Karto's Misfortune

By Sartono Kusumaningrat

The heavy downpour that had pounded the hilly land since early that morning seemed to mock Karto, who wanted to go out weeding his farm. The daily rains would hasten the growth of wild grass on his cassava farm. The grass roots would suck all the nutrients from the cassava roots. They would plunder all the nutrients in the soil. This would mean that Karto could not expect a good rice harvest this year and he could not hope for very much fruit in his garden.

He did not want to see anyone or anything like the wild grass undermining his cassava crops.

The rain forced him to cancel his plan to work on the farm. The cool air in the hilly area became even cooler with the incessant rains. Karto daydreamed in his house with its dirt floor. He sat legs folded on a wooden chair and covered his crooked body with his worn-out sarong.

"Paaak! Paaak!" His wife called out from the kitchen, the door of which faced a hill.

"Yeah, what?"

Karto felt annoyed.

"See the water at the back of the house. It is falling from the hill slope, eroding the earth right under the beam at the back corner! This wooden house may collapse any time now. Do something, don't just sit there like a boss."

"Damn!"

Karto rushed to the kitchen where the family kept all the household and farming equipment. He snatched a hoe and ran out through the door facing the hill. He tried hard to divert the water that hit the beam in the corner.

He tried to block the stream but to no avail because the clay he used to dam the water was easily washed away by the strong current. Karto swore.

"How is it, Pak?" his wife called out from the house, poking her head out of the door to check on her husband who was wet right through.

"Impossible! The water is too strong. Let's beat the kentongan (wooden drum) for the neighbors' help," replied Karto, who had to shout to overcome the sound of the pounding rain.

His wife beat the kentongan that was hanging on the left corner of the verandah as a distress signal. She beat it with great anxiety. In a matter of minutes Karto's neighbors came, braving the rain without umbrellas because they were too eager to see what was happening to the Kartos, or maybe they just did not have an umbrella between them. Some covered themselves with banana leaves, conical bamboo hats or the bamboo trays used for winnowing. They carried all sorts of equipment: a hoe, a crowbar, a basket, a sickle. The community seemed to know what to do to help someone who suffered an accident during such a rain storm.

As soon as they found Karto fighting to stop the water streaming from the hill, the neighbors promptly lent a hand -- without orders, without talking too much. They all knew what to do.

"The rain has brought on all these problems," one grumbled, while collecting earth to dam up the raging water.

"But without rain, it would be equally difficult for us," said another. "People can never be satisfied with their environment."

"Just imagine if our houses were all made of bricks -- then we would have no problems with water like this."

"Don't be wishful. We are not rich enough to buy the materials. It's good we can afford to survive. Only the wealthy may make such a wish."

The light conversation improved the relations among the folk of the hilly neighborhood. It was also effective in keeping up their cooperative spirit. It often happens that such a chat has led to the solution of common problems in Karto's neighborhood.

All of a sudden, a thunderous noise from the top of the hill was heard. Everyone looked to where the noise came from.

"Run.. run... the land is sliding!" screamed a man as he ran away.

Many of those dumbfounded had no time to run. The mud sliding down the slope buried them alive. Karto had no time even to scream for help. Other screams were also silenced by the land mass, the rocks and the trees roaring down the hill. The landslide also smashed Karto's wife onto the floor, ejecting the baby in the cradle that she held.

"My baby... my baby..." she screamed in horror. Moments later her screams died in the mud.

The baby cried out loud from the cradle that was pushed hard all over the place by the mud like a sail boat hit by a rainstorm.

The pouring rain, cold air and the streaming mud that carried the cradle all terrified the baby.

Karto's neighbors who came to the rescue would do everything to save the baby. Kartiman, Karto's son who came to the scene risked his life to save the baby, his brother. He plunged into the flood of mud, trying to reach the baby's box. He used his last strength to lift the box and threw it to safety.

Everybody watching the drama was moved by the baby's cries but they only felt a bit relieved that the baby was safe. Kartiman disappeared in the flood of mud. He was gone with Karto and his wife.

-- Translated by The Jakarta Post