The Strongest Farmer

Parallel World. Indonesia. Temanggung, Central Java.

On the slopes of Mount Sumbing, far removed from the roar of heavy traffic and the blinding glare of city lights, a small family lived a quiet, simple life.

Their home stood nestled among terraced fields and vegetable gardens that hugged the natural curves of the mountainside. When morning broke, a thin mist would often drift down the slopes, blanketing the roof, the leafy crops, and the dirt paths still slick with morning dew.

The air up there was biting, but crisp and pure. Every breath carried the earthy scent of soil and wet grass, mingling with the smell of firewood and the faint, lingering smoke of neighbors cooking their morning rice.

The family consisted of four members.

A husband and wife, Bejo and Susi; their eldest son, Jaka; and his younger sister, Dina.

Bejo and Susi were ordinary folks. They barely had any formal education to speak of, neither having even finished elementary school, as survival had dragged them out of the classroom and into the workforce when they were just kids.

Life had never been particularly kind to them. For years, their routine was set in stone: wake up long before the sun, work until their bodies ached, and drag themselves back home only after the sky turned pitch black.

Yet, not once did they complain in front of their children.

To Bejo and Susi, it didn't matter if the world chewed them up, as long as their kids weren't robbed of their futures. Because of that, even though they lived on pennies and had to count every single coin before spending it, they always scraped together the best they could for Jaka and Dina.

And that fierce dedication gave birth to their one quiet source of pride.

They had managed to put both of their children through high school.

To most people, that might sound like a given. But for a struggling family on a remote mountainside, it was a monumental triumph.

Uniforms, textbooks, school fees, transport, and daily allowances, it was a relentless monthly burden.

There were days when Bejo had to stay out in the fields for extra hours, breaking his back for extra cash. There were days when Susi ignored her own needs entirely just to make sure there was enough money for the kids.

Jaka had graduated two years ago.

Dina had just started her second year of high school.

Strangely enough, the family wasn't officially registered as impoverished. Their names were completely absent from any government assistance list. Anyone looking at their daily reality would know they were far from comfortable, but the convoluted web of data and administration was a language Bejo and Susi didn't speak. Helpless against the system, they simply accepted their lot.

In short, this little family bore the entire crushing weight of their children's tuition all on their own.

Jaka had understood this reality for as long as he could remember.

He was a good, grounded kid who knew exactly where he stood in the world. Growing up, he was used to watching his father trudge home with a shirt drenched in sweat, used to watching his mother slip the best cuts of food onto her children's plates while she quietly ate the scraps.

Because of that, the day he graduated high school, Jaka never asked to continue his education.

It wasn't that he didn't want to go to college.

Of course he had dreamed about it.

Listening to his classmates chatter excitedly about campus life, university majors, and bright futures had left a heavy, suffocating weight in his chest.

Deep down, a small part of him yearned to sit in those higher lecture halls, to learn more, and maybe secure a better job. But every time he walked through his front door and saw the worn-out state of his home, he swallowed those dreams whole.

He knew the truth. Asking to go to college was the same as piling more weight onto his parents' already breaking backs.

As a high school graduate, Jaka actually did alright for himself.

Shortly after getting his diploma, he landed a job at a local plywood factory, earning the regional minimum wage.

It wasn't a glamorous gig by any stretch, but to Jaka, it was his first real step toward lifting his family's burden. The day he received his very first paycheck, he didn't buy a single thing for himself. He handed almost the entire sum over to Susi, keeping only a tiny fraction for his commute and basic necessities.

Bejo hadn't said much that evening.

But Jaka had seen it, he had seen his father's eyes well up and turn red the moment he accepted the money.

"Keep some of it for yourself, too," Bejo had told him, his voice thick and raspy.

Jaka had just offered a gentle smile.

"It's fine, Dad. I can always eat at home."

From that day on, Jaka threw his entire soul into his work.

To be continued...