Story from a Coffee Stall -- Part II

Story from a Coffee Stall -- Part II

By Muram Batu

It was almost five months after Lela had cooked a lot of timpan,
and now Syaiful's home was full of activity. Lela's parents came
from their village to attend a ritual feast.

On that Saturday, Lela, already five months pregnant, was
going to observe a meutijeum ceremony. Everything had been
properly prepared. Syaiful had also returned to a relative's home
near a hill. He was not avoiding the ritual, but he just stayed
with his next-of-kin because his own house was too small for his
in-laws, who were all spending the night there. Moreover, the
ceremony was indeed the responsibility of Lela's people, with
Syaiful assuming only a minor role.

At ten in the evening, Syaiful reached his ancestral home,
where remained his only younger brother. Their parents had died a
long time back, during a haj pilgrimage.

As he lay down there, his imagination was filled with blissful
happiness. Lela would undergo her first ritual, a mandatory
initiation for a woman in her early pregnancy. And the next day,
he had no need to hurry because the feast would begin at eleven,
with everything having been prepared by Lela's side of the
family, which made him feel more relaxed.

"Bang, I'm on duty now. I'll be joining you tomorrow at your
house," said Syaiful's brother, who was in charge of guarding the
coastal area very close to Syaiful's house, now crammed with
Lela's many relatives.

"OK."

***

The next morning, Syaiful was enjoying coffee and timpan at
his usual stall. It was very early, so he didn't have to rush to
his house.

Meeting and greeting people at a coffee stall was a delightful
experience for Syaiful, and perhaps also for other Acehnese.
There, they can share their feelings and talk about anything and
everything. A lot of Acehnese thinkers find inspiration for their
ideas from chatting at coffee stalls. Likewise, most Acehnese
businessmen emerge from the same stalls with a new venture. So it
was no surprise, that coffee stalls in Aceh can be found along
the trans-Sumatra highway.

Syaiful was engrossed in conversation when a great tremor
rocked the area. The quake was so strong that they were forced to
stop talking and to abandon the stall.

He immediately realized that he had to get back to his house,
where all his in-laws were gathered, not least his wife and
unborn child.

Before he could move his feet, people began screaming at him
to watch out for the collapsing buildings. Frozen by their
insistent cries, he took a quick look around him, barely a glance
-- his mind was filled with worry over his wife and the rest of
their extended family.

He had started his motorcycle and was headed for home, when
the sound of panic-stricken crowds suddenly filled the air. They
were shrieking in fright at a wall of huge waves that pursued
them.

Syaiful panicked, speeding up his vehicle. But the mob of
people fleeing into the hills blocked his way. He dumped his
motorcycle and tried to run in the direction of his house on the
coast. The others stopped him. Nobody was running toward the sea.

Terrified and not knowing what to do, Syaiful imagined Lela
tending to her meutijeum ceremony: Lela getting a rhah ulee bath,
receiving a peusijeuk blessing from her parents and siblings,
enjoying a bu leukat feast and delivering the meal to Syaiful's
kin and her other relatives to notify them of her five-month
pregnancy.

Syaiful was now aware of the waves and waves of people making
a run for safety, yet he wondered why he could not even move a
foot. Lela's homemade timpan again came to his mind, so did the
snacks at the coffee stall that had long accompanied his
leisurely conversations.

He looked at his watch, realizing that the ritual for Lela
should be taking place, but he had no way of getting there.

"Get back, bang! It's now part of the sea, no use, no more
lives," shouted a young man, who barred him from heading for
home.

"Ahh!!" bellowed Syaiful in despair, as he witnessed waves as
high as coconut trees sweeping away everything in their path
along the coast.

***

"We had no chance to hold a meuninem for her," Syaiful
grieved, head bent.

No word was uttered. Syaiful was silent. One by one, the
coffee stall customers left him. No groans were heard anymore.
Syaiful had withdrawn into himself. Some timpan still remained on
the dish in front of him.

A few customers tried vainly to make him speak again, but
failed. They gave up trying. Syaiful had not recovered yet, they
thought.

"It's too serious, I take pity on him," said one of the few
going back to their seats.

"His guilt and his blaming God could drive him insane. I'm
afraid to imagine it," added another.

"All he needs is time. He's not going to lose his mind. He's
strong enough, otherwise he wouldn't have survived. He won't go
insane!" another spoke up, determined.

"Let's hope for the best."

"Amen."

***

The call to dusk prayer rang out and they all went home, with
some going directly to the meunasah.

Syaiful gazed out at the sea for a while before going back to
his empty and silent hillside home.

***

That cheerfully chattering coffee stall has been closed for
some time now.

Translated by Aris Prawira

meutijeum: a ceremony conducted within the first five months of
a woman's first pregnancy, held by the wife's family to inform
their in-laws
rhah ulee: a purification rite performed as part of meutijeum
peusijeuk: a blessing conducted for important events
bu leukat: a celebratory meal made of glutinous rice
meuninem: a reciprocal ritual held by the husband's family for
his pregnant wife, usually after seven months' pregnancy
meunasah: a small mosque