AKSARA BERBARIS

Among the many things that happened during my time in the Netherlands, there is one kind person I wish to remember in the quietest way I know: by writing about him. He did not stay for long, nor did our story unfold into something lasting. But for a short while, his presence made my days feel lighter. So before I return to Indonesia, I want to keep him here, on this page. A letter to you.  I did not know you for long. I was not with you for long either. Only a matter of months passed with you beside me. We did not speak that much. There were no daily messages, no nightly phone calls. We met at a steady rhythm: once every two weeks. Even our conversations followed a certain regularity: we checked in on each other every two days. At first, I was quite confused by that rhythm. But you were one of the most extraordinarily unique people I have ever known in my life. I told you, didn’t I, that you were unique? Although you once got upset, thinking that I used the word unique as another ...

Happy birthday to the baby, toddler, teenager, and every version of Ifa. Thank you to little Ifa, who had to learn to be strong earlier than she should have. To little Ifa, who was often confused, afraid, or felt she had to understand the adult world too soon. You did not always know what was happening, but you kept growing. Thank you to teenage Ifa, who was once fragile, insecure, angry, disappointed, and felt not good enough. For all the nights when you questioned yourself. For all the phases when you wanted to be understood, but instead had to learn how to save yourself. Thank you to adult Ifa, who has gone through loss, fear, academic pressure, loneliness in a foreign country, failures that felt personal, and days when life felt too heavy. Thank you for still choosing to keep going, even when no one truly knew how difficult the road was for you. This year, I have learned to be more grateful. Grateful for the things I managed to overcome, for the good people who came into ...