“Pekerjaan mana yang paling enak antara menjaga anak atau merawat lansia?” Pertanyaan ini sering muncul dalam benak para buruh migran yang bekerja di luar negeri. Setiap jawaban pasti beragam, ada yang lebih memilih menjaga anak-anak, sementara yang lain merasa lebih nyaman merawat lansia.
Namun, bagi mereka yang sudah pernah merasakan dua-duanya, merawat lansia sering kali membutuhkan lebih banyak kesabaran. Lansia, apalagi yang sudah pikun atau memiliki kondisi kesehatan yang rapuh, kerap kembali berperilaku seperti anak kecil. Perilaku yang labil, terkadang emosional, dan butuh perhatian penuh. Tentu ini bukan hal yang mudah.
Seperti kisah Sari, seorang TKW yang bekerja di Hong Kong. Sari telah merawat seorang nenek selama dua tahun terakhir. Sertifikat finis kontrak sudah dalam genggamannya, dan hanya tinggal menunggu tanda tangan untuk perpanjangan kontrak baru. Pekerjaannya tidak terlalu berat; nenek yang ia rawat meski berusia delapan puluhan masih mampu berjalan ke kamar mandi sendiri, makan tanpa bantuan, dan tidak banyak meminta.
Setiap sore, mereka duduk bersama di taman, menikmati udara Hong Kong yang sejuk. Hidup terasa damai bagi Sari, hingga suatu hari sebuah kenyataan pahit datang menghampirinya. Aku masih ingat ketika membaca status di media sosialnya: “Sunyi, sepi… Aku kangen kamu, Nek.”
Aku penasaran dan segera bertanya, “Nenek kenapa, Mbak?”
“Nenek pingsan dan sampai sekarang belum siuman,” jawabnya singkat, namun sarat emosi.
Hari berikutnya, aku melihat status lainnya. Kali ini, tulisan Sari lebih pendek tapi jelas mengandung duka: “Berat banget, ya Allah…”
“Nenek sudah sadar, Mbak?” tanyaku penuh harap.
“Nenek meninggal, Mbak. Pendarahan otak.” Sari membalas pesannya dengan perasaan yang begitu dalam.
Dunia Sari yang tadinya tenang seakan runtuh. Perjuangannya belum selesai. Kini, ia harus mencari majikan baru dan berharap menemukan yang baik, yang tidak cerewet, dan bisa memperlakukannya dengan baik. Sebelum itu, Sari memutuskan untuk mengambil cuti dan pulang ke kampung halaman, meskipun tabungannya belum banyak. “Tidak apa-apalah,” pikir Sari, “Yang penting bisa bertemu dengan anak, meskipun hanya dengan uang sepuluh juta.”
Namun, pulang ke kampung halaman tidak semanis yang ia bayangkan. “Syok,” itu kata pertama yang terlintas dalam benaknya. Harga-harga di kampung begitu tinggi. Uang sepuluh juta yang dibawa dari Hong Kong hanya bertahan dua minggu. Itu pun sudah sangat hemat—tidak ada makan di restoran, tidak ada jalan-jalan mewah. Setiap kali keluar rumah, tetangga atau saudara yang memiliki anak kecil pasti berharap diberi “salam tempel.” Tak enak rasanya jika tidak memberi sesuatu, meskipun jumlahnya tak seberapa. Namun, jika anak kecilnya banyak, kantong semakin tipis. Sari mulai memahami mengapa banyak TKW menunda cuti; ternyata pulang kampung juga bisa membawa dilema tersendiri.
Lain Sari, lain pula cerita Yuni. Yuni baru satu tahun bekerja di Hong Kong setelah sebelumnya empat tahun merawat lansia di Taiwan. Namun, pekerjaan kali ini terasa jauh lebih berat. “Kalau orang lain bangun tidur terasa segar, aku malah selalu pusing dan ngantuk,” keluhnya. Yuni menjaga seorang nenek dengan demensia. Setiap malam, nenek itu mengetuk pintu kamar Yuni dengan keras, membangunkannya berkali-kali.
Kakek, suami dari nenek yang Yuni rawat, masih sehat secara mental dan sering keluar rumah. Namun, tingkahnya yang genit kerap membuat Yuni risih. “Kakek suka merayu dan berperilaku tidak sopan,” cerita Yuni sambil tertawa getir. Meskipun kakek sering meninggalkan rumah, beban pikiran Yuni tidak berkurang.
Pekerjaan Yuni semakin sulit karena nenek yang ia rawat memiliki masalah emosional. Seringkali, nenek itu marah tanpa alasan, memukul barang-barang, dan menggedor-gedor pintu. Malam-malam Yuni diisi dengan ronda tanpa akhir. “Siang hari majikan mengizinkan aku tidur, tapi tetap saja tidak bisa karena nenek selalu berulah,” katanya sambil menghela napas panjang.
Airin, seorang TKW lainnya, memiliki kisah serupa namun lebih berat. Ia merawat lansia yang lumpuh total, setiap hari menghabiskan waktu di ranjang. Pekerjaan mengangkat pasien setiap kali ingin buang air besar atau kecil membuat pinggang Airin terasa seperti akan patah. Setiap malam, ia hanya bisa tidur beberapa menit, dan itu pun dengan waswas. “Aku jarang tidur nyenyak. Pasienku sering memanggil-manggil tengah malam, dan aku harus selalu siap,” katanya dengan nada kelelahan.
Namun, di balik semua keluhan, Sari, Yuni, dan Airin tetap bersyukur. Mereka tahu bahwa pekerjaan ini, meskipun berat, adalah berkah. Mereka masih bisa bekerja, masih menerima gaji, dan masih bisa menafkahi keluarga di kampung halaman. Di tengah tantangan, mereka selalu mengingat satu hal: hidup tidak selalu tentang kebahagiaan. Ada ujian yang datang dari berbagai arah—baik di tempat kerja, maupun di lingkungan sekitar.
“Bahagia itu ketika kenyataan sesuai dengan harapan,” kata Sari suatu hari. Tapi hidup adalah pilihan, dan jika pekerjaan sudah terlalu mengganggu kesehatan mental dan fisik, terkadang mencari jalan lain adalah solusi terbaik. Meski begitu, mereka tahu, banyak orang di luar sana yang berjuang keras mencari pekerjaan seperti mereka. Jadi, meskipun hidup mereka penuh tantangan, mereka tetap berjuang dan bersyukur. []
Outpouring of Hearts of Migrant Workers: Between Patience, Hope, and Reality
“Which job is better, looking after children or taking care of the elderly?” This question often arises in the minds of migrant workers working abroad. Each answer is certainly different, some prefer looking after children, while others feel more comfortable taking care of the elderly.
However, for those who have experienced both, taking care of the elderly often requires more patience. The elderly, especially those who are senile or have fragile health conditions, often behave like children again. Unstable behavior, sometimes emotional, and need full attention. Of course this is not an easy thing.
Like the story of Sari, a migrant worker working in Hong Kong. Sari has been taking care of a grandmother for the past two years. The contract completion certificate is already in her grasp, and she is only waiting for the signature for a new contract extension. Her work is not too hard; the grandmother she is taking care of, even though she is in her eighties, is still able to walk to the bathroom by herself, eat without assistance, and does not ask for much.
Every afternoon, they sit together in the park, enjoying the cool Hong Kong air. Life felt peaceful for Sari, until one day a bitter reality came to her. I still remember when I read her status on social media: “Silent, quiet… I miss you, Grandma.”
I was curious and immediately asked, “What’s wrong with Grandma, Sis?”
“Grandma fainted and hasn’t regained consciousness yet,” she answered briefly, but full of emotion.
The next day, I saw another status. This time, Sari’s writing was shorter but clearly filled with sorrow: “It’s so hard, oh God…”
“Is Grandma awake, Sis?” I asked hopefully.
“Grandma passed away, Sis. Brain hemorrhage.” Sari replied to her message with such deep feelings.
Sari’s previously calm world seemed to collapse. Her struggle was not over. Now, she had to find a new employer and hoped to find a good one, who wasn’t fussy, and could treat her well. Before that, Sari decided to take leave and return to her hometown, even though she didn’t have much savings. “It’s okay,” thought Sari, “The important thing is that I can meet my children, even if it’s only for ten million rupiah.”
However, returning to her hometown was not as sweet as she had imagined. “Shock,” was the first word that crossed her mind. The prices in the village were so high. The ten million rupiah she brought from Hong Kong only lasted two weeks. Even then, she was very frugal—no eating at restaurants, no fancy trips. Every time she left the house, neighbors or relatives who had small children would expect to be given “salam tempel.” It felt bad not to give something, even if it was not much. However, if there were many small children, her pockets would get thinner. Sari began to understand why many migrant workers postponed their leave; it turned out that returning to her hometown could also bring its own dilemmas.
Unlike Sari, Yuni’s story was different. Yuni had only been working in Hong Kong for one year after previously caring for the elderly in Taiwan for four years. However, this time the job felt much harder. “While other people wake up feeling refreshed, I always feel dizzy and sleepy,” she complained. Yuni was taking care of a grandmother with dementia. Every night, the grandmother knocked loudly on Yuni’s door, waking her up repeatedly.
The grandfather, the husband of the grandmother Yuni cared for, was still mentally healthy and often went out of the house. However, his flirtatious behavior often made Yuni uncomfortable. “Grandpa likes to flirt and behaves impolitely,” Yuni said with a bitter laugh. Even though the grandfather often left the house, Yuni’s mental burden did not lessen.
Yuni’s work became more difficult because the grandmother she cared for had emotional problems. Often, the grandmother would get angry for no reason, hit things, and bang on the door. Yuni’s nights were filled with endless patrols. “During the day, my employer allowed me to sleep, but I still couldn’t because my grandmother always acted up,” she said with a deep sigh.
Airin, another migrant worker, had a similar but more difficult story. She cared for a completely paralyzed elderly person, spending every day in bed. The job of lifting patients every time they needed to defecate or urinate made Airin’s waist feel like it was going to break. Every night, she could only sleep for a few minutes, and even then with anxiety. “I rarely sleep well. My patients often call me in the middle of the night, and I have to be ready,” she said with a tired tone.
However, behind all the complaints, Sari, Yuni, and Airin remain grateful. They know that this job, although hard, is a blessing. They can still work, still receive a salary, and can still support their families in their hometown. In the midst of the challenges, they always remember one thing: life is not always about happiness. There are tests that come from various directions—both at work and in the surrounding environment.
“Happiness is when reality matches expectations,” Sari said one day. But life is a choice, and if work is too disruptive to mental and physical health, sometimes finding another way is the best solution. Even so, they know, there are many people out there who are struggling to find work like them. So, even though their life is full of challenges, they keep fighting and are grateful.