In the Wake of a Dawn Prayer 
by Awi Chin

Translated from Indonesian into English by Sebastian Partogi

It was the brink of dawn when I had just finished my prayers, and once again, my faith was being put to the test. 

The coldness of the air pierced my skin. Upon finishing my ablution, I find that my drowsiness would vanish upon feeling the water and the morning air. I laid my prayer mat towards the kiblat. For a moment, I froze. My mind blanked. I tapped my cheek gently, trying to return to focus, and start to pray. 

For no obvious reasons, my late mother’s face suddenly flashed through my mind as I was praying. I could no longer pray solemnly. Once again, I tried to return my focus so I could perform my dawn prayers in full tranquility. But, my cell phone suddenly rang. I ignored the call, yet every time the cell phone stopped ringing, it would ring once again. I continued to recite subhanallah, alhamdulillah, allahu akbar, Al Ikhlas, Al Falaq and An Naas, as well as the kursi verses, while my phone continued to ring. 

Laa ilaaha illall ahu wahdahuu laa syariikalahu. Lahul mulku walahul hamdu wa huwa alaa kulli syaiin qodiir. Allahumma laa maa ni'a limaa a'thoita. Wa laa mu'thiya limaa mana'ta. Wa laayanfa'u odzaljaddi minkaljaddu. 

Without hurrying to check my phone, I took a long, deep breath. I was seeking tranquility in the cool morning air. Once again, my cell phone rang. Slowly, I stood up and folded my prayer mat. It wasn’t until then that I finally picked up my phone and saw my younger sister’s name flashing on the screen. It was too early for her to call me and it has been too long since the last time we’d talked. I was filled with worry as I picked up the phone. 

“Assalam…” 

“Ko Yus…” she said, interrupting me. “Dad passed away”. 

I remembered the first few months when I had just set my alarm to wake me at dawn so I could perform my prayers. How I had to endure the piercingly cold water for my ablution. Back then, it was not enough to keep my drowsiness at bay when I prayed. It wasn’t enough to keep me from falling asleep. 

After six months of struggle, trying to find peace while the sun is still asleep, I felt that Allah was telling me that it is in these moments, just before the sun appears from its lair, that I will find tranquility. When the sun slowly makes its way through my bedroom window, when a new form of hope presents itself to me. 

It was different this time. After Mei-mei hung up, still sobbing uncontrollably, I opened my bedroom curtain. From afar, I saw a ray of light. I felt the cool morning air stroking my skin, as if it was expressing its condolences. The prodigal son. The orphan. 

I picked up the phone again and dialled a number. On the fourth ring, that call was connected. 

“Hello,” I said softly. 

“Hey. Did you just finish shalat?” 

“Yes. Have you slept yet or did I wake you?” 

“I’m just about ready to go to sleep. I was about to say goedenacht.” 

A brief silence fell when I heard Vinnie’s voice, “Babe, are you okay?” Vinnie asked me in English. 

“My dad died,” I replied, also in English, despite my intention to break this news to Vinnie in a much gentler way. 

“Innalilahi wa innalilahi rojiun. I’m so sorry, Babe,” He said in English. I can hear the nervousness in his voice, as he tried to steady himself. “Are you alright? Do you need something?” 

“It’s alright, Vi. I just need time to think”. 

“Will you return back home?” 

“No idea. Do you think I should come home?” 

“That’s your choice. But if I were you, I’d come home.” 

I could hear the sparrows outside my bedroom window. Vinnie was almost out of words. And then he said, from 11,000 kilometres away: “Maybe you haven’t forgiven him yet. Despite everything, he is still your father. And Mei-Mei is all alone there..” 

“Yes, I know…” I said, full of bitterness. “Let me take care of some things while I look for tickets.” 

“Please let me know if you need anything.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sending you a big hug from here.” 

“It’s okay. I love you, babe,” I replied in English. 

“I love you.” 

The sun hadn’t fully revealed itself in the Eastern horizon when we hung up. Filled with the same bitterness, I called my younger sister and let her know that after all these years, her older brother would finally come home. At the end, it was death that returned me to my family. 

Three years ago, my father threw me out of the house, the evening after the kua ci funeral prayer. I had never been home since then. 

As usual, after I migrated to Jakarta and settled there, I only made time to come home to pray by my mother’s grave. That evening, we had was the most nerve-wrecking dinner I had ever had. My father 

That night’s dinner with my father might as well have been the most nerve-wracking dinner I’d had in my life. We had barely started, when I realised that my father was looking at me in contempt. Once again, I did not help myself to the tun nyuk pork dish. I didn’t even touch the chicken, which had been marinated in Chinese liquor. Instead, I fried an egg and brought it to the dining table. My father placed a slice of pork on my plate. Meanwhile, Mei-Mei, watched me in confusion. 

“Eat,” my father commanded. 

I shook my head. 

“Why? Isn’t this your favourite meal?” 

“I also like fried egg with soy sauce.” 

“Why won’t you eat tun nyuk?” 

“It’s haram, Dad,” I replied softly. 

Dad looked at me in bewilderment, then exchanged looks with my little sister. “What the hell is this nonsense?” 

“Dad…” I held my breath for a moment as I tried to regain my strength. “I’ve converted.” 

“What do you mean!” 

“Yusuf converted to Islam. Yusuf is a Muslim now”. 

There was a long silence at the dining table.We could hear the sound of grasshoppers outside, breaking the silence of the evening. 

“Over my dead body!” my father exclaimed loudly, “you eat that pork now.” 

“I can’t, Dad!” 

“EAT!” my father screamed as he slammed the table, clattering the plates and startling my little sister. 

“Dad…, forgive me,” I pleaded desperately. “but this is the path that Yusuf has taken.” 

“This is all because of Vinnie, correct?” he accused. 

“No. I didn’t convert for anyone. I converted for Allah.” 

“Allah, not Allah,” my father corrected my pronunciation. 

I noticed Mei-Mei weeping in front of me. She wiped her tears gently. 

“You’re my only son. You ought to be able to serve as a great example for your little sister. After Vinnie, now this! Your mother will weep when she looks at you from up there. What happens when you die? Then we’ll all be in different heavens.” 

I knew how stubborn my father was, so I took my plate and stood up. His final words still remained in my mind. 

Leave at once. You will never set your foot in this house again. You’ are not my son. 

“Dad!” Mei-Mei cried out. 

“It’s your choice. Either Vinnie and Allah, or your family. But remember, once you leave this house, you’re no longer a part of this family.” 

“Ko Yus, Dad, please.” Mei-Mei sobbed. 

“No matter what I do, you will never accept me as I am. Right?” 

“Do you think they will be able to accept you as you are?” 

Dad interrupted. I tried to hold myself back, so that he would not hear my voice crack or witness my tears fall. Still, my vision began to blur. “I’m sorry I can’t be the son you want me to be.” 

Foolishly, I returned to the kitchen, threw away my food, and washed my plate. When I was finished, I left. Mei-Mei desperately tried to convince me to stay. She said that Dad was merely overreacting, that it was just temporary. That maybe, he would change his mind. But I knew who Dad was. I had already spent 27 years living with him. That night, I returned to Jakarta. Returned to Vinnie’s embrace. 

The next day, I went to the mosque. After reciting syahadat, I cried. As if I’d found a home in His presence. Since then, I tried my best to be a devout Muslim. From that moment, I could no longer bear the sight of a plate of fried egg with soy sauce.  

It was as if time did not give me a chance to grieve. I notified my employer that I would be on leave, purchased tickets home, as I tried to locate the fastest PCR test lab. The moment everything was done, reality struck. 

I’m an orphan now. 

Tears streamed down my face with hesistance. I dragged my small suitcase to the bathroom. In the airport bathroom stall I started to weep soundlessly. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so egotistical. Maybe I should’ve called my father and asked how he was. 

Dad had a stroke and fell in the bathroom. 

I could still hear Mei-Mei’s voice clearly in my mind. The two of us still regularly shared our stories over the phone. On several occasions, I knew that Dad was standing behind Mei-Mei’s back. Yet, he refused to talk every time Mei-Mei handed him the phone. This gesture merely intensified my heartache. And now, my heartache has turned into deep sorrow. 

Vinnie called me one more time. We talked briefly, while I sat in the bathroom stall. We hung up after I convinced Vinnie that I was doing okay. Vinnie even offered to return to the Netherlands so that we could be together and ease my sorrow. But I declined, telling him that my father would be buried tomorrow morning. 

I could feel my tears subsiding and my eyes starting to swell once I sat on the airplane. I could see the runway fading from view as the airplane propelled skyward. We were flying home. I wondered: would this airplane be able to fly high enough to take me to where Mom and Dad now reside? 

One of my cousins came to pick me up at Supadio airport in West Kalimantan. I greeted him uncomfortably, although he was happy to see me. Within the first hour of our trip, he asked me about my life in Jakarta. I spent the remaining hour of the trip with a short nap, dreaming a dream which seemed to have no end, no meaning. 

My cousin didn’t take me home, but instead drove us straight to the mourning house. There was a storm of emotions within me, and I was frozen on the passenger’s seat. My cousin told me it was time. I took a deep breath before I opened the door, feeling the air that smelled different than the air in Jakarta. I could feel my cousin’s hand on my back, trying to give me strength so I would have the power to walk forward. In front of the entrance, I saw Mei-Mei, and we locked eyes. I felt the deep sorrow in her red eyes. She called to me, sobbing. I embraced her. Her body felt so small. 

“Ko Yus…,Dad’s gone....” 

From behind her shoulder, I gazed toward the coffin inside the mourning house. I saw my relatives standing inside, some of them watching me with a sharp, cynical gaze. I released Mei-Mei from my embrace and walked inside the room. Looking at the coffin where my Dad was laid. 

Was it really my father’s face? His face was swollen and pale. Was I cursed to eternally remember him in this state for the rest of my life? I walked toward him. Touching his cheeks, which felt stiff and cold and lifeless.  Innalilahi wa innalilahi rojiun,  verily we belong to God and verily to him do we return, I whispered repeatedly in my heart. 

As if I was a tiny newborn babe which had just been brought to this world. 

The evening was late when Mei-Mei approached me. I was sitting on a plastic chair in front of the mourning house. We did not talk much the whole day. She had to greet the mourners who came, while I retreated to a chair placed right beside the coffin and sat there all day long. None of my aunts and uncles from my father’s side – whom we called kuku and khiew-khiew – greeted me at all. I even heard one of them remark about how my father had died because of me. 

“Sit pau mang, Ko?” Have you eaten, older brother? My sister asked me. 

I shook my head. “Ngai an pau.” 

She handed me a lunch box. I took it and opened, though I didn’t have an appetite. A portion of luscious-looking noodle. All of a sudden, my stomach started to rumble. I did not eat the noodle straight away. Mei-Mei looked at me carefully, “Ke nyuk, eme cu nyuk.” Chicken meat, not pork, she said. 

“Kamsia,” I thanked her. 

“How’s work, Ko?” 

“Everything’s fine. How’s your work?” 

She looked at me closely, “Tommy said he’d like to propose to me.” 

“Did you tell Dad?” 

She shook her head. 

“Are you sure you want to be with him?” 

“Mei-Mei has been in a relationship with him for two years,” she said. We had a habit of using second-person when talking about ourselves. 

“Don’t worry, koko will be your guardian.” 

I ate the noodle with relish. She did not carry on with her story, but had the same look on her face, “What’s wrong with you?” I asked. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m marrying before you.” 

“Of course I don’t mind. Have I ever forbid you from getting married? You know that it’s impossible for me to ever get married.” 

She fell silent for a moment, “But Mei-Mei’s wedding ceremony will be in a church.” 

“Don’t worry, I will come.” 

“We’ll have a ceremony for Dad tomorrow morning. Will you be able to join us?” 

It was my turn to fall silent. I couldn’t answer her question straight away. All of a sudden Mei-Mei blew her nose and covered her eyes with her hands. 

“Ko Yus… You know that Mei-Mei loves you, right?” 

I put my lunch box down and started to embrace my little sister. 

“What will happen if Dad and Mom are waiting for you in Heaven, but you go to a different Heaven?” 

She started to break down. I was exhausted from crying. I stroked her shoulder gently, hoping it would make her sorrow disappear, float away to God knows where. The evening wind arrived, as if it wanted to taking my sister’s grief away from this mourning house. 

“I don’t care what people say about you. I still love you, my koko, my older brother.” 

“Maybe it’s true what other kuku said, Mei-Mei. Maybe Dad died because he was carrying the weight of my sins.” 

“Don’t think that way. Death is a part of fate. Remember what Dad told us when Mom died. In Jesus’ name, Death is a blessing.” 

“Mei-Mei misses Mom very much. When Mei-Mei gets married, Mom and Dad won’t be there.” 

I embraced her once again. “Once you and Tommy are married. The two of you can own the house.” 

“Will you promise me one thing?” 

“What’s that?” 

“Next year koko must return here frequently.” 

I crossed my fingers. “Promise!” 

“Will you take Koko Vinnie with you?” 

I looked closely at her face. I saw a glimpse of sincerity in her eyes. We rarely talked about Vinnie. I had no idea why but once again, my vision started to blur. Once again, I started to cry. I was aware that finally Mei-Mei, the last living family member that I had, had accepted me for who I was 

“Koko promise,”  

Dawn had arrived once more. I thought of how much my life had changed within just the last 24 hours: I had traveled 800 kilometers away and my fate, at the same time, had turned 180 degrees. 

I was sitting, in deep contemplation in front of the room, where my late father was being put to rest. Watching the sun slowly awaken from its sleep. Mei-Mei, who had come home last night, returned to the mourning house again. She asked me to come home and bathe. I took my bag and returned home, accompanied by one of my cousins. 

It had been years since the last time I returned. I saw the flowers representing the eight gods placed on top of an array of pots arranged neatly on the front porch of my house. I came inside and looked at my family photo placed in the guest room. A picture of Jesus Christ and a Cross ornament. I felt a yearning beating violently in my heart as I opened my bedroom door. Nothing had changed. I placed my bag inside and took a bath. 

After I had bathed, I called Vinnie. I wanted to let him know that my father would be buried today. Hearing his voice made me want to bury myself in his chest. We talked for a few minutes before my cousin knocked on my door, asking me to return to the mourning house. 

Een route to the mourning house, I asked him to take a little detour. My cousin did not say no. He took me to a graveyard. I felt how much the place had changed. As far as my memory went, I did not recall seeing plenty of bongpay tombstones here. Now, there were bongpay tombstones everywhere, like umbi-umbian that grew across the graveyard, nourished by the bodies buried on earth. 

I walked closer to a tombstone. Besides the grave, there was a hole, newly dug, ready for another soul. My cousin told me that the lot had been reserved for my father’s final resting place. I saw the tombstone bearing my mother’s name next to the new hole. Many years ago, my father had already purchased this tiny plot of land so the two of them could be buried next to each other. A couple lying beneath a cross, amongst the bongpay tombstones. 

Your Dad is highly indebted to the priest who saved his life, my mother told me once. It was 1967. My father’s family was accused as being communists, and was being hunted. The priest of a church took them into safe harbour, and converted them into a devout, a highly devout, Christian family. It took a long time for my father to accept Vinnie in my life. He didn’t have enough time to accept that his son had chosen another faith. That his son had chosen another God. 

My cousin told me it was time to leave. Mei-Mei had just called him and said that the priest had already arrived in the mourning house. My heart suddenly became heavy with anxiety. Once I arrived, Mei-Mei approached me and introduced me to the Priest. I shook his hands and I thanked him. While they were preparing the farewell prayer, I retreated to the corner of the room. I was haunted by questions whether we would go to different heaven. Finally, with anxiety, I stepped out of the room. 

My family members came into the mourning chamber, while I stayed in the front yard. Mei-Mei approached me and touched my arm, with concern, “Ko Yus, will you join us in prayer?” 

Sabur Limbur 

Subuh itu ketika shalatku selesai, keislamanku kembali diuji. 

Hawa dingin terasa menusuk kulitku. Apalagi setelah melakukan wudhu, air dan udara pagi adalah kombinasi terbaik untuk mengusir kantukku. Kubentangkan sajadahku menghadap kiblat. Tapi tiba-tiba saja aku terdiam. Melamun untuk beberapa saat. Aku menepuk pipiku pelan,  berusaha untuk mengembalikan konsentrasiku dan mulai menjalankan shalat. 

Entah mengapa wajah almarhumah mama terlintas dalam doaku. Seakan-akan aku tidak lagi khusyuk dalam menjalankan shalat. Aku mencoba mengembalikan konsentrasiku agar bisa menunaikan shalat subuhku dengan tenang. Tapi tiba-tiba saja ponselku berdering. Aku membiarkan panggilan itu, tapi saat satu deringan selesai, deringan yang lain muncul. Aku tetap membaca subhanallah, alhamdulillah, allahu akbar, Al Ikhlas, Al Falaq, dan An Naas, serta ayat kursi sampai selesai dengan diiringi ringtone dari ponselku. 

Laa ilaaha illallahu wahdahuu laa syariikalahu. Lahul mulku walahul hamdu wa huwa alaa kulli syaiin qodiir. Allahumma laa maa ni'a limaa a'thoita. Wa laa mu'thiya limaa mana'ta. Wa laayanfa'u dzaljaddi minkaljaddu. 

Tanpa terburu-buru aku mengambil nafas panjang. Mencari ketenangan di udara pagi yang sejuk ini. Lagi-lagi ponselku berdering. Perlahan aku berdiri dan melipat sajadahku. Akhirnya barulah aku mengambil ponselku dan melihat nama adikku terpampang di layar. Ini terlalu pagi untuknya menelpon, terlalu pagi dan terlampau lama semenjak kami terakhir berbicara. Dengan perasaan tidak enak aku mengangkat telepon itu. 

“Assalam…,” 

“Ko Yus…,” ia memotong salamku. “Papa barusan meninggal.” 

Aku mengingat bulan-bulan awal aku menyetel alarm agar terbangun setiap subuh demi menjalankan shalatku. Bagaimana aku menahan air dingin menyiram mukaku saat mengambil wudhu. Bahkan itu saja tidak cukup untuk menghalau kantukku saat aku menjalankan ibadah. Tidak cukup pula untuk menahanku kembali tertidur. 

Tapi enam bulan setelah aku berusaha menemukan ketenangan di waktu matahari masih tertidur, Allah seakan-akan memberitahuku bahwa saat-saat matahari terbangun dari peraduannya adalah saat paling syahdu. Ketika cahaya matahari perlahan-lahan masuk ke jendela kamarku. Seakan-akan memberitahu bahwa dengan sinar yang dibawa sang fajar, harapan baru pun semakin menyingsing. 

Saat itu lain. Setelah Mei-mei menutup telponnya, masih dengan tangis tak terbendung, aku membuka gorden kamarku. Dari kejauhan kulihat setitik sinar. Udara pagi yang sejuk terasa membelai kulitku, seakan-akan turut mengucapkan duka cita kepadaku. Si anak rantau terbuang yang sekarang resmi menjadi yatim piatu. 

Kuambil kembali telpon dan menelpon seseorang. Pada deringan keempat telpon itu tersambung. 

“Halo,” sapaku pelan. 

“Hei. Kamu habis shalat ya?” 

“Iya. Kamu udah tidur atau terbangun gara-gara aku?” 

“Aku baru mau tidur. Tadi baru mau ucapin goedenacht.” 

Ada keheningan sesaat ketika aku mendengar suara Vinnie, “Babe, are you okay?” 

“My dad died,” ujarku tanpa basa-basi. Padahal tadinya aku ingin mengabarkan berita ini kepada Vinnie dengan cara yang lebih halus. 

“Innalilahi wa innalilahi rojiun. I’m so sorry, Babe,” Vinnie terdengar panik sesaat sebelum ia mencoba mengembalikan ketenangan dalam suaranya, “kamu gak apa-apa? Kamu butuh sesuatu?” 

“Gak apa-apa, Vi. Aku butuh waktu aja dulu buat mikir.” 

“Kamu akan balik?” 

“Gak tahu. Menurutmu aku harus balik?” 

“Itu pilihan kamu. Tapi kalau aku jadi kamu, aku akan balik.” 

Suara burung gereja mulai terdengar di depan jendela kamarku. Tidak tahu harus berkata apa, Vinnie lagi-lagi bersuara sebelas ribu kilometer jauhnya, “Mungkin kamu belum memaafkan dia. Tapi bagaimana pun juga dia papa kamu. Mei-mei juga pasti sendiri kan di sana.” 

“Iya, aku tahu…,” ujarku penuh kegetiran. “Aku izin beres-beres sebentar ya. Sekalian ngecek tiket.” 

“Kalau kamu butuh apa-apa tolong kasih tahu aku.” 

“Oke.” 

“Aku benar-benar turut berduka cita ya. I’m sending you a big hug from here.” 

“It’s okay. I love you babe.” 

“I love you.” 

Matahari sudah benar-benar terlihat di ufuk timur saat aku mematikan hubungan telpon dengan Vinnie. Masih dengan kegetiran yang sama aku menelpon adikku, mengabarkan kalau kokonya akan pulang setelah bertahun-tahun tidak melakukannya. Pada akhirnya butuh sebuah kematianlah yang membuatku kembali ke keluargaku lagi. 

Tiga tahun lalu setelah menjalankan kua ci, malamnya aku diusir oleh papaku dan tidak pernah kembali lagi. 

Seperti biasa setelah merantau dan tinggal di Jakarta aku hanya menyempatkan diri untuk pulang saat sembahyang kubur mamaku. Makan malam itu bisa jadi makan malam paling menegangkan dalam hidupku. Papa sudah melihatku dengan tatapan menyidak. Karena lagi-lagi aku tidak mengambil tun nyuk sama sekali, bahkan tidak juga mengambil ayam rebus arak. Alih-alih aku menggoreng telur lantas membawanya ke meja makan. Papa tiba-tiba saja menyendok sekerat daging babi di piringku. Sementara itu Mei-Mei melihatku dengan heran. 

“Makan,” titah papaku. 

Aku menggeleng kepadanya. 

“Kenapa? Itu kan makanan kesukaan kamu?” 

“Telur kecap juga makanan kesukaan Yusuf.” 

“Kenapa memangnya kalau kamu makan tun nyuk?” 

“Haram, Pa,” jawabku dengan pelan. 

Papa menatapku dengan heran, kemudian berbagi pandang dengan adikku, “Maksudnya apa?” 

“Pa…,” aku menghela nafas perlahan. Mencoba mengumpulkan kekuatanku. “Yusuf udah pindah agama.” 

“Maksud kamu apa!” 

“Yusuf pindah agama masuk Islam. Yusuf muslim sekarang.” 

Ada keheningan panjang di meja makanku. Sampai-sampai dapat kudengar suara jangkrik di luar sana. Memecah keheningan malam. 

“Gak boleh!” kata papaku dengan tegas, “kamu makan babi itu sekarang.” 

“Yusuf gak bisa, Pa!” 

“MAKAN!” teriak papaku sambil menggebrak meja. Membuat adikku tersentak kaget dan semua piring di meja makan turut berdenting kaget. 

“Pa…, maafin Yusuf,” ujarku penuh permohonan. “tapi ini jalan yang sudah Yusuf ambil.” 

“Ini semua gara-gara Vinnie ya?” tuduhnya. 

“Bukan. Yusuf pindah ke Islam bukan karena siapa-siapa. Yusuf pindah karena Allah semata.” 

“Allah, bukan Allah.” 

Kulihat Mei-Mei sudah menangis di depanku. Ia mengusap air matanya perlahan. 

“Kamu itu anak laki-laki papa satu-satunya. Harusnya kamu jadi contoh yang baik untuk adikmu. Setelah Vinnie, sekarang ini! Mama kamu bisa menangis nanti melihat kamu di atas sana. Bagaimana kalau kamu mati nanti, Yusuf! Surga kamu dan keluargamu berbeda.” 

Paham dengan kerasnya kepala papa, aku berdiri sambil membawa piringku. Tapi kata-kata terakhirnya masih membekas di kepalaku, “Pergi kamu. Jangan lagi menginjakkan kaki di rumah ini lagi. Kamu bukan anak papa.” 

“Papa!” jerit Mei-Mei dalam tangisnya. 

“Kamu silahkan pilih. Vinnie beserta Allahmu itu atau keluargamu di sini. Tapi kamu ingat begitu kamu keluar dari rumah ini, kamu bukan bagian dari keluarga ini lagi.” 

“Ko Yus, papa, jangan keras kepala begitu,” isak Mei-Mei. 

“Mau bagaimana pun juga papa memang gak akan pernah menerima Yusuf apa adanya kan…,” 

“Memang kamu pikir mereka bisa menerima kamu apa adanya?” 

Papa memotong perkataanku. setengah mati aku berusaha menahan agar suaraku tidak pecah atau pun jatuh air mataku. Tapi tetap saja pandanganku mulai mengabur. “Maaf Yusuf belum bisa menjadi anak yang papa inginkan.” 

Dengan bodohnya aku kembali ke dapur, membuang makananku lantas mencuci piring. Setelah itu barulah aku benar-benar pergi dari rumah. Mei-Mei berusaha setengah mati membujukku. Berkata bahwa papa hanya emosi sesaat dan mungkin akan merubah pikirannya. Tapi aku tahu siapa papa. Dua puluh tujuh tahun kuhabiskan untuk hidup dengannya. Malam itu aku kembali ke Jakarta. Kembali ke pelukan Vinnie. Besoknya aku pergi ke masjid. Setelah dua kalimat syahadat aku menangis. Seakan-akan menemukan rumah di hadapan-Nya. Semenjak saat itulah aku berusaha menjadi Islam yang taat. 

Sejak saat itu jualah aku tidak bisa lagi melihat telur kecap dengan cara yang sama. 

Waktu seakan-akan tidak memberiku kesempatan untuk menangis. Aku harus ijin ke kantor, membeli tiket serta mencari tes PCR tercepat yang bisa kutemukan. Lewat tengah hari aku sudah menerima hasil tesku. Barulah saat aku tidak lagi dilanda huru-hara, kenyataan itu kembali menghantuiku. 

Aku yatim piatu sekarang. 

Air mataku entah mengapa mulai mengalir malu-malu. Aku menggeret koper kecilku ke dalam kamar kecil. Di dalam satu biliknya aku menangis tanpa suara. Sambil berpikir seharusnya aku berusaha lebih keras melawan egoku agar ia melunak. Sehingga aku menelpon papa dan menanyakan kabarnya. 

Papa kena stroke terus kepleset di kamar mandi. 

Suara Mei-Mei terdengar jelas di dalam kepalaku. Kami berdua masih sering berbagi cerita dalam telpon. Dalam beberapa kesempatan papa ada di belakang Mei-Mei. Namun ia menolak jika Mei-Mei menyodorkan telpon kepadanya. Membuat rasa sakit hatiku semakin menumpuk.  Dan sekarang rasa sakit hatiku berubah menjadi kesedihan yang mendalam. 

Vinnie menelponku lagi. Aku berbincang sejenak, mengingat aku masih berada di bilik kamar mandi. Ia menutup telponnya setelah meyakinkan dirinya bahwa aku baik-baik. Vinnie bahkan berkata bahwa ia akan mencari penerbangan dari Belanda ke Indonesia agar bisa menemaniku. Tapi aku menolak dengan alasan papa akan dikuburkan besok pagi. 

Dapat kurasakan mataku sembab dan kering saat aku sudah duduk di bangku pesawat. Kulihat landasan pacu semakin menjauh saat udara melaju. Kami pun mulai terbang dalam pesawat yang membawaku pulang. Mau tak mau aku pun bertanya-tanya apakah pesawat ini dapat terbang sedemikian tinggi sampai aku bisa bertemu dengan mama dan papa? 

Salah satu sepupuku datang menjemput di Bandara Supadio. Aku menyapanya dengan canggung sementara ia terlihat senang sekali saat menjemputku. Dalam satu jam perjalanan pertama ia menanyakan kabarku di Jakarta. Sama sekali ia tidak menyinggung soal keislamanku. Satu jam sisa perjalanan kuhabiskan dalam tidur singkat dengan mimpi aneh yang seperti tak berujung dan berarti. 

Aku tidak diantar ke rumahku melainkan langsung menuju rumah duka. Dengan perasaan tak karuan aku bergeming di bangku penumpang. Sepupuku mengajakku turun dari mobil. Kuhela nafas panjang sebelum membuka pintu, merasakan udara yang tercium beda dari yang sering kurasakan di Jakarta. Tangan sepupuku terasa mengelus punggungku, seakan-akan mencoba memberi kekuatan agar aku melangkah. Di depan pintu ruang duka Mei-Mei berdiri, mata kami bertubrukan. Kulihat kesedihan mendalam tampak mengurat merah di matanya. Ia memanggilku sambil menangis. Kubawa tubuhnya dalam pelukan. Badannya terasa kecil dalam rengkuhanku. 

“Ko Yus…, hiks…, papa udah gak ada…..” 

Dari balik pundaknya aku melirik ke arah peti mati yang ada di dalam rumah duka. Kulihat keluarga besarku sudah berdiri di dalamnya, beberapa menatapku dengan tatapan sinis. Aku melepas pelukan Mei-Mei dan berjalan ke dalam. Melihat ke dalam peti mati tempat papaku berbaring. 

Benarkah itu wajah papaku? Wajahnya terlihat membengkak dan berwarna kekuningan. Haruskah aku mengingatnya seperti ini selama sisa hidupku? Aku berjalan ke sebelahnya. Memegang pipinya yang terasa kaku dan dingin dan tak bernyawa. Innalilahi wa innalilahi rojiun, ujarku berulang-ulang dalam hati. 

Seakan-akan aku adalah bayi kecil yang baru lahir ke dunia. 

Aku menangis. Keras. Amat sangat keras. 

Malam sudah larut ketika Mei-Mei menghampiriku yang sedang duduk di kursi plastik yang ada di depan rumah duka. Kami tidak terlalu banyak bicara seharian. Selain karena ia harus melayani para pelayat yang datang, aku malah melipir ke bangku yang ada di samping di samping peti mati dan duduk di sana seharian. Para kuku dan khiw-khiwku tidak ada yang menyapaku sama sekali. Aku bahkan dapat mendengar seseorang dari mereka berkata papa meninggal karena. 

Walaupun aku sedang berada di pulau berbeda ketika kejadian itu berlangsung. 

“Sit pau mang, Ko?” ia bertanya padaku. 

Aku menggeleng padanya, “Ngai an pau.” 

Ia menyodorkan sekotak makanan padaku. Kuambil dan kubuka isinya dengan tak selera. Satu porsi mie yang tampak menggugah selera. Perutku tiba-tiba saja bergejolak. Tapi aku tidak langsung memakan mie itu. Mei-Mei memandangku dengan seksama, “Ke nyuk, eme cu nyuk.” 

“Kamsia,” ucapku tulus. Sementara ia duduk di sebelahku. Aku membuka masker dan mulai mengisi perutku yang kosong. 

“Kerjaan gimana, Ko?” 

“Lancar kok. Kamu kerjaannya gimana?” 

Ia memandangku lekat-lekat, “Tommy mau melamar aku.” 

“Udah bilang ke papa?” 

Ia menggeleng. 

“Kamu udah yakin sama dia?” 

“Mei-Mei kan pacaran sama dia udah dua tahun.” 

“Ya udah nanti koko aja yang jadi wali kamu.” 

Aku menyeruput mie dengan lahap. Ia tak lanjut berbicara, tapi masih menatapku dengan tatapan yang sama, “Kenapa kamu?” 

“Koko gak apa-apa aku langkahin?” 

“Ya gaklah. Emang koko pernah ngelarang kamu menikah. Lagian kamu kan tahu koko juga gak bisa menikah.” 

Ia terdiam sejenak, “Tapi nanti Mei-Mei nikahnya di gereja.” 

“Yaudah koko nanti datang.” 

“Besok pagi juga ada ibadah buat papa. Koko bisa masuk?” 

Aku terdiam. Tidak bisa langsung menjawab pertanyaannya. Tiba-tiba saja Mei-Mei membersitkan hidungnya dan menutup matanya dengan tangan. 

“Ko Yus…, Koko tahu kan Mei-Mei sayang sama koko?” 

Aku menaruh makananku dan mulai merangkul adikku. 

“Nanti kalau misalnya papa sama mama nunggu di surga tapi Ko Yus surganya lain bagaimana?” 

Tangisnya pun pecah. Aku sudah lelah menangis sedari tadi. Kuusapkan bahunya seakan-akan dengan begitu kesedihan akan menguap entah kemana. Angin malam kembali berhembus, seakan-akan turut membawa tangis adikku ke seluruh pelayat di rumah duka ini. Aku tidak berkata apapun sampai tangisnya mereda. 

“Aku gak pernah peduli orang mau ngomong jelek soal Ko Yus. Aku tetap sayang koko.” 

“Mungkin benar kata kuku-kuku yang lain, Mei-Mei. Mungkin papa meninggal karena menanggung dosa Ko Yus.” 

“Jangan berpikir begitu. Papa meninggal udah takdir. Lagipula semenjak mama meninggal koko kan tahu papa selalu bilang ke kita. Dalam Yesus, kematian adalah anugerah.” 

Aku menggelengkan kepalaku perlahan. Mencoba mencerna perkataan yang memang dari dulu sering kudengar keluar dari mulut papaku tapi tak pernah kumengerti apa artinya. 

“Mei-Mei kangen sama mama. Nanti Mei-Mei menikah papa sama mama gak bisa lihat.” 

Aku kembali merangkulnya, “Maaf ya koko gak pulang. Pekerjaan koko gak bisa ditinggal. Apalagi ada Corona juga.” 

“Gak apa-apa. Mei-Mei paham kok keadaannya bagaimana.” 

“Nanti setelah kamu sama Tommy menikah. Rumah buat kalian aja.” 

“Koko harus janji satu hal?” 

“Apa itu?” tanyaku heran. 

“Tahun depan koko harus rajin-rajin balik kesini.” 

Aku mengangkat telunjuk dan jari manisku, “Janji!” 

“Ajak Koko Vinnie juga?” 

Kutatap erat wajahnya. Melihat ketulusan di manik matanya. Kami jarang sekali membicarakan tentang Vinnie. Entah mengapa pandanganku mengabur. Lagi-lagi aku kembali menangis. Sadar bahwa pada akhirnya Mei-Mei, anggota keluargaku yang terakhir, mulai menerima diriku dengan apa adanya. 

“Koko janji,” ujarku mantap. 

Subuh pun hadir kembali. Membuatku berpikir bagaimana dalam dua puluh empat jam terakhir duniaku sudah bergeser delapan ratus kilometer jauhnya dan takdirku pun turut berputar seratus delapan puluh derajat. 

Aku sudah duduk termenung di depan ruangan tempat almarhum papa. Menyaksikan matahari perlahan-lahan bangkit dari tidurnya. Mei-Mei yang semalam pulang ke rumah sudah datang kembali. Ia memintaku untuk pulang dan mandi. Aku mengambil tasku dan pulang ke rumah diantar oleh seorang sepupuku. 

Sudah bertahun-tahun aku tidak kembali. Kulihat jejeran bunga delapan dewa di atas jajaran pot yang disusun rapi di teras rumahku. Aku masuk ke dalam dan melihat foto keluargaku di ruang tamu. Lengkap dengan gambar Yesus Kristus dan hiasan salib. Dengan rindu yang semakin bertalu aku membuka pintu kamarku. Sama sekali tidak berubah. Aku menaruh tasku di dalamnya dan keluar mandi. 

Selepas mandi aku menelpon Vinnie barang sebentar. Memberitahunya bahwa papa akan dikubur hari ini. Mendengar suaranya membuatku ingin masuk ke dalam pelukannya. Kami berbincang selama beberapa menit sebelum sepupuku mengetuk pintuku, mengajakku kembali ke rumah duka. 

Tapi di tengah perjalan aku meminta memutar sedikit. Sepupuku tidak membantah. Ia membawaku ke areal pemakaman. Tempat itu terasa berubah. Sejauh yang aku ingat dulu tidak terdapat banyak bongpay di tempat ini. Sekarang aku melihat bongpay dimana-mana. Seakan-akan mereka adalah umbi-umbian yang tumbuh keluar setelah disemai oleh tubuh-tubuh yang meninggal di tempat ini. 

Aku berjalan ke satu nisan. Di sebelahnya liang yang baru digali sudah tersedia. Sepupuku berkata bahwa itu adalah tempat papaku akan dimakamkan. Aku melihat nisa dengan nama **mama dengan nanar. Dulu papa telah memesan tanah kuburan ini agar mereka dapat dimakamkan bersebelahan, dua pasang salib yang mencuat di tengah bongpay-bongpay lain di pemakaman ini. 

Papa berhutang pada pendeta yang menyelamatkannya, ujar mama suatu waktu. Waktu itu saat keluarga papa dikejar karena dituduh komunis pada tahun 1967, pendeta di gerejalah yang menyembunyikannya. Menjadikan mereka kristen yang taat, amat saat taat. Sampai butuh waktu lama sekali bagi papa untuk menerima bahwa aku mencintai Vinnie, tapi tidak cukup lama untuk menerima bahwa anaknya juga ternyata memilih surga yang berbeda dengan dirinya. Memilih menyebut nama tuhan yang berbeda dengan tuhannya. 

Sepupuku mengajakku pergi. Mei-Mei menelponnya dan berkata bahwa pendeta sudah ada di rumah duka. Kegalauan yang teramat berat terasa menelusup hatiku sepanjang perjalanan kami. Ketika sampai Mei-Mei menghampiriku dan mengenalkanku pada bapak Pendeta. Kusalami tangannya mengucapkan terima kasih. Sementara mereka menyiapkan ibadah aku melipir ke sudut ruangan. Bertanya-tanya tentang surga kami yang berbeda. Akhirnya dengan penuh kegalauan aku melangkahkan kakiku keluar dari dalam ruangan. 

Mei-Mei menghampiriku dan mengatakan bahwa pendeta sudah datang saat aku kembali ke rumah duka. Kusalami tangannya mengucapkan terima kasih. Sementara mereka menyiapkan ibadah aku melipir ke sudut ruangan. Bertanya-tanya tentang surga kami yang berbeda. Akhirnya dengan penuh kegalauan aku melangkahkan kakiku keluar dari dalam ruangan. 

Seluruh keluargaku masuk ke dalam kamar duka. Meninggalkanku sendiri di halaman rumah duka. Mei-Mei keluar dan melihat diriku berdiri dengan bimbang. Ia menghampiriku dan menyentuh lenganku dengan prihatin, “Ko Yus bisa ikut ibadah?” 

Awi Chin published his debut novel Yang Tak Kunjung Usai in 2020 by The Comma Books and Penerbit KPG. In the same year, he also won a short story competition organized by Indonesia's Ministry of Tourism and Creative Industry. His short story ‘Niskala Nakula’ was published as a part of the anthology Pesan Penyintas Siang. A year later he won another short story competition by Goethe House and Ministry of Education. Then it was published by Elex Media in the Cerita dari Data anthology. Apart from writing, he's also working as a model as well as speaker for several seminar and festivals.

Thank you to Sebastian Partogi for translating Awi’s story.