The Rainbow Troops Read Free Page B

started school, I could not comprehend. But in second grade, when I could read, I learned that it shouted: RHOMA IRAMA, HUJAN DUIT! Rhoma Irama, rain of money!
    Displaying the President's and VicePresident's photo and the state symbol Garuda Pancasila —which includes that strange bird with an eight-feathered tail always looking to the right (the Garuda) and the five state principles ( Pancasila )—is mandatory in Indonesian schools. When being evaluated as a model school, these photos are a determining factor. But at our school it didn't matter because it wasn't a model school—let alone ever evaluated. No one ever came to inspect whether or not we had the mandatory pictures hanging, since the school board barely acknowledged our existence. It was as if our school was lost in time and space. But whatever, we had an even better picture: Rhoma Irama!
    Imagine the worst possible problems for an elementary school classroom: a roof with leaks so large that students see planes flying in the sky and have to hold umbrellas while studying on rainy days; a cement floor continually decomposing into sand; strong winds that rattle the nerves of the students and shake their souls with the fear of their school collapsing; and students who want to enter the class but first have to usher goats out of the room. We experienced all of these things. So, my friend, talking about the poverty of our school is no longer interesting. What is more interesting is the people who dedicated their lives to ensuring the survival of a school like this. Those people are none other than our school principal, Pak Harfan, and Bu Mus.
     

Chapter 4

    Grizzly Bear
     
    LIKE OUR school, Pak Harfan is easy to describe. His thick mustache was connected to a dense brown beard, dull and sprinkled with grays. His face, in short, was a bit scary.
    If anyone asked Pak Harfan about his tangled beard, he wouldn't bother giving an explanation but instead would hand them a copy of a book titled Keutamaan Memelihara Jenggot , or The Excellence of Caring for a Beard . Reading the introduction alone was enough to make anyone ashamed of having asked the question in the first place.
    On this first day, Pak Harfan wore a simple shirt that at some point must have been green, but was now white. The shirt was still shadowed by faint traces of color. His undershirt was full of holes and his pants were faded from being washed one too many times. The cheap, braided plastic belt hugging his body had many notches—he had probably worn it since he was a teenager. For the sake of Islamic education, Pak Harfan had been serving the Muhammadiyah school for dozens of years without payment. He supported his family from a crop garden in the yard of their home.
    Because Pak Harfan looked quite like a grizzly bear, we were scared the first time we saw him. Small children would throw a fit at the sight of him. But when he began to speak to us that first morning, his welcome address emerged like poetic pearls of wisdom, and a joyous atmosphere enveloped his humble school. Almost immediately, he won our hearts. Pak Harfan's threadbare collar hung loose as he told us the tale of Noah's Ark and the pairs of animals saved from the epic flood.
    "There were those who refused to heed the warning that flood waters were coming," he said, beginning his story animatedly. We watched with enchantment and hung onto his every word.
    "And so, arrogance blinded their eyes and deafened their ears, until they were crushed under the waves ..."
    The tale left a big impression on us. Moral lesson number one for me: If you are not diligent in praying, you must be a good swimmer.
    He went on to tell a mesmerizing story of a historical war during the time of the Prophet in which the forces were comprised of priests, not soldiers: the Badar War. Just 313 Muslim troops defeated thousands of evil, well-armed Quraisy troops.
    "Let it be known, family of Ghudar! You will fall to your deaths within the next 30 days!" Pak Harfan