I’m supposed to tell this actual story long time ago.
But I really got exhausted by many things I need to do, then I forgot each day until I get this night to compile all of my guts to write this story down.
Being one of a Registration Team member of PPAB (Panitia Peneriamaan Anggota Baru) of YISC Al-Azhar is not easy.
I, myself, never got interested to be a part of it.
But one day in a far far away place, too far until I forget the name,
YISC management enforced me to choose one department of PPAB and start joining.
What a big surprise that I finally got myself joining registration team.
It is a kind of team that the member used to work long time before the event is held.
And it won’t stop, until the YISC management gets their report about the the number
of the new YISC members and how much administration and education costs that they’ve
Everything was in a rush. We opened the registration tent almost everyday
and it even much longer in weekend.
Since it was really busy, I couldn’t even get myself to look around.
Always me and the forms and the purse full of money.
I even had to be willing that my phone number get spread everywhere,
written in posters, brochures, even in facebook, twitters and the rest of social media.
Not so comfortable for me, but I have, at least once in a lifetime.
I was a little nervous to face up the first day of PPAB.
The stage had been decorated. The organizer’s uniform had been delivered.
The new member’s data had been collected (although it must be many new members that will register on the D-Day).
But all registration team needs are only some desks and chairs.
D-day was coming. Here we go. First new member today. Then second. Then eleven.
Getting rush in every minutes. Then something goes differently.
What I saw was not someone in teenagers or twenty-something.
It was a mother, if I might tell have the same age with my mother.
She said, it was a morning-family-running habit that she did today when
she had found a posters written that there is a welcome party for new member of YISC.
She called her two sons. One of them might be around 22, and the younger one was pretty like a
junior high school students.
I could see their father is standing in the corner, waiting.
She told her sons to have a Qur’an study in the weekend since they didn’t have one.
I could see the doubt and the fear in their eyes, it scares me too suddenly.
She asked me much. The education fares, the schedule, many things.
I, carelessly forgot that YISC is only for 18-33 Y.O. What a tragedy…
I really impressed that mother that got me lost my memory suddenly.
I supposed to not to let the younger son to join. Because he was still 15.
But, I forgot, great.
After all, she said she would take them in several hours, to get themselves
clean up and get some better outfits to join the welcome party.
I nodded, and… impressed again.
In a minute I forgot what has happened. I don’t even think that she and her sons will come back again
You know, in Jakarta, I had been getting used to not-to-have-too-much-hopes.
Too much hypocracy here in this city especially.
Even though I believed in this mom, I just couldn’t make myself to wish too much.
Right after dhuhur. I was ready to take a wudhu, when I saw her, her husband were walking
with their sons. So, they came back. Smiled.
When I passed by, I told them that it was a lunch time. They might join.
The mother said thanks and I was happy seeing her smile.
For the rest of that day me and my friends liked to see this brothers
to enjoy their day. Going in front of the stage, showing some performances
for ye-yel duel. What interests me was seein their laugh, especially for the youngest one.
I wonder what the life was going, being a very rich kid, having homeschooling,
going everywhere with a mom-permission, or something like that.
Maybe my thought was too much instead.
I didn’t see them in the second day. Another forgiveness. Jakarta kinds-of-style.
But my eyes got wide when my friend told me that the brothers had come to get pretest
of their Quran readings.
What a suprise. That is why, I wasn’t got upset at all when someone from YISC management
had complained me about my careless letting someone below 18 to join YISC.
It’s OK, my fault. At least the first day of YISC events they got together, took a pretest together.
For somebody that gets his social life confined, his brother might give him some spirits through his firts days.
And everything goes well. I got him as one of the biggest charity supplier for 1000 Anak Yatim events.
And that’s what I called Hidayah.
Right in front of my eyes, I’ve witnessed somebody coincidentally found a place to study Quran.
And I know it’s not coincident at all according to Allah.