We, the former eighth graders, the last class at our Junior High School, held our own farewell parties. Eight B class had their own party, as well as 8C class. We from 8A class would hold a farewell at Ira’s house in “Bareng Kartini Hutment”. The choice of the place was not without reason. Ira would go far across the ocean anyway. We would enjoy the last moments with Ira anyway. With others, of course, we would still often met because we still lived in the same city. If we miss each other, we could certainly visit our beloved friends’ home.
In addition to the farewell parties that we held independently, the school also held a farewell party. I did not attend the farewell event held by the school. I mean it as a sign of protest to my father who was the Vice Headmaster there. One thing I later regretted was that my father might not feel that I was keen protesting against his behavior.
That night, at dusk, we arrived one by one or with several friends to Ira’s house in the Bareng Kartini Hutment. A bustling hutment in the middle of the city. Close to the legendary ‘Kelud’ movie theater in our city, and very popular because of its cheapness. We enjoyed the dishes served by Ira’s family. We joked and laughed about the strange and funny events that happened during our schooling until we graduated from kindergarten to middle school at junior high. I thought about asking Ira’s address in the Netherlands. But I put off asking. I want to write to her later if we have entered the senior high school. Just asked the news, I think there’s nothing wrong with such a thing like that.
Finally, because I was embarrassed to ask Ira, I ventured to ask Nita for help to ask Ira’s address in the Netherlands.