Story from a Coffee Stall -- Part II<\/p>\n
By Muram Batu<\/p>\n
It was almost five months after Lela had cooked a lot of timpan,
\nand now Syaiful's home was full of activity. Lela's parents came
\nfrom their village to attend a ritual feast.<\/p>\n
On that Saturday, Lela, already five months pregnant, was
\ngoing to observe a meutijeum ceremony. Everything had been
\nproperly prepared. Syaiful had also returned to a relative's home
\nnear a hill. He was not avoiding the ritual, but he just stayed
\nwith his next-of-kin because his own house was too small for his
\nin-laws, who were all spending the night there. Moreover, the
\nceremony was indeed the responsibility of Lela's people, with
\nSyaiful assuming only a minor role.<\/p>\n
At ten in the evening, Syaiful reached his ancestral home,
\nwhere remained his only younger brother. Their parents had died a
\nlong time back, during a haj pilgrimage.<\/p>\n
As he lay down there, his imagination was filled with blissful
\nhappiness. Lela would undergo her first ritual, a mandatory
\ninitiation for a woman in her early pregnancy. And the next day,
\nhe had no need to hurry because the feast would begin at eleven,
\nwith everything having been prepared by Lela's side of the
\nfamily, which made him feel more relaxed.<\/p>\n
\"Bang, I'm on duty now. I'll be joining you tomorrow at your
\nhouse,\" said Syaiful's brother, who was in charge of guarding the
\ncoastal area very close to Syaiful's house, now crammed with
\nLela's many relatives.<\/p>\n
\"OK.\"<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
The next morning, Syaiful was enjoying coffee and timpan at
\nhis usual stall. It was very early, so he didn't have to rush to
\nhis house.<\/p>\n
Meeting and greeting people at a coffee stall was a delightful
\nexperience for Syaiful, and perhaps also for other Acehnese.
\nThere, they can share their feelings and talk about anything and
\neverything. A lot of Acehnese thinkers find inspiration for their
\nideas from chatting at coffee stalls. Likewise, most Acehnese
\nbusinessmen emerge from the same stalls with a new venture. So it
\nwas no surprise, that coffee stalls in Aceh can be found along
\nthe trans-Sumatra highway.<\/p>\n
Syaiful was engrossed in conversation when a great tremor
\nrocked the area. The quake was so strong that they were forced to
\nstop talking and to abandon the stall.<\/p>\n
He immediately realized that he had to get back to his house,
\nwhere all his in-laws were gathered, not least his wife and
\nunborn child.<\/p>\n
Before he could move his feet, people began screaming at him
\nto watch out for the collapsing buildings. Frozen by their
\ninsistent cries, he took a quick look around him, barely a glance
\n-- his mind was filled with worry over his wife and the rest of
\ntheir extended family.<\/p>\n
He had started his motorcycle and was headed for home, when
\nthe sound of panic-stricken crowds suddenly filled the air. They
\nwere shrieking in fright at a wall of huge waves that pursued
\nthem.<\/p>\n
Syaiful panicked, speeding up his vehicle. But the mob of
\npeople fleeing into the hills blocked his way. He dumped his
\nmotorcycle and tried to run in the direction of his house on the
\ncoast. The others stopped him. Nobody was running toward the sea.<\/p>\n
Terrified and not knowing what to do, Syaiful imagined Lela
\ntending to her meutijeum ceremony: Lela getting a rhah ulee bath,
\nreceiving a peusijeuk blessing from her parents and siblings,
\nenjoying a bu leukat feast and delivering the meal to Syaiful's
\nkin and her other relatives to notify them of her five-month
\npregnancy.<\/p>\n
Syaiful was now aware of the waves and waves of people making
\na run for safety, yet he wondered why he could not even move a
\nfoot. Lela's homemade timpan again came to his mind, so did the
\nsnacks at the coffee stall that had long accompanied his
\nleisurely conversations.<\/p>\n
He looked at his watch, realizing that the ritual for Lela
\nshould be taking place, but he had no way of getting there.<\/p>\n
\"Get back, bang! It's now part of the sea, no use, no more
\nlives,\" shouted a young man, who barred him from heading for
\nhome.<\/p>\n
\"Ahh!!\" bellowed Syaiful in despair, as he witnessed waves as
\nhigh as coconut trees sweeping away everything in their path
\nalong the coast.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
\"We had no chance to hold a meuninem for her,\" Syaiful
\ngrieved, head bent.<\/p>\n
No word was uttered. Syaiful was silent. One by one, the
\ncoffee stall customers left him. No groans were heard anymore.
\nSyaiful had withdrawn into himself. Some timpan still remained on
\nthe dish in front of him.<\/p>\n
A few customers tried vainly to make him speak again, but
\nfailed. They gave up trying. Syaiful had not recovered yet, they
\nthought.<\/p>\n
\"It's too serious, I take pity on him,\" said one of the few
\ngoing back to their seats.<\/p>\n
\"His guilt and his blaming God could drive him insane. I'm
\nafraid to imagine it,\" added another.<\/p>\n
\"All he needs is time. He's not going to lose his mind. He's
\nstrong enough, otherwise he wouldn't have survived. He won't go
\ninsane!\" another spoke up, determined.<\/p>\n
\"Let's hope for the best.\"<\/p>\n
\"Amen.\"<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
The call to dusk prayer rang out and they all went home, with
\nsome going directly to the meunasah.<\/p>\n
Syaiful gazed out at the sea for a while before going back to
\nhis empty and silent hillside home.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
That cheerfully chattering coffee stall has been closed for
\nsome time now.<\/p>\n
Translated by Aris Prawira<\/p>\n
meutijeum: a ceremony conducted within the first five months of
\na woman's first pregnancy, held by the wife's family to inform
\ntheir in-laws
\n rhah ulee: a purification rite performed as part of meutijeum
\n peusijeuk: a blessing conducted for important events
\n bu leukat: a celebratory meal made of glutinous rice
\n meuninem: a reciprocal ritual held by the husband's family for
\nhis pregnant wife, usually after seven months' pregnancy
\n meunasah: a small mosque<\/p>",
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