Catnap

By Marianne Katoppo

There was very little traffic in the sun-soaked alley. It was really too narrow for motor vehicles, and being a shortcut to the busy shopping center on the artery road, it was mainly used by pedestrians. Of course Jakarta being Jakarta, the occasional car or motorcycle would roar along, dodging small children, chickens and cats. There were no dogs. The name of the main street was Mosque Street.

The alley looked quite picturesque at times with its row of small, low houses, most of which sported a pocket handkerchief size front yard. Still, there was ample vegetation, because people without front yards put their plants right in front of their doors. An additional hazard to the drivers, but a delight to cats looking for some shade on a hot day.

Of course this was no problem for the fat cat sunning himself on the front porch of Number Six. His name was Catalunya, and he knew very well he was the most beautiful cat of the realm. The Cat Mother -- the human person who was so fortunate as to look after him -- told him so every day. Passersby, looking over the low red painted iron fence and seeing him sprawled out in full splendor on top of the red water jar, often exclaimed admiringly at his coloring, his size, the softness of his fur, and so on. Most of them, never having seen an Angora cat, would say to each other, "Look, what a magnificent Angora!"

Catalunya always accepted all forms of homage in a most gracious manner, even though his admirers failed to recognize his truly superior breed and took him for an insignificant Angora. One of Cat Mother's friends, upon seeing him for the first time, exclaimed, "What a beautiful cat. Did you bring him with you from Denmark?"

The image of her sun-worshiping darling lost on a windswept moor in bleakest West Jutland made Cat Mother shudder.

"Do you mind?" she said indignantly. "This is a genuine Betawi Bongsor, with a pedigree going back to Aji Saka's very own cats."

The friend being a gullible foreigner was most impressed, especially after Cat Mother told him the story of Aji Saka's cats, and how the Javanese alphabet came into being.

"The two servants were literally faithful to the death," Cat Mother sighed, "the cats, fortunately, were wiser."

The neighbors, however, were more impressed by the fact that Catalunya's food came from the supermarket, in tins with pictures of happy cats. At first Pak Mardjo the garbage collector harbored dark suspicions about Cat Mother's eating habits. And why shouldn't he? Tins with pictures of fish contained fish, and those featuring cows contained beef, so...

"You must spend a fortune on cat food," another of Cat Mother's friends, a human rights activist, said disapprovingly, turning the tin around so that she could read the price. "Why, this one tin costs more than a worker's minimum daily wages!"

"And one little jar of that junk you put of your face costs more than the worker's annual income," Cat Mother purred. Never using cosmetics herself, she could afford to sharpen her claws on her friend's extravagant lifestyle.

Human rights or feline rights were of minor importance to Catalunya whose favorite pastime was napping on top of the huge water jar on the front porch. Cat Mother had put the jar there in honor of an ancient custom which was formerly prevalent throughout the East: The water was there to assuage the thirst of the passing traveler.

"It was all part of hospitality," Cat Mother explained, "just as it was the custom for people passing through orchards or fields to help themselves to the fruit. They never took more than they needed. And I have seen these jars in India and in Thailand, too. Though the water would not be fit to drink now, I just put mine there as a symbolic gesture."

None appreciated this symbolic gesture more than Catalunya, who much preferred the jar over the rickety mailbox. The postman also appreciated it, because although Catalunya was the personification of sweetness and light, he did not care to be disturbed during his nap.

This particular morning Catalunya was on top of his jar and all was well with the world. The alley was peaceful, Number Three's newly acquired roosters were strutting around and attacking the potted plants, and Black Nanny of the repair shop was hanging out her laundry on the little square that also served as a minor market place, floor court, children's playground and -- in the evening -- badminton court as well as venue for sundry performances of traditional art.

The man who came sauntering into the alley was not a local resident nor a regular passerby. When he came through the alley for the first time, a few days ago, Parman of the small grocery looked up suspiciously, and even stepped out of his shop to watch the stranger. Mamat of the repair shop, commonly known as "Uncle Fat" was also alerted when the man stopped in front of Number Six an inordinately long time. He relaxed when he saw the man was admiring Catalunya and even reaching out to pet him.

"Seems a bit touched," Uncle Fat reported to Parman, who after all was the entrepreneur and therefore superior to a mere mechanic. "Was meowing at the cat, too!"

"I have never seen him before," Parman observed. One of the mechanics remarked that he had seen this man in New Life Street, selling herbal remedies, and yes he did seem a bit touched.

The next time he came through, Uncle Fat -- who was, after all, Cat Mother's closest neighbor, and whose wife, Black Nanny, used to visit Cat Mother to watch White Snake Legend together -- engaged him in conversation. He discovered that yes he did live in New Life Street and him wife was an agent for herbal remedies which they also sold in the shopping center. Hence his passing through this particular alley.

"My wife is allergic to cats," he confided sadly to Uncle Far, "while I love them. I would give her up, but then I cannot cook, can I?"

Uncle Fat, whose girth was also due to Black Nanny's culinary skills, decided that the man wasn't that crazy. And paid no more attention to the man's increasingly frequent strolls through the alley.

Today the man was carrying a big airline bag. Parman who was attending to a customer thought to himself that the herbal remedy business did not seem to be doing too well, because the bag looked quite empty. And the man, already having been identified as "practically a local resident", did not step out of the shop to watch him like he had done before.

It was uncommonly quiet in the alley. That's how Black Nanny managed to hear the muffled cry, which caused her to look up sharply. Had one of the children fallen into the deep smelly gutter -- which Cat Mother called, romantically, The Streamlet?

Peering in the direction of The Streamlet she saw nothing untoward. The mother duck and her seven ducklings were trotting around on the muddy bottom. The roosters, who always managed to escape the occasional motorcycle or other such hazards in spite of the fervent prayers of some of the potted plant owners, were strutting smartly towards the asoka plants of Number Four. Cats not so fortunate as Catalunya were begging scraps of food from the chicken noodle vendor.

The man passed quite closely by Black Nanny, keeping his eyes straight ahead and walking faster than usual. She thought it was a bit late for him to go to the shopping center with his herbal remedies, but he seemed to have a lot to sell, judging from the big blue bag which looked white heavy and was swinging in a rather strange ...

... and from which emerged another piteous meow.

Black Nanny let out a blood-curdling yell which resounded through the alley and launched herself at the man. "Hitam!" she shrieked. "He is stealing our Hitam!" Upon which he threw down the bag and ran for his life.

Uncle Fat and the mechanics, aided by the chicken noodle vendor and some joyous children, managed to grab the man, while Black Nanny and Aunt Curly from the grocery opened the bag and rescued a very disgruntled Catalunya.

"I just wanted to take him home to play with him," the man stammered. He was fortunate that the people of the alley were already aware of his being "a bit touched", so they didn't beat him up and let him go after making sure Catalunya was inside, after giving him an extra meal of fried fish -- ordinary Jakarta Bay fish. Catalunya ate it to the last morsel. She also called Cat Mother, to report the incident.

Cat Mother could not stop laughing when she put the phone down. "Imagine anybody wanting to kidnap my cat!" she chuckled to a colleague. "He just wanted to play with him."

The colleague looked solemn. "You know," she said, "in France -- or was it in China? -- when you order rabbit in the restaurant, they put the rabbit's head on the dish so that you know it really is rabbit meat."

Upon which Cat Mother immediately rushed home and with a sigh of relief saw Calalunya sitting in the window, pretty as a picture and safely beyond reach of the most ardent cat lover.

Born in Tomohon, North Sulawesi on June 9, 1943, Marianne Katoppo is known for her novels Rumahku di Atas Jembatan and Raumanen. The latter won her the 1975 Novel Writing Competition held by the Jakarta Arts Council and the SEA Write, a Bangkok-based literary prize for Southeast Asian writers. Her stories have appeared in numerous publications, including the Kompas and Suara Pembaruan dailies, and the Far Eastern Economic Review. She is now a consultant for Yayasan Obor Indonesia.

Note: Bongsor means oversize. Aji Saka is a legendary king in Javanese and Balinese folklore believed to have created the Javanese alphabet.