Echoes of Tradition

As the weekend approaches, all plans are ready to be realised, The place has been set, The time adjusted according to mutual agreement, So that the awaited day goes as expected, Sometimes in the morning, occasionally in the afternoon, but more often at night, Until the awaited time,

The routine worship schedule every week, The musicians are ready, The singers are in position, This second Sunday, the worship goes smoothly.

In between vocal rehearsals, traditional songs are mixed in, Often, songs for the church are sung in the local language, The youth gather, singing a traditional song, Automatically, others join in, excited and joyful together, Before they know it, they’re on the fifth song, the musicians becoming more spirited, The elders, like uninvited companions, They seem not to participate in the space but will hear their children singing together,

If they make a mistake, they are gently corrected, Often, the children watch and listen, Hearing various types of songs, Imitating and understanding their meanings.

In the afternoon, after the body starts to feel tired, The only way is to rest, Enjoying the meal that’s already prepared, Sometimes brought from home, often cooked directly in the garden, In less than an hour, the food is gone, maybe half an hour or even less, The ukulele, often called “Juk,” is played, A simple instrument, smaller than a guitar,

Faithfully accompanying the rest time, Before they know it, one local song is finished, Beside them, the children begin to focus, Understanding the melody, often the seeds start to mimic the song, Until at the same time, on a different day, it repeats again,

One week, two months, three years, and beyond, The local song is understood, and they can play it by themselves, Wherever they go, don’t be surprised if the local song appears once gathered, Everyone enthusiastically plays the instruments, As if without instructions, the voices of one, two, and three are divided,

As night approaches, the sunset light shows its colours, As if competing to see who is the most beautiful, How about the sunset in Kaimana? It becomes the winner in this case, But honestly, every place is the same,

Amazing with its own uniqueness. Imagine how dazzling the stars are, The sea light seems to replace the lamp light, The calm atmosphere with the sound of waves seems to whisper, "Hey, good evening, how was today?" "Take a moment to rest, enjoy the peace of the universe."

The birds return to their nests, Fishermen, farmers, and all workers return from their rest, They ask for nothing, only the results of their efforts, People celebrate, everyone rejoices, Grateful for their achievements,

One thing that won't be forgotten, "Ade, where are you?" "Uncle, I’m going there, yeah." Ending with the words, "Come to the house, I have blessings (fortune)." "Come to the shop next to the traffic light." The invitation to eat becomes a culture, We’re close, and we are like family.

Not just pleasantries, The word "come" becomes a sign that you’ve entered the circle of closeness, There are no barriers, and nothing is hidden, Share sincerely, don’t be shy, we are family, Maybe that’s one of the implicit meanings, Ah, how true, it always comes from the heart. If A, then yes, A.

The culture of "come" bridges doubts and perhaps kinship, No more hesitation in the end, it turns into family, If in a planned journey, "Come" becomes the sign for "yes, you can join." Let’s cultivate the word "come," Simple but full of meaning, As if money is not the measure,

The feeling of exhaustion after a day that demands so much energy, After trying to be sure that there is always a way in every difficult choice, The sunset always arrives, leaving a beautiful impression, The sound of the waves always ready to accompany the coming of night, Slowly, its sound becomes rhythmic, Accompanying the day that has ended, The sea always plays its part in calming the soul, Then, the night falls, and sleep comes peacefully.

The sun hasn't even shown its light yet, The waves are still faintly murmuring, The birds' voices haven't joined in to create a lively atmosphere, But father and mother are already up, The world will be greeted earlier with joy.

The activities planned the night before are soon underway, The tasks left unfinished from yesterday are now a priority, Prepare everything needed, clean the boat to be used this morning, Don't forget the tools, fishing gear, and others, Warm tea and cakes are already ready in the kitchen, One sip, two sips before heading out to sea, or just to gather dry branches behind the island.

At that time, the weather was clear, The sun shining directly above, As usual, the campus was always bustling, Those leaving, let them rest, Those arriving, may they always be enthusiastic with their main purpose,

Final-year students are full of spirit, sometimes broken, but easily back on track, Consistent and earnest, guided by prayers, this is the key to reaching the doors of academic struggle, Although in the end, there is no end to the learning process.

Arriving at the dorm, boarding house, rented place, or private home, The men, with muscular bodies, dark skin, and tough characters, Perfect for being athletes; runners, footballers, basketball players, volleyball players, boxers, Whatever it is, they suit their build,

At first glance, those who don’t know might fall into stereotypes, Dark-skinned from the east, a loud speaking style, Complete with an aura that is often intimidating, Speaking bluntly, sometimes perceived as a little indifferent, especially to newcomers.

As it nears 8 PM, A message appears on the phone, “Brother, where are you?” A sign questioning where you are, What you are doing, And where you’re headed next,

If you're not busy, let’s go for a walk, just to catch some air or sit at a coffee shop, Only light conversations being discussed, Not deep, but full of meaning, Many things can be learned, Maybe one of them will change your perception.

With a soft and convincing tone, Pouring out everything that’s being felt, The tone rises when the mood intensifies, It softens again when the atmosphere touches the heart, Unknowingly, an hour or two passes,

As usual, Friday has arrived, A sign that it's time to visit the children in the village, The journey from the city requires several modes of transportation, Land route, sea route, land route, sea route, If measured by time, it's approximately a five-hour journey, The difference is that the schedule must be strictly followed, The boat doesn't always run on time.

The weather lately has been unpredictable, Sometimes it rains, sometimes it's sunny, cloudy but no rain, clear skies but suddenly it rains, What’s certain is that it often rains in the afternoon, The mountains surrounding the village cause the rain intensity to be higher, But don’t worry, it never dampens the children’s spirits.

Arriving at the village, The children’s welcome always becomes a cure for the travel fatigue, One child carries a bag, another grabs their hand and holds it, Showing the pampered nature of a child, The others come rushing and competing, all wanting to carry the backpack that could actually be carried alone, But it’s fine, that childishness is what’s always missed when we haven’t met for a while.

The enthusiasm starts from early morning, Coming to the house that becomes the place to stay, Asking what exciting things will happen this week, It will surely always be fun and beneficial for everyone, Learning together, sharing together, Even though there’s a big age gap, it doesn’t mean the older ones are the wisest.

The activity starts on Saturday morning, The schoolyard becomes the meeting point to share, The children gather with curious expressions, Ice-breaking becomes the start of activities to warm up the atmosphere, Bright faces begin to cover the early morning.

Coincidentally, two inspiring Papuan youths arrived this morning, The topic they shared was about photography and videography, The children were so enthusiastic, It could be seen from the many questions that emerged.

By the late afternoon, when the area was still bustling, Light rain added to the beautiful atmosphere, The dock became a favourite place to play, The calm sea made the heart peaceful, Suddenly, a question came with hope for an answer, “Brother, are you staying here?” The expression on the face was so innocent, An eight-year-old child said that.

I stood there for a moment, stunned, confused about what they said, Wondering how to answer, What’s certain is that they spoke from the heart, Longing for an educator who could be a comfortable place to learn everything, Indeed, that came from the heart.

Gathering with family is indeed a happiness, Just spending free time, Sharing blessings from hard work, Laughing and joking, but occasionally, there are tears between siblings, None of them want to give in, although the older sibling always gives in at the end, But it’s a beautiful moment when remembered in the place of migration.

Parents are happy to see their children grow up happily, It’s not rare for children to show their happiness by helping their parents, On school holidays, there’s an extraordinary opportunity, The child can help their parents fish all day long, Searching for fish for today’s meals, Stopping at an island to gather dry twigs, The relationship between the child and parents becomes closer during school holidays.

The children attending middle and high school in the city, Always await the holiday to gather with family, The child who is starting to grow up and study in another city, Taking advantage of the university holiday by working part-time, Sometimes helping relatives who have tourism services, Becoming part of the boat crew and often acting as the motorist, driving traditional boats or speedboats.

There is something that never misses when everyone is gathered in the village, A hobby that knows no age, Does not require a large budget, Positive in nature and helps strengthen ties between the villagers and other regions, Football, as it’s called locally, Volleyball, another type of sport.

It seems as if it has been destined by the God, Every child, youth, and parent loves sports, What’s even more remarkable is that it seems already written that every child can play football or volleyball.

As the afternoon approaches, without command, the field is full, Sports become the main attraction, It can be done every day except Sundays, Which is usually reserved for worship.

It’s not too hot, maybe because it always rains, The atmosphere in the dorm room feels so cool, Looking out the window, the day seems dim, As if today is a day of mourning, but it’s not.

Manokwari is indeed a bit cool, The atmosphere surrounded by hills along the city, Then looking towards the city center, the sea forms a half-circle, During the day, the Arfak Mountains stand tall and clear, At night, the lights of the city twinkle, with ships and the sounds of vehicles.

Amban holds many stories, Students from all over Papua, Living independently, leaving their hometowns, Weaving hopes, stitching dreams, becoming.

At every corner, there is a dormitory for each region, So close, one is at the bottom, and the other helps, No worries about food, especially betel nut, which is always the favourite, It’s as if one is for all, sharing with each other, In one situation, when tuition payment becomes an issue, One dormitory reaches out its hand, and the struggle continues.

One clan, there are other clans but still bound by the maternal clan’s status, The clan of grandparents is owned, broadening family ties based on the clan, Additional cross-marriages between family members, One region eventually has family ties, even with different statuses, That reason for closeness feels as though it’s a very close family.

On Friday afternoon, the journey begins with riding a motorcycle, Every two weeks, the schedule for studying with the children in the village, A time always eagerly awaited, Playing while learning about many things.

Getting to know the flora and fauna and objects around, The birds that are always noisy behind the village, The towering trees, The river, hills, and coral stones, At least, they can explain to people from the city about the village and its surroundings.

Arriving at the last village, the motorcycle is left at the house of one of the villagers, The journey isn’t over, this time we must cross using a traditional boat, As usual, there are villagers from the destination village crossing through the last village, Without much conversation, the villagers already know the purpose and destination, waiting in front of the crossing dock,

It’s definitely the teaching schedule this week, All the goods are lifted into the boat, This time only three of us can find time to teach, The volunteers each have their own jobs, so the schedule is often adjusted.

The welcome is always warm, As if we all miss each other, Without being told, everyone is already standing on the dock, Others run and shout from their houses, One by one, busy checking the goods on the boat, Not wanting to be left behind, they compete with each other and carry them to the basecamp, Holding hands (kissing hands) one by one, It’s always beautiful when coming here.

Since it’s already dark, the activities begin in the evening, One of the Muslim villages in Raja Ampat, Every night sharing religious knowledge, The children are always excited to arrive early at the mosque, One by one, they scramble for seats, As usual, anything will be competed for, It’s not uncommon to find it amusing how innocent they are.

Children from five years old to sixth grade sit neatly, Though most only last through the opening prayer session before the Quran recitation begins, The rest will be a tremendous commotion, Strangely, they never seem tired, One by one, they start to open their books, Not until late at night, by the time of the Isha prayer, everyone is done,

It’s not uncommon to glance at all the children, Most of them quietly repeat their previous recitations, A faint smile appears when they realise they are being watched, Ah, truly, the little learners, There’s always something to ask.

Today the wind is quite strong, It's not safe to go further out to fish, The choice is to stay around the village, Even then, it comes with risks.

It’s alright, there’s time to fish together, Sometimes, when the waves are calm, Staying in the village and fishing for the day, Eating together while the fish is still fresh, Tomorrow, we’ll fish again, Today is enough just for consumption, and tomorrow will be the same.

Occasionally joking around, then it’s back to balobe (fishing on a boat), An ukulele is always brought along, Simply for entertainment during free time on the boat, Ahh... it’s truly peaceful, The intense heat sometimes forces a break on the beach, Light a fire from dry twigs, Make two short posts, just enough for the fish to be grilled.

Perhaps it has become the most frequent ritual, Everyone’s favourite ritual, awakening the spirit, It seems to be a part of life, Every free moment, the ukulele plays, One local song, quickly followed by others, Singing together is indeed more fun.

Not just every day, Perhaps every hour, or whenever two people gather, Music plays, and then they sing, It’s not uncommon for new songs to be created, Without a title, just flowing from the lips, The lyrics reflect everyday life, Joking with each other through the lyrics of the song.

Wherever they are, In their home village or in a place far from home, This habit is essential, It can’t be avoided, Musical instruments, song lyrics, have become like a delicious dish, One cannot sit still at any time without it.

City life has a different impact, The era of globalisation is the main actor behind these changes, Communication has become easier, no longer bound by space and time, Information, even from distant places, can be accessed in minutes, even as the events are unfolding.

Gadgets have become one of the signs of globalisation's presence, Everyone, regardless of age, has the same opportunities, Even children are involved and play a part in it, Information is unstoppable, and parents have the added task of filtering what is appropriate for their children, It is not uncommon for children to have already encountered negative content.

In less than twenty years, The era has changed so quickly, Various types of social media have become tools that bring distant people closer, But they also sometimes cause those who are nearby to drift apart,

Many reports express parents' concerns about their children's character, Children observe, try, imitate, and then follow, eventually making it a habit, The influence is so strong that some children prefer spending time with gadgets rather than interacting directly with peers or even family.

This phenomenon doesn’t seem to be exclusive to cities, Villages, too, are part of this globalisation era, It’s no surprise that traditional games are becoming less common, Gadget games are replacing outdoor activities for children, In a day, children may spend more time on gadgets, This is just one example of how globalisation is unfolding, It’s not all negative, as it also brings many positive effects.

One thing that hasn't changed, Is the attitude of the youth in the Land of Cendrawasih, The indifferent attitude of children or younger individuals, Does not affect how they treat older people, No matter how children behave in cities, or teenage mischief, When they meet someone older, The word "kaka" (older sibling) wrapped in a greeting always comes up,

Lately, it's the season for langsat, Round-shaped, about the size of a large marble, Matoa is almost always in season, bearing fruit throughout the year, A native fruit of Papua, it tastes similar to longan, but with a hint of rambutan flavour.

Embrace it with joy, Abundant, and anyone in the village can enjoy it, The sense of family is still very strong, Almost every family has a garden, and even relatives in the city can feel its blessings. It's rare for someone from the village to go to the city, Just to sell their harvest, Or to bring it to relatives in the city, It’s also common for city folks to head to the village directly, to enjoy fruit fresh from the tree.

No half measures, one type of fruit can cover one or two hectares of land, When it's that much, the middlemen play the role of distributors, delivering it to other cities, Fruit harvests are eagerly awaited by many in the village, Even in the city, people wait for that moment, Along the streets, fruit sellers line up, Sometimes when the fruit isn’t in season, imports are made, The difference is that the price is higher, But when it's harvest time, more people in the city can enjoy the fruit at a relatively cheaper price.

Lucky for those with relatives in the village, Or who have acquaintances there, The joy of the fruit harvest will be felt, Once you know someone, they’re considered family, Whatever is owned can be shared and enjoyed together, Not just during the fruit harvest, but when visiting the village, If there’s a harvest, it can be brought home as a gift, Or if not, an invitation to eat together becomes a sign of being a family member.

Quiet, that’s how the evening feels, But people are quite lively, Shouts, screams, children joyfully playing, Occasionally, the sound of something falling into the water, They’re splashing around, It’s common, if it’s not school time or bedtime, A ritualistic sea bath becomes almost an obligation.

The sea becomes the night’s light, The sky filled with stars and the moon casting its glow, Adding to the romance of nature, And the sound of crashing waves seems to mark that the universe is joyful, Accompanying those already fast asleep after a day of activity.

Night, the time to celebrate the grandeur of nature, All the beauty entertains the horizon that must continue working for the creatures of the world, The wind never stops blowing, adding to the atmosphere.

When the time comes, without any help, Information spreads through word of mouth, Within minutes, the news is out, Chili, cassava, bananas, and whatever else is in the garden become shared.

Not a rule in a law, Nor a written law in the village head's regulations, Everything is in its nature, Humans find joy in sharing, The closeness of family, the harmony of neighbours, It’s so real, and it might continue like this.

All the villagers are ready, Bringing whatever they have at home, Not a written rule, Again, it’s in human nature to share, If there’s more, they share, Until someone brings fish, Dry wood, or plates if any haven’t been used before.

Night always passes, leaving stories behind, Beautiful and full of lessons. Thinking it’s a fortune, But more than that, it’s a blessing. Capturing the unknown, Information so profound, needing careful thought. As if every tale must be known, But it’s fine, more knowledge is gained.

Observing activities, everyone begins with hope, Returning home with gratitude. Sharing becomes second nature. Whoever has more ensures their relatives feel it too. Everything is shared, beautiful and exemplary.

Even those from neighboring islands come, Bringing their fortune, as if it were preordained. Exchanges happen, not out of obligation, But guided by the conscience of family members. It’s done willingly, if I have this and you have that, Let’s share and feel for one another. Tomorrow, when today’s yields are gone, We’ll trade again.

The kitchen isn’t just for private meals; It’s for communal feasts. Anyone can come, if there’s food, they’re welcome to eat.

Especially during big celebrations. It’s not just one or two villages gathering, But extended family from an entire district coming together. What’s striking is during major Christian holidays, Muslims from the neighbouring village visit. Not to celebrate, but to partake in the shared blessings. And vice versa. This has gone on for generations, Long before the present.

One family, diverse faiths. It’s real, it exists. Even within the same clan, there are different beliefs. Yet it doesn’t matter; family remains family. Children don’t yet grasp this fully, To them, everyone is simply human.

If identities are boxed by status, Crossing race, ethnicity, and religion doesn’t hinder friendships, Or the weaving of childhood stories. When it’s time for worship: “Wait a moment, I’m going to pray first.” It means, “Please wait, I’ll be back after praying.” Or, when someone asks: “The call to prayer is on, aren’t you going to pray?” It’s as if saying, “The azan is calling, will you go pray?”

Every morning, whether it's still the early dawn, Or when the day has turned dark again, A small hut, about 2 x 3 meters square, Serves as a blessing for anyone who needs it.

It’s not like a minimarket that stocks daily necessities, Nor a food stall with ready-to-eat dishes to choose from. There’s only one simple item, seemingly modest. It might seem impossible for such a small hut to hold great significance.

One bundle is priced at ten thousand rupiah, Complete with betel nut, betel leaf, and lime. Arranged neatly on a small plate, often used as a coaster. On one table, there are five to ten plates being offered.

The hallmark of the mama-mama (Papuan mothers), With extraordinary determination, They think practically, doing what’s possible right in front of them. Selling betel nuts to fund their children’s education, from school to college. One child graduates, and then the second and the rest continue their studies. It’s unseen but deeply felt, The benefits it brings.

The fruit season has arrived, Everyone rejoices, As if blessings have rained down from the skies, Various kinds are now available.

Some are sold in the city, The rest are eaten daily by family and kin. If you’re an acquaintance, feel free to visit and enjoy the fruits, When they run out, no problem, another season will come.

The new school year has begun, Everyone is busy preparing. The nearest elementary school is right in the village, From elementary to junior high school, it's outside the village. From junior high to high school, Sometimes it means going to the city, but that’s okay, There are always relatives living there.

One family is bustling with preparations for their child, The National Exams have been completed, The title of high school graduate now rests on their shoulders. The child’s task is to change the family’s fortune, To reach dreams and benefit themselves and their community.

Tradition provides inspiration, Preparations for university enrolment begin. All documents are ready: Photocopies of diplomas, academic transcripts, birth certificates/baptism certificates, ID cards, and two 3x4 passport photos. Not to forget, the registration form has already been filled out. Departing one day before the registration date.

People start coming and going, The gate feels slightly narrower, perhaps because of the crowd. Almost everyone carries a brightly colored folder, Walking timidly, perhaps nervous about becoming a university student soon.

The crowd grows, Voices remain calm despite the bustle. One by one, people submit their documents, Some double-check the paperwork brought earlier. Each takes their turn at the registration desk, Completing the process step by step. The entrance exams are done, Celebrate those who pass, Now the responsibility lies in their hands.

How fascinating, Moving to the city, living with relatives, Some choose to venture further away. Daily expenses for meals, Supplies for university assignments, And semester fees that must be paid. Mama back in the village needn’t worry, The extended family has come together to share the load.

Morning returns, and activities begin anew, Repeating the steps toward the boats, Dressed in uniforms, cheerfully walking to school, Arranging and selling goods in a small structure, about two by three meters wide.

Tonight, the moon is bright, Not the best time for catching lema fish. It feels as if the moon itself whispers, “Don’t you miss me?” Its light dances on the water’s surface, Reflecting so clearly that the moon seems to exist above and below.

Meanwhile, the stars glitter joyfully, Creating an enchanting atmosphere. The sea is calm, the wind gentle, Broken only by the occasional splash of fish leaping above the surface.

The dock in front of the village is a favourite spot, Lying down and gazing up at the sky. The universe feels so vast, yet it brings one closer to God. In less than five minutes, cheerful children arrive, Eager learners from a village on an island in the archipelago. They join in, lying down, gazing at the sky, Forming a circle, their heads close together.

Questions flow about the wonders above: The distance from Earth to the moon, The number of stars in the universe, Earth’s position among the planets in the solar system. Their enthusiasm is boundless.

That night ends in drowsiness, Though their curiosity remains high, their bodies need rest. They stretch their legs, finding peace with the day, Forgiving all that left an uneasy feeling in their hearts.

The sun rises to greet them, while dew hesitates to leave. This is the natural order of things. A new question arises: Why does the sun feel so hot? And yet, the thought drifts away, For last night’s lesson about the sun’s distance was forgotten. Better late than never, Isn’t that true?

The morning is quite calm, Almost everyone is out at sea, Except for the shopkeeper, who stays home, Though if it’s shopping day, they’re off to the city. All the children are at school, Those too young for school play in front of their houses, Splashing in salty seawater, Their favorite pastime. These sea children learn about their world from a young age.

By midday, some have returned home. Mothers take the lead in managing basic needs, Attentive, detail-oriented, and excellent at organizing. Tasks that seem challenging or numerous are quickly completed. Children, missing their mothers after just a few hours apart, Act playful, coaxing their way into attention, though not all behave this way. They wait for lunch, chatting and bonding together.

The boat builders are busy with their craft, Working as if in a universal workshop. Children roam freely, watching or helping when asked to fetch tools. Curiosity always sparks questions, Even the simplest ones: "Why is it shaped like this?" "How many people can it hold?" "Is it a fiber boat or a longboat?" They’ve mastered it all.