Metropolitan Sakai

By Abel Tasman

The mournful chanting of the mantras sounded as touching as the groan of the sick old man who was lying nearby. The sick man was begging whisperingly for mercy from the angel of death, who had come to take him away.

The scene was made more sorrowful by the sounds of small drums which accompanied the ritual dance. All this took place in a large room called uma kecik, where the dying man laid. Dozens of Sakai people were encircling the healing ceremony. The smell of incense also made the atmosphere more gloomy. Some people had started to behold the presence of the shadow of death. Indeed, a moment later, Abah, so the old man was called, took his last breath.

That was the last healing ceremony Dolah had witnessed. Dolah is Abah's only son. But for him the ceremony was not just a healing rite nor was it an exorcism. It was a sacred procession to see his father off at the threshold of death.

However, Dolah was so grieved that he wailed at the peak of his voice. The same thing he repeated as his father's body was interred. He wanted to jump into the crypt but was hampered by the people from doing do.

Abah has been the only person Dolah could depend upon since his mother died of hunger many months ago. Now who would feed Dolah? And who would cook for Abah? in the world hereafter? Will Abah meet his wife there and will she cook for him? These questions were haunting Dolah's mind.

Abah's death was not caused by starvation but by an overeating. Recently the village head announced that the governor would soon come to visit the area. "So, from now on," the chief said, "every one has to eat adequately. In front of the governor nobody would be allowed to appear weak, spiritless or unhealthy. My people, remember that our province is well-known for its prosperity and affluence," he added before distributing two kilograms of rice to each family.

That day,Abah ate the boiled rice cooked by Dolah zestfully. He did this not only because he was a good citizen or wanted to show his robust health to the governor but it was the first time in three days he was having some real food.

"I was dead hungry before I saw your food, Dolah. So, I swallowed it all. Cook more for the evening," he told his son. Later, happily, Dolah cooked again.

But not long afterwards the boy heard a moan from Abah's room. Entering the room, Dolah almost collapsed finding his father lying on the floor with his mouth frothing. Immediately he rushed to Bomo, a traditional healer, for help.

After due observation, Bomo said the old man had been suffocated by the devil. The whole village was shocked to hear the news. Every body believed Bomo was the authority when it comes to unfamiliar illnesses. And it has been a long custom there that the only way to cure such an illness was to hold a zikir rite in which Gods' names were glorified.

Expressing their sympathy to Dolah, the people helped him prepare everything needed for the healing ceremony. The things required included a variety of cooked rice, hard boiled eggs, a big torch and a candle.

***

After his father's death, Dolah lived in an orphanage for isolated tribes. Here he attended a primary school class. Dolah was admitted to the third grade.

But the poor boy did not live here for long. After one year he left the institution because of the unbearable manual jobs he had to do after class. It comprised mixing cement, carrying bricks, drawing water from a deep well and helping the construction workers in building an office for the orphanage. It was too hard for him.

The hardship had caused some of Dolah's friends to fall ill. The situation looked more scary as those who became seriously ill, were sent back home. Dolah decided not wait for illness to decide his fate. He furtively left.

***

The district where the Sakai people used to live is now no longer a gloomy and bushy zone but a busy and beaming metropolis.

Dolah is walking on the long petroleum pipe which lines the main road. He is not paying any attention to the busy traffic. Twenty years ago this village boy used to run on this pipe competing with Don Menet, a close friend of his. Where is Menet now is a mystery to Dolah? He hoped he had also migrated to town and got a good job. Otherwise he would have sent him a letter. But it was also possible that Menet had returned to the village after he -- like Dolah -- failed to make ends meet in the urban civilization. Or, like other Dolah's friends, had been killed by poverty.

All this is the logical consequence of the drastic changes this region has experienced lately. Before, the Sakai people were a pure nomadic tribe moving from one area to another for their survival. But later the authorities banned the tradition as it had a negative impact on the ecosystem. Since then, the Sakai did manual work in town.

Meanwhile their land has slowly been incorporated into the Caltex oil exploration area. Here, the Sakais could only witness their trees felled everyday. They did receive monetary compensation but it was far from enough.

On the other hand, Caltex's oil exploration has immensely benefited the whole nation. At least this was what the people heard from the village chief every time he visited their area.

"But aren't we also Indonesian?" Dolah and his friends used to ask themselves. And until today, the village youths have never received a good answer to their question. While the naked reality is that the Sakai people are still as poor as they used to be.

Dolah one day asked Pak Herman, a German who used to visit his hut, "An Indonesian must be like you, mustn't he?" ( Dolah was asking Professor Hermann Hans Kalippke, a German who was conducting a research on the Sakai language). But the linguist did not give a clear answer. He instead asked Dolah in Bahasa Indonesia: "Memangnya kenapa?" (What do you mean?)

When Dolah repeated the statements the village head had been telling the Sakai, the German just said, "You're a smart boy." That was all.

Anyway Dolah is still haunted by his own questions about both the past and the present conditions of the area and the Sakai people.

As Dolah reached a bridge, he did not get down to the river as he used to when he was a young boy. Today he sat on the oil pipe, pondering his beautiful childhood years.

***

Suddenly, Dolah was startled to hear the noise of village children who were treading the oil pipe running toward him. The children, seven in number, stopped and rudely asked him for money. Dolah looked at them, they were poorly dressed, while their way of asking for the money was like an extortion.

"Money, sir," one of them repeated.

"Hey, you're a newcomer here, aren't you?" asked another.

Before Dolah could say anything, a third boy said: "You must pay for sitting on the pipe."

"Pay, why?" Dolah asked. The children pressed him hard and tendered their hands.

"Quick, sir." They said with coarse voices and burning eyes.

Dolah gave up and gave them some money each. The children put them in their pockets, undressed, threw their clothes on the river bank and jumped into water shouting, "Town people are tightfisted."

Dolah was actually angered by their words but when looking at their happiness as they enjoyed themselves in the river, he just smiled. The children's game reminded him of his own joyful childhood days.

Suddenly Dolah heard a man shouting loudly from behind, "Hey, Saepeel, shut up, you."

He saw the man behind him, he looked very angry.

"Hi, you Don Menet!" Dolah said.

Both of them looked straight into each other's eyes for a moment.

"Hi, when did you arrive? Why didn't you let me know of your coming. You seem to have forgotten me after becoming an urban gentleman," Menet said.

Menet invited Dolah to his hut to introduce his long-lost friend to his family.

-- Translated by TIS

From Dua Tengkorak Kepala (Two Skulls), Kompas's selected short stories.