Dul
156. From the short story 'MOTHER' (1)

PS. For those who have read, please re-read until finished because the short story version continues to be part part.

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Dul was sitting on a small bench of solidified cardboard and wrapped tightly in plastic. In his hand was a robot toy with no legs. The robot toys are still pretty good. His mother picked it up from the garbage dump and washed it clean.

In the distance, his mother was still clawing at the mountain of trash with a basket on her back. The sun is quite hot. His mother did not give him permission to help. His mother said the age of five should be used to play, not help parents make a living.

The sound of his mother's rubber boots stepping on the dry garbage could be heard approaching. Dul looks up, “Udah finished, Bu?” tanyakanya.

His mother rubbed the sweat and nodded in a smile. “Dapetnya not much, but enough to cook today and snack you tomorrow morning.”

Dul was also happy to see a tired smile, but very beautiful on his mother's face. Mbah Wedok said his mother was very young when she gave birth to him. Her parents' marriage lasted only a short time. Her mother was forced to drop out of school and marry a man she did not love.

The reason that Dul had not understood until that second. Same with the reason why his father always curses and beats his mother every come to give a sheet of two fifty thousand pieces for his service.

“What do you want to eat? If you wait for Mom to cook, kanya does not hunt. You must have laper.”

“Buy rice is also nothing. Can you use fried chicken, ma'am?” Dul looked at his mother's face. A second later he jumped up happy. His mother agreed.

“Mother settle this first. Today, Mbok Jum, who used to be a friend of the mother, went to take her husband to medical treatment. If you have left, even for a while, there is certainly no income today. So, I want to put this down. Here.”

Dul sees his mother brandishing a sheet of ten thousand and puts it under the doormat of the foot of Mbok Jum's cardboard house.

“Mothers a lot, huh?” ask Dul.

“Many. Compared yesterday. Today I have forty thousand. Yesterday was only twenty-five thousand. Much or little depends on being grateful. Come on, let's go to the besiegers first. From there we go to the rice stall.”

Dul got up from his cardboard bench and grabbed his mother's outstretched hand. Together they went down narrow alleys to cut off the road to get closer to the besiegers. His mother brought a large plastic sack containing cans of drinks to be sold. For them, the cans of the used drink, is a very valuable treasure to fill an inch of stomach.

Despite the scorching sun and sweat beginning to drench his forehead and back, Dul is quite happy. Later that day, he will have lunch with his mother. It was a rare opportunity.

During this time his mother chose to rent a room and live apart from him because of the father. His mother felt safer because her father could not meet and hit while drunk. Dul doesn't understand what's going on. But when he saw his mother was calmer, not injured, it made him quite happy.

“What are they doing, Mom?” dul asked as he and his mother crossed the riverbank and saw a crowd of children scrambling over something from the box.

“Why do you have to be Friday? Is it another day no one is alms?” dul asked again, looking up at his mother's face.

“Other days are alms, but not as many as Fridays. Because he said Friday was better,” said his mother, looking at the crowd of children who were now sitting apart and diligently with rice wrap in their hands.

“If the alms on other days are also many, certainly do not need a scramble,” said Dul, still looking at the children of hawkers, buskers and clowns costumed cartoon characters.

“There are alms on Friday only sometimes there are still those who say alms even spoil. Although not all, but it is true. Who can not afford to eat a good side dish on a normal day, pampered on Friday.” His mother laughed heartily. “Come, the road is faster. Mom goes with laper to watch them eat.” His mother sped up the pace while holding him.

They arrived at the besieger and his mother brought out all the proceeds of the day's levy deftly. Dul was asked to sit on a large unused scale. He noticed the way his mother negotiated maintaining her belief that the day's levies cost five thousand rupiahs more than the besieging agents offered. Under the pretext of subscription, the collector agent assigned him two pieces of twenty thousand pieces. His mother smiled.

“Come, we can eat chicken side dishes,” his mother said as she stuffed the ones into her pants pocket.

Although the hot sun was getting stinging right above his head, Dul stepped foot cheerfully. A fried chicken dish was already looming in his mind. Out of the small street they immediately arrived at the edge of the highway. His mother waved at the passing public transport. A little solid. And in order to save money, he sat on his mother's lap. The transport took them directly to the alley of the house of Mbah Lanang and Mbah Wedok, his mother's biological parents.

“We eat fried chicken and before the mother takes you home, we shop snacks in the mini market," explained his mother.

Dul nodded in agreement to his mother's plan. They headed to the famous fried chicken booth not far from the Mbah house alley. The fried chicken booth is located inside a large SPBU, right next to the police station.

“Bu, look at that. They seem to only get alms rice,” said Dul, pointing to three children buskers who each hold a rice box. The three talked while laughing.

“Yes, they also just got rice alms right at lunch time. Truly a luxury,” welcome his mother.

“If you're old and have your own money, I'd like to share rice, Mom.” Dul looked up at his mother.

“If you have a windfall, you also want to share rice. Near the landfills, many children never eat chicken. Therefore, if you can still buy your branded fried chicken, you must be grateful.”

That afternoon they sat face to face at the outermost table of the fried chicken stall. His mother bought a package containing two pieces of fried chicken and a cup of rice. Both of them absorbed the delicacy of the sustenance they had obtained that day. Dul ate the full menu, and his mother insisted that he was full enough with a piece of fried chicken.

“This exposure is saved for a few days, yes. Maybe in the next two days, you will not be able to visit Mbah's house. There are campaign events on the big field. I want to trade mineral water. If come malem-malem, I am worried to meet your Father. You're nothing, are you, Dul?” his mother looked at him and rubbed his sweaty forehead.

“Nothing. Don't let Mom see Dad. Later hit again,” said Dul.

To be continued