City’s Chess Champion (Part Four)

I was put by Mr. Imam Rofi’ie as editor of the student magazine was not without reason. When in classes below the sixth grade, I often filled the column provided by the magazine. Starting from a section of poetry, short stories until the rubric of humor. My work got attention sufficiently from friends. Almost all of the students who knew me.

There were also my school lifting who active and had post on the Student Magazine “Derap”, but they did not play a role as redactor. All of my y three friends had position as illustrator. They are Galih, the star class who was also good at drawing, Amil, and Arie Sidharta. Drawings they made was special.

Unfortunately, after coming on as redactor, my writing productivity was actually decreased indeed. I was less eager to do anything. But I retained as redactor of the student magazine “Derap” until I graduated on eighth grade.

At that time, I was notorious for my skill about playing chess. It could be said that almost no one can beat me on that game at school. Whether it among teachers who love this game, or ordinary student like my pal.

I knew this game was originally due to be introduced by my father. Initially I was reluctant, but my father forced me to fight him on his spare time. Finally, I could not resist any longer. It started since I sat in the first grade of elementary school.

Originally I always lost by father in this game. Until one day, when I managed to hold my father stalemate. I already knew that there were stalemate ending party in this game. It happened after ten parties who all won by my father.

“Golly, stalemate, Mit,” my father said.

“What’s the meaning of stalemate, Father ?.”

City’s Chess Champion (Part Three)

I giggled and want to mock her. I picked up the piece of paper containing my poem to Ita and gave it to her. I explained to her,

“If you want to know the girl’s name, her name is on this poem, Henny.”

My sister’s name was Henny indeed, she grabbed my poems and watched. She looked frowned. I was getting excited to tease her.

“Who ?.”

“There’s her name there,” I explained.

“There’s not,” said Henny.

I laughed and teased her even more excited.

“I hid that on the poem’s phrases.”

“Of course on certain systematic, Henny.”

“There’s not.”

“There is.”

I grew up with laughter. I was getting excited to mock Henny. My younger sister who still on second grade at our school. Suddenly her face lit up.

“Aha, I know.”

“La-ti-fa,” she said. Trying to solve the puzzle on my poem.

Then she burst out laughing. Turned me helpless embarrassment. I tried to grab the paper from her hand. But apparently Henny had already wary. She maintain that piece of paper. Henny ran toward the houseyard to avoid my grabbed of the piece of paper. She giggling continued to examine the white paper writing.

“Latifa who ya, brother ?”

“Aaaah, I know, it’s obvious anyway.”

“La-ti-fa Ra-mo-ni-ta.”


Henny laughed out loud. Harder than the previous one. I chased her to return the piece of paper. She ran faster and screaming all the way.

“I know, I know.”

“I know your girlfriend’s name, big brother.”

I pursued my sister who ran to the road. I wanted to grab a piece of paper containing my poem from her hands. My sister ran very fast. Firmer than usual, so I could not chased her.


When on the sixth grade, I entered as redactor of the “Derap” student magazine. “Derap” mean “Tramp” in English. As I recall, only me was selected as editor that came on this grade. Therefore, my name was the most distended on the order of the editorial board.