Here’s The Circumcision’s Pain (Part Twelve)




“Fermy Nurhidayat.”

I nodded and approached the beautiful coas. Then she took me to an examination room. After having acquaintanced immediately revealed the turmoil of my heart to her. I was sobbing, my heart still be ached. This coas took a tissue out of her pocket, picked a few pieces, and handed it to me.

As I was telling the chronology of calamity event that I’ve had, it appeared that she was thinking hard. It seemed that she was considering something. Having looked doubtful for a moment, she finally said,

“I am your school’s alumni.”

“Your father obviously was my ex-teacher.”

“Who is your father’s name, kid?.”

“Mr. Toha,” I replied bluntly.

“Do you know?.”

The girl nodded. Her eyebrows arched upward. It was obvious that she was very surprised.

“I just only know that he was a good teacher”

“Everyone says that,” I barely replied.

Once completed told to the beautiful coas, She allowed me to leave the room and waiting again. This time I will be faced with a real psychiatrist. She wanted me to told to the psychiatrists as I told her as coas.

“You are allowed crying if it is necessary, kid.” she told me again. I came several times to control to Saiful Anwar Hospital afterwards. Once it was clear that my father’s attitude remains unchanged. Even after his son was facing to a psychiatrist himself because of his behavior. I stopped my visited to Saiful Anwar General Hospital.




photograph by Astungkara Wiguna

Here’s The Circumcision’s Pain (Part Eleven)




I walked towards Psychiatry Polyclinic. Wipe sweat from my forehead with the my right palm hand. I did not bring a handkerchief. After finding Psychiatry Polyclinic, I immediately handed the files received from the registration booth and expressed what I mean. To meet with a psychiatrist.

The clerk at the Saiful Anwar General Hospital Psychiatry Policlinic was not asking a lot. She just told me to sit and wait. So, I sat down, and waited there.

Other patient started to arrive. There was an old man who came escorted by his daughter. His daughter was very beautiful. She was wearing a blazzer an skirt with matching color and model. The old man had appeared exhausted. Then comes a mother who brings her child to check. Her son was a depressed university student.

All patients who came was delivered by one or several members of his family, except me. Only I who came myself in Saiful Anwar General Hospital Psychiatric Policlinic to see the psychiatrist. A boy, twelve years old. PPSP Malang Teachers’ Training College Junior High School student which registered using his student card.

Some of the patient’s family began to greet and converse with one another. They were expressing sympathy. Indeed, it would been beteer if our load was shared with others concerned. The patient’s family members were also ill in fact, in their own way. Accompanying the sick person obviously tiring.

I did not intend to follow chatting with them. Some patients’ families asked me about the purpose of my coming over there. I answered with the necessary and short. I did not want to sell out my grief to other person, except a professional who deliberately trained for it.

Some coas came in one big group. Coas were a medical student who has completed the theory lectures. Now they learned to practice the knowledge they got from the Faculty of Medicine. Usually they do it in a teaching hospital as well.They entered a room. Not long afterwards a female coas call my name,




photograph by Astungkara Wiguna

Here’s The Circumcision’s Pain (Part Ten)




Psychopathy is a complex psychiatric disorder. They were actually mad, but life as a normal person. Life and can adapt to the surroundings harmoniously, and conceal his crimes. So little I know Psychopathy at that time. I did not want to make my wife and my children miserable.

By walking, I headed to Saiful Anwar Hospital from school. I asked for permission to Ms. Arimami for treatment purposes. I confessed dizziness. Ms. Arimami probably presumed me went to Polyclinic Malang Teachers’ Training College. When in fact, I went to Saiful Anwar Hospital to see a psychiatrist.

I headed for the registration booth and paid the treatment cost. Then I was asked by the clerk at the registration booth, I wanted to going to what polyclinic ?.

“Psychiatry or Mental Polyclinic, Ma’am.”

The clerk at the counter was surprised at me. In front of him was a junior high school boy in blue uniforms and white. He was only twelve years old. Still grade six PPSP Malang Teachers’ Training College Junior High, in accordance with the student card that I used to register.

“Where boy ?,” She asked, not sure.

I repeat my answer steadily,

“Psychiatry or Mental Polyclinic, Ma’am.”

Woman clerk at the counter was shaking her head as if to dislodge something bothering. Maybe she was having a nightmare, and what she faced today is not a real state. It’s so perhaps conceived in her mind.

I got a Medication Card with a register number in it. Written there my register number, 775 / PSK. I managed to remember that number because it coincided with my school identification number. Since entering Laboratory Teachers’ Training College Malang Kindegarten, I had identification number 775. Incidentally, the my number was both the same. So I always remember.

After registering and paying the cost of treatment, I headed to the post of security guard post to ask where Psychiatry Polyclinic was. Security showed me the location of Psychiatry or Mental Polyclinic kindly. I did look as cute and innocent junior high boy. As I told you anyway, my age was twelve years old. Just as the sixth grade age on elementary schools in other places.




photograph by Astungkara Wiguna

Here’s The Circumcision’s Pain (Part Nine)




I clearly stress after the incident. I’m confused about bitching to whom ?. Ms Arimami, school counselors, obviously would not believe me. My father was the honored vice principal and Mathematics teacher there.

I did a lot of reading on the school library. I realized that I was having severe psychological disorders. I felt this last clash was incredible. I did not know yet, to be where I’m going to ask for help. At least that my father being a little more normal as fathers and parents. But he was, my father would never be normal anyway. I thought he was a psychopath.

I felt desperate. I needed help. Even though I was twelve years old at the time, but my thinking horizon had already quite extensive. I’ve read the whole children reading book reading on the school library, and began to read books of general knowledge and education that was provided for teachers and other school employees.

I felt that my psychic health already began to fail. I feel unstable. I need a psychiatrist. At least that was what could be imagined to solve my problem at the time. I considered this after read books on the school library as well.

“I asked for money Mom,” I said to my mother.

“For what, Mit ?,” Asked my mother. It was the question that was taken for granted.

I think I should go to the hospital.”

“I should have met a psychiatrist,” I explain to my mother.

Mom understood the turmoil that I’ve had, she gave me a little money to go to Saiful Anwar Hospital. A large government hospital in Malang. My resolve was unanimous. I want to consult a psychiatrist. I do not know a better way than this. I’ve been a little reading about the psychopathy in the school library. It was a horrible psychiatric disorders. I’ve been feeling a victim myself. I did not want to father’s illness was contagious to me indeed.




photograph by Astungkara Wiguna

Here’s The Circumcision’s Pain (Part Eight)




When I got home, I read books that I bought with my sister. My younger sister was also pleased to read story books. It was great to read a book of my own. Did not borrow at the library or friends at school. So engrossed we read. The world seemed to belong to me indeed.

The next day my father knew that I had bought the book from Gramedia Bookstore. He got very angry and asked my books just purchased. It was not my father’s money to buy them, but a love sign of the guests when I was circumcised. Indonesian society literacy level was still very low. Even recently. Supposedly he was glad that his children love to read. Moreover, my father was a teacher. A weird dad.

Once the books were collected, my father immediately took them to the kitchen and burns all my books in front of the stove. Leafed through them the books to ensure that no pieces can read from there. When burning my books, my father was still swearing,

“Gramedia Publisher.”

“This is christian publisher.”

I knew that my father was just about only reasoned. I knew that any reason out of his mouth was clearly not had quality. My father was not a good Muslim. He never prayed except ‘ied praying. That’s because everyone will be seen that he was praying as well. My father did not really believe and care about God.

For him God was himself, the truth came out from his mouth, and good deeds were his deeds. If my father having affairs, then it was right and good. If my father beat my mother and me, then it was good and right. Because my father was the source of all the truth. His attitude was expressed that sort of thing. As the Javanese philosophy was often he recalled, the parents was a seen god. And Gods can never go wrong, how rotten was him. And he was acting like God in his own house. He determined everything, and could not possibly be wrong. His word was law, and his behavior was the truth that must be obeyed by all.




photograph by Astungkara Wiguna

Here’s The Circumcision’s Pain (Part Seven)




When my father came home from school, mom told him about Mr. Mantri arrival and his demand. My father laughed at her because in believing things like that.

“No plausible,” my father said.

Then he forbade mom to make red and white porridge as Mr. Mantri requested. According to him, such a thing was merely waste. But if he bought cigarettes consumed himself, then it was not wasting money.

KliwonTuesday passed without red and white porridge served in my house. I felt disappointed. I felt that my father never had the good wishes to me. I only regarded as mere burden. Though I clearly his biological child himself.

Antibiotics given by Mr Mantri immediately I drank regularly. And swollen began to deflate. Pus has dried and detached. My cock turned into a much neater appearance. I also wondered why my cock could be so much neater appearance. Though it was circumcised on a mass circumcision ceremony in a hurry. Hurry since there were a lot of kids should be circumcised.

I went to Gramedia Bookstore in Basuki Rahmat Street with my mother. I had money in my pocket giving by her guests were present in the house. I’ve recovered, my path was no longer hobbled. Mom told me to save my money myself. She did not deign to save it for me. Dunno what was in her mind.

Got out from the rickshaw, mother immediately paid the rickshaw’s cost. I held out my money from my bag to pay the rickshaw fare, but she rejected it.

“It’s yours.”

“You said that you want to buy books.”

We entered Gramedia Bookstore and I was so fascinated. So many books displayed there. I ran to the children’s reading books booth and took a look what’s was offered there. My mother immediately ran after me. She was also happy to see good cheer of me. I chosed a few pieces of children’s books and bring it to the cashier. There were six copies of the books I bought and will be brought home. My money’s no trace of a penny. Ran out.




photograph by Denies Priantinah Senopranoto

Here’s The Circumcision’s Pain (Part Six)




Some of those presented was stretched out a little money in my hand. I collected it because I did not ever get pocket money from my parents. I loved and enjoyed to read, but did not have any books. I wanted to buy some reading books with the money I got from some of the guests in attendance.

Mr. Mantri who circumcised me had promised to open my circumcision bandage a few days after I was circumcised at the Polyclinic Malang Teachers’ Training College. He apparently was busy that forgot to visit me. I decided to open my own bandage. Of course I hurt when opening it myself. My cock was still swollen and festering in the former incision scissors. It was really hurt.

About two week after my circumcision, Mr. Mantri could visit me indeed. He was surprised to know that I opened the circumcision bandage myself. Immediately he checked my cock and was pleasantly surprised. Carefully, he asked my mother,

“What was Mimit’s weton, Mrs. Toha?.”

Weton is a combination of the looping of the day with a combination of the days that are commonly used with traditional Javanese days. There are a commonly seven days and five Javanese days. Weton is a combination of both.

KliwonTuesday Sir, anggorokasih day,” my mother replied bluntly told my weton..

The Javanese believe that anggorokasih is the day that devils and spirits making love. How lurid it is.

Then Mr. Mantri revealed his premonition about me to mom. Something told him that someday I would be a great person as an adult. He told mother to make red and white porridges Kliwon Tuesday has come. Those porridge should be distributed to the neighbors. My mother agreed my circumciser words.

I wondered which way Mr. Mantri could saw I will became a great person just from looking at cock only?. I recalled once, Uci told all of our friends that my cock was so small.




photograph by Emile Gede Seno Aji

Here’s The Circumcision’s Pain (Part Five)




“Hurt ?” Asked my circumcisers.

“Nope,” I said bluntly.

Swiftly then he took bandages and plaster and immediately wrap my cock with it. Not long later I allowed to see his work. I chuckled to see the results on that one. My cock looked so handsome in bandages and plaster wrap.

Mr. Mantri then allowed me to get down from the examination table and getting ready to circumcise the other participants. Then my father took me home on his motorcycle. I caught a glimpse at the corner where Suryo Wandowo stayed waiting. I amused with the expression on his face. Poor you, I told myself. I was laughing at his expression.

At home, my mom set up a little celebration. She made some lunch boxes and snacks made herself. Donuts and eclairs as well as some other tidbit. In addition, she also has asked for help on Mr. Warno to invite some close neighbors to attend the small celebration for her first kid circumcision. Mr. Warno was a school janitor who become subordinate to my father.

Return home from school, my father finally knew the small events that will be held by mom. He objected, and scolded my mother. According to him, this kind of event was just wasting money, and he objected to celebrate my circumcision. Circumcision celebrating is very common in Indonesia and other Malay’s countries. Maybe it will be different in the USA or Europe.

Since my mother was already cooking, and close neighbors already been invited, they were coming in that afternoon. Mother greeted them one by one, smile, and keep her father’s anger in secret. She didn’t tell them that the event has been canceled. Mom just gave the guests who came the rice boxes and small snacks made herself.

They were confused because there are no events or expectations chanting congratulations from parents to their sons circumcised, as the case of such events. Mother expressed no true reason, why the little salvation undone. She had only distributed rice boxes and smiled apologetically to the invited guests.




photograph by Fermy Nurhidayat

Here’s The Circumcision’s Pain (Part Four)




“It will not hurt,” he said next. Trying to comforted me.

“This is a new syringe,” he continued.

Then Mr. Mantri holding my cock and injected it. It’s true indeed, I did not feel any pain.

“It does not hurt right ?,” asked Mr Mantri.

“Nah,” I smiled.

“We should wait a few minutes til the medicine give its effect,” said Mr Mantri with a humble voice.

I smiled after had a tension for a while. My circumcizer invites me to a conversation. We joked for a while. It seemed that he love kids. Again, Mr. Mantri tease me,

“It will hurt when yours been intercepted later, you know ?.”

“Really ?,” I said in disbelief. I had been given a local anesthesia, hadn’t I ?.

“Yups,” Mr. Mantri ensured me.

“Something like shredding by coconut shredder,” said the father. We shredding coconut in Indonesia to take its coconut milk.

“If circumcision was too late, it’ll hurter indeed,” he continued.

“It should be pounded out with a hammer so that it’s a bit softer.”

I shudder. Mr. Mantri captured the fear from my eyes and laughed.

“But I’m lying.”

Mr Mantri, the excisors laughed. I had not dared to laugh again. This was so serious, I thought. I did not know in advance if it turned out that being circumcised was so miserable. I want to cancel my circumcision and ran home. But my legs were already weak with fear.

Then Mr. Mantri took a pair of bent scissors that has been prepared anyway. That scissors was preheated using a spiritus flame fueled. I did not know what the device name. Probably it was the bunsen burner. Still laughing him holding my penis and scissored it. I limp, but could not did anything.

“Kruwess.”

That was I heard from beneath. It was the sound of scissors that collided with my praepution. Praeputium is wrapping my glans penis and all men in the world. From now on, I have no praeputiun anymore. Glans penis is the Latin name for the penis head. Miraculously, I did not hurt.




Here’s The Circumcision’s Pain (Part Three)




Organizers from mass circumcision Malang Teachers’ Training College provided sarong to us later when we were circumcised. Sarong was a kind of clothing wearing like skirts. We were collected at the Polyclinic Malang Teachers’ Training College in Ambarawa Street. One of my junior classes at school also participated as a participant at that mass circumcision along with me. His name is Suryo Wandowo. He was at the fifth grade, exactly one year before me.

It’s came my turn to be circumcised. Mr. Mantri will circumcise prepare his circumcise equipments. We managed to call people do the circumcise with Mr. Mantri. Then he told me to open the sarong I wore. Although I was ready to circumcise by not wearing panties, but I was scared too. That event was a great event for me, and would only do once in my life. Heaven forbid if I get circumcised again.

“Open your sarong,” said Mr. Mantri. I became very nervous.

“Should I ?,” I said in a choked voice.

“Yes, of course.”

Then Mr Mantri poured something in the syringe. Apparently it’s some kind of drug. He would be injected me with an anesthetic before performing the circumcision. Then he returned to where I lay in bed at the doctor examining bed at the Malang Teachers’ Training College Polyclinic. He was surprised when saw the open sarong.

“Ah, you are not wearing panties, are you ?,” he asked, surprised.

“Nope,” I replied shyly.

That was not really why I did not wear panties. The reason was actually because my parents never did buy and familiarize myself wearing panties. My father was able to buy underwear, but it was certainly for himself. I was pretty straight to wear short only. Provided my cock not to appear on front of my friends.

“Don’t be afraid,” said Mr. Mantri while flicking syringe has been filled with local anesthesia.