If you ever set foot on the northern border of Bandung, a hundred meters before the terminal, you'll see a five-story cream-colored building. It stands at the forefront of the campus area of a renowned education university in Indonesia. Don't ask how many thousands of students, hundreds of lecturers, or dozens of administrative staff or security personnel are inside, because that's not what I want to tell you about, but rather a story unfolding within one of the rectangular rooms in that building. "Why should I be sad? Why should I be offended? I am angry, but is that enough?" Those were the torrents of my heart's feelings about Mr. Makmur's decision in the Literary Performance class earlier. After struggling to do my best to pass the Monologue selection, who would have thought the result would be in vain. "Don't worry, Nens! Basically, you can do any category, it's just that for this Performance, Mr. Makmur might have other considerations." That's what Jen, my close friend throughout college, said. "Do you think I failed the Monologue because I'm visually impaired, huh?" "Shush! You're talking nonsense, Nens! That's definitely not what Mr. Makmur meant, perhaps you're just a better fit for the musicalization team, because he, and all of us, know your voice is good, Nens," "But performing a Monologue has been my dream for a long time, Jen, and when this opportunity came, I still failed. I could barely hold back the turmoil of my feelings, and as if she had run out of words, Jen just watched me silently, holding back my disappointment. "What you need to do now is maximize your performance in the musicalization, Nens, who knows, by performing your best, you can still make Mr. Makmur proud." After returning from campus that day, I pondered Jen's words, slowly forgetting what had happened. The next day, I returned to campus with a calmer feeling.
That day, preparations for the Literary Performance had begun. The five weeks given were not enough time for such a grand performance. Every day we had to practice and prepare for the event, in addition to doing assignments from other courses. But because the performance was the most anticipated moment, we truly put our maximum effort into everything. "You're already OK, Nens! It's just the others! We've been practicing for weeks, why aren't your voices in sync yet?" That's what Fidi, the reader in the musicalization team, said, met with grumbling from my friends. In this team, there were eight of us: four musicians and four vocalists. Actually, the main reason I was reluctant to join this team wasn't because of the category, as singing was not new to me. Although I don't pursue a career like most other visually impaired friends who always excel in the world of singing, my voice isn't bad either. My awkwardness in this team was only because my teammates, especially the vocalists, were not among my close friends. There's a social interaction aspect that every person with a disability might feel, where not everyone can easily become close in their environment. The same applied to me; two years of socializing with dozens of classmates didn't guarantee everyone would be close. In reality, this musicalization vocal team seemed to keep their distance from me, whether it was just my feeling or truly the case.
No, it wasn't that they were antipathetic to my condition, but the infrequency of our time together made everything feel strange once I entered their circle. As a person with a disability, I certainly don't have the right to force acceptance, but their body language and words were enough to make me assume a certain situation. "Will they accept me as a musicalization member, Jen? Because you know, they chose that category from the start. They decided who their members would be, that's why I chose Monologue because I wasn't sure I'd be accepted there. " That's what I said when Mr. Makmur read my name for the Musicalization category. That pessimistic feeling also came when there was a subtle rejection from them, saying their team was already overloaded. But as a lecturer, Mr. Makmur was still the one in control, so whether I liked it or not, I had to take on a task for that course.
Subsequently, I tried to accept it by acting naturally in following every practice schedule. I didn't hesitate to offer input to ensure our team's performance would be successful on time. From those inputs, it was decided that four poems would be performed in musicalization form. Two poems by Sapardi Djoko Damono, titled "Hujan Bulan Juni" (Rain in June) and "Ketika Jari-jari Bunga Terbuka" (When Flower Fingers Open), which Fidi had arranged. The other two titles were chosen by other friends. But again, I didn't budge, leaving everything to my friends. Similarly, when they assigned me to sing one song, I didn't protest, even though in that song I sang alone, while my three friends formed a trio for the other three songs.
"You were only given one song, Nens? And alone? Didn't anyone want to be a backing vocalist or something? It looks strange, doesn't it?" Jen commented when I told her about the meeting with the musicalization team that morning. "Let it be, the important thing is that I also got a task. Whether they want to sing individually or together, I don't care." I retorted with a smile. It was actually amusing to imagine the conversation earlier; Fidi and the musicians also seemed surprised by the song distribution, but I flatly reassured them, explaining that I found it harder to adjust my voice when singing in a group. While I was engrossed in memorizing the poem and Jen was also diligently memorizing the fairy tale script she would perform later, a new message popped up on my phone. It was from Fidi, informing me that there was a practice session tomorrow afternoon in the faculty hall. "You have it easy, Jen! You don't need to practice often with others, just at your dorm while lying down!" I said to Jen, who seemed so relaxed with her task. Meanwhile, the girl from Indramayu just laughed. "Well, I can't sing! If my voice were good, that narcissistic gang would be eliminated immediately!" "Shush! Don't say that! What kind of fantasy academy is this? With elimination rounds!"
"Friends, it seems there's a song that needs to be removed because Mr. Makmur asked for his own poem to be performed." Fidi opened the practice session after everyone had gathered. My friends immediately reacted, vying to sing Mr. Makmur's poem. "Wait a minute! My apologies beforehand, because Mr. Makmur has already chosen someone to perform it." "Who?" They asked eagerly, as if desperate to take on the task. As for me, as usual, I remained calm and observed. In my heart, I wasn't interested in the news at all, especially given my disappointment with Mr. Makmur for not passing me in the monologue selection. "Yes, Mr. Makmur asked Nensi to perform his poem. How about it, Nens! Can you do it?" Instantly, the atmosphere became quiet; everyone was silent, except for the musicians softly playing their instruments. I could clearly feel my friends exchanging glances, whether in protest or feigning indifference, but I simply nodded as an answer to Fidi's question.
One, two, three weeks we worked hard, and finally, the day of the performance arrived. The hustle and bustle backstage were evident. The makeup artists were shouting, calling out friends who were to be made up. Again, I had to resign myself to getting my makeup done later because I had to wait for the others to finish. "You're already beautiful like this, Nens! No need for excessive makeup," said Rina, one of my close friends who was working as a makeup artist. "New batik, huh?" She commented on the batik I was wearing. "Yeah! Bought it suddenly in Tegalega." I answered innocently. "Shush! Don't go around saying you bought it there! Say you bought it at a Factory Outlet or something! Haha!" Rina and I laughed. Indeed, that day, besides being a platform to showcase our abilities on stage, it was also an occasion for narcissism because most of our batiks were new. My friends, especially the fussy girls, showed off their batiks, saying they bought them at such-and-such a boutique, at a Factory Outlet on such-and-such a street, at such-and-such a grey batik mall, and so on.
Exactly eight o'clock, when the performance hall, located on the second floor of the Student Activity Center 'PKM' building, was packed with an audience consisting entirely of the extended family of Indonesian Language and Literature, the event began. Mr. Makmur, along with the lecturers and invited guests from students' parents, occupied the front seats. Students who couldn't get seats stood crowded even outside the room. "Nens! Bang Frans is here!" Jen suddenly whispered into my ear, as I was practicing Mr. Makmur's song with Fidi. "Really, Jen?" I pretended to act normal, even though my heart suddenly beat faster as soon as Jen whispered. "Come on! Sing well! Bang Frans is waiting for your performance!" I immediately pinched her arm as soon as I realized Fidi cleared his throat, making my face feel hot.
The event opened with a speech from Mr. Makmur as the lecturer for Literary Performance. This was followed by representatives from the dean and others who appreciated this performance activity. Those who came to watch seemed curious, because the theme we carried, GEMPITA PUISI NUSANTARA (The Joyful Poetry of the Archipelago), was a unique performance theme. For four hours, forty students from class B of Language and Literature Education would present poetry performances in various forms. It began with a chain poetry reading from the poetry reading team. One of them was Donatus, my fellow visually impaired friend, who read the text in Braille. My heart pounded, and I prayed for him to perform smoothly. After the poetry reading, it continued with a rampak puisi (choral poetry) performance. This time, six cute girls, my friends, performed attractively, presenting a poem by Putu Wijaya titled "Raksasa" (Giant).
"Nens! Can I ask for help?" Adi suddenly poked my shoulder while I was engrossed in watching the rampak backstage. "What is it, Di?" "I need backing for my monologue, you can do it, right?" A bit surprised, I finally agreed to Adi's request to be his backing for his monologue. While Adi was enchanting the entire audience with his captivating monologue, I helped backstage by humming softly. It was actually a bit amusing because I had to hum with unclear notes, especially in the quiet atmosphere of the room, accompanying Adi's voice as he performed a monologue themed on the destruction of a nation. "Oh no! What now? My voice is hoarse, Jen!" I coughed as applause thundered, coinciding with Adi's return backstage. "Drink some water first, Nens! Your voice needs to stay OK," Jen offered a glass of mineral water. "Nens! Thank you! Your backing was really cool!" Adi approached me; he looked very satisfied with his performance that time.
The atmosphere in the performance hall was no longer serious; it felt relaxed as everyone was immersed in the musicalization performance. After two songs from my friends were finished, it was finally my turn to perform. But before I went on stage, Mr. Makmur was heard giving another speech. "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, allow me to introduce a poetic work, which will be performed by one of our special students." A thunderous applause then welcomed me as Jen guided me onto the stage. For some reason, as I performed the poem titled "Cahaya Subuh" (Dawn Light), tears also fell from my eyes, but I felt satisfied and proud because I could deliver my best, which was evident from the tears rolling down the faces of the entire audience. After singing two musicalization pieces, I waited for Jen to get off the stage, which was indeed filled with props. But I was incredibly surprised when it wasn't my friend's hand that guided me backstage. "Come to the association more often, okay! There are many good musicalizations there; later we'll set up a weekly performance stall at the Pentagon," he said when we were already backstage. "Sorry, Bang! I have a lot of assignments right now; maybe next semester I can join." I replied, which was immediately met with a disappointed tone from Bang Frans. "Ooh la la! Ahem ahem!" My face suddenly felt hot, embarrassed by my friends' teasing, until Bang Frans returned to his seat in the audience, responding to my friends' teasing with a joke. "You should know, Nens! We all cried, we were sad to hear you sing." "Sorry, Jen, this time I have to say that as someone marginalized by circumstances, I will not be intimidated. Others may sneer at me, disregard my presence, but God does not sleep; He knows I can also deliver my best." Those were the words of my heart, clearly not spoken to Jen because only I would keep this feeling a secret until everyone understood.
The performance concluded before lunchtime. Everyone was satisfied; the lecturers, invited guests, and students appreciated the performance by praising us. The same went for us performers; from those who read poetry, rampak, monologues, fairy tales, musicalizations, to poetry dramatizations, all were confirmed to be successful overall. "You are all great! You are truly commendable! Congratulations!" Mr. Makmur shook our hands; I could feel the pride in his heart for having guided this performance into a perfect show. "Oh! I'll ask for a copy of the CD later, okay! The one with Nensi's voice," another lecturer was busy asking for a CD copy. I smiled, amused, finding them impressed with my performance. At that moment, many people deliberately came to shake my hand and greet me. "Hmph! Before this, it seemed like no one would even 'fan' me, and those who invited me to a team seemed reluctant." I said to Jen, laughing.
And so, I lived my days on campus as normally as possible. I didn't have many expectations of them, whether friends, lecturers, or the campus community. I only hoped that they would simply acknowledge my existence as someone who also had rights to everything. Alhamdulillah, the performance brought a small positive impact to that hope of mine. Like an incident two weeks later. Our class was suddenly gripped by deep sorrow when one of us suffered a misfortune. Siti, as I'll disguise her name, was diagnosed by doctors with a lung infection. She had been hospitalized for weeks but showed no improvement. Her body had become thin, her eyes sunken, her cheekbones increasingly gaunt, coupled with pain that always made her groan. One day, news came from her family that they had to take Siti home immediately because they could no longer afford the costs. Hearing this, we all thought hard about how we could lighten Siti's family's burden a little, especially so that our friend could receive treatment again. Finally, it was decided that we would do something according to our individual abilities. Some sold snacks, trinkets, and even clothes. Others suddenly opened phone credit counters, distributed flyers, and circulated donation boxes.
"Are there many spectators yet?" I asked my musicalization team friends. It was late afternoon after classes, and we had set up an entertainment stall in the 'Danau Cinta' (Love Lake) area, a usual hangout spot for students. If you want to know what 'Danau Cinta' is, you can find out by reading the Mini Novel 'BIAS DANAU CINTA' (The Haze of Love Lake). "There are quite a few, we can start now," Then the musicians began playing the intro. At that time, the awkwardness between me and the vocal team was gone. Now we sang in unison with one goal: to earn extra rupiah. We didn't just perform poetry musicalizations, but various other literary arts such as Theater, Monologue, Drama, and so on, changing daily. All of this was done so that the audience wouldn't get bored with the performances. One time, it even became a hilarious experience for me. That day, we returned to the stall with a poetry dramatization themed "SEORANG GILA" (A Madman). I, who had been sulking that afternoon because I got the role of the madman, came to the performance wearing tattered clothes with marker scribbles here and there. Not to mention the wig replacing the hijab, which was said to be "half-god filthy," making everyone burst into laughter. As a visually impaired person, I clearly couldn't choose roles as I pleased, because it had to be considered with the movements in each scene, which would certainly not be in sync with my limitations. That's when the role of the madman, which didn't require much movement, was given to me by my friends. Fortunately, during the performance, I was able to play the role as best as possible. The scene that made everyone laugh and also made me almost lose control was when I sat under a tree with children carrying stones around me. At that moment, I acted indifferently, even putting on a nonchalant face with my tongue sticking out and my hands constantly scratching my head. "Oh my goodness! The shame was probably as thick as the dust in the departmental library, which was supposedly not cleaned for years."
Alhamdulillah, the more days we carried out that solidarity mission, the more visitors watched and gave their donations. That's how, in no less than two weeks, we worked hard to collect a few rupiah as a token of love for our beloved friend. Until finally, with gratitude, a considerable amount of funds was collected, which would be handed over to Siti's family. We came to her house in the Cirebon area and were immediately met with a touching welcome from the small family. There were tears of emotion from them when the donation was handed over by Mr. Makmur, who also joined the visit. "Nens! They said you sang yesterday, right? I want to hear it!" Amidst her hoarse voice, Siti suddenly pleaded. Holding her hand, I then began to sing the verses of the musicalization, which were then followed by all my friends. When the fingers of flowers open, suddenly we feel how fierce our love is, light like mist, mist of light in the sky, pushing aside the clouds today on earth, spreading an ancient silence, when drought is felt on the eyelashes, one morning on the wings of butterflies, on the wings of color. The sound of birds on weather-beaten branches, feathers of light, how profound our love is, Drunkenly walking, amidst the cries of blooming flowers.
*The End*