A piece of White Paper
As if to grasp a star away from the bottom of the wormhole, so did I try to find the pages of science. What is so impossible for such a slum-dressed person, every day to grapple with stones, dust and gravel, and sweat-like swell of rain from head to toe, at every moment waiting for hope that seems to make the spirit almost disappear.
Batu Village, a village at the base of the inland valley of Flores is very isolated from the name of technology, transportation and education. Every day the inhabitants have to go up and down the hill just get drops of water. For parents there education is not an important thing they have to think about for their child and maybe they also do not know what education is. Can live until tomorrow is already a good thing and very very proud. There is no day without work and no day they know to learn.
"Beta O Ina, the ideals of a teacher beta, will beta teach a lot of science for the kids here, so we will not be left in the depths of the valley", every night before returning to the bed, I always resolve it in my heart hoping tomorrow there is a bright hope that comes. Although we stay away from the crowd, it does not necessarily make me want to be left behind too, I've heard news about schools in town and about how the people there can succeed from an uncle, my father's friend who occasionally visits here. It was as if I saw hope as a bright ray coming out of the rocks of hills, how can education make people this pure ?.
Uncle Ori's name, a 40-year-old man who often visits home, is friendly, wise and patient, he is a teacher. Every story he brought from the city always opened my horizon of thought, wanted also to feel this self can be educated as it seems. The uncle had promised me that one day he would teach me if I had time to spare, I can not wait until that moment.
Chickens woke the dawn, the morning with thick fog, the cool air and the smell of trees coincided with the distinctive smell of stones. Bright morning atmosphere in Batu village, as always everybody has awakened from the beginning, preparing to continue living up the hills around the valley, trying to find water streets that can be accommodated and looking for fruits and groceries to cook, because it seems not yet there was a single stove billowing from the neatly laid houses on the slope.
Not wanting to be overwhelmed by a rooster crow so excited, I started to move, trying to wake up, prepare equipment for food, firewood and water in the hills. "When can this activity change with other activities, it feels every day this is all I can do, think about stomach, stomach and stomach, can not I just think about science or lesson like Un Ori?" , only the breeze that heard the grunt, my eyes nanar, feel useless because the wind can not answer, for me stepped step. Looks like everyone has gone to the hill, I should not be late otherwise I can be alone in the foot of the wooded hill.
The location of the village of Batu at the bottom of the valley, around the heavily forested hills and rocky rocks, makes this village completely isolated, let alone the technological sophistication they can. Medical assistance, educators and basic food items were not reached there. Not the government does not want, but the transportation is not adequate. Perhaps only a handful of people who have been accustomed and dealing with importance can go to this village. This causes children away from the name of education, every day they are only preoccupied with mere stomach affairs. I do not know when the people here can be touched by the sophistication of science and technology and who knows when the children here can get the name of education, even though they are the hope of the nation, from their little hands that will decide where this country will be brought.
For more than 7 generations of my family are in the depths of this slope, none of them know what school is, what it is and what the numbers are, how it is, how it can take shape, no one understands. Once I asked, how butterflies can change so beautifully, when he came from a caterpillar, how? and how long the process he has been through ?, once again no one can answer me. I realize that the weakness of the thinking of the unglazed, makes me not want to be like them. I want to be like Uncle Ori.
Once upon a time I was a stupid story with a piece of paper, then, as usual I step foot climbing rock hills, accidentally seen by me a piece of slum paper, with a picture that is not clear anymore and crab that describes the paper has been too long wasted. Looks like a relic from hikers who often pass this path. However, the discovery of the paper made me very excited, so glad I hugged the shapeless paper, like a big gift.
After I noticed the old thing that I just found it, myself paused, "what is in this paper? what is the meaning of all the writing that beta do not understand this? so much and neatly arranged, but beta do not understand ".
Go run downhill rock, no matter sharp rocks stinging feet, looking for mama and I asked what is this ?, but mama also do not understand I met oma-oma who was weaving, the same, they also do not understand "how are you this Ina, see this webbing just oma can not, let alone you tell to read a language that never ancestors teach ". At that time I really realized, like this sinking self, how low and far behind my village, just to know the contents of a sheet of paper can not even ?.
Sitting silent on the rocks on the edge of the woods holding the shabby paper, wondering what the contents of this paper are. Unwittingly Uncle Ori approached, it turns out he just got to the village. I told him all my fuss, and he understood, with his smile that he read all the words on paper, and taught me what it was and how to read it. Finally I understood that Uncle Ori was the person I had been looking for, the more my admiration for this one figure, I hope someday be really like him.
One day, Ori's uncle came back to the house, but this time he did not come with just a swing, it seemed like he was carrying a parcel, what would the gift be? Ask yourself, because Uncle Ori always brings surprises when visiting home. The surprise of his new stories or other surprises that keep me waiting for him. He unfurled a blue box-shaped parcel, apparently only a card that looked nothing special, "why did Uncle carry the box for us, what's the point?", My innocent question answered with great authority "do not look at something from the outside, look at what's there in it, because maybe inside is full of priceless knowledge ", hearing the word science makes me enthusiastic, what would this be ?.
The cardboard opened by a pile of stale books filling every corner, Uncle Ori always brought an unexpected surprise. I open the pages one by one, but none of which I can understand. Make sure not to read, even letters I do not know, all I know is the path to the hill through the sharp rocks, and there is no reading that I should see to go there.
Once the village left, so all the people there were on average illiterate, including my parents. But for them there is no use, they want to be illiterate or not, yet no effect as well. Because their lives will keep going like this, nothing changes. The thinking of the villagers is very far behind, maybe I'm the only one hoping for a school or educator who can teach here, because I really want to go to school. Often I was mocked, because my friends did not understand. Finally I tried to ask Ori's uncle to request the people above to see us below, lest we really sink deep in this valley, we also want to be like those in town, "please uncle , ina also want to be like an uncle who went to school, and became a teacher ".
Hearing my sincere request, make Un Ori should not bear to refuse. He promised me to seek the help of educators and ask for government assistance to distribute relief such as stationery, textbooks and others, hoping that those people would be able to meet the demands of our children in this country.
Days change, weeks of exchange and the moon take turns to occupy his position, as time passes so fast but none of the promise that has been proved that it has been proven, we have been waiting for help for a long time. A thousand wishes I have given, it is not easy to invite them to participate, coupled with the prohibition of parents who make them confined, whether we are not appropriate for school as well? is this life time only used to work up and down through the rocks? when can the stone be clearly written like paper ?, when can their thinking change?
Wasted waiting, no one came, finally I returned to the early routine, re-wrestle with the rocks of the hill. No wonder even though a girl, however, for me hill climb is not how compared to the upward rise of the future of life.
That night, the clear sky seemed to depict every dream that became a dream, "mama do not understand why Ina so want to school, is not it useless? our life will be like this anyway ", my mama's question I replied briefly" beta wants to change "," what do you want Ina fox? "," our thoughts mama, our village, successor generations let us go forward " the power of mama give me a replacement word. The spirit of the heart is finally recognized by the family, now just waiting for the opportunity that has been promised.
One day, in the middle of the sun, the sweat dropped after repeatedly descending the hill, a group of people from the hill seemed to want to descend into the valley, the people of Batu village wondered, what is it? it turns out that Ori's uncle promises months ago also manifested.
"PONDOK PINTAR" was so named, plastered clearly in front of a building, 2 months already this cottage stand. After the arrival of Uncle Ori's entourage a few months ago, eventually the educators could set up a cottage for the children here, like O Ina's big wish for school. Uncle Ori's story of O Ina opened the hearts of the great people there, so they got help to teach in the stone village, although it was very difficult at first to open the hearts of parents to be able to release their children for school and not work anymore, but the little O Ina with persuasion the rays made them understand.
Now Uncle Ori understands that, although the village is left behind but not all of it is left behind, too, my passion idolizes it open the hearts of the crowd, so my story with a piece of paper has touched the recesses of Uncle Ori's heart, nothing is impossible with hope and fire, nothing that is impossible. Maybe for us to make paper in a pile of stones, and maybe we also reach the star in the wormhole, and now I know that it takes a month process to become a butterfly means it also takes a long process for me to be successful like Uncle Ori.