The train left with its wonderful noises. The flow of the wind came along and gave such past redolent. The busy people walked back and forth alongside the station brought such a live sensation of life. And there I was, laying my butt on the grass with my ordinary friends. Then, we would go to the high school nearby and play some basketball. Everything was so damn good at that time; its happy thing, its normal tribute and its sad and troubled stuff. I was like a hero for myself. My land gave every simple thought of mine, that’s what I called Tanah Air, the land of water that gives so many good things for her children because she is so prosperous that even people could not imagine, so fertile.
My old people told me about the greatness of my land, how brave and pure are the hero that sacrificed their lives only for these pieces of lands, how noble are the folks that brought a good government. That they struggled to the well-being of this land. My mom, dad, teachers, friends and people used to tell me that. I, then, came to believe that that was all true and I truly absorbed it. That is was.
Then I realized something. That this land is truly fertile, indeed, but I don’t know why my surrounding went so bloody wrong. I was trapped and fooled by my own imagination and the fairytale. My ideal met my real. I got it all wrong and embarrassed at the same time. The party of peace inside me had turned into a mess. It’s just a lucky thing I didn’t lose my mind but I still had those symptoms of that lunatics.
I saw my world in a one-hundred-eighty degree angle. This land is not Tanah Air from the beginning, at least that’s what I thought. It is Tanah Api, the land of fire that is full of misery, full of heat, red alarm, death dealer, nightmare and insomnia, animal human, sadness, poverty, sickness, lies, crimes, and sins, and many other under zero things. That’s all because of the broken people. They caused many wars, visible and invisible. My land had been chewed by these mortals. I hadn’t even had a chance to see the true land that I and others inherited.
I experienced many evil lies conducted by my people. I witnessed a number of bad deeds in my surrounding. I took my insight to the sorrow landed. The nation that full of peace and joy is just utopia, something I just dreamt about every night. For me, my land is a waste now. I wished I could go to the place I should belong, but where? Yet, God still wants to try His human with so many ordeals.
Yes, now and maybe for a long decade, I would call my land Tanah Api.
Someday, I walked in the middle of the rice field. I heard a farmer said to his wife, “Alhamdulillah ya Bu, tanah air kita subur, besok kita bisa panen.”
dfoe, March 10