I always love to listen to him when he tells me something. I observed how he tried earnestly to explain his meaning with a difficult voice for me to understand. I also love to see his hands move randomly, trying to help him convey certain information. But unfortunately, I still can’t understand.
I think Pak Warsa is someone who had indeed been friends with misery. So the word no longer has a scary face. Instead, he seemed to be friendly and taught him many secrets. His face never shows sadness when the person is mocking him. There is no tone of disappointment emanates from his eyes. He still looks like the humble one, Pak Warsa. His hair begins to lose its colour, but it never changes his kindness.
Pak Warsa is doing everything he can. Sometimes he offers to help his neighbours. He was also looking for sought wood that was washed away and stuck at the foot of the bridge. Besides, he often buys fruits and then resells them. He also offers dishwashing services in the celebration of the people. Pak Warsa always moves. He seemed to realize that his move would make him feel alive.
Pak Warsa is Pak Warsa. There are no people like him. He is unique with all things in his life. God deliberately sent him to my village to teach us a lot of the mystery of wisdom.
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In this Ramadan, Pak Warsa still gives me a surprising lesson. He set his sound system in front of his house. Every time I went from the mosque near the house and crossed the front of Pak Warsa’s house, I always felt slapped.