Bomb<\/p>\n
Chairil Gibran Ramadhan<\/p>\n
A year ago tonight, a tragic event occurred. A bomb exploded in a
\ncrowded shopping center, killing many innocent people and
\nreplacing merriment with horror and fear.<\/p>\n
That night, my next-door neighbor, Rosdarminto -- Ros -- had
\njust arrived at the terrace of our home, bringing with him a
\nplateful of cakes that his wife had made.<\/p>\n
\"Today is Sekar's birthday,\" he told my wife, Laila.<\/p>\n
On the screen, a private television station presented a
\nbreaking-news live report of the bomb explosion. I switched to
\nother television stations and found only information about the
\nbomb explosion, with little mention of the plight of the victims.<\/p>\n
I was disgusted. The TV people were concerned only with the
\ncold hard facts. The pictures vividly showed how a shopping
\ncenter had been destroyed, people gathering to ogle at the
\nspectacle. Reporters were busy taking pictures of the explosion
\nand its aftermath. An old lady sat on the ground, holding her
\numbrella. Someone's leg was found lying in front of a building.<\/p>\n
\"Luckily, your child is unwell,\" I said, handing over the
\nplate from Ros to Laila. \"Otherwise, you would have taken her to
\nthe shopping center, right? It is really a blessing.\"<\/p>\n
\"That's why I always thank God for whatever happens to me,\"
\nRos said as he stood in front of my television. \"He knows what is
\nbest for us, that's what I always believe.\"<\/p>\n
\"I agree.\"<\/p>\n
\"The perpetrators are really wicked,\" said Laila.<\/p>\n
\"Obviously, this was the work of a well-organized group,\" I
\nsaid. \"It was well planned.\"<\/p>\n
Sadness appeared on Ros' face. When he was given back the
\nplate, he left.<\/p>\n
For many years this country has been torn apart by sectarian
\nand ethnic conflicts. Thousands lost their lives because of
\nnarrow-mindedness. Provocateurs were everywhere, pitting people
\nof different religious persuasions or ethnic groups against one
\nanother.<\/p>\n
Suspicion was the order of the day. Bloodshed became a common
\nsight. Suddenly, everybody seemed to have changed and become
\nsavage. Killings, assaults, shootings, kidnappings and slander
\nwere common.<\/p>\n
As for me, although I came from the same region as some of
\nthose involved in the bloody conflicts, I always remembered the
\nadvice from my parents and my former teachers. \"Never feel that
\nyou undergo greater oppression than other people. Better stand
\nunited than being alone.\"<\/p>\n
I could hear Happy Birthday coming from Ros' house. The night
\nsky was clear. I would prefer a cloudy sky. Our country needed
\nheavy rain to quell our angry hearts.<\/p>\n
Five days after the bombing, I passed the site of the bomb
\nexplosion on my way to the only public park in our town. I took
\nLaila with me on my old motorcycle. As we were still childless,
\nwe would spend our Saturday night sitting somewhere in the park.<\/p>\n
\"The perpetrators must have carried out the bombing for
\nmoney,\" I told her.<\/p>\n
\"Or they may work for some politicians,\" I added.<\/p>\n
My wife nodded in agreement.<\/p>\n
*****<\/p>\n
A year has passed since that bombing. Ros has just brought us a
\nplateful of cakes again. Sekar is a year older today.<\/p>\n
\"There are bomb threats again today,\" Laila said, offering me
\nthe cake from Ros.<\/p>\n
\"Only rumors, La,\" I said to calm her.<\/p>\n
\"We must remain alert, mustn't we?\"<\/p>\n
\"Yes.\"<\/p>\n
\"The police say they have arrested the perpetrators.\"<\/p>\n
\"Maybe they have arrested the wrong people.\"<\/p>\n
\"Be careful. They say our neighbor across the road, Taslim,
\nworks for the intelligence agency.\"<\/p>\n
I simply smiled.<\/p>\n
On the screen of our television, a private television station
\nbroadcast the commemoration of last year's bomb incident. Footage
\nof the gutted building and dead and dying returned to our screen.<\/p>\n
Eating a piece of cake, I hugged Laila, now in the fifth month
\nof her pregnancy.<\/p>\n
\"The bombers are heartless fools,\" I said.<\/p>\n
Laila nodded, still in my embrace.<\/p>\n
We could hear the singing of Happy Birthday from Ros' house.<\/p>\n
The night sky was clear. There was no sign of rain. I prayed
\nto God peace would not leave my hope. I hoped that the bombers,
\nwhoever they may be, will never think that their suffering
\ngreater than those the rest of us. I hope they realize that other
\npeople are also oppressed and live in misery.<\/p>\n
Translated by Lie Hua<\/p>", "url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/bomb-1447899208", "image": "" }, "sponsor": "Okusi Associates", "sponsor_url": "https:\/\/okusiassociates.com" }