A Nostalgia of Childhood
Once upon a time in the past, there was a beautiful, little girl. She lived with her grandmother in the middle of jungle. In a shining morning, the grandma told her a story, “My granddaughter, once upon a time, there was a beautiful, little girl like you. She lived with her grandma in the middle of jungle. In a shining morning, the grandma told her a story, “…..
I used to use this tale as an opening when I told a story to the younger children when I was a child. My childhood was probably the most memorable time in my life. My friends said that I was a good story teller. The children used to sit around me enthusiastically when I said, “I have a nice story that I haven’t told you before.”
At the first time I created the “grandma-story” they laughed together loudly. At the second time, they still laughed. After several times, they didn’t laugh any more. Instead, they smiled. However, It still made me happy. I knew they enjoyed the story I was telling.
When we were children, our family had no television. The only entertainment was playing in group and creating games on ourselves.
We lived in an underdeveloped, isolated, small village in East Java. Going to school was a real entertainment for us. The teachers never gave us homework. After the class, we used to go the mosque for praying. When the prayer finished, we used to go to a corner right beside a huge, old, dark brown, wood pillar. At this place, I did story telling. “Once upon a time, ….
Most of our parents were illiterate. My parents were not excepted. Finishing elementary school, we were separated to enter different junior high schools. Because of poverty, most of us only finished junior or senior high school.
I was in luck. Although we were poor, my family had awareness of education. They sold everything they had provided that I could complete the university degree. Thanks, Mother, Father, Brothers, Sisters!
And the globe continued to rotate. I left my lovely village whereas most of my friends still lived there as farmers. Some of us left the village to Surabaya, Jakarta, and Malaysia looking for job for living. Almost all of them had got married and got several children.
And several days ago, I met one of childhood friend whom I used to tell story. This time, I didn’t tell him a story. Instead, he told me a shocking news. A friend of ours did something against the law, and police was looking for him. I could say nothing to hear. “Everyone of us has written his own story. I still remember how you told me story. When we played together, I never imagined what we would be in the future,” he said.
I didn’t so, Friend!
If I could imagine what would happen, I would say, “Once upon a time in the future there is a wise King. His name is Mohammad Sholahuddin….. [PPB UI, GE 7]