http://www2.thejakartapost.com/news/2013/01/07/imo-view-ring-out-old-bring-new.html
Time has elapsed quickly. The New Year is fast approaching. Within the next couple of hours, we will be welcoming 2013. People will look for a fabulous way to kick off the New Year's Eve. Jakarta is gearing up for variety of celebrations including fireworks and entertainment throughout the city to accommodate the needs.
Some people celebrate the New Year with a stay at the hotel, villa or particular inn with family and relatives. Some people get dressed up and dance the night away at a party or club. Many people however will flock the streets heading to countdown craze spots around the city's landmarks to watch the firework shows. Some choose to stay in home during this buzzing time of the year, doing contemplative prayer or planning to make new year's resolution.
As for me, I prefer to avoid being stuck in a gridlock of the horrendous roads in Jakarta, which will be even more chaotic than usual on that eve. Not to mention the torment of staying alert from pickpockets grabbing your phone, wallet or bag in overcrowded areas. I rather see the firework shows from my window lighted by my good neighbors! It's more convenient, safer, and cheaper!
For that reason, a few hours before such pandemonium took place, I hurriedly paid my novels and left the bookstore. I planned to spend the last night of the year to read while seeing the firecrackers. I hailed an angkot (public minivan) heading to Depok terminal. I rushed off by the time it arrived at the station. I heard trumpets blaring, like squeaking ducks! Firecrackers lit up with such noises!The deluge rage had began! I sped up my strides!
As I headed for the location of the next angkot for my residence, my eyes caught a sight of a lanky boy of eight walking sloppily. A plastic band neatly tucked rows of trumpets on his thin shoulders. A faint drizzle greeted the earth. He walked faster. Then, I remembered my elder brother had asked me earlier to buy a trumpet for my six years old nephew. I caught up my speed with the boy. I tapped his back lightly to stop him.
Old habit died hard. All of a sudden, I was talking with him, digging more information about him. He lived with his parents in a nearby kampung (village) near the station. His name was Muhammad Fatahillah with a nickname of Toya. This was his first time to sell trumpets for the New Year. Usually, he ran errands to get extra money from ojek payung (renting an umbrella during the rain) to shoe polishing. He told me he was in his second grade. His father was a becak (a three wheelers bicycle) driver while his mum was a full time housewife. He had an elder brother of twelve and two younger brothers of five and three.
Asked further whether his parents made him work on street, he shook his head.
"NO, they don't ask me to work! I just wanna help my parents."
I smiled at him. There was a lump in my heart. I brushed off his matted hair and signaled him to stop. We had to cross the railway. We dashed in a hurry once we saw no trains passing by.
"What is your wish for the new year?" I asked cautiously.
His face went blank for a fleeting moment.
"I don't know. I just want to get as much money tonight to bring home!"
It was like a dagger to the heart. Amid the merry and grand celebration of the approaching new year, here was an innocent little boy carried a great burden over his shoulders. It was a stark contrast of reality. Old or new, past or present, we will keep meeting many young Toya roaming on the streets.
I sincerely pray that despite the odds, these children will survive the day. They can be whoever they wanna be so long they keep their dream alive and fight for it.
Happy New Year Toya! May all the best things come to your way always!
Time has elapsed quickly. The New Year is fast approaching. Within the next couple of hours, we will be welcoming 2013. People will look for a fabulous way to kick off the New Year's Eve. Jakarta is gearing up for variety of celebrations including fireworks and entertainment throughout the city to accommodate the needs.
Some people celebrate the New Year with a stay at the hotel, villa or particular inn with family and relatives. Some people get dressed up and dance the night away at a party or club. Many people however will flock the streets heading to countdown craze spots around the city's landmarks to watch the firework shows. Some choose to stay in home during this buzzing time of the year, doing contemplative prayer or planning to make new year's resolution.
As for me, I prefer to avoid being stuck in a gridlock of the horrendous roads in Jakarta, which will be even more chaotic than usual on that eve. Not to mention the torment of staying alert from pickpockets grabbing your phone, wallet or bag in overcrowded areas. I rather see the firework shows from my window lighted by my good neighbors! It's more convenient, safer, and cheaper!
For that reason, a few hours before such pandemonium took place, I hurriedly paid my novels and left the bookstore. I planned to spend the last night of the year to read while seeing the firecrackers. I hailed an angkot (public minivan) heading to Depok terminal. I rushed off by the time it arrived at the station. I heard trumpets blaring, like squeaking ducks! Firecrackers lit up with such noises!The deluge rage had began! I sped up my strides!
As I headed for the location of the next angkot for my residence, my eyes caught a sight of a lanky boy of eight walking sloppily. A plastic band neatly tucked rows of trumpets on his thin shoulders. A faint drizzle greeted the earth. He walked faster. Then, I remembered my elder brother had asked me earlier to buy a trumpet for my six years old nephew. I caught up my speed with the boy. I tapped his back lightly to stop him.
Old habit died hard. All of a sudden, I was talking with him, digging more information about him. He lived with his parents in a nearby kampung (village) near the station. His name was Muhammad Fatahillah with a nickname of Toya. This was his first time to sell trumpets for the New Year. Usually, he ran errands to get extra money from ojek payung (renting an umbrella during the rain) to shoe polishing. He told me he was in his second grade. His father was a becak (a three wheelers bicycle) driver while his mum was a full time housewife. He had an elder brother of twelve and two younger brothers of five and three.
Asked further whether his parents made him work on street, he shook his head.
"NO, they don't ask me to work! I just wanna help my parents."
I smiled at him. There was a lump in my heart. I brushed off his matted hair and signaled him to stop. We had to cross the railway. We dashed in a hurry once we saw no trains passing by.
"What is your wish for the new year?" I asked cautiously.
His face went blank for a fleeting moment.
"I don't know. I just want to get as much money tonight to bring home!"
It was like a dagger to the heart. Amid the merry and grand celebration of the approaching new year, here was an innocent little boy carried a great burden over his shoulders. It was a stark contrast of reality. Old or new, past or present, we will keep meeting many young Toya roaming on the streets.
I sincerely pray that despite the odds, these children will survive the day. They can be whoever they wanna be so long they keep their dream alive and fight for it.
Happy New Year Toya! May all the best things come to your way always!
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