The Crocodiles<\/p>\n
Korrie Layun Rampan<\/p>\n
The sharp edged cove lets strong sea currents batter its rim.
\nWhen the tide is in, sea waves pound so heavily on the curved
\nshoreline that a deep bay has formed.<\/p>\n
After endless waves smashing against the curve for centuries,
\nthe bay has turned even more threatening, particularly when its
\nwater begins to surge into rivers, reaching elbow height before
\nflooding higher plains.<\/p>\n
My father built a house facing the bay. From its front yard,
\nboats and other vessels passing the inlet could be clearly seen.
\nAs a child, I would stand on the doorstep, watching the scenery.
\nOnce I witnessed a boat carrying agricultural produce collide
\nwith a loaded merchant ship turning rapidly in the bay.<\/p>\n
The packed boat was swallowed by the strong currents while the
\nspeeding vessel crashed into a log and its skipper lost control,
\ncausing the ship to become stuck amid the massive torrent of
\nwaves. It capsized with all its load littering the bay.<\/p>\n
The authorities promptly put up signs requiring ships to
\nproceed with caution as they navigated the bay's sharp bends. Yet
\nseveral accidents still occurred, some claiming human lives. The
\nlatest I saw at the bay involved workers ferrying a log raft from
\nthe upstream. When the raft passed the bay, its end hit the
\nriverbank due to the heavy upstream flow, and the two workers
\nstruggling to turn their raft back on course bumped into a tree
\nstem stretching out to the bay.<\/p>\n
One of them fell backward on the raft and the other dropped
\ninto a whirlpool, slipping down under the raft. They lost their
\nlives.<\/p>\n
And I missed the bay when I left for school. I could only go
\nthere during the long vacation once a year. It was very difficult
\nto find means of transport to reach the area, so that there were
\ntimes when I could only hang out at the bay once in two or three
\nyears.<\/p>\n
Now and again I could only make it to Damai or Barong Tongkok
\nas there were no more public vehicles, forcing me to return
\ndisappointed after failing to arrive at Bundon Bay.<\/p>\n
When I was back in Jakarta, my mother sent me a note with the
\nnews that our dilapidated home would be renovated.<\/p>\n
\"We can't leave the village, Sulau. Your rubber and white and
\nred rattan plantations occupy several plots of land. They are all
\nflourishing.\"<\/p>\n
I never answered my mom's letters. No mailmen could make their
\ndelivery in the forest zone's river stream interior that was
\nalmost inaccessible by inland water conveyance. She used to send
\nher notes via Samarinda, when her friends or relatives happened
\nto go shopping there.<\/p>\n
It took a week to reach the city. If mom went there herself,
\nthe length of time would double. The total cost and time spent on
\nthe trip only to send a letter might equal the price of a cow.<\/p>\n
But that's was all part of the hardship my parents had to face
\nas forest dwellers in a remote region. When I suggested that they
\nmove to the city, mom would always argue that they had could not
\nleave the graves of my grandparents.<\/p>\n
\"Earning a living may be easier,\" mom wrote in her neat
\nhandwriting. \"But who can ever be asked to take care of the
\nburial grounds of your grandparents?\"<\/p>\n
It was almost impossible to persuade my mom when it came to
\nsuch spiritual bonds. I respected her as a principled woman. She
\nfollowed her husband to live in a far-off district, quitting her
\njob as an elementary school teacher in Balikpapan. If she had
\nmarried a man working in the city, she might have enjoyed a
\ncomfortable and pleasant life. But her love for dad seemed
\nincomparable to money or wealth.<\/p>\n
As an ex-teacher, she could arrange for support of my tuition
\nand living expenses. By saving her money and letting me draw out
\nthe sum needed from the bank, I didn't have to bother her every
\ntime I wanted something. In the second year of my studies, I
\nmanaged to pay the fees myself with my income as a freelancer for
\nvarious media. And my mom no longer needed to deposit money for
\nme.<\/p>\n
She wrote to me sadly that I no longer needed her support. She
\ntook it as though she had lost her only child, not to mention her
\nhurt at my plan to settle in Jakarta after graduation instead of
\nreturning to my bay home.<\/p>\n
\"You won't likely be able to visit our graves once in five
\nyears when we die, Lau,\" was what mom said in her latest letter
\nafter I graduated and continued studying for my master's.<\/p>\n
\"Your dad has built a permanent home and your farms have
\nyielded millions of rupiah. What a pity you can't take a look
\noccasionally.\"<\/p>\n
Still, I didn't answer her. It would be in vain to send a
\nletter to Bundon. Even if I'd been willing to pay Rp 500,000, a
\nmailman would have refused to deliver it because of the isolated
\nlocation. A motorized traditional boat called ketinting was
\nrequired to sail along the stream, costing a whole lot more than
\nthe postal rate. The only way was to have it passed on by certain
\npeople familiar with the region who were going home through
\nBundon Bay.<\/p>\n
But I was determined to see my village home after earning my
\nmaster's degree. I'd been away too long so that the youths and
\nchildren there might not know me except my name and framed
\ngraduation-day picture. I myself might no longer recognized the
\nfaces of local villagers either after such a long absence.<\/p>\n
Actually, I wanted to go home to comply with mom's request. I
\nwanted to go so much, but it was hard for me to leave Jakarta. I
\nloved my job, writing columns in newspapers and becoming a well-
\nknown name. Time passed, and I had still not returned home or
\nmarried.<\/p>\n
\"You can bring home the one you choose or let me do it for
\nyou?\"<\/p>\n
Mom's letter and her instruction to marry startled me. This
\ntime, I rushed to buy an airplane ticket to Samarinda, where I
\nnotified my mom's relatives before proceeding to Bangun and
\nboarding a speedboat to Melak. I then took a motorcycle taxi and
\na ketinting to reach Bundon Bay.<\/p>\n
There was no way I could lure a woman used to the trappings of
\nlife in the city to come to such a remote, vast area with only a
\nsingle home. And what would happen if she came from a rich family
\nand was a college graduate?<\/p>\n
My mom didn't disappoint me at all, brimming with pride when I
\narrived. It's not only because I was an only child and that,
\nbased on the traditional line of descent, would inherit my
\ngrandfather's wealth, but also as I'd become the only holder of a
\nmaster's degree in Rinding village.<\/p>\n
It's ironic that a village not to be found on any map could be
\nrecognized through the scholastic achievement of one of the
\nlocals. And at the age of 26, I felt I was a \"forest hero\" who
\nhad gained my knowledge from the Jakarta jungle. I had high hopes
\nin believing I was needed by the nation, state and ancestral
\nvillage.<\/p>\n
I was promptly introduced to Bulau. The girl, my mother said,
\nwas my cousin on my father's side. She had adequate education as
\na graduate of an economics college in the region.<\/p>\n
\"You can both be civil servants,\" my mom said as she clasped
\nour hands.<\/p>\n
Others may scoff that it was an arranged union, but I found
\nshe was a girl I could rely on. What is the problem with being
\npaired off if it turns out the person is meant for you?<\/p>\n
Our relationship became increasingly intimate, and I was
\nalready thinking ahead to the day when she would be called Mrs.
\nBulau Sulau.<\/p>\n
The days passed quickly, with our affection for each other
\ngrowing. I loved Bulau; if she were a pearl, she would be of the
\nmost perfect quality; if she were a gem, she would be the most
\nexpensive sapphire.<\/p>\n
It seemed we were destined to be together, living in our
\nlittle corner of the country, but God had other plans.<\/p>\n
We went to the bay together in the early evening to bathe. It
\nwas a joyful time, with people talking and joking together. But
\nas we talked, Bulau stepped forward and plunged straight into the
\nwater.<\/p>\n
\"Crocodile! Crocodile!\" shouted the others as they scurried to
\nsafety.<\/p>\n
\"Bulau's been yanked by a crocodile! She's been pulled down!
\nShe's been tugged away!\" the noisy clamor came from all the
\npeople around.<\/p>\n
The screams resounded before fading away with the wind and
\nvanishing in the murky twilight.<\/p>\n
Still dazed by the turmoil, I tried to plunge in after her.
\nBut before I could do it, somebody held me back.<\/p>\n
\"Don't kill yourself, Lau! You can't fight against a crocodile
\nin the stream! Let's call someone to catch the evil reptile!\"<\/p>\n
It took three days for the man to draw the crocodile from the
\ndepths of the bay. By using a strand of Bulau's hair, the tamer
\ndragged the animal out. Its belly was slashed open, with the
\npieces of Bulau's body lying inside.<\/p>\n
There had been no marriage after all, only two deaths, that of
\nBulau and her killer. But how could we blame the crocodile,
\nforced to prey on people with all the fish in the bay plundered.
\nThere were monkeys and deer hungrily roaming the riverbanks now,
\ntheir forest homes cut down.<\/p>\n
I was stoic, even as my mother sobbed.<\/p>\n
I could not shed my tears but my mom was sobbing.<\/p>\n
There was a scorching sun at the funeral. As I watched Bulau's
\nbody interred, I looked around at the trees surrounding us and
\nwondered when they would be gone. When would life be rid of
\nmisery? Was happiness only fleeting?<\/p>\n
And the streams at Bundon Bay kept flowing as if nothing had
\nhappened.<\/p>\n
Translated by Aris Prawira<\/p>", "url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/the-crocodiles-1447899208", "image": "" }, "sponsor": "Okusi Associates", "sponsor_url": "https:\/\/okusiassociates.com" }