Catnap<\/p>\n
By Marianne Katoppo<\/p>\n
There was very little traffic in the sun-soaked alley. It was
\nreally too narrow for motor vehicles, and being a shortcut to the
\nbusy shopping center on the artery road, it was mainly used by
\npedestrians. Of course Jakarta being Jakarta, the occasional car
\nor motorcycle would roar along, dodging small children, chickens
\nand cats. There were no dogs. The name of the main street was
\nMosque Street.<\/p>\n
The alley looked quite picturesque at times with its row of
\nsmall, low houses, most of which sported a pocket handkerchief
\nsize front yard. Still, there was ample vegetation, because
\npeople without front yards put their plants right in front of
\ntheir doors. An additional hazard to the drivers, but a delight
\nto cats looking for some shade on a hot day.<\/p>\n
Of course this was no problem for the fat cat sunning himself
\non the front porch of Number Six. His name was Catalunya, and he
\nknew very well he was the most beautiful cat of the realm. The
\nCat Mother -- the human person who was so fortunate as to look
\nafter him -- told him so every day. Passersby, looking over the
\nlow red painted iron fence and seeing him sprawled out in full
\nsplendor on top of the red water jar, often exclaimed admiringly
\nat his coloring, his size, the softness of his fur, and so on.
\nMost of them, never having seen an Angora cat, would say to each
\nother, \"Look, what a magnificent Angora!\"<\/p>\n
Catalunya always accepted all forms of homage in a most
\ngracious manner, even though his admirers failed to recognize his
\ntruly superior breed and took him for an insignificant Angora.
\nOne of Cat Mother's friends, upon seeing him for the first time,
\nexclaimed, \"What a beautiful cat. Did you bring him with you from
\nDenmark?\"<\/p>\n
The image of her sun-worshiping darling lost on a windswept
\nmoor in bleakest West Jutland made Cat Mother shudder.<\/p>\n
\"Do you mind?\" she said indignantly. \"This is a genuine Betawi
\nBongsor, with a pedigree going back to Aji Saka's very own cats.\"<\/p>\n
The friend being a gullible foreigner was most impressed,
\nespecially after Cat Mother told him the story of Aji Saka's
\ncats, and how the Javanese alphabet came into being.<\/p>\n
\"The two servants were literally faithful to the death,\" Cat
\nMother sighed, \"the cats, fortunately, were wiser.\"<\/p>\n
The neighbors, however, were more impressed by the fact that
\nCatalunya's food came from the supermarket, in tins with pictures
\nof happy cats. At first Pak Mardjo the garbage collector harbored
\ndark suspicions about Cat Mother's eating habits. And why
\nshouldn't he? Tins with pictures of fish contained fish, and
\nthose featuring cows contained beef, so...<\/p>\n
\"You must spend a fortune on cat food,\" another of Cat
\nMother's friends, a human rights activist, said disapprovingly,
\nturning the tin around so that she could read the price. \"Why,
\nthis one tin costs more than a worker's minimum daily wages!\"<\/p>\n
\"And one little jar of that junk you put of your face costs
\nmore than the worker's annual income,\" Cat Mother purred. Never
\nusing cosmetics herself, she could afford to sharpen her claws on
\nher friend's extravagant lifestyle.<\/p>\n
Human rights or feline rights were of minor importance to
\nCatalunya whose favorite pastime was napping on top of the huge
\nwater jar on the front porch. Cat Mother had put the jar there in
\nhonor of an ancient custom which was formerly prevalent
\nthroughout the East: The water was there to assuage the thirst of
\nthe passing traveler.<\/p>\n
\"It was all part of hospitality,\" Cat Mother explained, \"just
\nas it was the custom for people passing through orchards or
\nfields to help themselves to the fruit. They never took more than
\nthey needed. And I have seen these jars in India and in Thailand,
\ntoo. Though the water would not be fit to drink now, I just put
\nmine there as a symbolic gesture.\"<\/p>\n
None appreciated this symbolic gesture more than Catalunya,
\nwho much preferred the jar over the rickety mailbox. The postman
\nalso appreciated it, because although Catalunya was the
\npersonification of sweetness and light, he did not care to be
\ndisturbed during his nap.<\/p>\n
This particular morning Catalunya was on top of his jar and
\nall was well with the world. The alley was peaceful, Number
\nThree's newly acquired roosters were strutting around and
\nattacking the potted plants, and Black Nanny of the repair shop
\nwas hanging out her laundry on the little square that also served
\nas a minor market place, floor court, children's playground and
\n-- in the evening -- badminton court as well as venue for sundry
\nperformances of traditional art.<\/p>\n
The man who came sauntering into the alley was not a local
\nresident nor a regular passerby. When he came through the alley
\nfor the first time, a few days ago, Parman of the small grocery
\nlooked up suspiciously, and even stepped out of his shop to watch
\nthe stranger. Mamat of the repair shop, commonly known as \"Uncle
\nFat\" was also alerted when the man stopped in front of Number Six
\nan inordinately long time. He relaxed when he saw the man was
\nadmiring Catalunya and even reaching out to pet him.<\/p>\n
\"Seems a bit touched,\" Uncle Fat reported to Parman, who after
\nall was the entrepreneur and therefore superior to a mere
\nmechanic. \"Was meowing at the cat, too!\"<\/p>\n
\"I have never seen him before,\" Parman observed. One of the
\nmechanics remarked that he had seen this man in New Life Street,
\nselling herbal remedies, and yes he did seem a bit touched.<\/p>\n
The next time he came through, Uncle Fat -- who was, after
\nall, Cat Mother's closest neighbor, and whose wife, Black Nanny,
\nused to visit Cat Mother to watch White Snake Legend together --
\nengaged him in conversation. He discovered that yes he did live
\nin New Life Street and him wife was an agent for herbal remedies
\nwhich they also sold in the shopping center. Hence his passing
\nthrough this particular alley.<\/p>\n
\"My wife is allergic to cats,\" he confided sadly to Uncle Far,
\n\"while I love them. I would give her up, but then I cannot cook,
\ncan I?\"<\/p>\n
Uncle Fat, whose girth was also due to Black Nanny's culinary
\nskills, decided that the man wasn't that crazy. And paid no more
\nattention to the man's increasingly frequent strolls through the
\nalley.<\/p>\n
Today the man was carrying a big airline bag. Parman who was
\nattending to a customer thought to himself that the herbal remedy
\nbusiness did not seem to be doing too well, because the bag
\nlooked quite empty. And the man, already having been identified
\nas \"practically a local resident\", did not step out of the shop
\nto watch him like he had done before.<\/p>\n
It was uncommonly quiet in the alley. That's how Black Nanny
\nmanaged to hear the muffled cry, which caused her to look up
\nsharply. Had one of the children fallen into the deep smelly
\ngutter -- which Cat Mother called, romantically, The Streamlet?<\/p>\n
Peering in the direction of The Streamlet she saw nothing
\nuntoward. The mother duck and her seven ducklings were trotting
\naround on the muddy bottom. The roosters, who always managed to
\nescape the occasional motorcycle or other such hazards in spite
\nof the fervent prayers of some of the potted plant owners, were
\nstrutting smartly towards the asoka plants of Number Four. Cats
\nnot so fortunate as Catalunya were begging scraps of food from
\nthe chicken noodle vendor.<\/p>\n
The man passed quite closely by Black Nanny, keeping his eyes
\nstraight ahead and walking faster than usual. She thought it was
\na bit late for him to go to the shopping center with his herbal
\nremedies, but he seemed to have a lot to sell, judging from the
\nbig blue bag which looked white heavy and was swinging in a
\nrather strange ...<\/p>\n
... and from which emerged another piteous meow.<\/p>\n
Black Nanny let out a blood-curdling yell which resounded
\nthrough the alley and launched herself at the man. \"Hitam!\" she
\nshrieked. \"He is stealing our Hitam!\" Upon which he threw down
\nthe bag and ran for his life.<\/p>\n
Uncle Fat and the mechanics, aided by the chicken noodle
\nvendor and some joyous children, managed to grab the man, while
\nBlack Nanny and Aunt Curly from the grocery opened the bag and
\nrescued a very disgruntled Catalunya.<\/p>\n
\"I just wanted to take him home to play with him,\" the man
\nstammered. He was fortunate that the people of the alley were
\nalready aware of his being \"a bit touched\", so they didn't beat
\nhim up and let him go after making sure Catalunya was inside,
\nafter giving him an extra meal of fried fish -- ordinary Jakarta
\nBay fish. Catalunya ate it to the last morsel. She also called
\nCat Mother, to report the incident.<\/p>\n
Cat Mother could not stop laughing when she put the phone
\ndown. \"Imagine anybody wanting to kidnap my cat!\" she chuckled to
\na colleague. \"He just wanted to play with him.\"<\/p>\n
The colleague looked solemn. \"You know,\" she said, \"in France
\n-- or was it in China? -- when you order rabbit in the
\nrestaurant, they put the rabbit's head on the dish so that you
\nknow it really is rabbit meat.\"<\/p>\n
Upon which Cat Mother immediately rushed home and with a sigh
\nof relief saw Calalunya sitting in the window, pretty as a
\npicture and safely beyond reach of the most ardent cat lover.<\/p>\n
Born in Tomohon, North Sulawesi on June 9, 1943, Marianne Katoppo
\nis known for her novels Rumahku di Atas Jembatan and Raumanen.
\nThe latter won her the 1975 Novel Writing Competition held by the
\nJakarta Arts Council and the SEA Write, a Bangkok-based literary
\nprize for Southeast Asian writers. Her stories have appeared in
\nnumerous publications, including the Kompas and Suara Pembaruan
\ndailies, and the Far Eastern Economic Review. She is now a
\nconsultant for Yayasan Obor Indonesia.<\/p>\n
Note: Bongsor means oversize. Aji Saka is a legendary king in
\nJavanese and Balinese folklore believed to have created the
\nJavanese alphabet.<\/p>",
"url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/catnap-1447899208",
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