Dadah Pertama

Pengalaman macam apa pun kalau itu dilakukan pertama kali pasti kesan pesannya lebih banyak dari yang berikutnya. Secara, it’s a matter of survival. Di saat masih hijau, masih bocah ingusan, masa depan tidak selalu bisa dijamin. Alhasil aku merasa tidak aman karena apa pun bisa terjadi di masa depan.

Bukan hakku untuk berbicara kalau aku sudah kenyang sekarang, lagi pula masih panjang perjalananku. Tapi semakin aku berjalan jauh, aku temukan kepingan jawaban yang tersebar di sepanjang jalanan. Beberapa ada yang pas dengan puzzle teka-tekiku, beberapa ada yang harus kubuang agar aku bisa maju ke depan.

Di saat aku melakukan pencarian diri, orangtua jauh di sentuhan, dekat di angan-angan. Tapi yang di atas selalu melihat gerak-gerikku, karena Ia lah yang telah membuat jalan ini. Syukur kulantunkan ketika Ia membimbingku kembali ke jalan utama.

Ketika seorang bocah bilang ia akan terbang ke negeri lain, reaksi yang orang dewasa berikan adalah antara miris, bangga, dan kagum. Walaupun orang dewasa lah yang banyak mengontrol dunia ini, terkadang sifat juga bisa berkontradiksi dengan umur. Yang mana yang salah… yang mana yang benar… meh.

Aku keluar dari pulauku, sudah terasa memang bahwa teman dari pulau yang sama itu tak terbayar harganya. Mencoba membuat teman disini… eh terkadang malah disangka alien -_- . Tapi beberapa dari mereka disini seperti harta karun yang langka. Biji-biji dari seantero dunia ini lah yang menemani suka dan dukaku.

Kalau kebetulan datang dua kali, itu namanya udah takdir.




The Eyes That See Everything

This is a pretty random story, it took place around February-March this year. It was that time where I was preparing for my very first competition here in England, which was the BYC qualifier for the South West region. I don’t know why but I just find this story pretty amusing somehow and I just couldn’t help but to smile like a cheshire cat every time I recollect the story.

It was one of those (supposedly) ordinary days where we walked to school in the morning as my Indonesian skin tried to fight the chilly winter breeze under the thick coat I wore.

That morning, I recalled that I (idiotically) shove the competition’s sign up form into my cardigan’s lace pocket since I was in a hurry. It’s this thing here.


My roommate and I walked down as we passed the bus stop we usually encountered in our way. Coincidentally a bus was also stopping there that moment.

The next thing was that my roommate and I, we stopped on our track as soon as we heard someone said “excuse me” from behind. A lad cladded with the typical British school garb told me that I had dropped something and my breath hitched for a moment there.

It was my competition’s sign up form.

I was all, “OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod how could this happen just how stupid am I to actually count on some lace pocket to keep a very important piece of paper blablabla.”

The next thing I knew, I kept on grinning and giggling to myself. Conceit began to somewhat overwhelmed me as I kept on repeating, “God wants me to win in the competition, a medal will be in my hands hehehehe.” This incident, was my main motivator for the competition.

As days passed, I went to the competition and thankfully got into the elimination round. Event hough I only ranked in the 4th place out of five fencers (category U16), I still got a bronze medal and was qualified for the next big thing (which was the British Youth Championship in Sheffield). I told my coach about that particular incident, he smiled as he told me, “Someone is looking after you.”


Learning is a Process, Not a Race


This story was based on my personal experience during my first time fencing, I think it was around 2012 when I just started to fence. Every time I practise and did something ‘perfectly right,’ my coach would constantly fired me up with compliments, I got so used to it I think I managed to get to the point where I was blinded by conceit.

One day, my club was invited to an annual competition in a particular school. I was so confident that I would even get to the finals I even trained my victorious scream just the night before the competition (Aish… so embarrassed).

But then in the seeding round, I eventually lost… ouch.

Truthfully, I admitted that I was ignorant of ‘the right of way’ rule in foil that time. My short temper wasn’t making it any easy for me too, resulting the attacks that I executed were parried so many times. I froze on the piste and I couldn’t think of making any move whatsoever, I just let myself became some fencing dummy for them to stab on. I went through a major emotional breakdown after that.

I cried a lot at that time. I put my expectation too high, then when I fell, the pain that I should bear was just too much. The worst part was that I even thought about quitting fencing. I felt like I didn’t even have the confidence to hold my foil anymore (I was a foilist for a short time). I also found how precious my teammates are for me. They helped me to get through all sorts of ups and downs and the thought of moving to another club is just simply unbearable for me.

This also triggered me in believing that no one is made to be a prodigy no matter what sport he or she begins with. Every person has their very own potential and I believe anyone can fence. The difference is in how much we’re putting the effort in every parry, every riposte, every footwork, and every lunge.