The Food Stall

By Lea Pamungkas

Idah choked and some moist grains of rice fell from her mouth. Her mother's call had disturbed her. The woman across the street had just arrived. This morning she was dressed in white down to her shoes. Only her hair, long and tangled, was black. A few moments later the automobile would leave again.

The automobile was not too good. It resembled a truck but it was shorter and less bulky. Idah did not know what type of vehicle it was. The driver of the vehicle would not take long. Idah waited for the moment the couple would come close and kiss furtively. It was a pity Idah did not have time every morning to enjoy the hurried moments which never failed to send shock ripples through her.

"Idah, bring the lime leaves," her mother's voice was rather loud now. Idah frowned. Five coconuts were still waiting in the kitchen to be grated to extract the milk. The skewers still had to be smoothened. Her small hands picked the lime leaves while an ant crept up her arm. With a lime leaf she pushed the ant down her arm and crushed it.

"Idah!" her mother called her again. Her mother's brow was full of sweat and the odor invaded Idah's nostrils. Idah who had just taken some fresh air outside felt how sharp the sweat smelled. Her mother snatched the lime leaves from Idah's hands.

The satay and gulai stall had to open at six in the morning. Shortly, truck drivers with red eyes resembling owls would swoop down on the place. The smell of sweat would expand in her mother's eatery, mixing with cigarette fumes and the aroma of corn coffee. The customers would drape their feet on the low benches, leaving their sandals scattered around.

"Idah has grown into a curvy young woman. I want to reserve her before others do," the drivers were wont to joke. It did not displease Idah. Especially if Emet spoke, Rosidah (Idah's full name) would react shyly, waiting impatiently to serve the coffee. Emet's caressing of her behind would still linger with her during her afternoon class. Her mother continued as though she saw nothing. She averted her eyes and busied herself.

Emet was a favorite among the women of the stalls along the village street. Formerly, said Iyam, before her wooden abode was built into a half-brick building, Mira often asked Emet to stay. "But after she knew how to dance the jaipong, acquired a color TV and had her house built in half-brick, Mira often threw Emet out." Besides, Mira had another lover now. Iyam said the new one was not better looking than Emet.

Idah's mind often wandered to Emet when doing dishes at the well in the backyard. She had no notion whether he was handsome or not. His looks were nothing special, with his bulging stomach, shirt stained with motor oil, sweaty odor and red eyes. But the women of the eateries still nicknamed him Si Jalu, the title for the most successful fighting cocks.

Idah wished that Emet would come to her mother's stall every day, even to live with them. And become her father! But Emet would certainly not want to marry her mother, who had a harelip.

"The woman across the street." That phrase had stayed in Idah's mind because her mother always used that one when mentioning Mira. Her mother, yellow skinned, silent and apparently always in a hurry, never spoke much. But Idah knew, from their neighbors, that her father had been jobless, did not dare to get married and was banished after he was caught red- handed consorting with "the woman across the street".

In Idah's eyes nothing was wanting in the woman across the street, this Mira. She was cleaner than all the women in the village, more beautiful, more fragrant. She had many clothes, many shoes, but above all she was more cheerful. Idah rarely saw her, especially in the afternoon. But when dusk fell and Idah was sweeping the front part of her mother's eatery, she looked forward to seeing the happiness on Mira's face.

How Idah wanted to be like Mira. She did not care what people said about Mira, how their lips would protrude at least two centimeters as they talked about her. In her heart Idah always said, "I want to become Mira". A hooker. But when asked what she wanted to be, especially by teachers and elders, Idah answered like her neighbor in class, "I want to be a doctor".

But for her, Mira was no different from a doctor or many rich people in the village. Besides, who in the village was not talked about behind closed doors? Yet, outside, people nodded respectfully and addressed each other when they met.

The kerosene lamp in her mother's eatery had been on for some time and night had fallen. The usually quiet village did not leave any dark place for torches on the road side. Each night was market time: each day was a holiday for some, hard work for others. Several houses which had the good fortune to have electricity sent yellowish or white rays into the street. And passersby focused their attention on the women sitting behind red-paper-fronted glass jars, beer bottles. Dangdut music was played at high volume.

During the past few weeks, few trucks parked in front of the eateries. The dam project in the south had reduced its activities. It was rumored that compensation for the villagers' land had not been paid. Many of the drivers were put on non- active duty. They abandoned the reddish mounds of sand and chaotic fields which looked as if devastated by a storm. Large wide holes were left gaping with murky water inside.

No harvest was expected by the villagers. Instead many eateries appeared suddenly. Since the dam project employed workers from outside the region, the villagers got even by employing new workers from neighboring villages. At the same time they could stay open 24 hours.

"If things are like this, our customers will also leave us," said Idah's neighbors.

"If I had known this, I would not have called Euis to come here. The beautiful and sexy are of no use if the drivers do not come here anymore," Iyam complained. Waiting for her turn to take water from the well, she was fingering her nose.

"I have bought a new mattress. It is Mira who fares best. Even if the dam project is off or the project is finished, she remains quiet," somebody said. In the semidarkness the sound of water was often heard being splashed over a body.

Idah was doing the dishes close to them, her head bowed in silence. Soap suds were falling into the glasses. "You see it is Mira again who is the luckiest. It would not be far wrong to wish to be like her," Idah thought.

"Yes, but Mira has the same customers, again and again. We have various customers. We get to know various people," Iyam answered.

"Various, indeed. But they are all truck drivers. If they do not smell of oil, they smell of sweat," somebody said bitterly. There was no talk any more. They were all getting ready. While the night progressed, the village grew very quiet. The sound of heavy trucks passed occasionally. The stalls looked deserted. A few women were sitting on low benches, jesting with each other. At times they dissolved into silent pondering.

After one month the situation of the village remained the same. The sound of crickets that used to be overpowered by the humming of truck engines, or loud laughter, was heard again distinctly. Stalls once open 24 hours were now closed. Many residents moved on to unknown destinations. Along with Idah's mother's eatery, only five other stalls were trying their luck. Three of these only opened two days on the weekend, when the drivers received their pay and made a stopover before going home the next day.

Apart from Mira who seemed unaffected by the halt in the dam activities, Idah's mother's eatery appeared to enjoy business as usual. The menu had remained unchanged: gulai and satay, steamed rice, bitter coffee, plain water and sugared tea. The place was never crowded, but never really quiet either. Idah did not feel disturbed by the changes in the surroundings. She had not seen Wati for a long time, let alone Euis. No matter, because Idah could steal a glance every morning at Mira showing off, even though her behavior was always the same.

Besides, Emet still came to the eatery as he had not been laid off. At least twice a week Emet transported sand to the city. He usually came by five o'clock in the afternoon. Idaha made a mental note that he came Wednesdays and Saturdays.

Another driver, Kang Dolet, appeared on Mondays and Thursdays. Mang Sarkon came every other day with no fixed hour. There were some others like Pak Sarbini and Mas Karto. Idah's knowledge of the drivers' schedules was a great help to her mother who did not need to worry about excess food.

"Idah, your cuts of meat are too large. We lose money that way. This is the size. I have told you again and again," her mother handed her a piece of meat. It was not that Idah did not know the size of the meat for the satay, but Emet was coming that day. And Idah wanted to do something special in her way. Despite her mother's reminders, Idah continued to make bigger cuts. In order to escape detection, she hid the skewers with the bigger cuts of meat underneath those of the usual size. She would take them out when Emet was there.

In time, Idah's mother knew what Idah did for Emet. Emet also knew, and the other customers did as well. Her mother still tried to reprimand her on her behavior but finally gave up. Her mother was equally unsuccessful in dissuading Idah from standing in front of the window at dawn.

Idah had now acquired another habit. When the eatery was about to close at night, she would hurry to the front yard to see the color of the lipstick worn by Mira that day.

Her mother did not understand that Idah's scope of knowledge was widening. It was not limited to mere kissing. She could rightly guess where the hands of men would go when embracing Mira. She would play the scenes herself before going to bed. She was becoming coquettish to herself.

A snag occurred in Idah's "search for knowledge" when one day the well ran dry. "As long as I live, the well has never run dry. At worst the level of the water drops in the dry season. Now, we are not even in the dry season yet," Idah's mother grumbled. She became more sullen when after three days the water did not surface. The wells belonging to her neighbors and to the people in the next village were in the same condition.

The stalls had to be closed. Unwashed dishes emanated a foul smell and invited swarms of flies. "I am sorry, Pak, there is no water. For some days we have not been able to cook and to open shop," Idah's mother haltingly told Mang Sarkon. She was very embarrassed. For days Indah's mother had to repeat the same sentences to every would-be customer. She was suffering.

At night her mother had tears in her eyes. "They now have to look for food elsewhere. When will these skewers be used again?" her mother was holding a bunch of smoothened skewers in her hand. Idah did not say anything. She was sad on her own account: the closing of her mother's stall meant there would be no more Emet.

"Mother, why do not you have the well dug deeper?" Idah said suddenly on the fourth evening of the stall's closure. Her mother glared at her. "It is easy to talk about it. Who is going to dig the well? We have no money to pay for it." Idah seemed to reflect. The sound of crickets and insects was clearly heard. Idah had already thought of the reply in the morning.

"Why do not you ask for Mang Emet's help," Idah's voice was rather shaky. Her mother's eyes were glaring again. She did not comment though. Her hands were busy cleaning plates with a cloth that was only fit for mopping the floor. She took a deep breath and looked fleetingly at Idah. "Will he do it? He has to be fed and paid. Moreover, there is no connection between him and us."

The light of the kerosene lantern suddenly went dim. Idah approached her mother thoughtfully, "Why do not you talk to Mang Emet? Maybe he is willing, besides he has still a debt to settle with you. He has not paid for the last five times. He said he would pay you at the end of the month." Her mother's face cleared. She started counting Emet's debt.

"It is not enough, not enough," her voice faltered while she was crying. Idah came to sit beside her mother. She took a deep breath and said, "I will talk to Mang Emet, mother. I am sure he will help." Her mother remained silent.

When Emet appeared the next day, he smiled and there was a glitter in his eyes, naughtiness itself. Serving him only half a glass of coffee, Idah told him of her conversation with her mother the night before. Her mother was nowhere to be seen, perhaps she was hiding.

Emet greeted Idah's request happily. "Miss, it is just a well. I would be prepared to enter a grave if you asked for it." Emet was laughing heartily while squeezing her cheek. She suddenly felt her palms become sweaty. "But, Mang, mother has no money to buy food, to pay the cost ..."

"Hush, I am no stranger, Idah. It is all right." Emet slurped his coffee and put a cigarette between his lips. Idah went to get some matches. She was nervous because it was the first time that she had talked at some length with Emet. They were alone.

"Come and sit here, Miss," Emet said tapping on the place beside him. Idah was in doubt for a moment, but then she smiled and came near Emet. "To speed up things, come and ride with me to pick up some tools at the dam, okay?" Emet's eyes were shining. All of a sudden Idah was sitting on his lap. He kissed her cheeks quickly. Idah looked surprised. Without being aware, she nodded.

On the truck in the direction of the dam she remembered her mother. She had forgotten to say goodbye. She became anxious. The truck made a stop. Emet got out and ran to the row of triplex shacks on the side of the road leading to the construction site. Several men were trying to look into the truck, but Emet immediately prevented them.

Idah heard the men laughing. She felt how small her body was and how long was the seat of the truck. Idah lay down but there was still space left on the seat. She rubbed her body against the seat and enjoyed the heat on her back. She was startled when Emet opened the door. Oh, Mang Emet. Have you finished?" Idah asked. She was still reclining and her skirt had ridden up.

Emet placed tools wrapped in canvas beneath the seat. "I have. But now we will go for a ride. You have not been here, have you?" Without waiting for her answer, he put the vehicle in gear, turned and drove on. Men were waving, others were whistling.

Emet smiled thinly. His strong and dark arms handled the wheel expertly. From the side windows the trees were seen running past, the wind spread dust onto Idah's face. All came to a halt when Emet's body obstructed her view. Mira's shadow was present in Idah's mind: closed eyes and moving hands. Finally everything became vague and confused.

When the truck arrived in front of her mother's stall, Idah still did not know what was going on inside of her. She only nodded when Emet squeezed her fingers and said that he would dig the well the next day. She did not want to ask him why he did not come in for a moment. This time Idah forgot to cover her nose when the truck tore noisily away, sending dust flying around.

"Mang Emet will dig the well tomorrow, mother," Idah said. Her legs were shaking a little when her mother looked into her eyes deeply. Idah waited, but no words came from her mother's mouth. Briefly, before entering her room, Idah saw tears welling in her mother's eyes. Idah did not care. She preferred to enjoy her new experience.

Even the next day when Emet was busy digging the well, Idah did not see him. Emet descended deep into the earth, only the sound of a crowbar against rocks was vaguely heard. She just put two glasses of coffee on the rim of the well. The two glasses were still untouched when she came with a third glass.

The neighbors' happy cries and her mother's wide smile did not attract Idah's attention. She was busy, completely engrossed in herself. A feeling of joy took hold of her. She felt she had attained the apex of something that she had wanted all along, and she was at the same time liberated from ignorance. She was convinced that from now on she could do whatever she wanted. Go out at night and come home at dawn. She did not feel as small as when she was on the seat of Emet's truck. On the contrary she felt big and happy.

The well in the backyard had water again as usual, and Emet often came to her mother's satay and gulai stall. Life in the village was not bustling again. There was no longer a row of stalls in the village. Most of them had gone bankrupt. Only the eateries of Idah's mother and Iyam remained.

The construction of the dam, already going on for three years, had apparently not changed anything. Of late some people had discussed more frequently the problem of compensation for the land used for the dam construction. The village hall was often full with people in meetings. Rumors swirled and clashed: "The amount of compensation has been increased", "the people get no compensation, their understanding is requested for the dam construction", "high officials will come, the community is asked to jointly clean upthe village", "the villagers complain", and on, and on.

Sometimes families came to the stall to say goodbye to Idah and her mother. They moved to the city or went to live with their relatives in another village. The people with claims for compensation looked confused. They were idle, there were no fields to be tilled and the crops remained a dream. They just sat talking to each other. Their voices sometimes expressed anger, but more often bitterness and sadness. Sometimes they went in groups to the city carrying large banners. They were away for days.

Possibly because of that, people easily forgot that in the village there had once been a glorious harvest feast with an all- night wayang performance. At another time a row of eateries had sprung up along the road to the border. There were scores of beautiful women and boisterous truck drivers.

Nobody could remember. And nobody could remember the time when Idah had always smelled of fragrance and had been merrier than everybody in the village. People had no time to ask why Idah never served customers at her mother's eatery anymore. They also never asked why Idah's mother had lost her voice and become dumb.

Translated by SH

The author was born in Bandung in 1964 and still lives in this city in West Java. She became interested in poetry and literature when she was in grade school. She graduated from the School of Letters of Padjadjaran University, where she majored in Indonesian literature. Warung Pinggir Jalan (The Food Stall) appears in Pistol Perdamaian: Cerpen Pilihan Kompas 1996 (Pistol of Peace: An Anthology of Kompas Short Stories 1996). It is printed here by courtesy of Kompas.

Glossary: gulai = curry stew jaipong = a Sundanese dance si = definite article used before names mang = uncle (Sundanese) pak = sir mas = brother (Javanese) kang = brother (Sundanese)