Like a castle in the sky. The tall, white building with large entrances and lots of wide windows that spans two blocks, with the blue sky at the background. If the sun is out, the famous mountain that made the town will be visible behind a thin veil, like the great wall that reach the heavens.
Every day, expensive cars drive in and out, carrying men and women who call themselves “The Representative for The People”, “Spokesperson of the smallfolks”, “Messenger of the Commoners”, or “Watchmen of citizen’s mandate”.
But small as he is, none speaks for his right; even when he is bold enough to sit in the middle of the gateway. Once elected, the windows of those golden carriages, bought by the money from the people they should be representing, would stay black and shut.
A young girl once stood against the crowd and roared “When the whole world is silent, even one voice becomes powerful”.
His world might be dark, his ears might be small, his voice unheard, but even the unheard voice vibrates so much, we small girls stopped our humble motorbike in front of the barricade, who call themselves “protect and serve”, throw their allegiance only to preserve the arrogance of those who are rich and powerful.
I stood tall in front of their hawk eyes; their stiff faces hidden behind masks. I walked straight toward their towering figures. I stopped right in front of him, down on my knee, and with all due respect, lifted him to rest on my bosom.
Some of those hawk eyes dimmed, as they fidgeted to hide their shame for throwing prejudice. Most just don’t care.
He wouldn’t know what’s going on. At the age where he should roam and wander to see the world, the vision that should build his future was robbed from him. The eyes that would equip him to hold onto hope were gone.
Still he knows how to climb. He knows how to hear, he knows how to love; more than those that called themselves the representatives of the people but never even look at those who gave them their mandates. Smiles, talks and promises are only for a campaign. When all is said and done, and they sat on their thrones in that white palace in the sky, it’s all dark around and they can’t see anything, they can’t see anyone. They have domination to all, but dominion with none.
He knows no sunrise, but he knows when one door is open, he can find a place where he can climb. When he climbs he can hear two voices, and when he hears two voices he will prance upon us.
He knows how many steps would it take to pat on our cheeks. He knows how many rounds of skipping back and forth to get his breakfast, and he knows which leg is whose, when to knead. Sometimes he will still be confused, but whichever leg he kneads, he knows he will have an audience, and his needs will be attended to.
He knows that even though he cannot see, his future is protected, his life is secured.
His hope shall not be lost.
Nachos is 10 weeks old without eyesight. He sat in the middle of the entrance gate of The Province of West Java House Of Representative at risk of being crushed by fancy cars of the senators, seeking someone to hear his voice, but no one cared even to move him to a safer location. He might not see your gesture, but he can feel your love. Let him feel the village that will lift up his voice and give him hope: paypal.me/whiskerssyndicate
“When the whole world is silent, even one voice becomes powerful.” – Malala Yousafzai. In her book: I Am Malala: The Story of the Girl Who Stood Up for Education and Was Shot by the Taliban. ISBN 0316322407 (ISBN 13: 9780316322409) Hardcover, 327 pages. Published October 8th 2013 by Little, Brown and Company