That small child fighting with fate

On the hilly slopes that are rarely touched by asphalt, a little girl named Naina Safitri, looks so solemnly arranging the clothesline of corn and peanuts in her yard. The age of only 12 years was seen happily helping his mother leaving the clothesline of the harvest. His father was only a seasonal farm laborer whose income was uncertain, while his mother made the contents and otes know every morning to be entrusted to the stall or sold around. Naina, her nickname, is always alert to survive with her small family, when she is engrossed in playing online games or watching animations on YouTube.

However, behind that simplicity, Naina has a light in her, the spirit of learning that is burning without ever going out. He has always been a class champion, memorizes every lesson, and always goes home carrying a trophy from the sub-district level competitions. Every day, before the sun appears on the eastern horizon, he is awake, helping his mother frying to know the contents and otes, then wrap it one by one with oil paper.

“Na, don’t forget to sell it. One seed two thousand, you take care of the money,” ordered the mother every morning while slipping the package into Naina’s bag.

Naina nodded, holding her school bag containing textbooks, small Qur’an, and two large plastic containing her mother’s snacks.

Arriving at the elementary school where he studied, Naina did not immediately enter class. He stood at the school gate with a patient smile, peddling the snacks to his friends and occasionally to the teachers who passed by.

“Ma’am, want to be warm otes? This is made by my mother,” he said politely while offering a small package.

Some teachers smile and buy. Some friends actually queue every morning. But not everything goes smoothly. One day, he was called by the Deputy Principal of the Student Section.

“Naina, you can’t sell at school without permission. Cafeteria is reluctant.

Naina’s eyes ducking. He bit his lips. His hands clenched tightly on the side of his school skirt.

“But, sir … I sell to help you. If not, I don’t have an allowance, even to buy a pencil,” Naina said quietly, her voice trembled slightly.

Pak Rahman sighed. “I understand, son. But you still have to ask permission first. This school has rules.”

****

Since that day, Naina no longer sells at the gate. But it’s not Naina’s name if you just give up. He began to try to face the principal. Many times he knocked on the principal’s room, but was often rejected because he was busy or was meeting.

But every day, after school, he still waited in front of the principal’s room with a package of ote-ote and knew the contents in his hand, hoping that one day it could be received.

Finally, one drizzling morning, the principal who usually seemed busy turned towards Naina.

“Are you a grade 6 who likes that sale, okay?”

Naina nodded quickly. “I’m sorry, sir. I just want to ask permission …”

The principal nodded slightly. “Come in.”

In the cold and spacious room, Naina expressed everything about her mother, about her determination to still go to school even though she did not have much, and about her dream of becoming a teacher someday.

The principal was silent for a moment. Then he smiled.

“Naina, you are an extraordinary child. Starting next week, you can sell … but only in the school canteen during recess. You can’t interfere with the lesson, and you must remain a champion, agree?”

Naina’s eyes sparkled. He nodded excitedly. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much …”

Since that day, Naina has been selling in the corner of the school canteen, side by side with a canteen guard who has been a friend for a long time. He still champions class. He even won the district -level speech contest, making his name printed big in the school bulk. He is known not only as a child seller of snacks, but also a student who is persistent and full of enthusiasm.

****

On the day of grade 6, all parents of students were present. The school held a simple event with prayer together and cut into a cone. On the sidelines of the crowd, a simple berkaya mother approached the canteen, attracted to the savory aroma that came out of a small package on the table.

“Who is this sale, huh?” He asked the cafeteria.

“Mrs. Naina, Mom. Her son is always champion. He is the one who sells every day.”

The mother looked at the stage, where Naina was receiving an award as a model student. He stared for a long time, then smiled.

A few days after the event, Naina’s mother was visited by a guest. A middle -aged mother with a warm smile.

“I am Mrs. Fadilah, parents of students from elementary school where Naina school. I have a small pesantren in Jember. I want to offer Naina to board there, free. The cost of eating, school, all I am responsible. I am impressed with Naina’s spirit. Children like him deserve a better chance.”

Naina’s mother was stunned. Tears flowed slowly. There is no word he is able to say but “Alhamdulillah …”

That night, Naina cried in her mother’s lap.

“Mom … Naina can continue to go to school.”

“Yes, I want … God is good. You are patient, you are strong … and see, now your path is open.”

In a small village in the eastern end of Java, light does not have to come from sparkling electricity. He can emerge from the spirit of a girl, who with a small step and great heart, light hopes for her family. Naina Safitri, the son of the seller of OTE-ote and knows the content, has proven that the dream of never knowing the boundary if fought with the heart.

“Thank you, Mom. Naina will survive by learning to survive as she always teaches …” they are mothers and a girl hugging each other. On their side, Santoso, a man who sat, and followed a warm hug.

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Writer: trough
Editor: Rara Zaryry