About my adopted brother...

He’s far away from home. He seems so strong and a he’s a big mouth. That’s what he likes you to believe. But there are moments that Adjoe is showing himself from a different side. However, these are very short moments and very rare. During this moments he pulls up his curtains and permits certain people to have a better look on him. But not for long and when the moment is there he only allows his little brother Jeetje to see the real Adjoe.

When I walked through the hall I was surpised to hear somebody crying on the background. It was a temperred sound, and I could hear also my brother Jeetje speaking out some sweet words to comfort Adjoe. Carefully, without making any noise I opened up the door of their room and saw Adjoe on the bed. He lies on his stomach with his face hidden, deep in his pillow. Next to him was Jeetje rubbing the shoulders of his little brother. I could read from Jeetjes face that he’s almost going under, due to the deep sorrow of Adjoe. He was doing his utmost to act strong but when Adjoe started to cry much harder I could see that some tears appeared in the eyes of Jeetje as well.

“You can’t go home. You belong here. We love you”.

This part of the conversation was in the Malasian language but I understood this part and where this was all about.

Jeetje bends his head and gave Adjoe many tiny kisses on his dark hair. Then he pressed his cheeck against the backside of Adjoe’s head. I could see how the body of my brother was stiffened. He’s did his utmost to cuddle Adjoe: his brother and partner in life. Adjoe made a fist and hits the mattress many times. He was mad and sad in one time. Then Jeetje was aware that I was looking and he jumped quickly up from the bed. He slammed the door right before my face. I was not allowed to see all this saddness. They wanted to share their emotions in secret. Maybe Jeetje was thinking that nobody else could understand Adjoe in a better way then he could. I opened up the door again and walked into the room. Jeetje was between me and him and wanted to protect his friend with his own life. A few minutes later I was rubbing his hair. Jeetje was deparate and started also to cry.

I was thinking of the best advice I could give: “Go to Mama”.

As fast as an arrow can fly from a bow he jumped away and at the end of the hall I heard him scream: “Mama, Mama. Adjoe wants to go home. He doesn’t like to stay with us anymore”.

I stared to the little man on the bed. He was ashamed for his tears and tried to hide his face deeper in the pillow. Adjoe was trying to push me away: ”Fuck off you. You don’t love me. Go away. Can you hear me?”.

His words didn't have any influance on me. I was still sitting next to him on the bed. He turned around and I was suprised by his beautyness. His black hair was exploded into every direction like he did fight a heavy storm. And the little tears made his deep brown eyes shine like they are real diamonds. The tears ran down on his cheeck. He was pretending that he wasn’t crying at all but he couldn’t hide his sorrow.

“What’s wrong with you? You had a fight with Jeetje?”

“Didn’t you hear that I told you to leave?”

He was angry with me and was trying to avoid my question. He jumped from the bed and walked quickly to a small sized suitcase in the corner of his room. He hadn’t much belongings when he arrived at Schiphol-Airport. Only a wore out shirt, battered trousers and some old photographs of his parents who passed away too soon. In his suitcase there were also two stones who travelled with him from Indonesia. Adjoe believed in magic and these stones were real magic to him.

He sat down on his knees and stared on the pictures that were right in front of him. On one of the pictures his mother was shown. He kissed her image and caressed the other picture on which you could see the face of his father. The pictures were the most valuable icons to him and were also the only tangible memory of his childhood.

“Nobody loves me. You only adopted me because you people think I am pitiful”.

I held my arm around his shoulder and discovered that the border of his shirt was wet from crying.

“We do all love you. Specially Jeetje”.

“Yeah, Jeetje is the only one who cares for me. He’s my brother”.

“I am your brother as well and so is Emmetje. When you decide to go back to Jakarta we all are going to miss you very, very hard”.

“Nobody cares if I’m leaving. And I’ll take Jeetje with me”.

“But why do you like to return to Indonesia?”

“The temperature in your country is louzy and everbody is against me”.

“Are missing your parents?”

I knew that my words could be painfull and Adjoe started to cry again and was hiding his head under the blankets.

“No. I’m not missing anyone”.

He sounded like he doesn’t matter but his body was telling a different story. This boy was feeling lonely, looking for hapiness and he was still searching for his parents who passed away.

I knew all these matters were going on in his mind. He couldn’t lie because I had to go through this same situation before. I’m almost eightteen now and I’m also trying to find my father. My father is gone like his parents were disappeared, but still I can feel my dad’s presence around me. I know he is still around me to protect me.

Adjoe permitted me to touch his cheeck and to rubb away his little tears. A sweet little man, adopted, and so far away from home. So much sorrow and confusion.

“I still think a lot of my father”, I started to talk.

He didn’t respond and collected the stones from his suitcase. Just two stones, not very valuable to anybody but they meant a lot to him.

“What are you trying to tell by showing me those stones?”

For a moment it seemed that Adjoe stopped crying. He was watching me carefully like he was observing me. He was estimating or he could trust me a secret.

“Do you have any souvenir from your father?”, he asked.

“Sure. I've got his ring and watch. When I’m wearing both I’m dreaming that I’m able to timetravel. So that's my way that I can come closer to him”.

Adjoe watched the other part of the room. Then he picked up the stones and puts them carefully in front of me.

He whispered, “These are my father and mother”.

“You meant to say that they are in these stones?”

“Yes”, he replied convictive. “That’s what the father of the orphanage told me”.

“Listen Adjoe, the father of the orphanage is right. People who passed away are free to go where they like and I'm sure they like to stay with you”.

At that moment a little smile appeared on his face again. He was glad that he found somebody who believed him and who understood his story.

“Quick, put your ear on the stones, then You can hear them talk”.

I was doing what Adjoe asked me to do while I was surpised about the believe of my little brother.

He did travel from so far but we have so much in common.

“Your mom told me that you are ready now to dry your tears”.

“Is that really what she wants? I must do what she’s asking for otherwise she might become mad with me and won’t return again”.

“I don’t believe that. Your mother loves you, where ever you are”.

“Really?”

“I’m positive. My father told me. He would never leave me”.

“Do you think I lost my mind about these stones?”

“No, Adjoe. This is not a very weird situation. When you listen very concentrated then you can hear the heartbeat of your parents. Listen”.

I passed him the stones and saw that he was concentrated and that he was listening very well. And then … his face lights up bright again.

“I can hear it. I can hear it”, he shouted. “My dad told me that I have to stay with you because you all care for me.

“We are doing our utmost. But you have to try as well”.

“I will start from now”.

“You don’t need to start from now. We noticed that you are allready did try for a long, long time. Everybody loves you because you are Adjoe. You’re a good boy and that’s why we want to help you”.

A few minutes later he kissed me and puts his head on my shoulder. He started to cry again. I understood his sorrow so very well. There is so much confusion and lonelyness in this country. I was happy that he believed in the stones. And now the confused story that Jeetje told me was totally clear to me. Every night Adjoe did hide the stones under his pillow. When it’s dark enough he listened to the story’s that his parents have to tell to him.

When his tears dried again I saw Jeetje running into the room. Now I noticed Mama watched us all the time from the doorway. When I was passing her I could see admiration in her eyes. Then she helds her hand on my shoulder and I stopped walking. We hugged eachother for a small moment. Then I continued because I won’t allow anybody to see my tears. Adjoe is having his only little fight and I have my own.

On the background I heard my little brothers playing again. Life goes on. But Jatagan, how do you like to solve your sorrow about your father?

Tthis story has been translated from Dutch into English for my friend Ike14

Jatagan

Jatagan