Sunday Morning with single mothers in Kumba

Wind blew from so called the holy mountain in Ruteng. It was a mountain where I could see a lot of men and women wearing habit outside their convents. It was a place I could hear the chant of prayers all day.

Wearing three layers clothing I attended Sunday mass in one of the old churches in Manggarai. It was 90 minutes in solemn environment and I could only say "Thanks to God!" I had nothing to wish because whatever I had was given to me. When I stepped out the church building, I met some women I knew. They were member of single mother group. They threw honest rural females smile at me, I could see their red tooth as the result of chewing betel nut everyday. They wore woven Manggarai sarong without any jacket. "They are strong women" said a voice in my head.

Just few second after it, a new member of group single mother stopped me for she really needed someone to talk to. She has twin sons from a man who promised to marry her. The man left her since she got pregnant. She had no option other than living with her parent. "Now my brother kicked me out from my parent's house" she told me with tears burst heavily from her sleepy eyes. I could understand her fear because in Manggarai culture women could not inherit anything from her parent. After her parent died, house and land were given to her brothers. She lived at her brothers properties until they said her to leave.

The group of single mothers who were with me comfort her without my command. A woman hugged her and said "we went through similar experience like you, we are your family." Some other women told her "Keep praying to God! You will get justice. God will help your twin and you." I lost my words for her. Some women offered her place to stay temporary until she could find new place. They were truly strong women with compassion. They were very simple rural women neglected in society due to their female identity. It was just like an oasis in the dessert to me. I was witness of how compassion filled each hearths of women before me.

These women were victims of unjust cultural system, but they could survive because they were strong.

Strong woman I met in my journey

Three hours journey paid a lot of meaning for my soul. I climbed up to the top of the land and walked down the hill. I saw the land was over thirsty and dry. Its ground broke apart without mercy for any plan to grow. "It was paddy fields" said a girl who walked before me. Since there was no rain for about three months, paddy would not grow. people in the village could only depend on other way of earning.

Finally I met her. She was a woman under my four months care. She was rescued from traffickers. It was the first time I saw her after she returned to her village. I could feel tears on my face after I entered an even bamboo building which she called house. My imagination took me to the nights when temperature dropped quickly and fierce icy wind entered the room to hit anything inside the house without mercy.

She told me her life story: "we are seven people living in this house. My aunt got mentally disturbed. I have 10 siblings and I am the oldest". I knew her age, a 26 years old woman with amazing unforgettable memories. She was forced to marry a man when she was 16 though arranged married. Her parent reduced their economic burden through giving her to a man who wanted to take her as a wife. She had no option. She was very young when she got pregnant and delivered her baby. She had no support when she had to deal with a new born. A lot of people blamed her when her 8 months son died because of diarrhea. After few years of waiting, she got pregnant and delivered another baby girl. 

Having baby girl was not the man favor. He left her and the two years old daughter to find other woman. The man's family also pushed her to leave the house. She refused to leave the house because was a legal wife of the man. Her refusal created anger on the family who was only value male human. They burned her house down and left nothing for her. That day she had no other place than her parent house to live. Avoiding adat punishment, the man family created forgiveness and separation ceremony by only giving her parent a goat for she has no rights to any belonging according to adat. 

Her creativity made her survive. She realized that her parent had only small land with can only produce very few crop. She decided to sell fried bananas in marker nearby her village. She got bananas from the house garden, she made frying oil from coconut, and she bought flour from her saving money. It was sold out. She became the only fried bananas' seller in the market.

However, she could not avoid temptation. One day her relative from a city visited her family. She came with a woman who wanted to recruit women to work in Malaysia with high salary. She was told that her salary would be 100 times higher than her income from selling friend bananas in the market. She thought that was the only opportunity to have better live. She decided to go with the recruiter together with her 14 years old sister. She was transported to city where she could see her sister for the last time because they got separated.

She was trapped in inhuman condition until she was rescued. She was locked up for months in many places until she could not remember how long it was. She lived with limited water to drink and insufficient amount of water to clean her body. She had no way to go and nobody to contact. For her it was only luck that made police rescued her.

I could not forget her as she could not forget her lost sister.

A bus driver, a woman, and two little boys

A woman with two little boys sat at seat in the second row of a rusty minibus. She carried the young boy in her selendang and let this young boy feel the comfort of her breast and her arm. Her stinking sweat made the young boy able to identify his mother and it seemed nice fragrance for him. At the selendang, the young boy enjoyed playing with a plastic bag that was used to carry ice tea. He shaken it and dropped tea on the floor of the rusty minibus.
Knowing this, the woman shouted on him and grabbed the plastic bag from the young boy. She gave him an empty wallet in an exchange.

While the one year old boy was playing with a wallet, the 4 years old boy stood next to the mother. He was dirty and his skin seemed dark because of the sun burned it. None of passengers offered their place to accommodate this boy for his appearance and his attitude showed a characteristic of children living on the street.

No eyes put attention to the mother and two children. It was the time while the passengers of the rusty minibus played an everyday opera. Each person played their character based on the script they had without communicating with each other. All characters were orchestrated on the stage of rusty minibus with creepy noisy engine, which chanted soundtrack of banality of every day. In this opera, the existence of three creatures was inexistent.

The silent scene ended as the fat young driver entered in the rusty minibus. He seemed familiar to the woman and her two kids for they lived in the same neighborhood. The driver shared driving seat with the boy and drove the bus. When the boy started to touch the steering, the mother yelled on him and through a small stripe to hit him. The driver gave no comment but he smiled. He put a dirty red pillow beside his driving chair and let the boy sat on it. "Do you feel better now?" asked the driver to the boy. Boy nodded for answering that question.

The woman said thanks to the driver and started a conversation about their neighborhood. She talked about a prostitute in the neighborhood who acted like a princess and about a 14 years old girl who got married recently. Interestingly at the end of conversation she mentioned her young sister's name and said that her sister would be a good wife because she was a good cook and as she used to clean home. She promoted her sister just like a product that was ready to use and has money back guarantee.

The engine was earsplitting as the driver drove it faster. He was proud of his rusty minibus for he got money through it. He said that all documents of the bus are expired but he was no afraid to operate this old machine on the road. He said "as long as I drive it slowly and follow the traffic regulation, police will not check my documents". He mentioned that the minibus was his partner for it has been with him for years. He felt lucky partnering with the rusty minibus for it never stopped making money by having a lot of passengers’ every day.

The woman was listening to his story and agreed with him. She knew many drivers and their buses and she saw that this rusty minibus was different. She said that in future, her kids should be a bus driver because she said that bus driver has a lot of money. The bus driver smiled at her and said nothing to her.

It was a bitter smile.

The Turtle pond

Bereaved visualize their loss in many ways. Turtle Pond at University of Texas Austin is the outstanding example of facilitating family members to deal with their grief.

Friends, Housemate, and Family

First time I learn that I am social creature was in kindergarten- I cannot remember my life stories before that time. I can recall stories that happen before my kindergarten age but mostly I can only get the unhappy stories. I am sure there is scientific explanation why I can only recall unhappy stories before age of five. Well, I do not intent to lecture about children development stages now, yet I really share personal experience of my childhood stories. I had three friends at the age of five, of course I do not count my brother and sister as friend since I knew the concept of family, and we were live in a labor housing in Jakarta because our parents were labor in textile factories nearby. I spent my time with them and it became routine activities. I knew that I could play at home alone, but I realized that I could have lot of fun with my friends. I could laugh for funny movie, but friends made me able to laugh out loud of something simply funny.