The atmosphere of the campus where my son is attending college is hectic. So many graduates flock to the sidewalks. Some other rides their motorbike bringing toga and hair bun. They seem so happy. And so am I. Today I am thrilled and relieved because the struggle to pay for my son’s college will end shortly.
“Arjun!” suddenly someone calls me from another direction. My head is searching for the source of the sound. A few minutes later, I see a man with a gift coming to me. I frowned to recognize him. After a while of trying to unfold my memory, I finally remembered who the white guy was.
“Hakim!” I reply while laughing. We shake hands tightly.
“How’s Jun?” he says.
“Alright, Kim, as you can see,” I replied quickly. My friend at Islamic boarding school I know as santri servant of Kyai Salman. Afterwards, I pat his shoulder. His body is so stocky, not like before. In Pesantren, he went to Kyai Salman’s rice field every day until he forgot his obligation to study. Hakim was the santri who most often got the teacher’s anger at that time.
“What are you doing here, Jun? Take your child’s graduation?” he asked cheerfully as if he had never had such a dark memory in the past.
“Yes, you are right, Kim. My first child graduates from Agribusiness Department today. I don’t want my child to be a fool. What would his future be like if he didn’t go to college? It’s a loss if the father goes to college, but his son can’t go to college, right? “I sigh to take a pause. I want to make Hakim aware of the importance of science. Then I begin to speak again,” my struggle to educate children is not easy, Kim. But thankfully, after studying from college for six years, he finally graduated. Oh yeah, what are you doing here, Kim? “I ask him.