Geraldo and Siquito: Message from the Earth

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Geraldo a young 25 years old angel was looking at the Earth-Time-Counter screen when Chiquito another 24 years old angel came to him.
‘Counting time again heh?… Why do you love to spend your time with that stuff? Come with me. Let’s go explore some other place in this Universe of Heaven.’ Chiquito said looked at Geraldo impatiently.
‘Today is 31st October in Earth Siquito…’ Geraldo replied.
‘Yes… and tomorrow will be 1 of November. I know how that Earth-Time-Counter works. So… what?’ Siquito asked.
‘You know what. We both always receive the message from the Earth on 1 November Siquito.’
‘Yeah…we always do. And what should we do with that?’
‘Do you remember what our Great Teacher said in our Life-on-Earth class?’
‘Which one?’
‘That the message we receive from earth is prayers from everyone who lives there as the human being.’
‘Ah… that one. yes..I remember now. What is the matter with that?’
‘I am wondering with the family who sent the message to both of us. I often heard the woman called my name, your name and then she will cry alone. Usually, it is in the early morning or midnight of their earth time. Sometimes I can hear her husband speak a lot of things with me in his loneliness as if I am there with him. Don’t you want to know why they become so?’
‘Hmmmm… perhaps in the past we also took part in their life?’
‘That can be possible. The Great Teacher said the prayers from the earth are the message that reconnects people on earth and angels in heaven. All angels are once sent to earth to live as the human being before return to this Heaven as an angel again.’
‘Maybe we can go the Library to find out our life as human being in the ‘Book of Earth People’?’
‘Yeah… that’s good thing to do. Come on.’
Then, Geraldo and Siquito went to the Library to find out the Book of Earth People. It took them quite long to find out their names as the human on earth as there are millions of similar names. Siquito almost gives up with the searching but then Geraldo came up with the idea to find out about the family who sent the prayer message. It is easy for them to find out about every human being on Earth as they have access to see it like accessing an atlas of the world.
Meanwhile, in Earth, a woman was crying silently inside her zinc house. Tomorrow will be 1 November. The day she believes to be The Day of All Angels as what she had learned from the Sunday mass preach. She believes that tomorrow, her late two sons’ will be visiting her in the form of an angel. She wonders how would they look like now if they are still alive. They may have been a well built and handsome young boy. They would be tall, with black hair and sharp eyes and has thick eyebrow like Bollywood stars. She can imagine if they are with her now, she would cook their favorite food, asking them to help her in her kiosk and their father’s kiosk at the market. She would ask them to fix every broken thing in the house. She would ask them to advise their little brother on how to be a well-mannered man. She would see them studying in the university in Dili or one of them may have got a scholarship and study abroad or just studying in Indonesia and the school fee would be paid by their elder sister who is now residing in Dili. Oh… how she miss hearing their manly chatters in the house.
The imagination of them made her think about the past years where they were born as little babies. Things were difficult as food is scarce and money is a luxurious thing during the difficult years of the 80s. She and her family were just returned from their village located near Matebian mountain and surrendered to the Indonesian government. Her husband had to leave her to find a job in another city leaving her with the little daughter and her family to sustain themselves with little money he left. Days kept going and the money left is about to go. She had to find a job to sustain her household. She works in rice-field and got a little share of rice for her family and to sustain her second pregnancy. She had a baby boy, her first baby boy and he is adorably cute. She felt happy though life was still difficult for her. She continues to work in the rice-field and had her relatives looked after the baby. But on the eight-month, the baby passed away after had a high fever. She felt a deep sadness for the lost. Her husband returned from the other city and he too felt sorry for the lost. He wished he could be always there with her wife.
Starting new page of her life after the loss, one day she found out that she was pregnant again. She was so happy and she tried not work too hard. She had another baby boy, the second baby boy. She believed the baby was the reincarnation of her first baby. This time she dedicated all her time to be with the baby though she had to try to live frugally with little money which sometimes not enough to buy a bag of rice. Her husband then came and brought her to move to the other city where he lives. The baby grew healthily. But one day, at his tenth month, the baby has a high fever and has to stay during a week in the hospital for treatment. She felt a huge fear haunting her again. Deep in her heart, she asked the God to not take away her baby. But life had another response to her request. The hospital tried to refer her baby to a bigger hospital in another city that took two hours trip. On the way, the baby passed away. She lost her baby again.
It’s been a while when she sat at the back of the shelf and crying but then she quickly has to stop when somebody calling said ‘Kiosk’, a code word means to buy something. It’s a customer. She then rubbed her teary eyes with the handkerchief before she met the customer. There, two young boys with age around 25 and 24 years old stand there looked at her silently for a moment.
‘Yes.. .what do you want to buy?’ She asked them.
‘Two coca cola and a pack of biscuit.’ One of them said. The woman picked the mentioned stuff and handed to them. They both sit on the verandah in front of her kiosk* and eat. It was a hot midday. She stands from the window of the kiosk and looked at them. She felt as if her two late sons are still alive, they may age like these two boys. She saw how they eat the biscuit. She could feel that they were hungry. Without knowing why she felt pity for them.
She then went into the house. She came back with two plates of rice with stir-fried vegetables and fried chicken. The two boys still sat there. She called to the two boys, offered the meal and hand over the plates to each of them, asking them to sit there and eat. The two boys felt shy and rejected the offer at first but the woman kept insisting and then they accepted it. She smiled when she saw how they eat the food wholeheartedly. She felt as if her two late sons are there with her at the moment. She then went back to continue baking the bread to sell. After a while, the two boys finished eating and they handed back the plates. They say thank you to the woman. They stand there in the window of her kiosk just to look at her made the dough for the bread. They observed how she made a phone call to somebody from distance that she called with a lovely name. The woman is talking about how she missed her two late baby boys and how they would look like if they still alive.
After the lady finished her phone call, the two boys called to her to excuse themselves and say farewell to the woman. The woman says goodbye to them. But before they left, the boy who is a bit elder tell her:
’Please do not be sad mom…. We both are always watching you from the heaven…’
The woman freeze for a while. She felt her world is stopped. She felt blank. She tried to call them back but they had disappeared. She did not know what to do next. She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. In her euphoria, she took a box of candles and light the candles in the Oratorio and started to pray for her two angels son.
Dedicated to Two Brothers in Heaven VZ
*Kiosk = small grocery shop
**Oratorio = a miniature praying house
VZ, Dili, 31 Oct 2017
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A CONCERT OF POP MUSIC AT THE HEART OF THE CITY

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What do you see during the concert of pop music at heart of the city?

 

Is it the setting of the stage where the blinking lights are all around?

 

Is it the unstoppable speech of the host?

 

The native and foreign singers who sing with their beautiful voices?

 

The dancers who shake themselves in an amazing style?

 

Or, the crowds who surface like ants?

 

As for me. I am not only looking at these things.

 

Eyes of mine supposed to only look straightforward, yet they draw me to see a five-year-old boy holding a bunch of five balloons and selling them around.

 

Then, a father holding her little daughter buys a pink balloon from the five-year-old boy who sold the balloon. The father gives the balloon to her daughter. The little girl laughs out excitedly.

 

After that, a woman came along and took the little girl from her father. She kissed her daughter with laughter.

 

The three of them stand right in front of me holding the pink balloon they just bought and watching the concert of pop music at the heart of the city.

 

Now, I am the one who cannot see that concert of pop music at the heart of the city.

 

VZ

Largo Lecidere, Dili, Timor-leste, August 29, 2017

From Dili to Jakarta via Bali (1)

It was the last day of June 2013.

I was full of excitement as a teen.

Waiting for my Sriwijaya flight at the Nicolau Lobato Airport in Dili.

With a mind of a wanderer, I asked,  “Would this trip be a jolly?”.

Later the flight came and I went ahead in a tremble along the departure gate.

I got on the airplane; a beautiful air hostess with red dress greeted me.

She had the most beautiful smile of the day.

I showed her my boarding pass; she guided me to my seat.

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I sat contently yet carefully paying attention instead.

Another air hostess was demonstrating the flight safety guide.

After an hour, the plane left the ground and started to take off. My heart jumped.

‘I am flying high!’ my mind exclaimed.

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It was my first trip from Dili to Jakarta.

There is a short transit at Ngurah Rai airport of Denpasar in Bali.

That was also my first time to see Bali, although just at a glance.

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Down there, I saw Bali’s beautiful blue sea with the white cliffs.

The red-brown houses formed like beads.

They spread over a huge green carpet of its green field.

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A very long bridge shaped a curvy line over the sea.

How I wondered to explore those places one day.

“Oh, how wonderful isn’t it?” myself said.

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I had heard about Bali since I was a child in 1990s.

People said that Bali is an island of gods, a paradise for tourists.

That time, I wish that one day I too could visit Bali, as a tourist.

I wanted to see the gods. I wanted to enjoy being at its paradise.

Finally, my wish did come true. Even though only for an instance.

Vitalia Ze, Dili-Bali-Jakarta, 30 June 2013.

How Many Times?

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‘How many times should I forgive? Seven times?’ I asked.

‘No. Not seven times but seventy times seven times.’ He replied.

Then, I started to count on how many times I had forgiven yet this is my first time learn about forgiving.

VZ, March 21, 2017

 

To A Friend

 

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Stroll With A Friend-By Leonid Afremov 

A long time ago I knew him briefly but not closely. He is a charming, friendly and an easy going person I ever know. I saw him for the first time when he was still a teacher and a learner in that eastern land.  He always shares a sweet smile and warm greeting to everyone. That made me thought that he would be a bright future prophet.

After a few years, I met him again briefly. That time, we met in the center of the Rocky city where he was in rush to catch a bus to Dili. Yet he was still able to greet me and tell me about his new life.

‘I am going abroad after this’ he said with a bright smile. He looked so happy.

‘Abroad? To where?’ I asked.

‘USA. I got a scholarship.’ he said proudly.

‘Wow. That’s great maun*. Congratulation!’ I responded to him with amazement and so we shared our farewell.

After several years, I met him again in the road of Palapaço in Dili. This time, he appeared with a new look and charismatic aura. He stopped, looked at me with his big friendly smile and greeted me yet I look at him in wandering, trying to recognize him.

‘Hey, it’s me. Have you forgotten me?’

After a few minutes, I smiled and looked at him with surprise.

‘Mine, you look great maun. Totally changed. What’s your secret?’ I said.

‘No. No secret at all. I am still the same as before’ he answered with a humble smile.

After a brief Q&As on our latest life updates, we shared our farewell.

 

Today, I heard again about his journey with disbelief.He is lying in the hospital bed for few months due to kidney failure. He looked so thin and pale yet he still managed to smile while receiving much material and immaterial support from his friends. All of them wish him to recover soon.

From this distance, I continue to wish him a miracle. I hope that, as of the prophet who was swallowed by the whale, he could also receive his miracle after three days of faithful waiting.

Here, I continue to hold on the hope that we could meet again someday, With him smiling genuinely at me and said ‘Hi, it’s me again. I am back.’

*maun = brother in Tetum Language.

VZ, Dili, September 7th 2016

Little Star

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Here comes the night while both my eyes do not yet fall asleep.

In the muteness of the night, I hereby sit and think about how yesterday we met in a temporary eclipse after we have parted for few weeks due to the different rotation we are running.

Last night, together we accompany each other with the stories of yours and mine.

We had the storybook of McQueen and his friend Mater, which is also your favorite movie, got along with us in our reading together session. However, I was the one who read, whereas you only listened and asked questions.

I hope that you were able to pick some lessons from the storybooks I have read to you.

Then, you lingered yourself into my cuddle during some minutes. Before, I used to love counting the duration of this magical moment from one to five. However, you always forbade me to not counting up until you wanted to release me by yourself.

In fact, if only you know, I never want to release you from this beautiful cuddling. The cuddling from two small arms that are so tight yet always strengthens my heart.

The cuddling that empowers me, when I almost give up.

The cuddling that encourages me when I was afraid.

The cuddling that really warms me up when I feel cold.

O Little Star, this cuddling will remain felt here although my rotation has shifted from you.

I beseech you; let your light continue to shine thus it will shine me within these half distances between us.

Good night, Little Star…

VZ, Dili, March 13th, 2016