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