arid

It was a hot day. The sun not only shines but eagerly to fry everything reachable of its range. Even my skin smells like a toast and my breath felt as warm as a lighter on the van dashboard. The hot wind savagely blows my face and left my marbles size sweat alone. My friend and I were sitting on van which moving like a crazy horse, up on the narrow rocky path. There’s nothing we can do except fastening our seat belt and move along with the van’s maneuvers here and there.
This shaking journey ended when we reach a remote village deep in the south of Pracimantoro county, Wonogiri, Central Java. The village called Gambirmanis. Perhaps I should not use the term remote, since it’s only 85 kilometer from Solo, a sweet tiny city which already have all kinds of major transportation, including an international airport. But sadly to say, the 2.5 hours shaking ride to Gambirmanis suddenly swept all sweet countenance which my city always expresses. Gambirmanis only 2.5 hours away, but the access to get there is truly dreadful. Don’t expect any asphalt road heading to the village hall or a public veranda for exact description for a place where all resident of that village usually gathered. The only way to get there is to cruise a long and winding rocky footpath, with dying trees waving in the right and left side of the road.
Perhaps those trees soaring fears on how much longer they’ll stay alive, so did the villagers who also troubled on thought of how long their last pail of fresh water able to fulfill their need. Drought has devastated their crop, no more rice fields and the only plant they could expect to fulfill their basic need on food is only dried cassava. Yes, only cassava which able to survive in this dried land.
“It happens each year when the summer comes. The only water supply is from a pond which is now totally dried off. No more water from the pond, villagers have to buy fresh water which cost Rp 150.000 per tank (around US$16/tank). Don’t ask how we buy those waters, we never ask anyone for merci. We don’t beg, as long as we still have those cattle, we’ll sell them to buy fresh water,” said Soenarto, local resident.
According to him, sometimes the government gives an aid to them, mostly fresh water in a tank with 5.000 liters capacity. The villagers accepted it with wide open arms, though everybody knew those support won’t be last long, since the needs of water is too big to fulfilled with a few tanks of water. But once again, those people just keep silent.
We came to this village to deliver some groceries to the villagers. Last year, we didn’t bring any groceries but we held a medication to the villagers. They welcome us with a bright smile, the same smiles as I could taste today. After hearing their story of how bad drought slapped their life, I talk to my friends if we could come again to bring fresh water supply. And at the same time, a villager caught my voice then responding.
“What you’ve done is more than enough. We already grateful for that, don’t bother think to fulfill all of our needs. We’re still Javanese who always looks on brighter side of anything, we’re so lucky to have your groceries. We won’t yell on the street begging anyone to save us. We’ll be happy if anyone comes to help, but if there’s no one to help we’ll fight to the last drop of our sweat,” he said.
I almost drop a tears hearing this. There’s no desperation within his voice, optimism on his own effort surprised me. But deep in my heart, I still hope there’ll be more help for them to ease their burden a little.