Kampar Calamity<\/p>\n
By Hudri Hamdi<\/p>\n
Abang was very busy working when I first stepped into Kampar.
\nTogether with his fellow workers, Abang was busy sawing up a
\ngiant tree in this eerie wilderness close to Pekanbaru, Sumatera.
\nThey were working very energetically; beads of perspiration
\ndripping from their bodies. All the while they were singing
\nmerrily to the movement of the saw. The sound of the singing and
\nthe saw was echoing from other places in Kampar, as far as my
\neyes could see. At the eastern corner the workers were busy
\ncleaning the rest of the leaves from the branches. These branches
\n- and they were not small ones - were scattered everywhere. They
\nwere jumbled up with the scattered leaves, forming a green carpet
\non the hilly land. Both big and small logs were strewn on the
\nground. But at the western corner the logs were neatly arranged
\nwhere a truck was ready to transport them.<\/p>\n
And it was the giant tree, just as the sun was about to set in
\nthe west, which was the source of the calamity for Abang. When
\nthe tree was about to fall, a strong wind suddenly swept the area
\nand I screamed loudly, \"Watch out, Mas!\" And Abang instantly ran
\nto avoid it. So did his fellow workers. The tree fell with a
\nthunder. But one of its branches ... precisely at that moment a
\nthunder broke from the cloudy sky.<\/p>\n
Putri wanted Abang, his fellow workers said. More comments
\ncame from other workers.<\/p>\n
\"Last night she took Marno, but she is not satisfied yet.\"<\/p>\n
\"Damn Putri. What does she want?\"<\/p>\n
\"Poor Mu'id.\"<\/p>\n
\"Yes, poor guy.\"<\/p>\n
\"I hope he can recover from this.\"<\/p>\n
\"We should not forget to pray before working.\"<\/p>\n
\"We should always remind them to pray, Mas.\"<\/p>\n
\"Yes, we must remind each other.\"<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
Broken bones or crushed bones or instant deaths under fallen
\ntrees in the eerie jungle did not only happen once or twice.
\nAccidents had become a common occurrence there. In addition,
\nthere were workers who were shredded, eaten by savage Sumateran
\ntigers. Abang almost died last year when the king of the jungle
\nsuddenly appeared at the tent's door ...<\/p>\n
So far, sixteen out of one hundred and twenty workers had been
\nunlucky. Three people were ripped apart by tigers; they died in
\nan instant; and thirteen people collapsed under giant trees. And
\nAbang was one of the victims. His hip was broken. At that time I
\ncould hear Abang whimper, \"Agghh ...!\" His body convulsed for a
\nmoment, his face buried in the chest and soon after his body
\nbecame motionless. Abang was laying sprawled, his condition was
\nheart-wrenching. I grit my teeth. And I was unable to hold back
\nmy tears among the throng of small workers, small people, noble
\npeople who had a strong sense of solidarity.<\/p>\n
And Abang's unlucky fate apparently was an endless one. Three
\nmonths had passed and he had not yet recovered from the wound.
\nThe surgery to connect his bone using a piece of platinum seemed
\nunable to re-attach the broken parts. His flesh was rotting. The
\ngap in the bone caused him extraordinary pain whenever he moved.
\nHis face was contorted with the pain every time he moved the
\nwounded part of his body.<\/p>\n
Abang, oh, Abang. Abang was very unlucky.
\nThere was no room for pity. In search of a livelihood he had
\nended up with a burden. But my admiration for him had not
\ndiminished. Although he used a stick and suffered, his smile had
\nnot left him. And he continued to care for his family. It was
\nAbang who paved the way for his younger brothers to work,
\ncreating jobs, saving up money, preaching harmony and keeping his
\nworking spirit high. Urip musti gawe, was a piece of his advice
\nwhich I always keep in mind. But for Abang, Kampar seemed very
\ncruel. It did not know pity. Meanwhile, Pekanbaru was no longer
\nsensitive to moans to allow me to express my deepest feelings. I
\nhated this weak feeling, this dull feeling. But now I felt like I
\nhad been crushed to pieces.<\/p>\n
On my second arrival Pekanbaru still did not smile. It did not
\noffer any hospitality. It was as if it was putting aside any
\nrestlessness and sadness. Pekanbaru was not satisfied with
\nAbang's broken leg. It wasn't satisfied with moaning. Complaints
\nthat had been lodged for months passed like the wind before
\nGulliver's eyes. A response came only after the small people
\nmanaged to convince Gulliver of the real situation in Kampar.
\nBut, Abang's greatness did not subside. His attention for his
\nfamily remained as before.<\/p>\n
\"How are Mother and Sri?\" Abang asked in the hospital, before
\nhe underwent more surgery.<\/p>\n
\"They are fine, Mas.\"<\/p>\n
\"Do they still run the warung?\"<\/p>\n
\"Yes, they do, Mas.\"<\/p>\n
Abang nodded.<\/p>\n
\"Is Mother still sickly?\"<\/p>\n
\"No, she isn't. She only had a cough and a cold two weeks ago.
\nNow she has recovered.\"<\/p>\n
\"Praise God,\" Abang nodded, relieved.<\/p>\n
\"Does the becak still run?\"<\/p>\n
\"Yes, it does, Mas. Wasdi runs it.\"<\/p>\n
\"Does Marlan still hawk his goods?\"<\/p>\n
\"Yes, he does, Mas. He sells bamboo baskets, fans, rice
\nsteamer, etc.\"<\/p>\n
\"Then what do you do?\"<\/p>\n
\"Well, like you told me to, I make bamboo handicrafts. Like
\nthe goods Marlan sells. I also drive the becak, sometimes.\"<\/p>\n
Abang nodded.<\/p>\n
\"Are you in good health?\"<\/p>\n
\"Praise God, I'm in good condition. Pray for me, Man, that I
\nrecover immediately.\"<\/p>\n
Abang's great attention to the family was beyond doubt. All
\nthe family's activities at home in Gresik started with the money
\nAbang routinely sent every month. The activities then became a
\nkind of business and developed. The house which it at first was a
\nhut had changed gradually. Part of its wall was now made of
\nplanks. Another part had a brick wall. And the stall which at
\nfirst was part of the house was now in front, in the yard. Abang
\nhad not once seen this renovation.<\/p>\n
It was not an exaggeration if I called Abang a pioneer, like a
\nhawk which remembers its net, although his first job was as a
\nbecak driver. Yes, a becak driver! The becak belonged to juragan
\nTohir. Abang took the double rental fee system. If he paid the
\ndaily rental fee of Rp 1,000, the becak would remain with his
\nemployer. But, if he paid Rp 2,000 a day for five months, the
\nbecak would be his. And Wasdi has been driving the becak since
\nAbang left for Sumatera. So did I, although rarely. It is Wasdi
\nwho often drives the becak. We remember our Abang's advice: Be
\ngrateful if you are paid a small fee. The main thing is to pedal
\nand pedal the becak. God be with people who are grateful, Abang
\nsaid. The result, praise God, has not been not bad. We collect
\nsome money everyday.<\/p>\n
We never fail to deposit the money in the rural savings unit
\nof a state-owned bank. The savings from the becak, the stall and
\nthe handicrafts business could be used to propose marriage. All
\nthree brides at once: mine, Wasdi's, and Abang's. Unfortunately,
\nfather after all his hard work did not have the chance to see our
\nhappiness.<\/p>\n
Abang had been in treatment for a week. Waiting for his
\ncondition to improve for surgery. I did not know. I did not
\nunderstand why the first one failed. The whole thing had left me
\nin a daze. I started to imagine things, how the platinum was
\nbeing removed, the cutting of flesh. Have mercy, God!<\/p>\n
Abang's condition was pitiful. How long fate took to decide.
\nPoor Abang. He often looked sad. It was apparent that he forced a
\nsmile in front of me and that left me trying to imagine the pain
\nhe must be feeling.<\/p>\n
\"Man, Saman,\" Abang called when I was busy with my own
\nthoughts.<\/p>\n
\"Yes?\"<\/p>\n
\"The doctor said that one of my bones would be cut to connect
\nmy broken thigh bone.\"<\/p>\n
\"Ughh ...!\" I said, shocked. I was unable to answer. Suddenly
\na feeling of pity enveloped me. The only thing I could feel was
\nmy breathing, up and down...<\/p>\n
\"When I recover, my right leg will be shorter,\" Abang
\ncontinued with a smile. Another smile, and yet another. A clear
\nsmile, a smile as clear as that of a one year-old infant.<\/p>\n
\"It doesn't matter, Mas. The important thing is you can
\nrecover immediately,\" I forced myself to cheer up.<\/p>\n
\"Yes, please pray for me.\"<\/p>\n
\"Mother, Sri, Wasdi, and Marlan will surely pray for you,
\ntoo.\"<\/p>\n
\"Yes ...,\" Abang's head nodded repeatedly. \"Thank you,\" he
\nsaid softly.<\/p>\n
Time then silenced us. For quite some time. Abang looked
\ntired, docile; at times he kept his head down. My mind was flying
\nagain, feeling how painful it must be for him.<\/p>\n
\"Man,\" Abang's voice was soft.<\/p>\n
\"Yes?\"<\/p>\n
\"They have taken the tests on my blood pressure, heart, lung,
\nand urine and the results are good, the doctor said. And today I
\ngo for surgery. Please pray for me, Man.\"<\/p>\n
My heart suddenly beat rapidly. Each heartbeat seemed to race
\none another. I had no thoughts.<\/p>\n
\"And, forgive me for failing to find happiness in Pekanbaru.\"<\/p>\n
\"Ah, Mas, Mas don't think of such things.\"<\/p>\n
\"Mu'i ...d,\" a nurse called Abang. Interrupted our
\nconversation.<\/p>\n
\"Yes,\" Abang replied, turning towards the nurse. The nurse
\nnodded. The signal to enter. Abang then looked at me, slapped my
\nshoulder repeatedly before walking to the room to meet the nurse.<\/p>\n
The call was a signal for the surgery to be conducted
\nimmediately. I was banned from the room, and left to wait
\noutside. I looked at Abang closely ... I felt as though my heart
\nwas being stabbed. I lowered my head. Praying to God to give
\nAbang strength. For Abang's recovery.<\/p>\n
While waiting my heart fluttered. Heartbeats chased each other
\nthunderously. The question of whether it would be a successful
\noperation or a failure was haunting me. And my mouth repeatedly
\ncalled, \"Mas, Mas ...\" I had no thoughts. It was as if I could
\nnot feel.<\/p>\n
In fact, I waited for aq long time. Waiting for the
\nuncertainty of the result of the operation. I did not understand
\neverything, only the obvious: That Abang was undergoing surgery.
\nIt means his bone was being cut, his flesh sliced and blood ...
\nOh my God! All sorts of questions jammed my brain. Would it be
\nsuccessful? Would it fail? Or ...? Oh, my God, Gusti Allah he
\nnurse who came out of the operating room only answered, \"Be
\npatient\", when I asked her. I was fed up, annoyed. My embittered
\nfeeling was not satisfied. My heart was beating rapidly. I felt
\nmy mind jammed with fear. With all sorts of questions about
\nAbang. The family hero. The family's pride. Then, I could imagine
\nmother passing out. The younger brothers and sisters who would
\ncry, be sad. Suppose that ... Oh, Abang!<\/p>\n
Night was far advanced when the nurse with her innocent face
\ncame out. I looked at her. She looked back. And she still looked
\nat me although her face was only an inch from mine. I suddenly
\nfelt a creeping feeling all over my body. I was scared. My mind
\nflew to Abang. And ... that Abang would be treated, cured, in a
\nhospital in Jakarta, she said. Oh, Gustii ... \"What are they
\ngoing to do with Abang now...!\" I said slowly. I had no thoughts,
\nI did not understand.<\/p>\n
Looking at Abang lying with his body wrapped in a piece of
\ncloth, I felt my life was being shaken very hard. Terrified. All
\nthe more so as Abang's eyes glistened with tears when he looked
\nat me. Spiritless and very pitiful. And my body felt weak when I
\nlooked at Abang. I did not know where the strength came from, but
\ntears did not drop from my eyes.<\/p>\n
The small people then visited Abang, accompanied him to the
\nairport and prayed for Abang's recovery. Abang in their eyes was
\nnot different from mine. Abang's honor was beyond doubt,
\nundeniable. Accompanying my slow steps to the aircraft which
\nwould fly me to Jakarta. And on the plane, the first one I ever
\nboarded without having to pay, I looked at Abang repeatedly while
\nsaying to my self: No matter what, Abang had given all his honor
\nfor the family. An honor very meaningful for life and the future.<\/p>\n
Translated by Darul Aqsha<\/p>\n
The short story Kampar calamity is a translation of Petaka Kampar
\nwhich appears in Kado Istimewa: Cerpen Pilihan Kompas 1992.<\/p>\n
Note:<\/p>\n
Abang = elder brother<\/p>\n
Mas = elder brother or a common address to a Javanese male.<\/p>\n
Putri = a creature from the other world in the shape of a
\nbeautiful woman, with long hair. The workers who had been taken
\nto her world (at night) regained consciousness after they had
\nwalked far enough. The workers believed it was the Putri who
\ncaused the calamity.<\/p>\n
juragan = employee<\/p>\n
Urip musti gawe is a Javanese saying, meaning to live is to work<\/p>\n
warung = stall<\/p>\n
Becak = pedicab<\/p>", "url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/kampar-calamity-1447899208", "image": "" }, "sponsor": "Okusi Associates", "sponsor_url": "https:\/\/okusiassociates.com" }