Mt Bromo - an alert to erupt

At three thirty pm, 24^th November 2010, my mother called. “Where are you?” “I’m at a point where the crater of mount bromo is just right in front of me”

“Are you nuts! You know the government have announced that bromo is in a critical condition to be erupted”. “I know mum”. “ So, what are you waiting for. Go home!”.

“But mum, no one here is worry about the mountain, so why should I” “Do you know in Merapi. No one was worry as well. They believed in Marijan – the mountain spiritual keeper – until the boiling cloud flattened many villages including him. So once things change, move out from tengger”. “Yes, mum. I will”.

Well, a mother is a mother. No mother in this world is willing to lose their children, especially as a victim of an “angry” volcano. In Merapi, Central Java, a volunteer felt so bad when an injured mother gave him her child to be rescued. He planned to return for her but a few minutes later, a boiling cloud came down from the volcano and burned down the whole village, including the mother. My mother is so worry that Mt Bromo will produce similar boiling cloud as Merapi and burn things down, including me to become “retno’s barbeque”.

After receiving my mother’s call, I joined park rangers at their post. Mt Bromo is a national park established in 1982. The breath taking view of the volcanoes, various level of mountainous ecosystem dispersion and its strong cultural - religious relationship with the locals are the main considerations of its establishment. Mt Bromo is the major tourist destination in East Java Province. But now, the park rejects any visitors. Many local tourists cancelled their trips and make the hotels rate slope down to less than 50% occupation. But the international tourists are still there. The angrier the volcano is, the more breath taking view they would get. To date, the crater smokes big white-sulfured clouds up to the sky, about 300 meters of height. It is indeed fantastic.

I joined the rangers greeting a long line of cars came up from downhill. There were vice governor of East Java province, the head of district of Probolinggo, the police chief officers at provincial level and many more important people. They are going to discuss about actions required if the mountain erupted. Several tents for refugees are erected at 3 spots downhill, about 15 km from the crater. Many more tents will be erected in a few days. An ambulance is ready as well at the nearest hotel. I saw policemen all around. Though there are almost no visitors, but those policemen gave my old friend – Asih – a fortune to her small informal coffee shop. Another group of army will arrive in the next day for a back up. Those people look so panic. The government, the army, the policemen, red cross and definitely, the electronic media which give a live program of the mountain’s situation regularly. While the locals – including many rangers – are so relax facing the phenomenon.

The last eruption of Mt Bromo occurred in 2004. The volcano threw tons of stones as big as human fist to all over it. It was so sudden. Tourism activities occurred as normal that day and two visitors died, hit by the stones, an Indonesian and a Singaporean. Not locals, the tenggereses. There were many “nundans” – the local who escort and rent their horses to visitors – at the time but none of them hit by the stones. None of the locals run to save their life. They just stood still as they believed the stones would never harm them. I was told that the victims previously insulted the sacredness of Mt Bromo. The late Singaporean threw a stone to the crater and the crater threw the stone back to him, but bigger and many more. For the Indonesian, he was a teen ager. His father warned him of giving him to the crater if he kept annoying his parent. Then, his father’s word fulfilled, the crater took the boy off from him. Mt Bromo is a sacred place. So, don’t do bad things or say bad things. You’ll get the consequences.

Mt Bromo never kills locals, the tenggereses. Raden Kusuma sacrifice is dedicated for the sake of tenggereses as long as they live in harmony. During Kasodo ritual, people came to the crater and throw offerings for a request of giving them a fortune in their future life. People told me, why worry about Mt Bromo as the mountain is our destination when we die. Tenggereses love Mt Bromo, and the people feel that the mountain loves them as well. A very risky feeling, for sure, loving an active volcano.

On the way back home from Cemoro Lawang - the allowed nearest point to the crater - I saw Mr. Tomo’s car going up to his village after watching a volley ball game in Sukapura, a sub-district town downhill. Mr. Tomo is a dukun – hindu-tengger religious leader – from Ngadisari village, the closest village to the crater. When a vice governor of East Java Province and other important people from various institutions were having a meeting at a hotel in Cemoro Lawang, discussing actions taken for the natural disaster, the dukun who is able to communicate with the ancestors live in the mountain, having fun spending his time for a volley ball game.

However, on 9^th November 2010, the village chiefs of Ngadisari, Jetak and Wonotoro , with Mr. Tomo, had held a ritual at the crater and threw some offerings into it, requesting the crater for not erupting. Those important people for tenggereses have spoken to the mountain. So, that’s it. Nothing to worry about. I and several others made a joke while having a cup of coffee at Asih’s coffee shop. If people have to become refugees, perhaps the chief of village would be the one as he is the most unpopular person recently due to his many controversial policies, including local tax for cell phone. While the rest, living in harmony with the active volcano.

Yadnya Kasada

It was almost 4 o’clock in the morning, August 26, 2010, the new dukun coronation should be started soon. Mbah Mujo, the dukun coordinator – the one that I was sticking on - read the story of Kasodo, where a couple – Rara Anteng and Joko Seger - promised the God of Brahma to sacrifice one of their 25 children as their thankfulness to the God for giving them plenty of children. However, their love to the children made them to be hesitated to give up one of them. They hide the children in Pananjakan mountain, hoping the God of Brahma would never find them. But then, whilst the children were playing, an arrow of flame came out from the mouth of Bromo. It took Raden Kusuma, the youngest child into the crater. Everyone cried and sad for the lost, but suddenly Raden Kusuma’s voice was heard. He said, all of his brothers and sisters should not worry about him as he was happy now. He didn’t mind to sacrifice himself for his family and hoping after his leaving everyone kept “rukun” or never fight and close to each other. As a remembrance of his sacrifice, he wanted people to throw their harvesting into the crater held on the 14^th of kasada month, which is now famous as Yadnya Kasada ritual.

After an assemble mantra spelled by all the dukuns or puja astuti to bless the ‘ongkek’ put in front of each of them, the coronation ceremony was started. Indonesian minister of tourism came as a witness. 3 new dukuns were coroneted that night after being tested to what extent they fluently spelled the mantra. All the dukuns gave their agreements – by saying “agree” when being asked - that the new dukuns were good enough to be coroneted. ‘Ongkek’ is crops that put together and designed in a special form that make people easily carry them on the shoulders. Not only crops, sometime they also put some money and snacks. ’Ongkek’ is the symbol of the harvest that will be thrown into the crater to fulfil Kusuma request for remembering him. Each ongkek represented one village. There was also two other big ‘ongkek’ – in a form of mountain and a horse - represented tengger area as a whole.

Normally people recognize ‘dukun’ as a medicine man who has a magical power to cure an illness. But ‘dukun’ in tengger means a man who gives his service as a mediator between people and God and their ancestors. People in tengger believe that dukun is the only person that can deliver their pray to God or Sang Hyang Widhi. Dukun, with his mantra and smoke of ‘menyan’, leads every single ritual held in a household. One person will get through several rituals within their circle of life, started when they were in mother’s womb, the first day s/he was born and at 35 days old, circumcise for boys , ‘tugel kuncung’ or cutting the hair for girls, being married, die and then ‘moksa’ or united with God. There are also other special conditions that make children require a ritual, such as the only child, having 2 children boy and girl and any others. People also need rituals when they erect a house, start farming, harvesting or even buying a new motorcycle. A dukun is a much respected person in tengger society. He is people’s advisors. When the dukun agrees to something, people will follow.

After the new dukuns’ coronation ceremony, all were praying in front of a ‘pura’ or hindu’s temple which is also facing the mount of Bromo. I missed something that night. I was told that a head of a bull plus its legs, was put as part of the offering during the late evening. Bull represents strength. Tenggerese believe that the bull is strong enough to carry all of the offerings on his back until the sun. Only until the sun. The next step will be preceded by white duck and ‘brumbun’ chicken. Why duck ? Tenggerese believe that the duck has a special power to penetrate another dimension of life belongs to the Gods since duck can live in three different environments: land, water and sky. ‘Brumbun’ chicken is a chicken with the mix of 4 colour of feather: white for the God of Iswara, yellow for the God of Mahadewa, black for the God of Wisnu, red for the God of Brahma, and ‘brumbun’ the mix one for the big boss, the God of Syiwa or Sang Hyang Widhi. The chicken will then take the offerings to all the Gods and lastly to Sang Hyang Widhi. After the pray, the ‘ongkek’ were taken by all men and followed by gamelan or ‘traditional music’ to be thrown into the crater of bromo. The bull, the duck and the chicken will be thrown as well. Tenggerese call the crater of bromo as ‘pelabuhan’ or harbour, the last destination of the offering. So that throwing off an offering is called ‘melabuh’. Due to the crowdedness, I and Mujo’s family decided to return back home and will do the ritual of throwing crops at 9 o’clock this morning.

With a pick up car, madam mujo and other relatives went to bromo mountain. They brought with them a bunch of bananas, roast chicken, rice and vegetables. We stopped first at the gate to enter the national park in Cemoro Lawang. It was a place where the number tenth child of Jaka Seger and Roro Anteng – Tunggul Wulung - is staying. Stopping there means knocking the door and asking permission as we will enter the area of bromo mountain. All the ladies put a tamping or a small portion of food in bananas leafs and some small money. Tamping is a gift for ‘buta yadnya’ or bad spirit so that they would not bother everybody. Then we went to ‘watu wungkuk’ in the sea of sand of bromo, where Kaki Dukun, the number twelve of Jaka Seger and Roro Anteng children is staying. Tengger people believe that everything they ask to the ‘watu wungkuk’ will be fulfilled soon. Two dukuns from Sapikerep village gave their services to bless all the offering to ‘watu wungkuk’. Madam mujo left some bananas and put a tamping in ‘watu wungkuk’. The dukuns also blessed the food that people carried with that will be eaten soon they left the site. Everyone enjoyed the food – the blessed food - except me as I was fasting at that time.

From ‘watu wungkuk’ we went to Watu Balang. It looked like a monument. Our pick up circled the monument 3 times, before the ladies put the tamping, threw some flowers and small money onto the monument. I was told that 3 is a sacred number. 3 represents 3 Gods : Brahma, Wisnu and Syiwa. All are done 3 times, such as throwing the wholly water 3 times to each prayer, collecting water from 3 springs of wholly water, 3 different colour of ‘sajen’ or offering, etc. Before leaving, we circled once more to say goodbye. Watu Balang is a place to say thank you for the good fortune God had given people in the previous year. It is where Raden Bagus Waris, the child number eleventh of Joko Seger and Roro Anteng is staying.

Then the car parked somewhere to let us climb the mountain bromo. From the sea of sand, we went uphill to the crater of bromo. Nicely I took madam Mujo’s small bag and carried it with me. Though we walked slowly but going uphill absorbed my energy, especially I was fasting and we walked under the heat of sun. I said “I’m tired” and I did lose my breath. Madam Mujo said “ don’t say it, but say may God bless us”. Tenggereses believe that if we say “I’m tired”, I would feel so tired and would never reach the crater. If we say “I’m lost”, I would be lost and ended up somewhere far away from the crater. So I shut my mouth and kept walking. Madam Mujo’s niece took the small bag that I carried, and nicely pushed me from behind to make me move forward. What a weak Retno !

After about 1 km nonstop walking uphill, at last we arrived at the bottom of the stairs to the crater. It was called Bajangan, the place where Kaki Perniti, number 14th of Roro Anteng and Joko Seger children is staying. People put their tampings plus some amount of small money there. A dukun was also sitting there to bless the offering. Kaki Perniti has a duty to ‘niti’ or make sure that people are having the offerings for the crater of bromo as requested. For example, if there are some materials requested are not included as part of the ‘ongkek’, something would happen, such as somebody will become ‘trance’.

From Bajang, there would be another 250 steps of stairs to go. I heard that my knee gave me a protest. We’ve been walking uphill nonstop from the sea sand. But the 62 years old madam Mujo had no interest to take a break. Oh no ! So I hold her niece’s shirt in front of me, hoping that her body would pull me up to climb the stairs. Along the way the women always had something to say to the people who walked down stairs. At last, we did it. We arrived at the crater with our nonstop walk. For the first time in my life since 1988, I climbed the stairs to bromo crater with a nonstop walking. What a big achievement !

The two women put their tampings on the crater’s concrete fences and threw some small money into the crater whilst whispering their requests to the God of Brama and – the owner of the crater – and Raden Kusuma for giving them a fortune and a good life after this, and if their requests are fulfilled, they will return back to the crater again next year. They asked me to do the same thing. Requesting a fortune and a handsome future husband and return back to the crater when all are fulfilled. What ? Return back to the crater ? No No No. I’m not going to do it. It is so far away from where I live.

However, it was so tempting to request something that I don’t have at the moment, a fortune and a good looking partner of life. But if I become a wealthy person, would my richness lead me to my ultimate destination of life, heaven ? I don’t think so. If I have a handsome partner, would he support my feeling, my mind and my purpose of life to make this world as a better place to live? And would he accompany me not only in this life on earth but also in the life after death? I don’t think so. For me, a real life is not a life on this earth, but an eternal life after my soul and my flesh have separated, and I return back to my creator, God. I will leave everything else behind and take nothing but my good deed. God has created 7 level of heavens exclusively only for human. I don’t mind to enter the lowest level as long as I will live in heaven. My money means nothing there. And I might have a partner much nicer than the one that I would have on earth. You never know. So I threw my two thousand rupiah and said nothing. I have nothing to ask. All I want just a simple and a happy life. No more. No less.

In the crater there were people standing on the crater’s cliff to catch things thrown by people. They built tents functioned as nets to hold the fallen offerings especially money. They even hold a butterfly trap to reach the flying offering. They are marginal farmers from the surroundings. Some of them are teggereses from Argosari village. They are poor and landless. All the crops and money offered by people are a good fortune for them. Last year a friend of mine bought a goat from them for fifty thousand rupiah. A very cheap one but a big money for them. And that afternoon, I saw a woman bought a chicken for fifteen thousand rupiah, and hope the chicken will bring luck to her, since all of the offerings thrown by people have been blessed by the dukun. Then we left the crater, returned back to the sea of sand where the car was waiting for us.

On the way back down the stairs, I saw people from various ages climbing the stairs. Children, teen agers, adults and old people are climbing. And I saw women with hijab or moslem women as well. Perhaps they are moslem, perhaps not, as tenggerese wear hijab too to avoid the sun heat while farming. However, it is not only hindu’s people do the rituals, moslem also. Is it real, that the God of Brama will fulfil people’s requests? I spoke to several people a day before. They were both moslems and hindus. They said that things they requested were really fulfilled. If not, there is no reason for them to return back to the crater again every year. A moslem couple told me that they were able to held big wedding parties for their children as they became a wealthy family. And this year, they want to buy a sheep, a new motorcycle and redesign their house.
All want to have a good fortune and a better life, whatever your religion is. When you believe a thing, do it, and things would happen. That is what everyone does in the ritual.

To complete the ritual that day, all women in our pick up went to the tents or stalls that sold various goods, from food, snacks and fruits. For a small shopping. It was part of the ritual as well. I was told that beside the real stalls there are also unseen stalls where the spirits are also shopping. Ups ! The purchase at stalls is also an indicator of something. If all the goods at stalls are sold out, it is good for the seller but bad for the villages. Sold out means a difficult life in the coming year. Mbah Mujo said this year most of the stalls are not sold out, so it means that things would be OK in the coming year. After things were completed so we off home to Ngadas village, with a hope that everyone’s request – except me - will be fulfilled in the coming year, then they will do another Kasodo ritual.

A note from tengger

June 5, 2010. Today is the last day I stay In Ngadisari village, tengger region. I’m going home tomorrow after more than two months living in the village, studying and observing tenggerese’s life. Understanding what they think about themselves and where they are going in the future. Though there were suspicious eyes watching me when I first arrived, today I have many friends – real friends – that expect me to visit them again sometime in the future.

I read and I had heard that tenggerese are people who put honestly and kindness first for every single thing they do. More than that, there is nowhere else in the world where you live with people where none of them will harm you at any level. No one will take your belonging. There is no burglar, no pick pocket. Even when someone found the neighbor left the house with an open door, one will wait until the house owner come and make sure no one else enter the house. When one has trouble in his/her life, others will try to help. I saw when a half paralyzed guy tried to walk, everyone was taking care of him and tried to cheer him up. They are Hindus. The religion obliges its followers to believe “karma” - when you do bad things to the others, you will get the consequences later on. So better to do good things as life will treat you better.

In the village, you have no worry to be betrayed. No one will hurt your feeling. In contrary people will hold their feeling for your own interest. A few days before I left, it was a guy who put his interest on me though I have no interest at all on him. Actually I prefer other more good looking guys to escort me, not him. But all his friends supported him – including the guys that I prefer - and tried to set up a situation where I would spend most of my time with him, by escorting me wherever I go. With thousand of reasons I avoided him. If he were a guy from Jakarta, I would appoint my finger on his nose. Warn him to get off from my view. But I can’t do that there. Otherwise the whole villagers will recognize me as a cruel woman. Though for some aspects, I am.

When everyone is nice, is there any mechanism of punishment? No, they don’t need it. If a guy does a bad thing, he would be the topic of discussion. People will see him differently. Once the chief of village call the guy for an advice, it is the time he feels shame and loses his face. No one in tengger would like to lose their faces. They’d better committed suicide than losing faces. It is reported that a former chief of one village in tengger region committed suicide after being caught gambling.

When you deal with people who sincerely treat you well, there is no choice than treat them nicely with your sincere feeling as well. As a result, I feel that the whole villagers love me. It is great to have this feeling. A feeling to trust everyone, an assurance that no one will harm me. I see every single individual gives me a sincere smile, and I smile back to them. Everyone asks me to visit their houses, and once I come they will provide meals. Eating meal is a must to prove that you appreciate the house owners. Once I ate big meals three times in one evening. I had to do it though I felt that the rice had reached the upper level of my throat. I’m learning that for being nice I have to put other people’s feeling ahead from my own. Sounds like a soup opera where the leading role is naively nice to everyone. I hate soup opera but for the time being, I am the leading actress.

It was also a time when I stopped by due to heavy rain in Wonokerso village. I entered a house and joint the hostess at a fireplace. I tried to communicate but she spoke poor bahasa and I couldn’t speak the local language. We ended up sitting together in silence. Then her son came joining us. Again I tried to break the ice. He answered my questions with only short sentences. Then silence again. I asked to leave as the rain was stopping but they hold me by saying that it was still raining heavily. They liked my present. They wanted me to stay, but in silence. For a chatty person like me, being silence is a real torture.

Tenggeresses are living in harmony within their society. Everyone trusts everyone. No matter happen in another part of the world, who cares. My village is my heaven. Unfortunately this discourages young people to pursue higher education. Most of the villagers are elementary school graduated. Even people who went to universities, once they finished, they return back to the village again, to become farmers. Including the guy who put his interest on me - an illiterate guy who is drunk every day. My education, my job, my expected achievements and my future are the things beyond his imagination. In the village, there is almost no intellectual discussion. You would hardly hear any debate on politics or country’s economic condition. The most intellectual discussion I have ever heard were about selecting the best seed quality of vegetables and where to the get the best price to sell vegetable – tengger region is famous for vegetable productions. When they gather, they talk about funny things. One will make the best jokes that one could create. It was fun anyway – for certain period - being around by humorists. They do gossiping. Once you’re part of the society, people will watch every single move of you. So beware !

I mentioned about “drunk” earlier. They do consume alcoholic drink. In a cold place like that – more than 2000 m asl – they need alcoholic drink to warm themselves. During parties such as a wedding party, there will be unlimited flow of alcoholic drink to everyone, especially men. Drink as much as you can. They also use drink only from recognized brand. No experiment. Fortunately, they know when to stop. People who are drunk in public, will lose their faces in society. When they are drunk they don’t behave negatively. Just sit nicely or stay still and smoke cigarettes. One night, I walked through drunken people – more than a hundred people- to find a person. They stared at me only behind their cigarettes’ smoke and let me passed. Different to North Celebes and West Papua or perhaps in other places on earth where walking through 100 drunken people is similar to committing suicide. Party doesn’t have to be held during week end. Mostly during week days because each individual has different lucky day. After having fun in one evening, the next day people return to their daily routine. Farmers go to their fields, teachers and students go to schools, etc.

No wonder tenggerese prefer to stay forever in their villages. Every individual has – at least - a piece of land for farming. They regularly have money from vegetable productions. From tourists, young tenggerese are able to collect at least fifty thousand rupiah per day from tips as being middle men between tourists and tourism facilities eg. hotels, transportation, horse riding, etc. During peak season, they could even collect more than five hundred thousand rupiah a day. Where in the city, it is difficult to earn money, even for ten thousand rupiah per day. The easiness to earn money, unlimited flow of alcoholic drink availability and a feeling of trust that no one will hurt you. It is heaven. Everyone who lives in the cities wants to live like that. Lucky tenggerese. Except one thing : your brain would be frozen as life is too good and only a few have intention to use their brains.

Reunion – Junior high school

As the high school reunion becomes my routine schedule, now I have another reunion of my junior high school , the 41 Junior High School located somewhere in the south part of Jakarta. I was a new student in 1977, moved from other school as my father got a new job with a housing facility. I remember that the school – it moves to a new location now - had a kind of hilly contour which made my class – I think - to be located about one meter below sea level. So during wet season, our class was regularly flooded and our sport activities were cleaning up our muddy class. Similar to the things we do in the gym, we lifted up water from the well, transported the buckets with full of water to the class, brushed the floor, plus those annoying boys who were running around, playing fighting heroes on the wet muddy floor.

I was greeted by some unfamiliar faces when I first arrived in the reunion - it was a second one as I missed the one before. And a tall guy said “I’m Daud. Do you remember me?”. Bingo !! I know the guy. He was my classmate in the third year of the school. During a home industry class, I threw a palm of rice into his dense curly hair and he had trouble to take them out. Well, it was fun ! I met several others. There were about 19 people came to the reunion. But the best thing is I met my best friend during my junior high school. Henny, a very tomboy student (see the picture). At that time, she often fought with other students. She is the eldest and the only daughter in her family with her six brothers. No wonder she mastered any styles of fighting especially with boys. Astonishingly, she is the first who got married amongst us.

When we had a chat remembering all the memories, one friend was wondering why she did not really remember each of the others. I said ”Sure, because they are the kickers and we are not”. During the late 70’s, kickers – a shoe brand – was a very fancy brand. If you want to be considered as fancy and famous, wear the shoes and you will belong to the gang. I and some others were just some simple students. Our complicated family’s financial situation at that moment influenced us to consider the brand as an unaffordable good to be purchased. In another word, we had no money to buy the shoes. Even to save money, for our pottery project, I and Henny dug a nearest river to get the clay. It was fun playing in the river though Henny was almost rushed by the water. When the others created some very artistic objects such as vases, pots, plates, I decided to make a “thumb” for my pottery project. And I think it was the best art product that I have ever created in my life.

There are not so much memories I remember during my junior high school period. I remember some boys’ names who liked teasing all the girls. I remember my math teacher – as normal, I was good at math. She was a very small, very old, very skinny and a very weak lady. Surprisingly, to date she is still alive ! There was also my English teacher, Madam Dharso. Because of her, I fell in love with English as a foreign language. She often introduced us some new English songs while she was teaching to make sure that we had a proper pronunciation. To date, while I’m speaking English I still feel like I am singing.

The restaurant that we had the reunion is a nice one. It has a broad range of Japanese and European cuisines to choose. I liked the food though Henny as a genuine west Sumatran person, she could not eat. For her, proper food means lots of chilly and coconut milk mixed with meats, chickens, or vegetable, sometime with the inner parts of a cow. For me, the later is the best part though sometime they give me a stomach problem. Perhaps for the next reunion, we can go to the restaurant which serves traditional food. And I hope I would be able to come due to my tight schedule to execute my field research, where I hope, I could see Yuni, my shared table friend during the junior high school. She lives in Surabaya now. I’m looking forward to see her.

Good bye son

I don’t like talking about sadness. I don’t like talking about death. All make me devastated. But as a human, whether we want it or not, death will approach you, and to the people you love, sooner or later. I just lost my beloved kitten, and I was almost devastated. The yellow, funny and lovely kitten, got sick on Wednesday. He vomited many times and refused to eat. I took him to the veterinary on Thursday evening and the guy said that my kitten needed an emergency surgery as he got problem with his prostate otherwise he would die. So I agreed. He did the surgery that night. The next day he was OK but very weak and the next morning he died.

I did not want to see his body. I was too sad. I cried every time I remember him. I think I was almost unconscious when the veterinary gave me a call. He was very closed to me. Sometime he slept in my hold. He liked to sleep on top of the fridge then called me loudly to give him a rub. He liked to put himself a half across our fences to observe the road. We had him since he was born. My sister pulled him slowly from his mother’s womb as his old mother had trouble to give a birth. When he was a couple month, my knees dropped him, he could not walk but then he recovered anyway. When he was 6 months, he played with his mother and brother by running around my bed whether I was there or not. When we just moved to Bogor, he was so afraid that I might leave him. He often slept on my lap and put his head on my chest. He fell asleep everywhere he liked, laid down on his back with his legs upright. He had a funny way of sitting as a fat man lay his back on the wall. Every time I saw his favorite spots, my eyes were watering again. I keep telling myself, he had gone, returned to his creator. The place where all the living creatures will return to. When my time comes, I will see him again. However during her pray, my sister saw him running around with his brother who died 6 months ago. He is happy now, no pain, no hunger, no other cats who often attack his small body. But there is no me who loves him so much.

When I lost my father the impact was worst. I avoid seeing any burials for quite a long time. It was a time when I came to the burial of my friend’s father. I was suddenly unconscious in the cemetery. So there were two bodies carried by people that time, the death person and me. I am strong for many things, challenges in work, facing people who break the rules, facing failures, no questions for all those things, except facing the death of people that I love.

But who can avoid a death? No human, no animal, no plant. All who have soul will die. It is all the matter of when, where and how. During the earthquake in Padang, 3 villages buried under landslide where 400 people were having wedding party there. In Haiti, a man survived for 10 days under the debris until people rescued him where about 200 thousand others lost their lives. Now, people are influenced by the rumor of 2012 the judgment day. In the film, technology solves the problem. Do you agree with that? I don’t. Technology is a tool controlled by human. But human’s soul is a tool controlled by God. For me, it does not matter whether I survive or not, I will be under God’s control anyway, on earth or in a place called heaven, hopefully. How to seduce God to always put me in a best place? Agus, my friend said “wet your lips with God’s names” and he will always be with you. I am doing it.

But human is a human with all the imperfectness. The sadness of losing someone, the loneliness for being abandoned, frustration for being failed, those things sometime make us to be uncontrolled. Put the blame to anything, including me to the veterinary. I wish I never sent my cat to him. But “kun fa ya kun” when God say something, so be it. When God wants to take my cat, nothing will stop him. Why do I have to be this sad when I lost my cat, how about loosing my mother. No way. But the day will come anyway. Who can avoid a death? No one.

Good bye my beloved lovely kitten. Good bye son. Be happy there with your brother. Someday we will meet again and you can sleep on my lap again. Bye, I love you.