People (who I think) I Knew… Part I: Fawwaz

I just got an idea to have interviews (or small talks) with people around me. It could be families, friends, fellow writers and journalists, people at work, and of course it could be you!

Unfortunately the idea appeared when there were only three living creatures in this house: Fawwaz, my 10 years old son; sun flowers for my birthday bucket yesterday and me. So, it is clear enough, Fawwaz will be the first “victim”…

Me: Fawwaz, do you mind if I write something about you on my blog?

Fawwaz: Not at all. But, I need to double check your posting later, ok! (he is busy with his Bugs Bunny serial while throwing the answer).

Not because I realized his presence in my womb from the very first day so I could easily declare that I knew him well. He has been growing with his own distinctive characters.

Fawwaz writes rhymes, poems and stories. One thing that I missed: he has significantly developed his bahasa Indonesia and creating his crafts using the language.

When he was preparing a speech for my birthday, I expected he wrote something in English. I was wrong.

Here is his short rhyme:

dialah bola tergantung tinggi
menjadi pujaan seekor burung
apabila ia tiada lagi
gelap gulita hidup pun murung

(happy birthday, mom! love you; fawwaz)

— our small talk about the rhyme:

Fawwaz : Mom, it was originally a riddle, not a rhyme. First, I found the answer: moon. Second, I remembered you sang Fly Me to the Moon. Third, I tried to find the words in bahasa. How is my bahasa?

As a riddle it goes like this:

akulah bola tergantung tinggi
menjadi pujaan seekor burung
apabila aku tiada lagi
gelap gulita hidup pun murung

*pertanyaan: apakah aku?

*jawaban: bulan

*keterangan: “burung” di situ hanya untuk mengecoh, tapi bila jadi puisi, burung itu aku dan bulan itu ibu!

(Fawwaz eagerly explained the whole background in bahasa! He looked happy.)

—my small note about our small talk:

I think I knew Fawwaz better than anyone, but I was wrong! There are lots of surprising elements in this life, and sometimes they come from the closest people. Fawwaz does love bahasa, he has built his interest on it, he has sharpened his ability, and the clumsy mother has missed the point: the son speeds up his language ability beyond her expectation.

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