Lost<\/p>\n
By Yusrizal KW<\/p>\n
There seemed to be less peace in our village these past few
\ndays. Some people felt their lives were threatened. Someone
\nsaying he hailed from the city and had a close relationship with
\nministers and government officials, also with highly placed
\nmilitary officers, wanted the land of our village on the northern
\nhill slope for a golf course. The person was known to us by the
\nname of Pak Jihin. He was a businessman.<\/p>\n
Pak Jihin came to our village in a luxurious car in the
\ncompany of his staff. Later on, our village head Pak Jolong was
\nalways seen in his company. Pak Jolong incessantly coaxed the
\nvillagers to sell their land at a cheap price.<\/p>\n
"When the golf course is ready, there will be many rich people
\nand high-ranking officials coming here. The village will gain in
\nprestige. What are people going to say? 'Bukit Siraya village led
\nby Pak Jolong is an important place. Just look at the number of
\nimportant visitors.'<\/p>\n
"You will play a part. You can open stalls. Your work will not
\nbe limited to the field. Field work is exhausting. Moreover,
\nfertilizers are very expensive. Well, why do you object to
\nselling your land to Pak Jihin?" Pak Jolong was speaking at the
\nvillage hall where he had invited the owners of land north of the
\nhill.<\/p>\n
However, none of those present were attracted to sell their
\nland. Because, said Pak Kardi, the Bukit Siraya villagers were
\ndestined to labor the land or to cultivate the rice fields. It
\nwas not possible to become traders, to open stalls or whatever to
\nwelcome a golf course. My father was even more determined to
\noppose the idea. "My friends, let us not sell our land. A golf
\ncourse is a venue for other people to enjoy life on our
\nsuffering, the suffering of helpless people because of power and
\nmoney. Who knows, the village head may have a share in it ..."<\/p>\n
All eyes were directed to my father, then to Pak Jolong. I was
\nthere with my father and felt that my heart was trembling. Pak
\nJolong's face turned scarlet. The fire in his eyes was ready to
\nflare up. He remained silent. The meeting came to an end without
\nthe villagers reaching an agreement to sell their land.<\/p>\n
"Pak Rustam," Pak Jolong was addressing my father while we
\nwere about to leave the hall. My father stopped and turned to the
\nvillage head.<\/p>\n
"What's up?" asked my father.<\/p>\n
"If you do not want to sell your land, do not influence other
\npeople. I do not like your style!" said Pak Jolong emphatically.<\/p>\n
After the event Pak Jolong hated my father. Pak Jolong's men
\neven threatened to kill my father. Pak Jolong continued to
\nconvince the villagers, except my father, to sell their land to
\nPak Jihin. Some among them were coerced into selling their land:
\nPak Anas, Pak Syahrul, Pak Ambo, Pak Zakir and a widow Bu They
\nRauda. They signed an agreement to sell their land very cheap to
\nPak Jihin through Pak Jolong.<\/p>\n
However, some villagers persisted in their refusal. They must
\nhave said, "We do not want to sell our land. We agree with Pak
\nRustam."<\/p>\n
Those who agreed with my father, Pak Rustam, had already the
\nsame opinion during the meeting at the village hall. Pak Jolong
\nwho felt his efforts were being thwarted by my father, hired with
\nthe help of Pak Jihin ominous-looking people unknown to the
\nvillagers. They went to the houses of landowners with terror,
\nthreats, etc. Those who got frightened promised to meet Pak
\nJolong's wishes. But finally Pak Jolong's efforts were useless
\nafter my father managed to convince them who felt threatened.<\/p>\n
"We are on the right track. We own the land, we are fully
\nentitled to the land. Whether we want to sell it or not, that is
\nour right. They cannot force us to sell our land. We are not
\nafraid to die for it. We will defend our land until our last drop
\nof blood," said my father with a fist in the air.<\/p>\n
My father became the example for the villagers to hold on to
\ntheir land. When Pak Jolong made bids on the land, I heard their
\nrefusal, "We do not want to sell our land. We agree with Pak
\nRustam. If he sells his, we will also sell ours."<\/p>\n
This reply led Pak Jihin to take things in hand. One
\nafternoon, Pak Jihin neatly dressed, a cigarette between his
\nthick lips, came to see my father.<\/p>\n
"I have a special offer for your land. Ten times the price I
\nam offering to other owners. I hope you will not refuse again.
\nThis is in the interest of many people, Pak Rustam. You must
\nremember, that the golf course is in the interest of the Bukit
\nSiraya villagers, besides several important officials have a
\nstake in it. Pak Rustam, you must be the pioneer. Others will
\nfollow you. What do you think of my offer?" said Pak Jihin.
\nImportant government officials. Who could they be? Pak Jihin
\nmight be throwing his weight around by using the names of high
\nofficials, ministers, military dignitaries, etc., I thought. But,
\nI was not sure.<\/p>\n
"I will agree if the others also get paid ten times like me!"
\nsaid my father. Pak Jihin frowned. His face turned scarlet. He
\nwas breathing heavily. He put out his cigarette with force in the
\nash-tray.<\/p>\n
"It is impossible. Do you agree or not to my offer?"<\/p>\n
"No!" my father replied firmly.<\/p>\n
The village was calm the next few days. Nothing was heard of
\nPak Jolong anymore forcing landowners to sell their land. Pak
\nJihin did not appear either in his shiny automobile in Bukit
\nSiraya village.<\/p>\n
One rainy evening my father got an attack of asthma. My mother
\nmade him the traditional medicine to cure the attack. I sat down
\nbeside my father's bed. My father was breathing with difficulty
\nas if somebody was choking him.<\/p>\n
There were several knocks on the door. My mother looked at me,
\nsignaling there was a visitor. I hurried to the door.<\/p>\n
When I opened it I was startled to see five heavily built men.
\nThey entered the house with a rough gesture without saying a word
\nand went straight to the room where my father was lying. I had
\nhardly recovered from my fear when those people took my father by
\nforce out of the house. My mother and I were dumbfounded as if
\nhypnotized, and could only look at my father being taken away in
\na dark automobile into the rainy night.<\/p>\n
My father was defenseless, besides, a pistol was held against
\nhis temple. He looked resigned while his asthma was vehemently
\nrocking his body.<\/p>\n
I did nothing, except when the car started moving with a loud
\nnoise of the engine, I shouted, "Father ..."<\/p>\n
It took only a moment for my father to disappear. I ran into
\nthe muddy road and returned home. I found my mother had fainted.<\/p>\n
I went to the police station and reported the case. The
\natmosphere in the village was threatening. The villagers were
\nspeaking of my father's abduction by strongly built people
\npistols in hand.<\/p>\n
One week passed. My father did not return. I had bad dreams.
\nMy asthmatic father who was allergic to cold and dust, was being
\ntaken to an inhospitable place. I also imagined that my father's
\nbody was penetrated by several bullets and discarded in a rice
\nfield north of the hill slope, the place wanted by Pak Jihin for
\na golf course.<\/p>\n
My mother got weaker. After my father had gone, she did not
\nwant to eat. She only said, "Just sell the land north of the hill
\nslope. Just sell it!"<\/p>\n
The owners of the land north of the hill slope came one by one
\nto Pak Jolong's house. I heard that finally not one landowner
\nobjected to selling his land. Meanwhile, there was no news from
\nmy father.<\/p>\n
One day, Pak Jihin and Pak Jolong came to see my mother and
\nme.<\/p>\n
"Take courage. Ask for God's help. I feel sad and angry about
\nthe cruel action. Let us pray. Let us hope the police will
\nsucceed in saving Pak Rustam ..." said Pak Jihin while Pak Jolong
\nnodded in approval.<\/p>\n
I could only take a long breath and look angrily into the eyes
\nof Pak Jihin and Pak Jolong.<\/p>\n
Glossary:
\n Pak: term of respect for an older man, in general usage
\n Bu: term of respect for an older woman, in general usage<\/p>\n
Yusrizal KW was born in Padang, West Sumatra, in 1969. Since
\n1986, his short stories have been published in national and local
\nnewspapers in his home province. One of his works, Pistol
\nPerdamaian, was published in the 1996 selection of Kompas best
\nshort stories. His poetry collection, Interior Kelahiran, was
\npublished by Angkasa Bandung last year.<\/p>",
"url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/lost-1447899208",
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