Branded

The car entered the giant parking lot. A parking staff, in his bright-colored uniform directed my car to the next available parking spot. We could hear music filling the air when we got out of the car. It was one of their famous tunes! Colorful banners with a picture of their favorite character marked the area where the car was parked. I noticed there were also other parking lots with different banners and tunes, while I was riding the free tram to the main gate.

I looked at her. Her eyes were sparkling. She could not stop smiling either. Walking... No, hopping her way through the entrance, she made her first step into a dream-comes-true realm. Yet, along the way, she held my arms tightly, to make sure we would not get separated. People literally thought we were a couple; it made me super uncomfortable with that situation. Dating your own mom? That sounds wrong in so many level! And trust me, I did try hard to convince these people that she was my mom. They just didn’t buy it! Do I look that old? Or, does Mom look that young? I really hope it is the second! :-) Nobody would guess she was 57 and a grandmother of three. That day was a celebration of her childhood dream becoming a reality: going to Disney World!

Mom has a very gentle heart. A heart so tender that seeing blood will make her face turning pale. At the same time, she is also very extrovert. She needs the presence of other people to give her energy. This dependency makes up one of her primary weaknesses. Mom is always afraid of being alone. Unfortunately for her, it had led her to a life pressed under other people's thumbs. To make it worse, she was surrounded by wicked people. People who would not hesitate to push her off the cliff just to take advantage of her! Yes, Mom has a tough life. A life stained with harassment, disappointment, and failures. She has been carrying a scarlet letter even until this day.

The earliest memory I can recall about Mom was the time when we lived in a house of many people. We shared the house with other families, and one of the families were not even related to my family. Mom was a famous cake baker in town that time. She was always busy baking and decorating cakes. Especially around holidays, when orders came in like a flood. A lineup of cakes was spreading from the living room all the way to the kitchen — a 300-foot long. Her cake business was getting bigger and bigger. Sadly however, the business was pulling her away from the family. Her relationship with Dad was also slowly going south.

As a little child, seven years old at that time, I suspected nothing of Mom spending more time with another man. However, my street-smart sister reacted differently. She kept telling me that Mom and Dad would have a divorce sooner or later. I guess I was in a state of denial. No, I did not believe my sister's warning at all. In my naive eyes, Mom was still together with Dad, even when this other man finally moved into our house.

One night the whole family received news that Dad had accepted a job offer. And it was in Bali! We were all glad knowing that we were moving to one of the finest islands in the world. Not long after, the whole family were sitting in the backseat of a van, on our way to Bali. Funny as it might sound, this other man also moved along with my family. When we arrived at the rented house, I noticed how the room arrangement was also ridiculous. That man and Mom were sharing a room, while Dad got to sleep in the living room. Even though I saw it with my very own eyes, I still chose to be the most ignorant child in the family. Everyone else knew that Mom had been married to the other man, but I did not want to accept the reality.

When my mind had finally opened and reality had kicked me in the back, I slowly swallowed the bitter facts about my family. The tie had been broken. There were other people that I had to accept as part of the family. Especially later, when my younger sister was born.

Things were going even worse when Mom and that guy decided to move back to Jakarta. I rebelled against her plan to take all kids with them. So Mom left me alone in Bali with Dad, while the rest of the family migrated to Jakarta (see Abandoned).

Little that Mom knew, moving with that other man was a total disaster. Subtly, that man used up all Mom's savings. He asked Mom to invest in his entrepreneur ideas, but none were making a break. So, while Mom's cake business didn't pick up well, she still had to feed a husband and three kids. To make things worse, this man introduced Mom to an imam — a teacher and leader of Islam's way. This imam convinced Mom to embrace the belief. In her desperation, she converted to Islam.

I didn't know anything about her conversion to Islam. However I had become a follower of Christ when the incident happened. One day, I visited her at her house. I was so shocked when I saw many Arabic writings taped and hanged on the walls of the house. Obviously they were all verses from the Koran. My heart was so troubled that night, but I had no intention of asking her the truth. I was scared that the truth will hurt me even more. I could only whisper a prayer to God, telling Him how worried I was about Mom.

Apparently, the shocking events didn't stop there. From other sources I found out that Mom had also gone to a mystical place in Central Java. A place believed to have a spiritual presence. People went there to give an offering and worship the god who inhabited that place. Undoubtedly it was a place filled with all demonic activities. Broken-heartedly, I could only prayed and cried to God, asking Him to help Mom.

With my sister ran away from home and literally threw her life away (see A Faded Flower), my mom started following a demonic-Islamic cult, and every single member of my family was separated from each other, I remember that time as the darkest moment of my family.

Poisoned

Everything was moving! The lamps, the table, the wall and all things hanged on it were circling me in high speed. My body felt so light that I could not tell if I was reclining or levitating. I rolled my eyes but it did not fix anything. Confused. Helpless. Not sure what to do. When I opened my eyes, I saw all these things spinning. However, when I closed them, what I could feel was free-falling into a bottomless pit. I guessed if I only had one eye opened I would see what Alice saw when she was falling down into the entrance of Wonderland. Sets of furniture floated around her falling.

Suddenly, I felt so sick... very sick... that I jumped out of my bed and ran into the bathroom. And without a chance to take my head down closer to the toilet bowl, an uncontrollable stream of undigested food gushed out of my mouth. My body felt very weak after that disgusting scene. There was no energy left to even pull myself up from the bathroom floor. Powerless. But, a couple minutes later it came back again. I threw up again until there was nothing left coming out of my mouth. (Amazingly, then I still had the energy to clean my bathroom from all the nasty spills.)

Having crawled my way down to the kitchen on the first floor, I finally collapsed on the living room carpet. My stomach was growling. A burning sensation was creeping out inside my stomach. I bit my lips to take on the heat, but the pain was overwhelming! Lying down on the carpet, I kept moving my body to ease the pain. But no position actually worked! In fact, the pain was getting worse and worse. I pressed my stomach hard and curled it up as much as I could to make it numb. But no! It was still there! Feeling frustrated and desperate, I began to think about the worst. A scary idea cropped out of my mind. I believed that it would be it! That moment would be the last time I saw the day. Soon I would die from this sickness. Yet sadly, I had no chance to say my last words to anybody, because I was all by myself. Alone in the most critical moment of my life.

"Jesus, I will be with You soon. I'm glad because this will be the end of my suffering in this life. Please forgive my sins. And I also pray for my family.... my friends.... all these people you have placed in my life...", I whispered my final prayer with full hope that God would touch all the people I loved, so that I could meet them again in heaven. But, I did not finish the prayer, for everything silently went dark...

It all started right after I had my lunch at work. I brought the leftover from the dinner at my favorite restaurant the night before. As usual I just put the leftover on the kitchen table (not in the fridge), since I thought my home was pretty cold to make the food last. But I was never that wrong before! When I was eating the leftover, I believed I could smell some parts of the food had gone bad. However, with the spicy sauce, it still tasted good! So I finished it up.

About fifteen minutes later, I began to feel very sick. Lightheaded. Although I kept working, I had to rest my head on the chair. Until I could not stand it anymore, I directly told my boss that I was sick. After he gave me an Advil, my boss sent me home. Along my driving home from the office, I had a funny feeling that my car was skidding to the right all the time. Prayerfully, I convinced myself that it was just my headache talking. I did not stop asking for God's protection until I safely arrived at home. As soon as I parked my car, I dashed into the house. Unfortunately I did not make it all the way to the bathroom, because right at my kitchen sink, I threw up unstoppably (luckily, I made it to the sink). My lunch had found its way out — through my mouth and my nose! And things were going downhill from there.

An hour later...

When I opened my eyes, I had a mixed feeling about my presence. Half of me believed that I had crossed over to a different realm, while the other half said that I was still in the same life. It took me a few minutes to finally agreed that I was still alive! Not only that I was alive, but the burning sensation inside my stomach had also gone away. To prove my point, I poked my stomach in different spot, but really, the pain was fully gone! I smiled. Relieved. Amazed. What an experience to know that God was there for me and He saved me from the deadly incident. My heart was warm and filled with thanksgiving.

That afternoon, I came to God and reaffirmed my faith in Him. He had shown himself to be faithful. In my darkest moment, He embraced me by His arms and gave me rest. In my rest, He healed my sickness and soothed the pain. What an awesome God I have!

"Know therefore that the LORD your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commands." - Deuteronomy 7:9

A Faded Flower

Sorrowing. Sobbing. Screaming. Tears falling without any signs of stopping. Uncontrollable wail intertwining with short gasps and dry coughs. She was lying flat on her bed. Her black long hair was tangled and wet from all the tears. Her brown eyes looked dimmed and swollen. Nobody could ease her pain. Nothing, truly nothing, could mend that shattered heart. Two hours passed by… the cry suddenly turned into silence. Absolute silence. Not long after the family realized that she was there no more. She had run away. Sixteen-year-old Malia, alone in the cruel and unforgiving metropolis.

When she was finally found a few months later, Malia had changed her look. Bold and dark makeup was all over her face, sending a don't-mess-with-me message to all people around. She dressed differently, too. Dark top with tight shiny pants on high heels, just like Olivia Newton John’s in the old Grease movie – not the innocent Sandy, but the altered girl at the end of the movie. A mix smell of cigarette and alcohol permeated the air every time she opened her mouth. She looked high; oh wait, after she said something actually people would know right away: Malia was high!

Her mom begged Malia to come home. She didn’t budge a bit. Her mind had settled. In her heart she believed that the awful thing happened to her was all because of her mom. So, going back to her family was not an option. Who would live with a family that causing all the troubles and humiliation? Malia convinced herself that the new lifestyle was the answer for all life's problems. She also kept saying how great life had been for her since she left home. No one was able to convince her to get out from the darn night club where she was found that night. Not even her dad, who loved her very much!

I remember Malia as a sweet girl. We always played together when we were little. Our favorite game was congklak. It was a fun board game. Malia and I could played that game for hours... or even longer if our parents didn’t forced us to study. Hollering to their children and telling them to study was one of our busy parents' daily communication methods. Malia was also my singing partner. When we were not playing, we would carry some children tunes together. Malia had a beautiful voice - and I just had a voice. But when we sang, we sang wholeheartedly (or just very loudly). I could vividly recall the moment when Malia and I were sitting in the back of a pickup truck on our way to a villa in a mountain. All the way we sang out loud to all cars behind us. We laughed at their annoyed faces behind the wheels. That trip was also memorable because I saw Malia accidentally kicking one of the villa’s windows. A big piece of the broken glass cut through her foot. She was run to the hospital immediately.

Did I tell you that Malia was also strong? She was my protector! (I was short back then and she was much taller.) Malia and I went to the same school. No students dared to mess with me because of Malia. With her sweet face and sweet talk (and strong muscles), she charmed (and threatened) any students in school. Lucky me! In return, I saved her from school homeworks and projects. Yeah, we were like a pair of the beauty and the geek. Malia always had difficulties with some serious subjects at school. I knew she was smart but too lazy to pick up her books. Yet, Malia always found a way to pass through those classes - even when we were finally going to different schools. In middle school, a little bird told me how she flirted with some male teachers to get good grades. Oh, Malia!

Moving to Bali split up our ways. Malia and I never talked since then. But, when I moved back to Jakarta, I met Malia again. Certainly, she had changed. She entered her adolescence time faster than me. Her world was filled with ideas about appearance: being accepted and, if possible, being adored. When I started getting involved in a church, I asked Malia to go with me. Surprisingly, she agreed. However, she didn’t want to join the youth group where I belonged. She decided to join a young adult choir. Malia somehow thought of herself to be more mature than the teenagers in the youth group. Yet, I was still happy for her! As long as she was surrounded by good Christian people she would be okay - my thought exactly at that time.

It didn't take long for Malia to, again, become popular in the choir group. Her presence sparked delightful admiration from the male members and fiery jealousy from the other female members. In their musical show, Malia was picked as one of the main stars. She sang, acted, and danced exquisitely. And in that choir group she met this man. Not long after, they started dating.

I would say Malia was dating a music genius. He composed many wonderful songs and wrote some musical performances for the church. He once wrote a pop song. The song soon made to the top chart and won an Asian musical award. Malia and that man looked like a match made in heaven. With their talents they both presented many entertaining shows for all to see - inside and outside the church. Their relationship was covetable - frequently Malia received a threatening call from mysterious jealous fans of this man. Once I had a chance to be in the same car with them. I could immediately smell love was filling the air. What a happy couple! I was really happy for Malia and wished her the best in that relationship.

But a storm came...

This man came from a "noble" family - a rich and (supposedly) happy Chinese family, while Malia came from a broken family. Her parents were divorced and, later on, her mom married another guy. In Chinese culture, which the guy was brought up into, a good seed should be with another good seed to make a good family. Mixing a good seed with a bad seed, like one from a broken family, would only produce bad seeds for the next generations. Most of the time, they would value this belief above Jesus' teaching about love and forgiveness. So when this man’s mom found out about Malia's broken family, she strongly despised their relationship. The mom convinced her son to break up with Malia. Under hard pressure that man finally caved in. He broke out the bad news to Malia. The sky went dark over Malia's life...

That unfortunate event marked the day when Malia's life made a jump off a cliff. She was frustrated because nothing she could do to fix the relationship. Who could select which family to be born with? Malia was a bad seed, not by her choice, but from a careless decision made by her parents. Whom could she blame? Of course, her broken family! That was why she left home - a home of bad seeds! Like a cattle, she was branded by fire as a bad seed on her forehead. This bad seed brand haunted Malia's mind wherever she went. On the wild world out of her home, Malia tried to find the remedy in all the things this world would offer. She would try anything to soothe her bleeding heart.

Malia's life soon was filled with cigarettes, alcohols, drugs, and sex. Surely, none of these could ever give her the comfort she longed for. Instead, like drinking sea water she became thirsty more and more. Her guy friends (those bastards! – please pardon my french, I found no better word to describe them) took advantage of her situation. They wanted her body, but none of them would want a committed relationship with her. Malia had also been hospitalized a few times because of OD. When she was sober, she would smoke and drink, and sometimes cut her arms and legs. She believed the pain from cutting would make her forget other pains in her life.

When the night came, my mind often wandered...

"What is Malia doing out there?", "Is she safe?", "Why did our parents decide to have a divorce? If they knew what mess they brought into their children's lives, would they still do it?"

Our parents had brought a beautiful flower to this world, but the flower faded away. Who could make the flower beautiful again?

I whispered a little prayer for Malia,... my friend and my sister.

The Splitting Hair

It happened when I was an eight-grader... hair that divided the school.

Abandoned..., but Saved!

The final exam was just finished. It was a very important exam. The result would determine if a student could graduate from the elementary level. And not just that, performing well in this exam would also mean a better chance of being accepted into a good junior high school. I had studied hard for the past one month to make sure I could pass with good grades. The four-day exam was long enough to make my brain spinning and burning. Imagine the joy and relief I had when it was over. What a happy day! I could hear birds chirping (only in my head, because even birds don't chirp in Jakarta) along the way from school to home. All was well... until Rick broke the news.

"Look, I have signed you up for a church's youth retreat. Everything has been taken care of. You just have to pack your stuff and go in two weeks. Oh, by the way, I don't take 'no' as an answer.", said Rick adamantly.

His statement was like thunder in the sky; my sunny day was suddenly turned cloudy... then rainy. I was shocked and feeling threatened. No words came out of my mouth - but deep inside my heart was revolting and my mind shouting, "What the heck?! Why must I go? I am not a church person!"

All my life, I had never been to a church. Well, perhaps once. As far as I remember, my parents took me to a Christmas service once. That was it! Dad and Mom were not churchgoers. They didn't see the need of going to church or taking spiritual life seriously. God was never mentioned in my family, except in cusswords. Dad believed in doing good, not God. His "spiritual" advice to me was always about doing good to other people - and my life would be rewarded someday. Mom, on the contrary, never expressed what she believed. School, although they taught a subject on religion, didn't help either. Religion was just like History or Sociology; something to be memorized, but had no relevance to daily life. Because of the way I was brought up, words like "God", "church", or "spiritual life" sounded foreign to my ear. It was all the reason I resisted to go to a youth retreat. Five days of brainwashing, isolated somewhere in the mountain, with a pack of strange kids, talking about nonsense! Absolutely ludicrous! Though very upset, I was too afraid to say 'no' to Rick!

Wait! Before I continue, let me introduce Rick. He is my close cousin. Yes, we are cousins from our mother's side and also father's side. He is nine years older than me. Rick and I have an almost similar family situation. Divorced parents, step-parents, left alone by parents - a shattered dysfunctional family! I became to know him more closely when we lived together with our grandparents. He had lived there much longer, about six years before I moved into that full house. He has a manly look. Short hair, scruffy face with a mustache, hairy arms and legs. Girls like him. Not just because his bad boy look, but also because he is funny and musically talented. The first few months living with Rick was like hell. He loved to pull a prank on me. The most annoying one was his night pranks. In the middle of the night, I used to have "the urge" to go to the bathroom. Half-asleep I would drag myself from my room to the one and only bathroom downstairs. After I was done and switched off the bathroom light, I would have to find my way back to the stairs, since my eyes would have to adjust to the dark. And Rick, hiding somewhere, would suddenly make a creepy sound, or throw something at me, or even jump in front of me. That would give me trouble to sleep again! He always came up with a crazier idea every night no matter how careful I was trying to be.

Despite Rick's crazy behavior, he is actually gentle at heart. He was the one who helped Grandma taking care of the other children. Rick had been a big brother I never had. He always pushed me to perform better at school. He had been my back-patter whenever I did something well. For all of the children living in that house, Rick was the tie-that-binds. Almost every night, he would gather us all in the so-called living room. Accompanied by the strum of his guitar, we all would sing together. When we didn't feel like singing, we would play games or share stories. Moments like that had been our euphoria to forget our life's pain and misery. It was a blessing to have Rick in this family. Apart from family and school life, Rick was also busy with church activities. He played guitar, bass, or drums for the band. At the same time, he was one of the leaders in the youth ministry. Perhaps, his involvement with the youth ministry compelled him to force me to go to their retreat.

Now back to my original story... A couple weeks later, I was sitting in a bus with all these strangers. Next to me was Angela, my other cousin (I will tell her story another time). Rick made her go, too! Lucky me, at least I knew two people in that bus. I made that statement too soon, because the outgoing Angela was already making new friends in a matter of minutes. While she was talking to her new friends and Rick entertaining other people with his guitar, I was just staring at the window - feeling trapped and lonely. All of the sudden, a head popped up from the back seat. It was one of the youth leaders. A friendly and warmhearted guy. He started talking to me and also introduced me to other kids in the bus. Apparently, these people were all nice. They were different from what I thought they would be. I started to enjoy the time. Talking, laughing, and singing with my new friends made the two-hour trip feel short.

The bus arrived at the retreat center about an hour late, due to the bad traffic. Nobody complained, though. Either all of us were having so much fun in the bus or we were just used to the congestion. When I got off the bus, fresh mountain air flowed into my lungs. Green trees and blue hills spruced up my tired eyes. I promised myself to appreciate every moment while I was there, in the mountain. I grabbed my duffel bag and walked with the other kids to the main hall. We prayed (actually, they prayed because I was only closing my eyes), played some games, and sang a few more songs - a lot of new songs for me to pick up. Then we were divided into groups. Each group would share a room and would always stay together in every activity. Two leaders were assigned to my group (too bad, it wasn't that friendly guy I met in the bus). The room we shared had four beds inside. And there were seven of us, including the leaders. Now, do the math! Sharing beds wasn't a bad idea at all. We were up in the mountain. The night was cold and the room had no heater, no fireplace, and definitely, no down comforter. Only thin old blankets were provided. Beyond any doubt, we could use some body heat!

The five-day retreat was filled up with many activities. Every day was a long day. Our morning began at 6AM and our night ended at 11PM. We had to get up earlier to take turn on using the bathroom. Right after everyone was ready, we had a group (not-so) quiet time with our leaders. Basically, we read a passage from the Bible and then discussed it together. We had three big meals and two snack times each day. The activities were varied from playing games, singing, and of course, learning from the Bible. Each speaker would teach us a lesson from the Bible. For a newbie like me, finding a verse in the Bible was quite challenging.

I always got nervous, "Matt who? How come this book has so many funny names inside?"

It turned out that the whole retreat was about friendship. I was intrigued when the speaker said that there was a true friend - someone who would never leave me no matter what. I paid full attention to each lesson to find out more about this friend. Lesson by lesson, from one speaker to another, everyone was talking about something related to friendship. Until in one lesson, one speaker mentioned that the true friend was Jesus. It startled me for a moment. I heard of this Jesus many times, especially around Christmas. He was the baby who lied down in a box, surrounded by sheep, donkeys, cows, a woman, and some men wearing dresses.

"But, who is this Jesus?", my mind couldn't stop wondering. "I don't see him in this room. Is he for real? Or is it only a mind trick these people trying to play on me?"

Question upon question bombarded my head. I was torn inside! One side rejected the idea of Jesus while the other side was very curious to know more about him. This could be my one and only opportunity to have a true friend - a lifelong friendship that I had been longing for.

Later in the last night of the retreat, the message finally hit me. God created me to be his friend, but I chose to betray him by doing things my way. It was called sin. Little that I knew, sin was fatal; not only I lost my relationship with God, but I was also condemned to pay its wage: eternal death! One big problem, though, I couldn't pay the wage myself. I had to die to pay it off. But, what good would it do if I already died? God, in his love, didn't want to lose me. So he sent Jesus, his son, to redeem me from my debt. Jesus had to leave all his glory in heaven and became like me, a mere human. When Jesus was on earth, he lived a sinless life. He healed the sick, he restored the broken, and gave hope to the abandoned (just like me!). Yet, many rejected and even hated him, too. They saw him as a threat instead of a savior. So, they set him up, tortured and crucified him. His death paid off my sins! Jesus took my place, went through an unimaginable agony and finally died. But that was not the end! On the third day, he rose from dead. He then showed himself to many people as a living proof that neither sin nor death had any power over his people.

While digesting the message, a series of discomforting images started playing in my head. An image of how I became an alcoholic by the age of ten. Another image of me punching a boy's face over and over with no mercy at school. Another showed me the time when I stole money from Grandpa. One image came after another, and my face turned pale when I saw me wishing my parents were dead. How I blamed them for all the misery in my life. My soul was filled with rage, revenge, and all evil thoughts. No wonder God couldn't be my friend. He knew me inside out. If I knew someone like me, I wouldn't be his friend, either. But, that night, I was offered a second chance. A chance to be redeemed. Free from all wicked things that pulled me down. A chance to live life as God's friend. All I needed to say was this simple prayer: "I am sorry for my sins. I accept you, Jesus, as my Redeemer. And now I give my life to you"

Right after whispering that simple prayer, an electric jolt tingled my body. I felt something unusual. No, it wasn't scary at all. On the other hand, it was calming yet delightful. I felt peaceful. A peace that I had never experienced before. Tears started rolling down my cheeks. I cried for all the bad things I ever did, for all the wicked plans I ever thought of, and for all the people I ever hurt. The air must have been loaded with love and forgiveness, because the more I breathed the more I wanted to love people. With unuttered words, I braced myself to forgive my parents. My heart made a little promise before God to love them. My parents were just confused people, who didn't really understand what they had done to me. If God could forgive an evil person like me, I would surely be able to forgive my parents. Tears flowing uncontrollably, heart beating excitedly, but deep within... my soul had finally found its resting place.

A boy filled with fury and hatred died on June 15, 1985. But, a loving and gentle one was born in return.

That one unforgettable night has turned my life upside down. Life has never been the same. The promise of a lifelong friendship has become a reality. I have never been alone again. A new chapter has... NO!, a new BOOK has begun. Abandoned..., but saved!



While I am writing this story my heart cries for Rick. Later in his life, Rick met a woman from a different faith. To marry her, he had to deny his faith in Jesus and accept her belief as the way of salvation. He is now following that belief, and at the same time, he also practices paranormal activities. Rick is now a different person. I pray that one day he will realize that he is going down the wrong path. I am looking forward to the day when Rick will again come to Jesus, the true Lord, Savior, and Friend...

[quick puzzle's answer: Rick is my double first cousin]

Abandoned, again!

It was still early in the morning when the train entered Jakarta. The city greeted the sunrise with its unwelcoming face. Grey sky covered with smog; tall and short buildings from old to modern look; and roads flooded with all kinds of vehicles and pedestrians. Yes, there were people in the middle of the roads. Apparently, the sidewalks (if there were any) could not contain the rushing people. People just scurried from one side of the road to another without any fear of getting hit - as if they were invincible. Cars, trucks, and buses were competing with each other to use the road. A three-lane road became a five-lane. On top of it, motorcycles swiftly cruised any possible gaps on the road. Everywhere looked like a chaos! A total mess!

The train finally made its final stop. All passengers impatiently raced to get off the train after a long 12-hour ride. When getting off our car, Dad held my arms more tightly than he ever did before. He didn't let go of me even when we exited the station. Perhaps, he had a feeling that he would lose me in this city. And he was right! Because the week after marked a new chapter in my life. I really had no chance of going back to Bali and Dad would have to go alone.

When our cab dropped us off in front of my grandparents' house, I could see Mom waiting at the door. Mom looked different from what I remembered her. Or was it just my imagination? I hadn't seen her for more than a year. Could a long time actually change my memory of Mom? She hugged me tightly and seemed happy to finally meet me. But I wasn't sure about my feeling toward her. A tug-of-war between happiness and disappointment crippled my judgment. I just stood there with no reciprocal action while Mom was hugging me.

Although Mom had bought a small house by the time I was in Jakarta, I had to stay with my grandparents during the visit. Mom's house was way too far from the city and the house was so small that no spare room was available for me. On the other hand, my grandparents lived in a bigger place. They owned a store in the city. The store was a two-story building. Half of the first floor was used for business - a small restaurant and pastry shop (Grandma's homemade!). And the rest of the building was the place they called home.

While I was staying with my grandparents, Mom and my siblings lived far away from the city. For this reason, I didn't spend much time with them. We could only meet once every other day. I felt indifferent about that. Living in Bali had taught me a lesson to not rely on my family. With one big difference, though. Here in Jakarta I still couldn't adjust to the city's lifestyle. There was no street or field where I could play outside, which was never recommended for safety reason. Most of the time, I killed time by playing video game inside the house. Suffocating inside the house made me miss Bali even more.

Things didn't happen as expected. In the final week of my visit, I was so ready to go back to Bali with Dad. Suddenly Mom told me that she wanted me to stay with her in Jakarta. In fact, she had already registered me to a school! I was speechless - shocked and angry! And Dad, whom I hoped would do something about it, seemed helpless. Dad didn't do anything to take me back with him. I had no idea what deal Mom had made with Dad that made him agree to leave me here in Jakarta. What I knew was now Dad left me and went back to Bali by himself. The decision crushed my heart. I felt cheated and trapped. But, what could a ten-year-old boy do to change this unfair situation?

The injustice did not stop there. Mom sent me to a Catholic school located about 15 minutes away from my grandparents' place. In this way, it would make more sense to leave me with my grandparents. So, I ended up living with my grandparents and not with Mom! It defeated the purpose of my moving to Jakarta. In addition, I wasn't the only one living with my grandparents. My sister and four other cousins ended up staying there, since most of them also went to the same school. Suddenly, Grandpa's house was transformed into an orphanage. Not for real orphans, though! Only for children who were abandoned by their parents.

Even a big house like my grandparents' could not accommodate half a dozen kids at the same time. The house became so packed and it definitely didn't have enough room for us all. It was an ancient building - more than a hundred years old. And just like any other old buildings, the bedrooms were small and only one bathroom was available. Grandpa had the biggest bedroom in the house. Accordingly, I had to sleep in his room and share a space with another cousin. Inside the bedroom, we were only given a small corner (yep, not the whole room). In that tight space, my cousin and I stored our clothes, books, and other belongings. The remaining space was barely fit to lay down the thin mattress, our resting place.

I was registered to an afternoon school. The class started at 1PM everyday. This was another new thing I had to get used to, because all the way back from kindergarten I had always gone to a morning school. Mom was trying to get me to the morning school. But, since it was a late registration, all fifth grade classes of the morning school were booked solid. So, my sister and my cousins went to the morning school and I to the afternoon school. That also meant I would spend less time with family again. I went to school by myself, while my sister would go with my cousins. My family had no car. As a consequence, I had to take the Mikrolet (a modified minivan used as a public transportation) to get to school and to get back home. Days were also felt shorter than usual. When the class started, the sun was already on its way to the other half of the earth. When the class ended, the moon was already on the horizon.

This new chapter in life had trained me to be independent. I was forced to take care of myself, or nobody else would. As a ten-year-old boy, I had already gone to many places in the city by myself. My favorite place was always the bookstore near Grandpa's place. I could spend hours and hours of reading in the store. At home, I would do homework without anybody helping. I would eat dinner alone, too. By the time I got home, everyone had had dinner. Gradually, this lifestyle had made me a distant person. From the outside, people would see me as a quiet boy. Deep inside, I was full of bitterness and anger toward my family.