Kisah Syahrul
I remember when I first set foot on Polonia Medan Airport last July for my first humanitarian mission in Acheh, I was humming the nasyeed "Lagu Kedamaian" (by Brothers) as it played in my mind at that time, again and again. When I got into the van Zy asked me "Nyanyi lagu apa tu K.Shu?" and I smiled, I wasn't sure myself to be honest. It was a spontaneous subconscious impulse that took me nearly half a year later to realize that it was that song that came through my mind.
So I would like to share with you a story about a boy I met in Acheh.
On our second night in Meulaboh we set up an in-house clinic. Many Suak Timah-ians came that night, some came straight from the mosque after the Isya' prayer with their telekungs and cute jilbabs. I was already with my second or third patients when this boy came, I saw him parking his bike (gerek or speda in Acheh) outside the premise. He came in cheerfully in his light green baju melayu and kain pelikat which he wore across his shoulder and chest, gave salaam and smiled broadly showing his white set of teeth. Jotting down his name and age; Syahrul, 15 years old, normal looking boy, he's a bit small for his age, I mean a little too small for 15. So I took one corner of the long isle to speak with him, he told me he couldn't hear clearly after a large piece of wood banged his left side of face when he was drifted in the flood during the Tsunami. I finished assessing his medical history fairly quickly so while waiting for referral to the experts (the doctors) I grabbed my chance to do my personal assessment on him. I wanted to ask more on his Tsunami experience but he seemed more interested in my plastic of sweets I had with me and ignored my questions. I gave him some sweets and used other decent approach to my question, just in case he was offended by it. I knew I was being a bit pushy at that time but my intrusiveness became dominant when thinking why wouldn't this boy share his experience with me when other kids would pour everything out. What's his Tsunami side of story? I was wrong for being nosy, but I was defeated by my curiosity.
It was until he said, "Saya malu kak.."
Paused.
"Mengapa perlu malu? Syahrul ngak percaya sama kakak?" I said in my juvenile Indonesian slang.
He denied, smiled and put on a shy face. He spoke to a kid next to him in Acheh language. I then asked his friend what did he say.
"Dia kata dia orang miskin, jadi kerna itu dia malu," said the little friend in hesitant.
I paused again. Had a quick glance to myself, no I was not wearing nice clothes, just a simple long sleeve t-shirt and an old track-bottom. Oh shoot, maybe it was the wristwatch on my hand. My brain raced tried to reply with something acceptably nice.
"Kakak pun bukannya orang kaya juga, tapi kitakan semua inshaAllah sudah kaya dengan Tuhan dan agama kita kan?" I tried to give my best shot. I knew it wasn't.
"Tapikan mahu juga dirasai kebahagiaan itu.." He replied. I tried to search a good line for that too.
"Tapi kitakan orang Islam, kalau kita ada Islam, ada Allah SWT, dengan berkat kesabaran kita inshaAllah kebahagiaan itu pasti akan datang," easy for me to say, I know. I was out of lines.
He gave a bitter smile, "Iya..iya..tapi kebahagiaan dunia itu mahu dikecapi juga kan.." he said wryly.
This time I tried to divert him from the topic, did not want to elaborate his agony. I cursed myself for interrogating at the first place. What does he understand about 'kebahagiaan dunia' when he got his house destroyed by the flood, his family drifted away before his sight. I then brought him for a special ENT consultation with Dr Din and followed with his medications at the pharmacy booth. Lastly, before he left I put a handful of sweets in his medication plastic and gave it to him.
"Kamu mesti banyak bersabar, taat pada Allah, banyakkan mengaji Al-Quran, jaga adik-adik kamu ya.." I couldn't say anything better.
He went home in his gerek/speda.
I saw him again for few times the next day or two.
So I would like to share with you a story about a boy I met in Acheh.
On our second night in Meulaboh we set up an in-house clinic. Many Suak Timah-ians came that night, some came straight from the mosque after the Isya' prayer with their telekungs and cute jilbabs. I was already with my second or third patients when this boy came, I saw him parking his bike (gerek or speda in Acheh) outside the premise. He came in cheerfully in his light green baju melayu and kain pelikat which he wore across his shoulder and chest, gave salaam and smiled broadly showing his white set of teeth. Jotting down his name and age; Syahrul, 15 years old, normal looking boy, he's a bit small for his age, I mean a little too small for 15. So I took one corner of the long isle to speak with him, he told me he couldn't hear clearly after a large piece of wood banged his left side of face when he was drifted in the flood during the Tsunami. I finished assessing his medical history fairly quickly so while waiting for referral to the experts (the doctors) I grabbed my chance to do my personal assessment on him. I wanted to ask more on his Tsunami experience but he seemed more interested in my plastic of sweets I had with me and ignored my questions. I gave him some sweets and used other decent approach to my question, just in case he was offended by it. I knew I was being a bit pushy at that time but my intrusiveness became dominant when thinking why wouldn't this boy share his experience with me when other kids would pour everything out. What's his Tsunami side of story? I was wrong for being nosy, but I was defeated by my curiosity.
It was until he said, "Saya malu kak.."
Paused.
"Mengapa perlu malu? Syahrul ngak percaya sama kakak?" I said in my juvenile Indonesian slang.
He denied, smiled and put on a shy face. He spoke to a kid next to him in Acheh language. I then asked his friend what did he say.
"Dia kata dia orang miskin, jadi kerna itu dia malu," said the little friend in hesitant.
I paused again. Had a quick glance to myself, no I was not wearing nice clothes, just a simple long sleeve t-shirt and an old track-bottom. Oh shoot, maybe it was the wristwatch on my hand. My brain raced tried to reply with something acceptably nice.
"Kakak pun bukannya orang kaya juga, tapi kitakan semua inshaAllah sudah kaya dengan Tuhan dan agama kita kan?" I tried to give my best shot. I knew it wasn't.
"Tapikan mahu juga dirasai kebahagiaan itu.." He replied. I tried to search a good line for that too.
"Tapi kitakan orang Islam, kalau kita ada Islam, ada Allah SWT, dengan berkat kesabaran kita inshaAllah kebahagiaan itu pasti akan datang," easy for me to say, I know. I was out of lines.
He gave a bitter smile, "Iya..iya..tapi kebahagiaan dunia itu mahu dikecapi juga kan.." he said wryly.
This time I tried to divert him from the topic, did not want to elaborate his agony. I cursed myself for interrogating at the first place. What does he understand about 'kebahagiaan dunia' when he got his house destroyed by the flood, his family drifted away before his sight. I then brought him for a special ENT consultation with Dr Din and followed with his medications at the pharmacy booth. Lastly, before he left I put a handful of sweets in his medication plastic and gave it to him.
"Kamu mesti banyak bersabar, taat pada Allah, banyakkan mengaji Al-Quran, jaga adik-adik kamu ya.." I couldn't say anything better.
He went home in his gerek/speda.
I saw him again for few times the next day or two.
mengapa tangisan itu
masih terdengar lagi
adakah tiada siapa peduli..
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