dateng, bisa buat pergi. kinda cool, satu kata yang multifungsi.)

Ane - Stories of Being Taught by Mr. Taufiq

Wkt Spoken English d smstr 1, dsuruh pnya kmus Oxford, pokony kmus yg da phonetic symbols-ny, trus dsuruh tulis vocabularies sulit plus simbol fonetikny. Eh, Ne bandel; ga bli Oxford, mlhan keukeuh pke kmus keramat dgn embel2 ‘trilyun-an kosa kata’ d smpulny. Trus ngrjain tgasny ngasal bgt; cma nulis vocabularies w/o symbol fonetikny, plus cma empat nomer pula, pdhl dsuruhny sepuluh!!!! Ne ga nyangka bkl dperiksa+diambil sbg nilai prtama. Terang aj, nilainy 0!!!! Baguuuuussss… (baca: bageeeeeeeuuuuuuusssss… pke gaya Indi Barend d Ceriwis or Tike d Extravaganza). Untung aj, nilai akhir B; ga ampe terjerumus k C or D. Fiuuh…

Nah, klo d Spoken 1 lega bgt dpt B, d Grammar 2 mlh nyesek bgt dpt B. Awalny sih pas dksi tau Maria klo Grammar dpt B, biasa aj. Tp serasa Jatinangor banjir salju pas liat lgsung d dftr nilai: jumlah ‘poin yg trkumpul’ tuh 79.95, cma kurang nol koma nol lima buat dpt A!!! Gusti Nu Agung… Itulah akhrny yg menorehkan catatan buruk dlm sejarah per-Grammar-an Ne!!!! Pdhl, Ne inget bgt prnah ‘nyembah2’ (Pak?) Taufiq buat mengakui bhwa nilai UTS Ne tuh seharusny 8 coz da 3 nomer yg bner tp dsalahin. Klo tau nilai akhrny B, ga bkl deh Ne nangis sirup Marjan rasa cocopandan (wrna merah alias darah) buat ngbenerin tu nilai UTS, toh hsilny ttp B.
Teuing ah, rieut.

Cerita trkhir pas diajar Prose 2… Wkt tu dsuruh bkin tgs akhr berupa cerpen (tema bebas) atau essay ttg ‘apapun yg dpikirin/trpikir pas bc stu krya yg dah dbhs d kls’, bs crpen yg pndk bgt tp mmbngungkan –Borges and I—, novel yg pnuh hasrat prikebinatangan –Animal Farm—, atau novel cinta dan prsahabatan (alaaah, naon seh???) –Of Mice and Men—. Ne milih u nulis essay ttg Of Mice and Men coz novel tu yg trkhir dbc, jd msh anget-anget tai ayam-lah yah…hehe. Jreng…jreng…jreng… genderang pun ditabuh…prtnda Ne dah msti cpt2 bkin tu tgs coz wktny mepet bgt… Bygin, wkt tu (Pak?) Taufik ngingetin da tgs tu pas sminggu sblm UAS… Apa ga gila tuh nyri ide??!!! Y dah akhrny, selama 4 hri (dr Rabu ampe Sabtu) Ne ‘jungkir-blik bnting-tulang’ bc lg tu novel, dbolak-balik ampe lmbaran2ny ga karuan, and bnr2 mikirin sgala ssuatu yg da, aneh, & bkin brtny2 d novel tu. Selain tu, Ne nyri sumber2 laen yg bs dukung tulisan Ne: internet (standar-lah), bku Literary Theory-ny Bu Harfiah yg dl djamah pun tidak, dan fotokopian ‘Understanding the Text’ yg dah lecek abis&ga ktauan sumbernya, tpi asli brguna bgt. Dgn smngat mo ntn film Heart hri Seninnya ma ……… (ada deeehhh;p), Ne brtekad (aih, bhs-na!) hri Mnggu msti dah beres dan siap diketik. And… selesai-lah… setelah dtulis, dketik, dprint, dstaples, dan dplastik-in (naon deui seehh??)… tgas pnuh prjuangan tu (iya gtu?hehe) pun dkumpulin… Abs tu Ne dah ga mo inget lg…

Asli, tiap ktmu (Pak?) Taufik d mana pun, i.e. prpus Ing, Ne slalu nghindar: tkut disinggung ttg tgs tu. Tp, akhrny… Ne seneng bgt pas tau nilai tgas tu (sumpah, bkan sombong, kan cm pgn crita…) 80; tertinggi bareng sama Abby yg wkt tu lebih milih nulis crpen keren… Asli, seneng bgt… apalagi pas liat nilai akhir tmn2 kls C yg jg ga kalah bagus; byk bgt yg dpt A… Bnr lho, wkt tu (ampe skr jg sih) Ne mkir kls C emank pling hebat; kpintarannya merata… Tp, yg lbh bkin Ne terbang k langit ke-13 adalah… pas smester brikutnya, pas (Pak?) Taufik dah kmana tau, krtas tgas akhir tu dbagiin… d halaman blkangnya… (Pak?) Taufik nulis… “Interesting Analysis… Thank You…” Wow, seorang Taufik Hanafi memuji (eh, muji bkan sih? Ah, bae-lah, anggap weh eta nya?) tulisan seorang Ane Nadia Amna (hehe, kok jd maen nama panjang gni sih?)… Aih, aih, pipiku memerah… kyk kartun Chibi Maruko Chan yg dl prnah dtayangin d RCTI tiap Mggu jam 7 pgi (Hah? Tu kan merahnya aneh…hehe, bae-lah )… Weitz, tp jgn slh paham, Ne ga mlh jd pny rasa kok ma (Pak?) Taufik. Wkt tu cm ngrasa seneng aj coz ‘pmikiran’ Ne ttg isi novel tu dhargai dan dpuji…plus d’terimakasihi’ pula…

Dah ah… Klo dtrusin, nti jd nangis (lho…?)
Bye bye…
Thx 4 reading…

Ane - Taufiq baiq…??????

Di kesempatan yg brbahagia ini (laaah, jd kyk kondangan!!hehe), Ne mo nyapa dosen nyentrik yg dah lama ga kliatan bulu idungny d ppus Ing, ged B, ged C, jurusan, & seantero kmpus Jatinangor.

Halo, Pak! (Oops, aturan ‘ga boleh mnggil bapak d luar kmpus’ msh brlaku ga? Jgn2 udah ga y? Coz kita kan sma2 mhsswa skrg mah.hehe.) Pa kbr? Khangen bgt neh ma …(bapak?)… Khangen ma celaan2ny yg menyayat hti, tatapan2ny yg mggores luka, tugas2ny yg slalu mnjdi mmpi buruk, plus kkuasaany ngobrak-ngabrik jdwal kuliah yg slalu bkin kbelet pipis (???). Itu smua yg, wlopun khangen, bkin ogah bgt ngliat …(bapak?)… pulang lbh cepat dri hri kelulusanku.hehe. Jgn marah y, …(pak?)… Dosa lho:p

Dah ah, capek.

Oia, satu lgi: klo baca tulisan2 …(bapak?)… d blog ni, kok kykny …(bapak?)… kliatanny baik…?
Peace ah!!!! ;P

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 …

The Hijab

I was 17 at that time, and my mother called me. It was a serious talk I guessed. My mother held the Koran, and I was asked to sit in front of her. I knew that was my time, like all my sisters also had when they was 17. I began to scare, because honestly at that time I knew that something bad was going to happen.

“Do you know the purpose I am asking you here?”

I nodded. I looked at the Koran, Al- Azhab 59. If my mother knows that the Surah doesn’t affect me to wearing the Hijab, I am really sure that she will be angry that it is possible I will not be regarded as her daughter anymore.

“From now on you are wearing your Hijab!”

Those words for me were like punishment. I really wanted to rebel. It was my right to have my own choice. Isn’t faith something private? Then why it was forced? But if I rebel my mother would give me another Surah which is said that we have to obey our parents’ say, especially mother’s say. My mother’s voice repeats on my head; Our prophet said that we cannot even say ‘Ah!’ to our mother. It made me didn’t have any courage to argue.

My misery starts to happen. It was a fine Sunday morning, if only I could swim. I only could see all my cousins and my elder brother were swimming cheerfully and I with my sisters only could enjoy our orange juice. I love swimming, and I will hate everything that separates me from it. If God asks us to wearing our Hijab, at the same time I thought, He gives also a limitation for us. If it said that Women should cover their whole body (beside face and hand) to forbid men doing sins to us, then why God thought that we are (Women) will not have a tendency to also doing sins to men when we see them naked? I hated it! At that time I thought that God was in men’s side! Our religion is created only for men.

“Fatimah, this is Nisa. Do you remember her? She was your playmate when you are 8 year-old.”

How could my uncle thought that I would remember her since I could not even see her face. She’s wearing a Burka. It is not a must, but it is more favorable to be done. My curiosity drives me to ask her the purpose she’s wearing a Burka. Nisa said,

“It is my honor to God. By doing this I know I am more saved. It is God’s wise to protect women!”

I really wanted to say, “Are men that savage, until God protects us strictly?”

Actually I had more questions, like how could you are recognized? Doesn’t it burden your activity? Are you that beautiful until you are so confident that men would do any harm to you!!! But again I didn’t have any courage to argue for I knew she would give me a Surah that said; “Come to Moslem in a whole”.

Since I study at a plural-religion’s school, in my class it is only me who wears a Hijab. One day we played a game, the one who loose had to kiss the hand who wins. When it was me who lose then they all show their inconvinience. One of them asked me, “Should we change the rule?” I said it was all right, I was able to do that. But still when I kissed the men’s hand, they were irritated. That event made me felt that I was not part of them, I was a stranger and it was because of my Hijab. What I feel is my Hijab puts a limitation for me to interact with people. Does God know this? He is right, the Hijab protects me, because it makes them unconfident to interact with me!!! I cried and tried to find a comfort. I went to my cousins’ house, then I told my burden in wearing the Hijab. My cousin tried to relieve me, by saying that God knows the best for us. There must be something inside His rule. I wish I could believe in her. I just could not see the harm that may happen if I don’t wear my Hijab. I just needed a proof that by not wearing my Hijab men will take advantage on me. I saw my friends who are not wearing Hijab and they are all right. No one damaged them. I didn’t see men will be very passionate if they see women’s hair. What is it in hair? Why we have to cover it?

Once upon a time my friend wears a tank top. My male friends do nothing to her. It doesn’t make them want to rape her. If I have a freedom to my own appearance, I will not do an extreme thing like she did. Maybe what I do only to make my hair is seen. That’s all. So why is it wrong if it’s only my hair which is seen? Again I asked, what is it on hair?

This is my departure to America. Before this, I through many long hard process. Again it is because of my Hijab. All are checked. They are curious of what is it beyond my veil. They asked me to make my ear seen. What? They thought I hide a bomb there? It’s only my earring. I sat waiting for the announcement of my plane’s departure. I sighed, I was tired of all the process that burdened me. I heard men’s chattering beside me, they were talking about the girl who sat in front of me. I heard that they wanted to sit close to her. No wonder, she had a beautiful hair ever. I wish I could also show up my hair. It’s not because I want to seduce men, but only because I want to be looked well with my hair. Women always consider about appearance more than men. Is it a sin? When I wear my best dress, it is not only because I wish my appearance will enchant the men but it is because I need a respect from others; whether from men or women! Again I sighed, lucky her! I wonder how beautiful she is. The girl then looked back, and I with the boys also, can see her face clearly. The boys burst into laugh. One of them said, “Luckily we haven’t sat near her yet! Don’t you want to know her name? Go ahead!” The girl’s face, indeed, is not as beautiful as her hair. It is even worst. Suddenly I realized, there is something in hair; a thing that drives men to be attracted. Finally I heard my plane was announced to leave soon. I stand up and went out with relief. I don’t know what relieved me. Perhaps it was the boy’s saying.

On plane the stewardess offers me some food. She gives me information of the food with and without pork. She does it to me but not to the woman beside me. The women beside me than asking, “Which food without pork?, I am Moslem!” she said. The stewardess then begged for apologize, “So sorry, I don’t know if you are a Moslem!” Well I thought it was not the stewardess fault, is there any sign that signifies the woman’s religion as a Moslem. Wait a minute? A sign that signifies her religion? That words make me remember of Al-Ahzab 59;

“Prophet, tell your wives, daughters, the mukmin women, “to use their Hijab. That is to make them are easy to recognize, and so they will not be disturbed. And Allah the forgiver and the merciful”.

“Hi Fatimah, welcome to America … Now you can open your Hijab freely!!”

Open my Hijab … well I guess No! -Myra Fathira-