“How a Wonosobo Girl Survived My Sundanese Jokes”

       When I joined the PPG program, my goal was simple: show up, study, become a teacher, graduate, and go home. But life, as always, had another plan. In the middle of endless reflections, lesson plans, and microteaching panic attacks, destiny threw in a surprise — a new friend from Wonosobo named Rani.

Rani was the kind of person you’d remember instantly. Her soft Javanese accent mixed with her cheerful laugh could brighten any room. The first time we met was during a group presentation. She asked politely, “Mas, are you in charge of presenting?” I replied, “Heueuh… I mean yes, but I’m not really good at talking nicely.” She laughed, “Then let me handle the polite part. You just be the funny one.” And just like that, a great friendship was born. 

Life in the PPG program was basically a cycle of tasks, reports, and caffeine. But whenever Rani was around, everything felt lighter. She often brought homemade food from her boarding house — fried tempeh, vegetable soup, and chili sauce that could wake up the dead. “Try this, it’s delicious!” she said once. I took a bite and said, “Whoa, this isn’t chili sauce, this is the kind of spice that makes you rethink your life choices!” She just burst out laughing, “You Sundanese people are always cracking jokes!”

During breaks, we’d sit at the campus park with cheap instant coffee in plastic cups, talking about anything and everything — sometimes serious, sometimes totally random. One time she told me about her hometown. “It’s really cold in Wonosobo. Lots of fog, but it feels calm.” I replied, “So if I go there, I’ll need a jacket, a blanket, and maybe… some warm feelings to survive.” She laughed and hit my arm, “Gosh, you and your cheesy jokes!”

When we worked together on assignments, it was always a balance. If she was serious, I became the clown. If I got lazy, she turned into the motivator. Once she said, “We’re going to be teachers — patience is a must.” I answered, “I can be patient, as long as the lecturer doesn’t keep adding new assignments every week.”As the program came to an end, the mood got bittersweet.

 Everyone was taking photos, exchanging snacks, and saying goodbye. Rani said, “Hey, when you visit Wonosobo, tell me. I’ll take you to see the sunrise at Sikunir.” I replied, “Sure, but not at 4 a.m., okay? Sundanese people don’t function that early — we’re still cuddling our pillows by then.” She laughed with teary eyes, “Fine, we’ll go at six then.”Now, whenever I think back to those days, I can’t help but smile. 

That friendship taught me something important — you don’t need grand gestures to make memories. Sometimes it’s just about sharing jokes, surviving assignments, and being there for each other when life gets tough.Rani showed me that even in the fog of Wonosobo and the chaos of the PPG program, you can always find a little sunshine — in the form of laughter, kindness, and a friend who reminds you that being a teacher isn’t just about knowledge… it’s about heart, humor, and a good cup of coffee.