JP/8/STORY

THE HOMECOMING

By Claudine Frederik

Ingkan stole a glance at her traveling companion who had been talking for the past three hours since the plane took off from Soekarno Hatta Airport in the early morning hours. Thank God, her friend had dozed off. She was grateful for the break in the conversation as she had tried to follow the stories of her friend with great difficulty.

Her mind was preoccupied with other things since she had decided to embark on this trip to visit the graves of her parents. It had been too long since her last visit to North Sulawesi. It had been more than a decade ago.

How time flies, she thought. It felt like only yesterday when she had transported the remains of her mother to her last resting place. She wondered if she would find her parents' grave sites well cared for.

"We will be landing soon, ma'am," the stewardess' voice broke her train of thoughts. The view outside the plane's window offered nothing much but a deck of white clouds; heavy and impermeable, blocking the view of the land below. The plane shuddered slightly as it gradually descended.

She swallowed rapidly as her ears started to fill with air; it always happened during landing.

"What time is it?"

"Nearly eleven local time," she answered her friend who woke up from a fitful slumber. Right up front a red light warned passengers to fasten seat belts.

The voice of the captain crackled through the mike as he de scribed the plane's approach to Mapanget Airport. The plane, at an altitude of 5,000 meters was flying above a clear blue sea with the island Menado Tua making an impressive background.

"We will be landing in about five minutes at Mapanget Airport," the voice of the captain announced. True to his word, the wheels of the plane hit the ground in less than five minutes. The Boeing 737 trundled at a leisurely pace toward the building at the far end of the landing strip.

Ingkan could hardly suppress a feeling of impatience. All of a sudden, she could not wait to get home. She loosened the seat belt and got up from her seat and reached for her overnight bag on the rack above.

"Where will you stay?," asked Diana. "You can stay at my place," she offered. " Thanks, but I have my own place," Ingkan said.

"Are you sure you can cope with the inconvenience of staying in an old place?" Diana looked at her with unbelieving eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure," she said, fully understanding what Diana meant. Her parents' place held great value to her, in spite of the inconveniences of staying in a traditional wooden house.

The passengers shuffled in long lines toward the exit where two stewardesses waited to bid them goodbye.

Nobody was at the airport to welcome her. Of course not, after all she had not sent her aunt word of her arrival.

"Well, let me give you a lift then," Diana insisted.

After a drive of about 20 minutes, Diana's van grounded to a halt in front of her parents' place. The front windows were tightly closed, also the bedroom shutters, giving a cheerless impression to passersby. Nobody was busy in the rickety back quarters either.

"There is no one there. How can you stay here? Come with me, you can visit your aunt later," Diana pleaded.

"No, I'll wait," Ingkan decided. "She might have gone to the market."

" Whatever you say. If you change your mind, you know how to reach me." Diana waved a hand in the air and told her driver to move on.

Ingkan stepped hesitantly toward the short flight of wooden steps that led to the front door of the house that held so many memories of her youth.

She carefully stepped over a hole in one of the steps before she reached the front door. She peered through the glass panel inside but the house seemed empty. In the back quarters she noticed on arrival a single wooden chair in front of the kitchen.

Ingkan went down the steps and headed straight for the kitchen at the back. There was no smell of smoke in the dark place, nor could she detect fresh ash on the traditional bench which still held the remnants of a stove made of stone.

As she looked at the antiquated cooking facilities, giggles and the happy voices of her sisters in their teens, trying to make cinnamon sugar filled pancakes, rang in her ears.

How time flies, she thought again. A stream of sunlight fell on the old cooking bench. Ingkan looked up and noted a gap in the corrugated roof over the kitchen.

"Ingkan, is that you?" Ingkan turned around and saw a frail figure, her back hunched over, in the doorway. She had not heard her aunt returning from the market. Her aunt had aged considerably since she had seen her last. "Aunt Wulan," Ingkan walked swiftly to the old lady and embraced her.

"How are you doing? I'm sorry I did not let you know that I was coming."

"I am glad you came as I need to talk to you. But, it can wait till later. You will be staying I'm sure." The old lady took her by the hand and together they went into the house.

Inside she found everything as her mother had left it before she joined her children in Jakarta.

There was the easy chair in which she used to sit and there were the pictures on the wall. Her parents wedding picture and her own. She did not think that her aunt would display her wedding picture. After all, her wedding did not work out for her, it ended in an ugly divorce with both parties pointing the finger at one another.

Ingkan looked away from her wedding picture on the wall with a pained expression on her face.

"Have you had lunch? I cook my food myself. It is very hard to find a good and trustworthy servant nowadays. There are practically no more servants here in Manado. And besides, I could not afford one, even if there was one. But, tell me, what brings you here?"

"It came to me all at once that I have not been to Mom and Dad's graves for ages. I want to visit their graves."

"That is good of you. You will be blessed if you keep the memory of your parents alive. Only, I don't know if their graves have been properly taken care of. If the grass is not cut regularly, you might have a hard time looking for their graves. I have not visited them for quite some time myself. Nowadays, I have all sorts of aches and pains in my bones, especially in my feet and legs."

"I'd like to pay my respects today. I am leaving the day after tomorrow. How can I charter a van to go to the mountains?"

"That's easy. You just have to catch one of those public minivans. They will take you into town where you can charter one of those vans. You just wait in front of the house until one of those minivans passes by. It is quite convenient for me, you know. I don't need to walk so far."

"Do you want to come along with me, Aunt Wulan? You can tell me what I need to know then."

"Yes, I suppose I could. But, who will cook dinner for us if I come along. "

"I don't want you to worry about dinner tonight. We'll catch something on our way home. I want you to relax today."

Ingkan's parents were laid to rest in the hilly grounds of Tondano, a lakeside town in the mountains. Both hailed from the same town, a rustic town which seemed to have escaped the touch of today's developers. Many of the houses still date back to the colonial days with traditional wooden homes dominating the landscape.

Ingkan inhaled the unpolluted air, expanding her lungs fully, as they neared the lake town and cruised along a vast expanse of green rice fields.

A cold wind caressed her face which reminded her of the days when she used to roam the paddy fields with long forgotten class mates.

"You better put on your blazer, Aunt Wulan. This is nippy weather."

"Yes. I'd better. I don't want to worsen those aches in my bones. It is cold and damp out here, isn't it? How could your mother and I have stood it in those days!"

At the cemetery, they had to walk further inside before they got to the graves. Ingkan planned to say so many things to her parents, but, when she finally stood before their graves, she could not find anything to say. All the words seemed to have stuck in her throat. She could not even say a prayer.

In the end, Aunt Wulan who had looked at her with hopeful eyes, said: "Let's pray in our hearts. Words are so superfluous in such situations. God reads what is in our hearts."

They did not stay long since the wind was blowing with a more biting force through the weathered tombstones in the cemetery. Aunt Wulan had begun to shiver in spite of the blazer she wore.

" Bye Mom, bye Dad," Ingkan said silently. Where were those words that she had wanted to say? She shook her head, half angry for not being able to come up with a reason or answer.

Aunt Wulan nudged her arm. "Let's go now. I'll freeze to death here."

After that the driver of the chartered van introduced them to a small restaurant serving local food close to the town's market. The eatery offered a wide variety of freshwater fish, chicken and pork dishes. There was not much choice in veggies, except for swamp spinach (kangkung), string beans and bean sprouts.

"So what is it you wanted to tell me Auntie?" Ingkan took a sip of her unsweetened tea and looked over at her aunt from her place. Aunt Wulan swallowed uneasily and looked on her plate. She wiped her lips with a serviette.

"Ah yes, I've wanted to write to you about it for quite some time. But, it was not easy. Now, that you are here, I am sure you will understand when I tell you that I have decided to enter an old people's home. There is a good one here that is very reasonable. And it is managed by friends of mine."

"Why do you want to move away Aunt Wulan? Why would you prefer to stay in one room instead of having a whole house to yourself?"

"That's it, Ingkan. I can't manage this home any longer. It is too much and too large for me now. Since I have lost my agility, I find the household work too burdensome for me. I told you before, there should be someone who is able to clean the house and take care of the garden. I am no longer fit to do that. You have to find yourself another caretaker for the house, Ingkan."

Ingkan sat still as she tried to digest the news. This was totally unforeseen. Yes, it certainly would be a problem since there was no one at the moment she could leave the house to with a peaceful mind.

On the other hand, Aunt Wulan was quite old, she deserves to enjoy her last days without having the burden of doing housework. She smiled at her aunt and reached for the old lady's wrinkled hand. "I fully understand Auntie. Don't worry."

"What will you do about the house Ingkan? Are you going to sell it?"

"Selling the place is the last thing I want to do. I can see that I will have problems finding a trustworthy caretaker like you, Auntie. I have to make a decision soon."

That night when Ingkan slept in her old room, she dreamt of her father.

They stood on opposite sides of a river. Her father waved and smiled at her, but said nothing. Bursting with gladness, Ingkan ran with open arms toward her father. But, before she could reach him, he seemed to evaporate into thin air.

Aunt Wulan was already up when she woke up at six in the morning. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the cramped dining room. The soft glimmer of a low wattage bulb cast a warm light over the table on which two steaming mugs of coffee were ready to drink.

Ingkan told her aunt about the dream.

"Your Dad had something to say to you," Aunt Wulan said convincingly.

"He did not speak at all," Ingkan protested.

"Nevertheless, he had something to say," her aunt insisted.

"I have made a decision about the house, aunt."

Aunt Wulan watched her closely with expectant eyes. "And what have you decided?"

"I am not going to sell the house. I will repair the place and give it a good and friendly interior. I will take care of the place myself Aunt Wulan."

Eyes shining, Aunt Wulan, smiling broadly, said jubilantly:

"That is what your father meant to say to you, Ingkan."

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