The old lady tilted her face when she heard a sharp whistle above her crown. In the dimly lit skies, he saw yellow, green and red lights blinking at the ends of the wings of airplanes.
The roar of the iron bird grew louder as it passed its squatting position. he stopped his hand gestures. Herded the bird away from his eyes. Then, his hand went back to grasp the never-ending laundry. A few seconds, her wrinkled hands stopped, then she slapped her cheeks and feet. mosquitoes in the jungle of concrete turned out to be more violent than the mosquitoes of the jungle that every morning fetched his skin while tapping the rubber nun far in the interior of South Sumatra there: Tanah Abang.
He took a breath, relieving his frail chest that seemed increasingly narrowed. the neighboring television blast drowns out the breath. Sound of music, advertising, and everything. The woman sighed again. Then, rising from his squat, pressing the pump well lever. The rhythm of water flows in a chaotic rhythm. sometimes large, sometimes small, as the energy arises-drowned. Cloudy water filled the plastic tub, crushing the clothes that wrapped in the detergent foam. The smell of rubber stung as soon as the water fell like a plunge.
He is Mak Inang. not even the full moon of the old lady was stranded in the jungle of Jakarta, among the bushes of the rented house crowded with mushroom fungus that expands when the rainy season in rubber plantation. his nose was not yet familiar with the smell of thick black water gutter drain that flowed behind the rented walled plywood child. In fact, Mak Inang is still often shocked when the rats-Jakarta rats who are big black-again obese more than the female cat in the village, suddenly running before his eyes.
in fact, he still can not believe when awake from the sounds that never slumber, if finally he set foot in the capital of Jakarta who often told the people in his village. a place so strange, strange, and so amazing in Mak Mak's story, Mak Sangkut, and some of his native women's women, regardless of the girls visiting their single child or girl. Something that sounds like a world paradise. all fancy, all sweet, all he could not imagine.
Here it is, Mak. Look at my child, Emak's granddaughter. His face looks like the deceased Ebak, that's Jamal's voice to him a few weeks ago. the voice of his old son who was crawling like an old radio, he folded his forehead as he knew the sound was coming from a strange object in his hand.
Who was Mak with it? he said. There is a desire that bursts in at Mak Inang's chest. The true desire has long been buried. he has long wanted to see Jakarta. Capital city that has been visited karibnya. But he always had no reason to go there, though his only child, the only one he had besides the two girls who had been carried by their husbands in the next village, wandered into the city. Jamal had never offered him there before. No wonder, when that evening Jamal asked him to come, he quickly responded.
Ask Kurti, Mak. When was he back? Cost problem, Mak use money Emak dululah. later, when I'm paying, Emak kuongkosi home and I return the cost of Emak here, that's the promise of his children before ending the conversation. The noise of the old radio was cut off.
Mak Inang sighed again while recalled the conversation through phone with his child. a few weeks before he felt he was lost in the jungle of Jakarta, in the smelly leafy bust of a rented bush. He took off the pump lever, the water stopped flowing. Her hand reaches the laundry, rinsing it.
A hot city. that's the first impression of Mak Inang when his eyes lie across the bus terminal Kampung Rambutan. A second later, he added his first impression: The city was bacon and smelled of pink. His old nose suffered so badly when smelled the odor. his heart wondered at Kurti so enjoying the smell. The nose of the mature brown girl's nipple was still fluttering, as if the stench that made the stomach Mak Inang nausea was smelled jasmine.
Had not lost a sense of fatigue and dizziness in the head of Mak Inang, let alone the spicy flavor in his butt, because sitting everyday on the bus reot that runs kind of snail, some people have scrambled around him and Kurti, kind of flies, buzzing. Mak Inang pinched his forehead. his lobe was also dizzy with the people who spoke vaguely to Kurti, the girl was silently ignored, just dragging Mak Inang away.
Mak Inang re-squeezed some diapers that he washed, all at once. the sole of his right axes quickly slaps his left calf so few mosquitoes blindly in his dry skin. He threw the disposable diaper into a plastic bucket. His fingers scratched his left calf. bumps as big as a bunch of seeds in rows of dry skin. He growled. Her heart was swearing to the curious beast.
The first two-three days, Mak Inang quite happy to be in the stone house half-ply Jamal. his pleasure was sourced from his red-haired twin sister. Although, actually Mak Inang shocked when Kurti drove him to Jamal's house. All outside of his old brain. in his fragile mind, Jamal was in concrete houses told by Mak Sangkut, not in this little house. Her shock was increasing as her stomach twisted in the blind dawn. There is only one toilet for the rows of renters. That too smells very nasty. almost Mak Inang unable to hold it.
Mak is coming home, Mal. It's been a week, then banana Emak felled people, rubber was unfortunately tapped, ejection Mak Inang in the morning that he can not stand anymore. He really did not want to linger in the capital that was really strange to him. In fact, Mak Inang also strange with people who every day, every Sunday, every month, and every year come to the city. What are they looking for in the wildly raging jungle, smelling bacin, bigger rat than this cat? mak host can not spend that thought on an answer.
End of the month, Mak. I'm paying every month, now the moon. Can not. the factory is also in the middle of many orders, yet I can kawani Mak streets around Jakarta, Jamal said while sipping black coffee and chewing cassava stew. Cassava Mak Mak Bring a week ago. Mak Inang noiseless. His heart was crushed with a sense that made him uncomfortable.
Today's holiday, Mak. He said there was no overtime in his factory. I'll ask her to walk with Mak on the streets. To the mall, to the house of Wak Sangkut's son and Wak Rifah, Mai's daughter, daughter-in-law, came from the direction of the stuffy kitchen.
Mak Inang carve a smile as eager to hear it. the discomfort that herded her desire to return home suddenly evaporated. Back story Mak Rifah and Mak Sangkut about Jakarta pass away. It was rushed that the old woman copied the shirt and banged on Kurti's contract door. the girl opened the door with red-puffed eyes, a messy face with tangled hair.mak Inang does not care Kurti sleepy eyes, he herded the girl to quickly bathe and accompany him around Jakarta, look at the face of the capital city that had only existed in the story of his peer and mind only.
similar to the first time Kurti drove her to the front of her rented child, such was the shock of Mak Inang when setting foot in the rented child Mak Sangkut and Mak Rifah. Not far apart, nothing different. The contracts of her best boys were both stuffy and hot. the thing that made Mak Inang tingle his neck, a mound of green flies with a loud hum, a pungent odor, stacked only a few dozen yards. The Head Mak Mak was throbbing at the sight. Especially when throwing his ass on the floor of his son Mak Sangkut cement. allahurobbi, how many grandsons Mak Sangkut, throwing up termites. Screaming, crying, whining for snacks, and the kind of pattern that Mak Mak Makes want to numb. Only half an hour Mak Makang and Kurti in the house, alternating his grandson Mak Sangkut was crying.
confusion of Mak Inang to the people who come to Jakarta every time to try to get the bigger fate. What is the thing that makes them tempted to the city again bacin pesing this? Everything she had seen for a week or two, nothing had made her heart bloom with flowers. more beautiful living in the village, working on huma, plowing rice fields, flowing rubber latex from the point, Inner Mak inner.
The Mak Inang's hand re-punched the pump lever, the turbid water with the stinging rubbery smell fell back into the plastic tub. sometimes large, sometimes small, along with the energy that arose drowned. Again, Mak Inang rinsed the clothes of grandchildren, son-in-law, son-kid, and herself. Suddenly Mak Inang has felt himself like a babu. In the dusky night, he still wallows with the laundry. in the village, these same times, he had been tied up and rushed to his feet to the mosque, ahead of the muzzin who was soon to call the call to prayer.
Lighting. Simultaneously. As previously shared. Flickering like fireflies in the dark night. again, there was a sharp whirring above Mak Inang's top. He was back up his face, his eyes see red lights, yellow, green flickering in the dim sky. The mosquitoes were increasingly ferocious and blindly attacking dry skin.
Mak Mak's face wiped away, his heart counting the numbers in the almanac in the mind. How many more days towards the end of the month? It seemed that for a century Mak Inang had seen Jakarta's face unexpectedly. Benak Mak Inang was about to ask: Why do not you go home, Mal? take your children in the village alone. Together Mother, tapping rubber, and treating pyramids. But, Mak Mak Inang is locked tight.
The night in the sky the capital crawled alongside Mak Inang's gasp, as a large black black rat suddenly ran ahead. the shock of Mak Inang ending the sound of the call to prayer from television. The woman again pressed the pump well lever, the water flowed, fell into a plastic bucket. He washed his old face with ablution. at the same time, suddenly drizzle down, as if the mother was about to wash her dirty face with ablution with Mak Inang. Old faces that have wrinkles, wrinkles, and chaos.
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