Almost all people around the world , and perhaps some of you here , has a dream. What sort of dream anyway?. Well before I continue my words here, please allow me to tell you my story when I was a child in the past. Anybody is undoubtedly has a memorable moments and unforgettable experiences during they were a child, right. So am I. This happened to me too.
Playing with friends at my age was really fun indeed. There were some children there who always around me like Bagong, EKo, Cecep, and another young boys I could hardly remember. Four of fous would love playing plastic football on the street. Yes the street was in Jalan Pademangan II in the north of Jakarta. It happenned around in 1975 the time when the four kids were at elementary school. I could not remember where the school taken by the other kids , while I was at Elementary School (SD) Negeri 01 in the north of Jakarta. We played the football and also flying kites after school, and we were very happy with that all sort of things.
My mother went to traditional almost every day. She took a simple plastic shooping basket with her and took becak as local transportation. I just could not wait much longer to see my mother back from the market. I was very happy of looking at she was step out from the becak in front of our home, and I took the shopping basket and we were cooking that day. It always happened almost every day. My elder brother often made me crying, and I did not know why. He often took my food and left me away and that what often made me cry.
Flying kites was one of my favorite plays of all time. I could remember when my mom gave me money for me to buy food I like. You know with the sum of five rupiahs ( Rp.5,-) I could have bought two pieces of sagon (sweet flour) and a piece of cake, but affording a piece of flying kites was different. I never afford those flying kites as long as I could find out from the broken flying kites in the sky. There were many flying kites fighting each other and I could see if one of the flying kites broke down by the enemy and flying away down to earth. I run after the kites with the other boys of course
I had a lovely grand father that always love me. I called him "mbah". He was working pulling becak in another block of my home. Almost three times a week, or perhaps in every day in the afterrnon, I run there and met him at his becak base to request money, and he always gave the money to me. With about two or three hundreds rupiahs in my hands , I was very happy of buying the food I like. This happened for years, and I could not forget this happy moments until I was in the final year at Elementary School in around 1982.
Mbah and nenek lived in Sunter, Tanjung Priok (North of Jakarta), and I often visited there to meet them. My grand father also had a giant and pretty flying kites. He made a giant flying kites and often asked me to play with him in his field. It was really very exciting moments that I played with flying kites again, and this time with different size , a bigger one. I was laughing and happy with that. He often called me "cepot" , a name of legendary puppet in Javanese traditional culture, as for my nick name. That is why a name of "cepot" will be a brand new for me and he called me with that name as token of appreciation and as application of sense of love that he could give for me.
Now my lovely and charming grand father "mbah" has died in peace in around 1991. It happen when I was the second year at university in Pontianak. I was very sad of this bad news. I visited his cemetery when I had an opportunity to return home. I plant my pen in the head of his cemetery and pray for him. I promised to him that I will study very hard to reach my goals of life and never give up trying.
As appreciation of my lovely grand father, a name of his calling for me "cepot" has been declared my identity these days. I will use "cepot" as my small nick name to remember my love grand father every day of mylife. The name of "cepot" will always flame eternally and live in my heart for the rest of my life