Is being born a woman a disaster? If so, may I die and be reborn as a man? I asked the wind, rain, night, trees, even ants who were looking for a piece of fortune from God "why should woman?". Of course you haven't forgotten in the Jahiliyah era, newborn girls who were still red were buried alive. Innocent little girls are considered a disgrace and do not deserve to live in the world.
I looked far through passage of time , my consciousness lost with the wind caressing my body. I forgot the last time I cried. Maybe 5 years ago. No, 10 years ago. No, no15 years ago. I don't know, I hate when tears touch my cheeks.
"Fatim, wake up, wake up," my mother's voice echoed in the small hut. "Wake up lazy girl, the sun is high" her scream as if tearing my eardrums.
"Wait a minute mom, I'm still sleepy" I answered with my eyes still closed
"You are not a boy. It's not good for teenage girls to sleep until noon” she continued. For whatever sake I hate that sentence. Are only men able to sleep until noon? Unfortunately I'm not a man.
I woke up after a blow from my mother's hand touched my butt. Yes, just a hand, but it hurted enough to make my sleepiness were gone. I woke up, washed my face and then took a white and blue uniform that was hanging tangled on the wall. That day I planned to go to school to hear the graduation announcement. My heart was pounding, that day was the last day I was in middle school.
At exactly 10 pm, I arrived at school after walking nearly two hours from my home. My school is quite far away, plus the road conditions are quite severe. Don't imagine a school with nice buildings, neat tables and chairs or a school yard full of flowers. You will not find it in my school. The school was only on a dirt floor with broken roofs, so it was not uncommon for us to get overheated and even to rain when we were studying.
"Fatima Azzahra" my name was called loudly through the microphone that often broken. I smiled, I had expected that I would be a student with the best grades in my school. "Come on, headmaster calls your name" it was the voice of Ibrahim, my playmate. I rushed to get a proof of graduation. I proudly thanked and kissed the headmaster's hand.
Ibrahim and I walked in tandem, I carried shoes in my hand. I'm afraid my grandmother's purchase shoes will break if I use on rocky soil. I was willing my feet will blister as long as the shoes are not damaged.
"What do you want to be?" Ibrahim asked suddenly. "Being a man," I answered carelessly. But not completely making it up. " Strange. I’m asking what your goals are, "Ibrahim emphasized. "Free" I replied again "Are you crazy? Answer my question correctly. For example, I want to be a soldier, " he said proudly.
"First I want to be a man, so I can sleep longer in the morning. Secondly, I want to be free from my mother's voice which is like a broken microphone "I tried to explain to Ibrahim. "Strange ideals," he said. We laughed together.
At that time we were reluctant to go home, at the intersection we turned right to the hill that we often visited when we was child, the name Pamali Hill. One of the highest hills in Sambori, my village. When dawn comes, this hill is like a land in the clouds, beautiful. " why if your mother will be angry ?" Ibrahim asked, I had already stepped. "Today is my happy day, I do not want to hear the mother’s name" I replied, then ran fast toward the hill and followed by Ibrahim behind me.
Our sweat poured down when it reached the peak, my shabby uniform became dirty, the smell of sweat filled my smelling. "This place is always beautiful," I said breaking the silence. "Yes," said Ibrahim.
We sat leaning against a tree that was not too high, staring down. Expanse of yellowing rice and green trees always managed to make my heart happy many times. "Where are you after graduating?" I asked the Ibrahim sitting behind me "School, where else?" he answered without thinking "I want to be someone who is like you. You're free to choose, "I began to gloom. "Not really, who said that men can be free to do anything? You must remember, there is a heavy burden on his shoulders. "My father said, men must be smart and good at making a living, as a provision to be a father," he said at length. I paused for a moment.
"One more thing that makes me jealous of you, you have a father. As for me .. "my sentence hung in the air. "You still have a mother, a mother who is tough and loves you," I don't know since when she was sitting beside me. "Does she love me ?, I hate that nonsense," I continued. Honestly, mom was the thing I don't want to discuss the most. Ibrahim just nodded, in response.
"Ibra, I want to see Monas in Jakarta" Ibrahim looked at me after I the sentence. He smiled again. I like the smile, it's soothing. "Go on. Riding with iron bird, " he said. "It would be nice if we go together" I held his hand, he just nodded.
Day changes afternoon, time goes by so fast. We have to stop the chat. I was reluctant to go home, but Ibrahim pulled my hand. Ya, we were forced to go down.
I walked alone to the house, because the direction of my house and Ibrahim is different. I have prepared a thousand reasons to defend myself to mother. I settled into the house, then managed to enter the room. I breathed a sigh of relief. I guess not long ago I lay staring at the wooden wall of my house. Mother entered without permission, pulled my hand so hard. Pain, I thought at that time my hands were bruised because of the clutches of my mother's big hands.
"What time do you think it is?" mother asked, she was angry, her eyes were red. I just shut up. "Where have you been?" I was still silent. "Replied the mother. You're a woman, women should be at home, cooking, washing, cleaning up and ... "" And what? And wait for men to come apply, be wife, or be slave forever. " I didn’'t know where that courage came from, I dared to cut it when my mother spoke. "I've never heard mother say, women should learn to pursue their goals. Have you asked me what I want? Have you asked me what my goals are? or do you really don’t want me to be born in the world ? "
Memories of the past filled my head, the tightness in my chest is present again, who knows since when the tears you tried to weir for decades suddenly discussed my cheeks. Tonight Mother and Ibrahim came through memories of the past that I don't want to remember. Why tonight I miss you so much, I miss Sambori, miss Bima. miss Ibrahim. Do I miss mom too? I don't know, my heart tried hard to brush it aside.
Days continued to pass, the wall clock worn by my grandmother's legacy. After the incident I dared to argue with mother on that day, she was more silent. I like it, she's rarely angry. But I was also confused why she should be angry, I often helped her even though sometimes I have to go home late until the evening because it was fun to play with my friends.
"mommm" I approached her, it seemed like it's been a week she rarely talked to me. " Why?" she asked, without turning from the furnace which was now burning. "I want to go to school" Mother still hasn't looked "School in the city with Ibrahim" My tongue was almost numb to say that.
"Do I have to pay for the school with leaves?" not even if the mother moved from her place. "I will apply for a scholarship, ma'am, yesterday one of the schools from the city came to my school. They said they would ... "I wanted to continue my words, but my mother suddenly interrupted. "Try to see ira, dina, marwah, and almost all teenage girls here, have they ever dreamed of high school?" Mother asked again, this time she had looked into my eyes. I took a breath for a moment "but I will not ask for any money from mom" I tried to convince mother
"A thousand times you ask for school, a thousand times I will refuse" mother's words successful made me freeze on the spot. I have never been disappointed, my brain was hot, wanted to run out of the house. "I know, you want me to be like them, live in ignorance and become a slave to their husbands and children. Unfortunately mom, I was born as a Fatim, not Ira, Dina, Marwah, Salma or other women who are subject to a duping culture. I decided that hating a mother is not a sin.
I arrived at Pamali Hill just as the evening prayer was ringing. And for the first time I cried. I touched my cheek, sure enough it was tears. Mother said the last time I cried when I first entered elementary school, the school refused me because my age was still too young, at that time I was six years old, they said I had to be seven years old to be able to enter elementary school. I thought, why do such ridiculous rules exist.
Maybe since then I want to oppose, at that time every day I went to school, although often I was driven out gently even yelled at. Mother dragged me like a lamb escaped from a group. But I never gave up, finally the school allowed me to enter. That was the first win of my life.
I wiped away the tears that never stopped. I saw a sky that was getting dark, small stars and far away as if waving towards me. "Hey universe, why do I have to be born as a woman? Then why should I be born poor? Then why do you hate my dreams so much? Answer the universe, answer me, or take me as far as possible, I hate everything here ”
"Do you hate me too?" without turning my head, I recognized the voice. The voice I want to always hear. Yes, Ibra or Ibrahim, the san of a rich family in the village. My friend, or even I have long liked him, not as a friend but more than that. He is two years older than me, but late for school. He is my guardian angel every time, when I was bullied by bad boys at school.
"Never," I said, wiping my tears. He was sitting beside me, in the light of the full moon. His face sparkled once tonight. I stared at him for a long time, who knows when my heart started beating twice as fast when I saw his eyes. He is sweet black, her hair is a bit blonde because of frequent sunlight.
"How did you know I’m here?" I asked. "Your mother seems uneasy looking for you, she came to my house but did not find you there," he explained. I could hardly believe that my mother was worried about me, amused to hear that. I just smiled cynically. But if Ibrahim said that, it's very difficult not to believe it. "Come home" Ibrahim has stood up, gave his hand for me to reach. "Give me ten minutes longer with you," I said again, I took his hand and he sat next to me.
"Why 10 minutes? I'm ready until morning to hear your story. But I just don't have the heart for your mother, " ya, he was asking with a confused look on his face. "I'm just afraid, tomorrow I can not see you again" I answered carelessly. Ibrahim put on his confused face. "You think I'm going to die?" he asked again and I replied with a shake.
"No, I'm afraid the universe will distance me from you. It could be that the universe took the rest of happiness of my life, because it is never fair, "I said increasingly obscure.
"If that happens, I will fight the universe. To see your eyes, I will do anything, "he said. Hearing that my heart suddenly warmed up. What I was feeling, like flying to the clouds then skyward picking the stars. It seemed like the best ten minutes of my life.
Morning came, the sun penetrated the wooden wall of my room. I was forced to wake up, I was lazy to hear nagging mother that morning. I washed my face, the aroma of mother's cooking tempting my sense of smell. It seemed like she was cooking delicious dishes, the aroma is foreign and I like it.
Mother arranged the food on our wooden floor, it looked simple but I was sure it was delicious. I'm confused, what event was there? Rarely do my mother cooked this much, that day was not my birthday and even though the day was birthday, she definitely won't want to bother like this.
Mother peeked behind the window, I was increasingly suspicious. Mother must be waiting for someone. I peeked behind my room. Suddenly, some people were heard greeting from outside. My mother invited them in.
I locked the door of my room, a thousand questions in my head. I was confused, my feelings started abysmally. It feels like there will be a big war and I will surely die soon. My sweat is dripping. I called Ibrahim's name many times. I've never been this cool, I just hope my bad thoughts don't really happen.
"Fatim," my mother called out to me, the pounding sound of my mother interrupting my thoughts. "Come out girl, there's something I want to talk about" Mother’s voice sounded again. My heart was racing more and more abysmally, my chest is hot. Bad thoughts I can not set aside. I ventured to come out, mother smiled, it was the sweetest smile she ever showed me.
Firdaus and his family smiled at me. I was unable to return the smile. I just sat next to my mother and mother stroked my long snail.
"Why are Daus and his family here, mom?" I asked with a panicked face. Let me tell you, firdaus was the most famous teenagers in my village, not because of achievements but because of her mischief, he often got drunk and seduced women who pass by on the street. The worst, he had been arrested by the police for stealing a cow on Pamali Hill. He could free because the family is quite rich.
Mother let Firdaus’ father to speak. "Firdaus wants to marry you, Fatim," he said in a calm voice. The bullet had pierced my chest, it felt like the world was so dark even though the sun could still see the light. God, wake me up if this is a dream. I looked at mom, she smiled again. This is the first time I hate smiling mom.
"Sir, what were you talking about? Married?" I stuttered at the last word. And they all nodded. I stood up, they were shocked by my attitude. "What kind of joke is this, mom?" I suddenly laughed like a crazy person.
"Quiet fatim. I married you to Paradise because I want you to be happy, "he said without the slightest guilt. "Happy? Hahahahh, happy? What do you know about me? Since when did you want me to be happy? For the sake of Allah and His Messenger, I know you want to send me to hell. " I let the hand of my mother who was holding my hand and ran out of the house, but someone's hand managed to stop me.
"Poor girl like you dare to reject me?" he smiled sarcastically. "Does a devil like you feel worthy of my side? Get rid of those stupid thoughts from your brain. I am an educated woman, and you are just a street bastard, "I replied no less sharp. Yes slap me hard until I fell to the ground, mother screamed loudly and approached me.
"Stop there, mother" mother frozen in place, then she cried. "By Allah and His Messenger, I didn’t want to see my mother in front of me again. How can you marry a 15-year-old girl to a bastard like him? "I cried uncontrollably until all the villagers gathered.
At that moment, I stared at them all with an unreadable gaze, I hated anyone who first created the tradition of marrying off their daughters. Here, women seem to have no meaning, are oppressed, stupid, and free are only limited to dreams. From then on, I left Sambori with all his cruelty.
Tonight is so cold, my heart froze, my soul floated somewhere. I’m asking, why does life have to be that hard? why do women have to be created in this world? Of all the creatures created by God, it feels like only the women who The weakest
Ibrahim, what are you doing? Do you still remember what I most wanted? Yes, be a man, be free and see Monas. Hey, now I'm staring at Monas from my apartment. Now I'm free, but one, I can never be a man. I'm a girl, Ibrahim. A woman who has a million dreams and who will love you until this pulse stops.
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