Sharing happiness

Dearest my friends ....

There is a beautiful children song composed by Neno Warisman that always reminds my mom and I to share our happiness in some simple ways, such as a loving smile, politeness and tenderness. Do you want to hear it?

“SHARE OUR HAPPINESS”

Look at your right and
Look at your left
Who are they, Who are they
Who can’t reach their dreams on their way
With no chance to change their way
They are the poorest
They are now helpless
They’re all our brothers and sisters
Who live in darkness
Who live in sadness
Let’s share our happiness
(Kids) : What shall I share, Mommy?
(Mother) : Whatever you have, honey!
(Kids) : I have nothing, Mommy!
(Mother) : No, you still have something, baby
At least you share, your loving smile, politeness, tenderness,
Let them share our happiness

Lihat itu siapa di kananmu,
Lihat itu siapa di kirimu,
Di jalan-jalan yang buntu
Siapa gerangan mereka itu?
Mereka saudara saudara kita
Anak-anak yang papa
Yang telah bekerja siang dan malam hadapi kenyataan
(Anak) : Yang tak putus asa
(Ibu) : Walau hidup susah
(Anak) : Tak mampu sekolah
(Ibu) : Tak bisa berkarya
Mari berbagi kebahagiaan
Apapun yang kau punya berikan
Walaupun hanya senyuman …
(Ibu & Anak) : Kelembutan, ketulusan, kasih sayang

Ramadhan

Hello,

I am very grateful that I still have a chance to observe Ramadhan this year.
My mom told me that Ramadhan is about purifying our soul, learning self-restraint and avoiding committing sins.

رمضان كريم Have a blessed Ramadhan!

Je t'aime, momie

Je t'aime, momie
XOXO,
Peaches

Hijrah

هجره Hijrah means migration. It refers to the Prophet's migration from Mecca to Madinah. Hijrah can also mean to leave a bad way of life for a good or more righteous way.
Happy new year!

Lovely neighborhood

Hello,

This afternoon we attended Dumaresq Street annual street party. The party is always held in September and always at Lorna and David's garden. We brought food and we shared the food. It was very interesting!


These are some of our neighbors. Well, many of our neighbors are retired people. They are very nice and very kind. "We have a lovely neighborhood here" said my mom. "Definitely. You can always knock on any door here if you need any help. You feel safe here", said Lorna. Oh, praise be to Allah, Allah is glorious.


Our street is very beautiful, peace and quiet. There is always an Oak tree in front of every house. Many people also have Cherry Blossom tree and Magnolia. This is Magnolia tree in winter.


This is Magnolia tree in spring. It is blooming! Yes, it is a heaven scent Magnolia. A fragrant magnolia growing to approximately four meters.


The pastel lavender-pink flowers are paler on the tips and white inside.

I like to live here on Dumaresq St.

Ramadhan

No day nor night could be better
Than moments that have been attached in my heart, forever
A whole month full of venture
Tears and prayer
To purify my soul

I hope that I still have a chance to meet the next Ramadhan


This is a flower at the garden of the Indonesian embassy, Canberra, where we offered an Eid prayer this morning

In memoriam: Achdiat Karta Mihardja

Hello,

This is my mom's writing for Aki.

Achdiat Karta Mihardja, one of the great Indonesian writers, has passed away this morning. He left many literature works. The most famous one is “Atheis” a romance, published in 1949. He also wrote drama scripts, short stories, and novel.

I met Achdiat for the first time in last March, to congratulate him on his 99th birthday. He and his wife were in Narrabundah nursing home, Canberra. That meeting inspired me to read his literature works that have been shelved on the third floor of Menzies library, at the Australian National University.

Achdiat is a simple person. His last will is to return to Indonesia before he died, but he didn’t make it. He passed away at Canberra Hospital this morning.

I wrote this poem for him, to remember him, that many people might have forgotten about him.

THE LAST HOPE

The morning sun has embraced
The red sky gave a warm greeting
A weak figure covered with age flake
Lay down frail
That wrinkled face
And a pair of old eyes
Stared at the window

It was the ninety nine times
The green maple leaves
Turned into orange, red and purple
Fell ….. blown away …. scattered on the ground

Almost one hundred years the old figure has sailed
Swayed by the wave, blown by the storm, strived to survive
Created thousand pages of literature work
Brighten up the knowledge, a light that never dies
Yet ….. his glory was at an end
The radiant sun was dimmed
His passion was alive
But his fingers were too weak to write
In Narrabundah, Canberra, Australia, he stopped by
But … he didn’t want to anchor there
A faint voice before his last breath was heard:
“I .. am …..dying …”
“I ...am….. not … a … traitor …”
“I …still .....want … to … contribute ….to … my … country …”
“I …love ... Indonesia …”
“I …want …to … go … back … to … Indonesia …”

Aki, I hope you can hear my poem .... I pray that you will have a good place by His side .... Rest in peace, Aki. You have contributed a lot to your country.