Barong

By Sunaryono Basuki Ks

New Year's Day was a blessed day for Wayan Suardika, but not because he had received a bonus from his office, stashed in an envelope which he handed to his wife Nyoman as soon as he got home. His wife's face lit up. She fingered the red banknotes, but hurriedly put them back in the envelope. Perhaps Nyoman felt what he had done as a blessing for the family. It was not money that made them feel grateful to Hyang Widhi.

"Where's Gede?" asked Wayan.

"Playing with his friends. Perhaps at Pak Agung's house. You know, Gung Nik has a new toy to play with. A new video game."

"Has he been there long?"

"Long enough. He must be having a good time there."

Wayan took off his cap and put it on the table. His wife understood, and without being asked, went into the kitchen. She returned through the curtained door with a half-full glass of coffee on a wooden tray.

Holding his hot black coffee, Wayan mused on the black days he had been through. He sipped his black coffee, reliving the suffering of those bleak days.

It had been more than two years ago that Gede Sutarsa, their only son, had been taken ill. His wife took him to the community health center. Full of hope, she let Gede take the medicine the doctor gave her.

"It's only a cold," the doctor told her.

"If it's only a cold, cayapult oil will cure him," Wayan said optimistically. Normally, his son would have recovered in a couple of days. But this time Gede remained sick. This five-year- old boy started complaining of a headache and of pain in the chest. Returning to the health center after all the medicine had gone, the doctor examined him more carefully.

"You should take the kid to the hospital. I'll write you a reference. They have a laboratory and X-ray equipment there. He can have a sputum test and have an X-ray taken. He may be suffering from tuberculosis. Any of your relatives suffer from TB? A neighbor? Or a maid?"

As far as Wayan knew, no one in the family had TB. Did they? One of his neighbors maybe? Who knew. And they did not have a maid.

Then they took Gede to the hospital. He had an X-ray and a sputum test. Wayan had to empty his wallet for those tests.

"Nothing is free in this country," he thought, but he still felt lucky because he did not have to pay too much for the service -- although he did have to queue for a long time.

The tests were negative. Gede was quite healthy. No TB. Did he perhaps have a heart problem? After all, he felt pain in the chest, and a heart disease also gave you pain there, a pain like being pinned down.

A friend gave him some advice.

"You'd better take Gede to a specialist."

"Can't I take him to the one in the hospital?"

"If you want better care, you must see the doctor at his private surgery. You still have to queue, though. But don't worry. See an internist. He will examine all the internal parts of Gede's body."

"And he will also clean out the inner folds of my wallet," Wayan joked.

But Wayan was not joking about Gede being examined by a specialist. He took him to Dr. Ngurah's private surgery. He was a specialist. "He is an expert in examining what it is inside the body," Wayan thought.

In the beginning of every new treatment, Wayan was always optimistic. There was always hope for Gede's recovery from his sickness, hope for their only son who would pray for their parents when they died. At the end of every examination, Wayan hoped that the next round of medication would work. He was convinced there was a cure for everything. The stream of medical examination, medication, prescription, and private surgery gradually exhausted his money and he had to mortgage his only piece of land, inherited from his parents. The purser in his office kept his bills.

"Gede suffers from a strange disease," an uncle told him. "Look for a balian."

"But this is the nineties. Could he really be suffering from that kind of disease?"

"Don't dismiss it out of hand," the man said.

"Perhaps Gede has something to say but is keeping it to himself, maybe that's why he has become ill."

"That's an educated man's theory," his uncle replied. "Just think about what the doctors said. Those smart people said Gede was completely healthy. So there can't there be anything wrong with him? Perhaps there is something wrong with us. Our ancestors are angry with us, or perhaps they want something from us. You'd better ask a balian about that."

Personally, Wayan did not believe in quacks, but for the sake of Gede's recovery, he let his uncle find one. No harm in trying.

"So it seems I'm right," his uncle pronounced, "The balian said that our ancestors are asking for something. They will prepare for the banten, you only have to be ready with the money."

Only the money. Wayan had to think hard before adding to his debts. Money was not a simple matter for Wayan. It was easy to talk about but hard in practice.

"Mr. Wayan, you have exceeded your debt limit. Can't you try to borrow money somewhere else?" the finance officer in his office told him.

"I need money for my kid's medication, Sir."

But the man only looked at him.

"Isn't there anything we can still sell?" Wayan asked his wife.

"The radio, perhaps?" his wife suggested.

"An old radio won't sell for much. Perhaps only two thousand rupiah," Wayan said.

His wife looked sad and touched the necklace hanging around her neck.

"How about this, Bli?"

Wayan could not say a word. The necklace with a heart medallion swung between Gede's recovery and the loss of past memories, since it was inherited from his wife's parents. His wife seemed to read Wayan's mind.

"We can pawn it and buy it back when we have the money."

It turned out that the money still could not pay for Gede's recovery. Even after they had made religious offerings, Gede stayed ill. He coughed during the night, felt pain in his chest and suffered from headaches during the day. And they could not get the necklace back.

In the dim light of evening, Wayan would observe his son's face. Even when he was asleep, the boy seemed to be in agony. Perhaps it was only Wayan's own suffering he saw. Perhaps it was him who felt terrible and he was projecting his own feelings onto his boy. Wayan wanted to weep, but there were no more tears left. He had cried in the early stages of Gede's illness. Gede lost his friends; the other boys had started to avoid him. He was seven years old, but had not been to school yet.

And Wayan was dejected. Nothing was left to sell at home, and Gede was looking worse and worse. Wayan could not work in peace. He was frequently reprimanded by his editor.

"Your story is no good. You should concentrate on your job more."

But he had concentrated, not only on his job but on how he could find medication for Gede's recovery. He had lost faith in the balian. He could not remember how many balian he had visited, and they all gave him different explanations. One said that Gede was a victim of black magic. It was really aimed at Wayan, but missed and had attacked Gede instead. He asked the balian to remove "the package" from Gede's body. A ritual was performed and he paid for it, but still Gede coughed and suffered.

One told him that their ancestors wanted .....

Another said that his house should be purified because the land used to be a rice field ...

A third said ....

Yet another said ....

Wayan stopped believing in them. Wayan stopped believing in the magical powers of the balian ....

Until the end of the year.

Wayan's grandfather, who lived in the mountains, came to visit him. He rarely saw the old man. Perhaps once or twice he had met him when he was only seven or eight years old. His father had taken him to the mountains. It had been a long journey. First they had traveled by bus, and then they had walked for half a day to grandfather's hut. Despite the cold, Wayan had felt at peace there.

"Do you like it here with Wayah?"

"Yes," he had said. He loved grandpa's hut. The old man had sweet roasted cassava. He had a fireplace to warm himself, and he could put the unpeeled cassava in the fire.

Grandpa had stroked Wayan's head.

"But you're better off going to live in town. You should go to school and become educated. Don't be like grandpa."

"I love it here."

"Of course you can visit me any time and stay here," he had said.

Wayan did not know who had asked grandpa to come this time. It had been a long time since he had last seen him. The old man lived alone, far away from the rest of the family. He rarely attended family ceremonies at the family's sanggah. People often had trouble remembering whether grandpa was still alive or whether he had already died.

"So you visit us, Grandpa."

"Yes, I miss my grandson. And Gede is sick."

"How did you know that Gede is sick?"

The old man only smiled and said "Yan, Grandpa can feel it." Then he called Gede.

"Come here, De." He stretched out his hands and hoist the boy into his lap. From a cotton bag he tool a package wrapped in banana leaves. When he opened it, Wayan could see that it contained flowers.

"Burn this incense, Yan," he told Wayan.

Without saying a word Wayan burned the incense grandpa gave him. Then grandpa carried Gede to the wooden bed and laid him there. He took off the boy's shirt and put the flowers next to the boy. He himself climbed up the bed and sat cross-legged beside the boy. He took the burning incense from Wayan's hand and put it in between the fingers of both his hands. He closed his eyes, then he took some flowers and put them on Gede's chest. For a moment Gede groaned as if he felt deep pain, but it was not for long. Then, Wayan did not know how, he watched the blood ooze out of grandpa's hand. In his hand he clutched some old Balinese pis bolong.

"Take these in your left hand, wrap them in paper or leaves, and then throw them into the sea," grandpa told Wayan.

"What are they, Grandpa?"

"Just throw them away. The fight between Barong and Rangda is eternal. In the end, Barong always wins, but Rangda cannot really be defeated. He will constantly disturb us. So never forget to membakti," Grand said.

Returning home from throwing the coins into the ocean, Wayan found his wife alone.

"Where is Gede?"

"He is playing with the other kids."

"He's full of beans, and he told me the pain in his chest is gone."

"But where is Grandpa?"

"He said he wanted to take a walk."

From that day on, Gede was healthy. Grandpa never turned up again.

As Wayan sipped his black coffee, he realized the banknotes in the envelope were quite meaningless compared to Gede's recovery. It was their most precious New Year's Gift. A new year with a new development: Gede was better.

Grandpa never told him who had done this to him, but he had been quite clear about some things. Rangda was never completely defeated. Never think that people will do you no harm even when you are kind. He recalled grandpa's advice: Doing good is much better than doing evil. Believe in Sang Hyang Widhi. When the law does not work in the world, it will work there in the hereafter.

Sunaryono Basuki Ks was born in Malang, East Java in 1941. He teaches English literature and art at the Department of Languages of Art, the School of Teachers Training and Education, Singaraja, Bali. He has published seven novels and some anthologies of poetry. He also writes for newspapers.

Note: Red Banknotes = Ten thousand rupiah notes Hyang Widhi = God of the Balinese Hindus Balian = Traditional Balinese doctor banten = Offering Bli = A respectful form of address for a man Wayah = Grandpa Sanggah = Shrine Pis Bolong = A old Balinese coin with a hole in the middle Barong and Rangda = Symbol of Good and Evil Membakti = Pray to God