At a Distance
Deni had just bought some satay for the family’s dinner when he saw Mr. Rosidi step out of the mosque. He paused for a moment, waiting until the man turned into the alley.
He entered the same narrow path and spotted Mr. Rosidi not far ahead. Deni walked slowly, then stopped, letting the man gain more distance. When it seemed far enough, he resumed walking—matching his pace to maintain a careful distance.
But Mr. Rosidi moved very slowly. The sixty-five-year-old even stopped now and then for no obvious reason, prompting Deni to consider overtaking him and saying, “Excuse me, sir.”
That was all he ever managed to say when passing older people—along with a polite “sir” and a slight bow when crossing paths face to face. He didn’t know how to say more. He was only seventeen and not used to making conversation with the elderly.
But in the end, he didn’t do it. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed that farther ahead—well beyond Mr. Rosidi—there was someone else walking just as slowly. Very, very slowly.
“Maybe that’s why Mr. Rosidi’s been walking so slowly,” he thought. “But… who is that?”
Deni was a little nearsighted and hadn’t brought his glasses, so he squinted before finally recognizing the man. It was Mr. Joko—the head of neighborhood unit 13. Everyone knew Mr. Joko walked at a glacial pace. Age was part of it, but he’d also had a stroke two years ago.
Mr. Joko came to a stop when a heavyset man approached—Manto, the neighborhood security guard. The two began discussing something that seemed serious. Meanwhile, a short distance behind them, Mr. Rosidi stood behind the thick hedge of house No. 60, occasionally peeking toward the pair.
Feeling it would take forever to wait them out, Deni turned around and headed home by another route. As he walked, he stopped, smiled, then kept walking, realizing even a respected elder like Mr. Rosidi shared the same thought of not passing someone older.
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