A Wife For Me (Part Three)




“That’s the difference between you and me,” I said.

“I did not have the courage to fund my own college costs,” I continued.

“And then?,” It appeared that she wanted to know my past time.

“My grandmother’s brother and my father managed to pay my college’s charges”

Then I told her the story of my past. Severe and bloody hard college time. My father did not give me enough tuition cost and allowance. I’d been thinking to pay my own college fund. So, I had to work, whatever job. But the lectures became increasingly severe. And my priority was graduation. I had to finish my college, whatever its cost. So I learned hardly to be able to pass the exams which were very difficult for me. I did not dare to take risks not pass the lectures’ examination by studying hard. But it certainly was a wrong decision then I realized. It was not just the brain and subjects mastery to finish college. But luck instead as well.

I told her about my friend. A student who dare to cheat on exams. Even before the lecturer of the course. “She passed quickly”, I tell her. “And having worked in the industry for some time, she applied to become a lecturer on our department and accepted as well”.

She smiled waiting for my next story. “She now resides in the UK took a doctoral program,” I said bitterly. I myself did wanta be a lecturer and indeed not accomplished.

“You’re luckier than me,” the girl said sadly. Inevitably loomed a smile on her beautiful face.

“My father died when I was on my second semester,” she said then.

“Then my friend find me a way out,” she continued.

“I was offered a job at karaoke,” her eyes was so glazed indeed, “I’m not aware that it is a risky work,” she recalled.




Photograph by Ragil Suryo Raharjo at Omah Sedulur

A Wife For Me (Part Two)




I smiled when recalling the incident. At least twice I heard the testimony of girls about the scarcity of me for them.

“If you think I’m a rarely man, why didn’t you klon?,” I said then, “You’re a medical people, why don’t you take my fingernails or hair and then you klon so that people like me become many and not rare anymore.” Klon is a loan word in Indonesian for clone in English.

“Yeah Mas, .. dikeloni,” snapped a friend of Wilma. Just a few days later I knew that her name was Wuri. Dikeloni is Indonesian for bedded, and Mas is a common greeting to the man with the objective of respect. The Dentistry’s students who were around the place looked over and stop their chatts for a moment. Then they laughed surprisingly. Including Wilma and Wuri. I was so naive that time until didn’t dare to smile.

I heard later Wilma married to a police officer. And I did not know how about her lately. I know, Wuri had a relationship with Wawan, a friend of Chemical Engineering. Perhaps they were now married and have several children. Who knows?.

“You’re dreaming,” said the leggings girl to me.

I stammered for a moment, “Yes,” I replied innocently at her. I told her I remembered the events of ten years ago. At that time, I was a student at a large university in Yogyakarta. And even its reputation in this country have no doubt. I told her that when I was a student, I also heard the obviously similar comments about me.

“You’re also a student, right?.”

“And you make efforts covering your college cost yourself?.”

“Yes,” she replied dryly.

I stared at her face deeply. Really pretty. Apparently the girl was uncomfortable with the way I looked. She brushed her hair backside shortly. I smell the scent of expensive perfume that was commonly used by high class family university students. I rustled my heart for a moment.




Photograph by Ragil Suryo Raharjo at Omah Sedulur.

“Sepur Tumbuk’s” Driver (Part Four)




“Mimit, Mimit, what’s for you are climbing that tree?.”

“Come down and join your friends,” cried Mrs Yati from the front door of the class. Apparently she realized that had lost one of her students after a long time.

I said nothing and did not move from where I was perched on the tree. Mrs. Yati immediately back into the class. The door kept open. Not long after, she came out with a female student. My God, apparently she was a girl with so white skin and waist-length hair that caught my attention earlier.

“Come on Vita, go invite Mimit to class”, commanded the teacher at the little girl.

“Mit, let’s go to class”, exclaimed Vita from under the tree. His eyes were clear, though narrow, she had reddish lips. That rosy lips were smiling friendly.

Reluctantly I moved down from the tree. I’m happy to be friends with the Vita, but I’m sad being loss of my dream to be a sepur tumbuk’s driver.

“Please guide your friend to class, Vita” pleaded Mrs. Yati on Vita.

Vita was a good girl. She managed to follow the command of the teacher. She handed my wrist and clutched tightly. Then the waist-haired little girl led me to enter the classroom.

Bizarre. At that time, that I just was willing to betowed by Vita to enter the classroom. Really like buffalo led by it’s nose. Always so perhaps the effect of the girls on the boys. Even though for the girls and boys under the age.

I entered the classroom along with Vita. Mrs. Yati then told me to sit on a bench arranged in circle. I was sitting close to a beautiful little girl with short hair. Her eyes were round, it’s beautiful. It turned out that the girl was named Dewi. She wore a ribbon on her hair. The ribbon tied interestingly. There are beads bright red around his neck. It is so beautiful.

Next to me on another bench was also a little girl. Her eyes looked very fierce and unfriendly. His body seemed to be higher than most other little girls. She has long hair braided in two. At the base of the hair braids there were red ribbon tied in a simple way. Indeed, if her mouth was not pursed like it, she was really beautiful. At first glance, I thought about a picture of a witch in a fairy tale book belongs to my cousin. The witch was tall, thin and holding a broom. Hhiiii, …. I shudder.

“Little zero “, the sound of Mrs. Yati suddenly heard. We all listened as enchanted. Big zero great class was in Mrs. Tutik’s drawing lessons.

(to be continued)




(phothograph by Evy Sofia)