Friday, November 23, 2012

My Dad's Secret Treasure

http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2012/12/03/imo-view-my-dad-s-secret-treasure.html

I stood on tiptoe to reach the top of the old cabinet. My curiosity built up. Was it a brand new pair of shoes, a bag, or a toy? My heart raced just trying to figure it out. I was determined to unlock the mystery. Cautiously, I scanned my surrounding and looked to my right and left. Slowly, I tried to open its door. It would not budge. The effort made me lose my balance, and knock my head on the side of the cabinet. I gulped in pain. As I regained my bearing, my dad stood next to me. His dark eyes imprisoned me. For a brief moment, I was frozen. Panic mixed with guilt seized me.




Then, with a suppressed smile my dad said, “Once you learn how to read, you can open up the treasure!”

He lightly brushed my head, patted my cheek, then added, “Reading can take you to a world of wonder.”



Following my enrollment in elementary school, I studied hard. I was determined to meet the challenge. It was essential to read to acquire an access to the secret treasure. Along the way, I discovered the wonder of letters. Combined, they formed words, sentences, and then meaning. By the end of my first grade, I could read and write. Still, I needed lots of learning to improve my skill. Nevertheless, I was very excited. It meant the day of revelation got closer. I couldn’t wait to see my dad on that very day.



Arriving home, I was so anxious. It was 11.30 a.m, and my mum has just arrived from her work as street vendor. She brought a lunch package for me. Pacing back and forth, I refused to eat. My mum gave me a puckered brow, and silently went to kitchen for cooking. My dad usually finished teaching by 1 p.m. It took half an hour with his old bicycle to reach home. The waiting was excruciating. I kept rereading my Bahasa Indonesia lesson book. In between, I ran some errands for my mum. Still, the clock ticked too slowly. By the time my dad arrived, I was exhausted. I fell asleep on our only bench on the veranda.



It was the following night that I finally learnt the secret. With oil lamps lighting up our small living room, my dad unlocked the top drawer of his old cabinet. My heart skipped a beat as the old wood creaked. A faint light seeped through, and to my amazement, I saw rows of books stashed neatly. I looked at him with a perplexed expression.



A soft smile spread on his face when he said, “This is my treasure, love!”

He lifted me up so I could read the title. “Pick one you like dear!”

I scanned the books, and I pulled “Si Jamin dan Si Johan.”



The book was about the bitter struggle of two brothers, Jamin and Johan, in the hands of their step mother along with drunkard father. From that day onward, my love for reading grew steadily. Books are the window to the world, my father would tell me. And he was right.



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