The Food Stall

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)