The Face of a Fool

The Face of a Fool

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Last weekend, I visited my parents in Cibubur. When I arrived at the front door, I noticed my 5-year-old Toyota Yaris was parked in the garage, looked all dirty. It was my when I was still in Bandung. Now I just keep it at home, choosing to commute with TransJakarta, due to the crazy traffic of the Jakarta a.k.a Big Durian.

It was kind of emotional to see the-hiding-place-for-me-to-cry-during-college now got neglected. Yeah, that hiding place is my car. Before my mom opened the door, I walked closely to my car. I could see the flaw in the body. I touched the surface that was no longer smooth, thanks to younger me *sigh*. That moment brought to me my old memories of college time when my mom got upset because of my ‘generous’ actions.

During my sophomore year, my father trusted me with a brand new car to help me doing my activities and so on. But ‘generously’, I lend my car to some friends in need for several times. When my mom knew about it, she cannot believe how easy I can lend precious belonging worth hundreds of million rupiahs to some friends I did not know quite well (I mean, I didn’t know how well they drive a car).

“Kakak, how easy you let other people drive the car papa gave you. You think it’s cheap? You think it’s easy to earn the money?”

Being freeze, her words kept me in silence. She was right, how dare I do that. How dare I carelessly do that?

(Note: it’s not the action of lending car is wrong. It’s the mind that carelessly lend the car is wrong.)

The car was not just a humble Toyota car. It equals my father’s sweat and my father’s health for staying up working at night. That moment, I saw my car from a totally different angle.

Maybe that’s just the way how our brain works. When we’re not aware of the value of the things we have now, it’s almost difficult to take care and to sustain them seriously. This morning, while enjoying the fresh air in the park, I can’t help not to think about the bloody war our ancestors had to go through more than seven decades ago.

The comfortable park I sit in was once not like this. The dead body was all over the place. They were so small and so thin we can see their rib. Seventy years ago, there was a lot of people working their ass off under the commands of a ruthless man. With fully-loaded weapon on the right hand, he would not take any mistake to compromise. One small mistake means you’re out, literally.

Can you imagine? Ah, of course it’s hard to imagine with all the comfort as the air conditioner keeps you from heat and the latest mobile technology keeps you from left behind. Your business runs well with new clients you met, and now you’re busy arranging itinerary for your next long weekend trip due to Independence Day national holiday. I want to congratulate you on your business progress, but the word got stuck in my throat the second I see you throw out a plastic paper with your leftover breakfast through car window.

Googling over pictures of colonialism times just break my heart. I see small people with big heart. I see David in our heroes when they fought against the abusive Goliath and won. These people are the faces of mighty generation that give up their lives so we can be as independent as we want in the country. Now that we can live freely, doesn’t mean we can live freely. The freedom we taste now was once paid by blood and lives. If only you know what that means, you will act differently.

Now I can’t force you to pay attention if you can’t see the value of our land from the very first place. Well actually you can see it everywhere, it’s in the air you breathe every second, it’s in the sun you enjoy every morning, it’s in the money you receive today.