“You’re so slow, you know, you’ve been here for weeks and still can’t remember the way. Look at your friend, you’re both visually impaired, right, but she memorizes things faster than you.” I kicked my feet under the chair in annoyance. My Tuesday morning, which was already far from peaceful, became even less so with the hurtful words I heard from a friend in my KKN group.
Those words have permeated my mind ever since. My KKN, or Community Service Program, story isn't exactly a horror, but it still feels traumatic, and I'm reluctant to recall it. There's only one thing that inevitably brings a beautiful smile to my face when I have to remember it: the kindness of someone I will never forget. *** “Hey, what’s wrong? Want to come with me to the canteen?” asked a girl my age who had also just arrived at our temporary KKN residence.
Her name was Chela. She wasn't taller than me, and she was also visually impaired like me, though she still had some residual vision with a limited field of view, commonly known as low vision. Some people (including me) thought she was a bit strange, but I had no intention of avoiding her. At that time, we weren't close friends, even though I'd known her for a long time since we attended the same faculty, albeit different majors.
“To the canteen?” I asked.
“Is there a canteen here too?” I added, looking clueless.
“Yes, there is. Come on, let’s go, you can keep me company,” she said cheerfully, still holding my arm. I hesitated for a moment, thinking. This invitation felt quite unfamiliar, considering I wasn't close to her.
“Are you sure I won’t be a bother?” I finally asked.
“No way, it’s no trouble at all! Come on, I want to buy some snacks, keep me company, okay?” she exclaimed, half-forcing me. I smiled. There was no harm in accepting her invitation; who knew, I might get to know her better and change my slightly mistaken perception of her. *** Once we arrived at the canteen, she ordered a plate of fried noodles and bought some light snacks, while I merely picked a cold drink from the fridge in front of me, looking uninterested.
“Just pick whatever you want, I’ll pay for it. Maybe it’ll help improve your mood,” Chela’s cheerful voice said from behind me. I nodded, smiled, and thanked her. Then I decided to choose a bottled tea and sat down in the same chair as her. We talked about many things, especially why I was quieter today.
“Wait, what? Why were you suddenly called slow?” Chela was surprised after hearing my story.
“I don’t understand, Chel. Maybe it’s my fault too, for being too forgetful and having trouble remembering things, so it ended up like this…” “Nonsense! He’s just being unreasonable, what a weird group leader!” Chela retorted. I just remembered, it was indeed our KKN group leader who had said those things. I drank my cold bottled tea to soothe my feelings a bit, while Chela calmly enjoyed her noodles.
I never imagined that our closeness would begin on this day, the day she took me (almost by force) to the canteen and bought me a cold drink to lift my spirits. And I vowed that if that sweet girl ever needed help, I would do it more than willingly, because she (who didn't even know me well) had been kind to me without expecting anything in return.
*** Before I knew it, a week had passed since that sudden pull on my arm. As I sat alone in my room, I opened my phone and idly checked my friends' WhatsApp stories. Chela’s story, which appeared first, immediately caught my attention. She seemed angry and desperate. Surprised and feeling pity, I decided to look for her in a place I could reach. Oh, right, I remembered Chela loved spending time alone on the living room sofa in our residence.
Half-groping my way, I called her name.
“Chel, are you there? What’s wrong?” “Oh, I’m fine, Zel, really…” she tried to deny, but I understood the tremor in her voice.
“Chela, are you okay? Come with me…” I instinctively led her into my room, locking the door tightly. At that moment, all I could do was make her feel better by letting her release the tears she had probably held back for a long time.
“I’m here, Chel, always here whenever you need someone to talk to,” I said softly, trying to calm her. And another secret about myself that I eventually learned from people (Chela being one of them) was that the 'worst' thing I could say to them was, “Are you okay?” because the moment I did, they would inevitably burst into tears.
“Feeling better?” I asked after Chela finished crying.
“Yes, I am. Thank you. You’re so kind, even though we haven’t been close for long,” she asked, her voice hoarse from crying so much.
“What’s the difference from you back then? I don’t expect anything either. I just want to help you in any way I can, and unfortunately, that’s not through material things,” I said sadly.
“Oh, it’s fine. The fact that you’re willing to listen to all my stories is more valuable than just money…” Chela smiled; even though I couldn’t see it, I could feel it.
“The point is, now, if anything ever happens to you, I’m always ready to be your confidante,” I said confidently. And that fairly bright afternoon, we ended it by hugging and laughing together. *** Now, much time has passed, leaving all those events behind. After all the ups and downs of that KKN experience (even if it wasn't as it should have been), we remained close friends.
Chela, who is younger than me, considers me an older sister because she says I have a more mature outlook on life and demeanor, while I see her as a younger sister because she's a cute, 'economical package' (read: petite), and sometimes a bit spoiled. I never doubted that even the smallest events in life can have such a profound impact later on. Just like that sudden pull on my arm that afternoon, which changed my perspective on stereotypes and common assumptions about people, which I could slowly dismiss.
It also taught me how we can remain friends without judging who is better than the other, and how we can do good without expecting anything in return, or gently correct each other when one of us makes a mistake. Also, how we, both imperfect, can complement each other and walk side-by-side without competing or tearing each other down. Or how I finally came to understand that it's okay not to be perfect, and that as humans, we are not obligated to meet everyone's expectations and demands.
Chela managed to change my perspective in her own way without me having to abandon my old life principles. And I found her to be a fun and always supportive person, and sometimes, during unexpected events, we could be vulnerable together, cry together, and then ultimately strengthen each other again. Our friendship is truly unique. Thank you, Chela.
(THE END)