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Little laughs were heard through the walls. I can tell it was from the bridge, then goes up to the uphill, and end up right across the street, heading right to this very basecamp that was full of chattering crews. Before we knew it, his little tanned face had snooped on our doorstep and greeted us with his toothless smile. It was the seventh day of my volunteering project in Penakir Village, Central Java. Aside from how achy my bones were, my body was also sticky for the last three days due to lack of water. Even if I did take a bath, I surely could not stop my mouth from shivering. I was called ‘weak’ by Roby, whose cheerful presence always lights up the gang. Roby was in the first grade of elementary school. He was the youngest in the gang which contains 4 sixth graders and me--which they decide to recruit on my fourth day here. It was the last day for us; the volunteering crews ; to attend the classes. So, there had been some farewell events at school. Yet, Roby was nowhere to be seen until noon. His teacher approached and asked if I had seen him from last night pray at the mosque. I told her I’ll spare my time to visit his house on break time. I walked through the blue schoolgate, passed the uphill full of rotten banana trees with thatch around. The cool mountain wind blows some strands of hair I left untied. It also brought the warm smell of fried bananas being sold outside the villagers houses. Suddenly, a voice shouted my name from the bridge. Roby held his hand high with the other on the bike handlebar. I told him to wait as I approached him. But as I got to him, he immediately paddled his bike away from me and smile wide toothless-ly. It was only the first day that I knew well to not mess with him. I had just putted out the firewood on the terrace of the basecamp when I heard a ghost-like sound whom turned out was Roby copying it to frightened the crew and immediately ran away once I scolded him out. The next few days I got pranked severe times until a day comes when he would sit down nicely and told me what he did today, what he ate for breakfast, and would ask me whether I could accompany him around the neighbourhood. It was the seventh day and still I accompanied him around the neighbourhood. As I walked beside him on his black-blue metallic bike, he told me how last night he was scolded by his fathers for coming home late last night. I asked if his mom has a say about this. He then told me that he lived with three fathers, a grandmother, and a step-brother whom I know was part of the gang. I was silent for a moment when he pointed my phone which I held all the time. “Your phone looks exactly like my mom’s.” “Yeah?” “Yes. I saw it every time I went to see her.”I took a moment to realize that her mother is still alive somewhere and asked whether he misses his mom and got an answer ‘yes. so much’. I walked him back home and talked to his grandmother. We talked about how Roby’s mother never visited her children because she only came back home to entrusted another child back here in Penakir. It was the last day in Penakir Village. The villagers came out from houses to say their good-byes, children filled the street, and all we heard were cries. I cried and said my good-bye to Roby which he responded“You’re just like my mom.” I bid my good-bye through the bus-window. The crew cried and so the kids from school. The kids chased down the bus until they felt tired. And then I saw Roby from afar. No tears, yet no toothless smile of his. As the bus went away, I prayed him the best though I knew better pray was not enough. Then loud cries were heard little from afar.