.......and the family lives on.......

This posting is dedicated to a special young lady I call 'MAK' - Marsiti Kerto who seeks Allah's pleasure today at 10.50pm Malaysian Time. Born in a coastal town, Jepara, Central Java on 23rd.January 1914 - a birthplace of another famous national heroine of Indonesia, Kartini or Raden Ajeng Kartini - a nationalist and champion of Indonesia's women's rights in the late 1800s. When Bung Karno became President, 22nd.December was proclaimed the Indonesian public holiday, known also as 'Kartini Day or Mothers' Day' in honour of her struggles for women's rights and social justice.
I was moved to tears after receiving the news from 'my brother' at 19.05hrs (London Time) of her peaceful passing at Ampang Puteri BUT I was extremely proud to be accepted as one of 'sons' and a member of the family. Married to the late Karto Tirto Wijoyo from Pati (Desa Blaru) a.k.a Wak Karto Satay in Muar, Johor, they have 10 offsprings between them - 6 boys and 4 girls and countless grandchildren....
During my childhood days I used to visit my grandfather's younger brother, mbah Atmo Kasanrejan , who was also a satay seller like Wak Karto and living nearby. I was more interested of Mbah Atmo's passion, which was rearing the Merbok, a family of the pigeon. It was during my teen years that I must have been more inquisitive about the Wak Karto Satay..I must have crossed paths many times with 'Mak' but took no notice of her except for the usual greetings...'nak kemana embah, apa khabar embah...' and suchlikes.'.. I remembered to have asked my mbah Atmo who Wak Karto was. A man of few words, quiet and reserved, mbah Atmo's reply were ..'sedara kita jugak,..sama-sama datang ke sini cari jeki...' My family came from Central Java too but from kabupatan Purworejo not far from both Pati & Jepara... How I wonder...However, I never have the chance to trace my ancestry as I (the only child) have left my country for London in 1975 and lived ever since.
'I have lost my mother, Nal, but at least I have 'one' left..' my brother said on the phone that very morning of 'mak's passing while awaiting burial. I ask who..'Mak Panchor' came the reply. I was deeply moved and broke down. The last two years I managed to visit 'mak' with my wife. She was frail on her wheelchair but I could see the smile, satisfaction and happiness written all over her face. I hugged and kissed her. Her smell was sweet as a baby. The next meeting was with my own mother. My mother was massaging her and the two ladies were talking happily together as if renewing long lost relationship. I was proud. But I was more envious of my 'brothers and sisters' who were able in looking after and caring 'mak' especially during her ripe old age, which I am unable to do, not even to my own mother...

It's only our prayer and remembering her that keep the family alive... Al-Fatiha...Ameen..!!