Going home for Idul Fitri not always nice<\/p>\n
The tradition of going home for Idul Fitri holiday is the reason
\nI am not very keen about the holiday itself.<\/p>\n
At any other time of the year, I can always make excuses to my
\nmother not to go home to Medan, the capital of North Sumatra.<\/p>\n
I can always say that my work is piling up to my neck and that
\nI don't even have time to go to the bathroom and because of that
\nI'm developing kidney stones, etc.<\/p>\n
But to come up with the same lies during holidays just feels
\ntoo cruel. Besides, she would not believe it if I said that my
\nboss was locking me up in the office forcing me to work.<\/p>\n
I may not fall into the category of a family man but the idea
\nof spending days in my old home with my folks and other family
\nmembers with whom I have always had this communication problem
\njust doesn't suit me.<\/p>\n
Plus, I also have to revisit the place where all the childhood
\ntraumas will again appear before my eyes. Sigh!<\/p>\n
Being a struggling scriptwriter whose life is just improving
\nslightly, I can remember all the efforts I had to go through to
\ngo home for holidays.<\/p>\n
Back in my salad days, I could only afford to go home by bus.
\nImagine being in a bus for three days and only stopping for
\nmeals.<\/p>\n
On day one, you can still pretend that you were going on a
\nlovely trip with nothing to see except small houses and unpretty
\ntrees. You could count how many parabola antennas you passed if
\nyou want to kill time.<\/p>\n
On the first night, you begin to develop acne from bad air
\ncirculation.<\/p>\n
You would also want to fight with the bus driver who would put
\non his favorite music which would drive you nuts.<\/p>\n
You also had to listen to a talkative old woman who sat next
\nto you and you would be wondering how to politely offer her your
\nbreath freshener.<\/p>\n
On day two, your bottom would be numb after sitting longer
\nthan it was designed to, and your feet would already be swollen
\nlike a pregnant woman.<\/p>\n
Try to visit the bus' toilet if you dare which already
\nprovides the bus with an added odor besides the emanating from
\nthe children vomiting on their seats.<\/p>\n
And you would still have to come up with a nice way to offer
\nthe talkative lady who sat next to you your breath freshener.<\/p>\n
You would arrive on day three in your hometown, with a numb
\nbottom, swollen feet, a face full of acne, head stressed out and
\nthe talkative old woman asking you to visit her sometime.<\/p>\n
As my career life then began to see the light, I could afford
\nto go home by ship then. Economy class, of course.<\/p>\n
It was a lot more comfortable than traveling on bus as you
\ncould take a walk on board the big ship, if you could survive the
\nmerciless race to get on board.<\/p>\n
Since during holidays it was very hard to get a ticket which
\nalso gives you a seat number, economy class passengers had to
\nrace to get aboard to find the most comfortable spots where they
\nwere going to stay for three days.<\/p>\n
Other passengers would push you, and give you a blow with
\ntheir elbows, if you are in the way.<\/p>\n
Everybody would race for the best spots on board, usually
\nbelow the stairs where nobody would step on them when you laid
\ndown.<\/p>\n
To sleep in the hallway on first class section was nice since
\nthey got good air conditioning, but you would also have to endure
\nthe look that first class passengers give you.<\/p>\n
Sometimes they would look as if they pitied you, sometimes
\nthey looked as if they wished you would throw yourself into the
\nsea instead of blocking their way.<\/p>\n
During meal times, economy class passengers would have to
\nstand in very long line, sometimes for hours, carrying tin food
\ncontainer to get our food.<\/p>\n
What was missing was the uniforms with stripes and numbers on
\nthem.<\/p>\n
After the humiliation, you would arrive in your hometown with
\npride removed completely from your system.<\/p>\n
Now that my life is getting better, I can afford to go back to
\nMedan by airplane.<\/p>\n
It takes me less than two hours to get there without numb
\nbottom, no acne, no swollen feet, head not stressed out and, so
\nfar, no talkative old woman with bad breath. Only nice flight
\nattendants offering you food and drinks.<\/p>\n
However, the quality of my visit back home is yet to improve.<\/p>\n
I usually stay at my old home for a week during the holidays.<\/p>\n
The first two days are usually okay since every family member
\nwould try their best to be nice to each other.<\/p>\n
Then by day three, the symptoms of communication problems
\nwould begin to reemerge.<\/p>\n
Blessed are those who were raised in a harmonious family since
\nthere is always something which will spark an argument in my
\nfamily.<\/p>\n
By the time you have to go back to Jakarta, you would feel
\neven more jealous toward those whose family picture fits into TV
\ncommercials.<\/p>\n
I know I am not the only one who feels this way toward going
\nhome for the holidays.<\/p>\n
This year, I will again go home to Medan.<\/p>\n
Perhaps I should set a goal that my visit back home this time
\nwill improve, just like my means of transportation to get there
\nhas.<\/p>\n
Perhaps this year I can really enjoy going home for the
\nholidays so all the money and effort to be there will not be such
\na waste.<\/p>\n
Wish me luck and I'll keep you posted!<\/p>\n
-- Joko E.H. Anwar<\/p>", "url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/going-home-for-idul-fitri-not-always-nice-1447893297", "image": "" }, "sponsor": "Okusi Associates", "sponsor_url": "https:\/\/okusiassociates.com" }