~~~~~
The two men made brisk progress along the familiar coastal path as it weaved between the forest and the mangrove swamps. Sometimes their route took them close by or onto sandy beaches. At times they encountered small river estuaries emptying into the bay. As they approached, flocks of teal duck made their brrtt-brrtt alarm calls, flying up and circling the mud flats.
Pygmy kingfishers with bright red beaks sat on branches over small streams. Green-backed kingfishers flashed along the river estuaries and purple bearded bee-eaters hunted bees foraging on the flowers. A host of other creatures sought each other and their food, trying also to avoid being fed on by others.
By the beaches, flamboyantly colourful maleo birds that were nesting on the hot sandy soil flew up, leaving large eggs buried under the sand. Such eggs are often collected by travellers to provide a good meal, but on this morning such easy pickings were overlooked as the two men swept past, strong young legs propelling them onwards towards their goal.
Comfortable in each other’s company, neither found much need to talk, pre-occupied as they were with the sheer enjoyment of physical exertion and their absorption in the lush, diverse environment. Out here in the wild they were kings, tribesmen at the peak of physical condition, knowledgeable and familiar with their surroundings.
About mid-morning they came to a steep cliff running down into the sea. Heading back into the forest for a distance, they clambered up a wooded slope, with Agung using the machete to clear their path. Perspiration shimmered off their skin as the extra exercise raised their temperatures. Cresting the top of the hill they opted to stop for a breather and refreshment, squatting on low boulders protruding from the woodland floor.
As they drank from pig-skin water containers, Agung said simply:
“There’s a pond with clean water not far from here.”
Bandri merely raised his eyebrows a little in acknowledgement of his remark but said nothing.
“We can fill our containers again there,” suggested his friend. “It’s not far from there to the path across the hills.” After a pause, Agung expanded his viewpoint on the pond: “We’re making good time.. It’s not far out of our way.. and it’s a good place.”
“Yes, that’s fine – let’s fill our containers there.”
Bandri had responded finally since his normally taciturn friend was evidently interested in this pond. He recalled that it was somewhere near here that Agung had got waylaid on the last trip.
“Isn’t there a small fishing village near here at Pantai?”
“Two houses and one boat.”
“I’ve never met the people..?” mused Bandri.
“Just one family – the man is ill, and his son does the fishing now.”
“Just two of them?”
“His wife works hard with a few crops, and gets fruit and so on. The girls do a lot, looking after their parents, helping with the fishing and everything. They have even been fixing the house. They’re two sisters - they look like sisters but they look different..”
At this point Agung’s unusually full description tailed off.
“Which one is the bird for?” Bandri asked with uncommon directness, still astounded by his friend’s explanation.
Agung let out a nervous chuckle, reaching into his pack to retrieve a roughly made small wooden box which he handed to Bandri. Untying the binding, Bandri opened the box to find not one, but two small cloth-wrapped items. In the first cloth he found the bronze bird. In the second cloth he discovered an equally well-crafted small gleaming bronze figure of a leaping dolphin, also with a loop at the back.
More nervous chuckling came from his friend.
“It’s beautiful,” uttered Bandri as it dawned on him that Agung had made gifts for both girls! “But how - !” he started to ask in astonishment. The phrase broke off uncompleted on Bandri’s lips; he needed to find out more before he made a judgement.
Agung proceeded to give a faltering but full explanation. On the last trip he had been stalking a buffalo when he came upon a crystal clear pond. After taking a drink, he then decided to wash his aching feet. As he sat there preoccupied with thoughts about the buffalo and his feet, two girls appeared with buckets to collect water.
Bandri tried to imagine the situation and how his friend might have reacted. He suspected that Agung would have been awkward and embarrassed, and surely the girls would have been scared. However, for some reason, the girls didn’t run away but stayed and talked to him. And perhaps more surprisingly to Bandri, Agung talked to them.
“One had a clasp in her hair made from wood – she is Lela, and the other had a seashell clasp, she is called Lyana,” said Agung confidently.
“Oh that’s fine, that could be helpful.. But your sisters keep swapping their ornaments – what if Lela and Lyana share their clasps?”
“Their sarongs were different and I think Lyana was the one with longer hair, and they both looked beautiful – when I see them again I will know their names,” Agung rambled on with enthusiasm. “I have been thinking that I would like a wife. You have Ayu, and you two are very happy together – I can see that.”
“Yes, yes that’s true – Ayu is a wonderful wife, I am very fortunate.”
“I will choose a wife.”
“Agung, can I tell you something?”
“Tell me what?”
“I hope we can meet Lela and Lyana today, but perhaps it’s not a good idea to ask one of them to marry you today – I mean – I’m sure they are lovely girls but I think you need to get to know them better first – so that you will learn which girl you like the best – and they will learn too what they feel – I mean which one is most interested in you.”
Agung listened quietly to this advice, rocking his head slowly up and down as he sat hunched on the boulder.
“But it’s alright to meet them today? - And you will come too?”
“Of course, I’m looking forward to meeting them. But before we go into Pantai we should put the machete in the sheath.”
“We should wash ourselves a bit?” suggested Agung, looking happier.
“Yes - but not in the pond!”
The two men walked slowly out from the forest into a cultivated clearing with neat rows of bushes and vegetables beside two bamboo buildings. A boy younger than Harta appeared from the first building and froze briefly when he saw them, before running back into the house. Almost immediately he reappeared accompanied by a tall man with greyish hair. The man held a large bow, while the boy held the quiver of arrows ready. Both wore the kain cloth around their waists and legs. Bandri noticed the Javanese scars on the man’s shoulders and that his lean body had a wiry strength about it. The tall thin man looked keenly at the strangers – his eyes coming to rest on the biggest man.
Bandri stood still, removed the bow from across his shoulder and put it deliberately on the ground, along with his spear. Agung did the same with his bow. At Bandri’s prompt, Agung put the machete in its sheath, untied it from the belt at his waist and put the impressive implement on the ground. Quivers of arrows and backpacks were put on the ground too. They walked slowly away from their equipment and stood still. Bandri dipped his head slowly, quickly followed by Agung. The tall man looked a little more relaxed, yet still wary.
Just then two girls in plain sarongs hurriedly appeared to stand close to the man. Perhaps they were a little younger than Ayu, thought Bandri. They both had long, thickly-ungroomed black hair. The man turned and was clearly trying to tell them to stay out of sight. A woman had followed straight after the girls and there ensued what appeared to be a heated debate, with frequent looks in the direction of Agung – who nervously watched the proceedings. Eventually, the boy walked out to speak to the two newcomers.
“My father says you can come in.” Bandri recognised an obscure Javanese dialect.
Dressed in a dirty kain, the bare-footed boy had rampant, black wavy hair that hung around his sun-tanned features. Very dark blackish-brown irises around the black p
upils in the bright whites of his eyes looked intensely into their faces, darting from one man to the other and then back again.
The boy turned, and they followed him towards his family. As they approached the two girls went into the house. The tall man stood motionless, studying the two newcomers with an acute concentration, his grey-haired chest taking long deep breaths, as if in readiness for physical exertion. His longish face looked gaunt, which somehow seemed accentuated by his quite thin nose and diligent eyes. The woman had a solid build of average height; dressed in a sarong that had seen better days, she stayed firmly at the man’s side. Only then did Bandri notice that in one hand she held a bronze knife which had been concealed in the fold of her sarong. Her face showed no warmth either towards the two young men, but rather a fervent coldness as she glared at their approach.
Since no words had yet been spoken Bandri took the initiative, speaking in Javanese:
“Hari yang baik, nama saya Bandri dan ini adalah kawan saya Agung.”- “Good day sir, my name is Bandri and this is my friend Agung.” There was an awkward silence and so he added: “Agung is the brother of my wife.”
“Kula Eko, iki bojoku.”- “I am Eko, this is my wife.” The man spoke in a thick Javanese tongue with a deep voice. “My daughters tell me you are from Likupang?”
“Yes sir, we are on the way to Bitung,” Bandri replied, deciding to inform him of their reason for being in this vicinity.
Agung stood a pace or two behind him just outside the porch, his body and head still although his eyes glanced around. Bandri guessed that his friend hoped to catch sight of Lela and Lyana.
“Why do you go to Bitung?” the man demanded, the tone of his voice unsettling.
“Sir, we are going to find metal ore,” Bandri answered, being careful to keep in sight the woman who still held the knife firmly at her side. The man called Eko continued to glare at them coldly. In his best Javanese, Bandri continued in as calm a manner as he could muster “Agung is a smelter of the ore, and makes metal tools for us – we are building a boat.”
The man glanced at his wife, and then looked again at Bandri.
“My son has seen the big boat you are building – he can see it in the distance when he is fishing,” he said in a less hostile tone, and this time fluently in the Malay dialect. He signalled that they could come into the open porch in front of the house, where there were five crudely made wooden seats close to a family table.
Eko motioned for Bandri to to sit down. He turned to his son and told him to bring in the backpacks and the men’s equipment to put inside the porch. When Eko sat down he did so steadily with his hand holding the edge of the table. His wife who had been carefully observing the men, made a move as if to help her husband but he waved his hand, and instead she pulled a seat back for him with her free hand.
Bandri watched as the woman inspected Agung, who nervously dipped his head before raising it slowly to meet her glare. She motioned him to sit on a large wooden stool facing the table, beside Bandri.
The boy did two trips to collect each of the packs, and then a slightly longer trip to collect their weapons, coming back with his arms full and nearly dropping most of the load on the floor. His mother told him to be careful, reaching out to try and stop the machete in its sheath from hitting the floor - catching it in her free hand with surprising nimbleness by the handle just before it landed. Lifting it, clearly taken by its weight, she looked at Agung asking:
“Can my husband see this?”
“Ya Wanita.. Ya.. Sudah tentu.” – “Yes Maam.. Yes.. Of course,” Agung stammered awkwardly.
Her husband received the implement from her, and pulled it from its sheath. With admiration he turned the gleaming slightly curved blade in front of him, with his wife looking over his shoulder. He made a couple of slow arching movements in the air with it, gave a thin smile, and then laid it with care on the table.
“A very good tool – who made it?”
Bandri opened a hand and indicated in Agung’s direction.
The woman reached over pointing to the blade where there were a series of markings running along the thicker unsharpened edge.
“What are these?” she asked, looking up at Agung.
“They were made by Bandri, Maam – he made up the marks. They mean - Kampong Likupang.” For the last two words Agung leaned over and carefully pointed out the phonetic symbols that Bandri had created to decorate the implement.
The woman stared at Agung for several moments. Bandri decided to remain silent. Eventually, she put her knife down on the table next to the machete, and then turned and motioned to her son, quietly telling him something, whereupon the boy disappeared into the house. She returned to sit beside her husband, looking at him first, before saying clearly in a louder voice:
“You must be thirsty - we will get you some drinks.”
“Our knife is getting smaller - maybe it’s wearing down,” Eko remarked dryly as he looked at the two implements on the table in front of him. “What did people do before they discovered bronze?”
As they waited for the drinks the four of them conversed about smelting ore into bronze. Bandri noticed that the woman insisted on pummelling Agung with questions, causing his friend to perspire profusely as he struggled to respond. After what appeared to be the end of the interrogation she added simply “My name is Listeri.”
At this juncture, the sisters appeared with vessels of liquids and some drinking mugs made from bamboo nodes. The girls walked silently behind Agung’s seat, the one on his left placing down a mug and the other on his right filling it, then coming around Bandri’s side and doing the same, then likewise for their parents, and finally walking quickly back into the house – with quiet but discernible giggling and hushing noises. The indignant looking boy sitting on the other seat had not been served and got up to chase after his sisters.
The man and his wife had watched their guests closely; especially Agung who they clearly knew was interested in their daughters. And naturally, the guests had studied the two young women, for they both appeared to be on the cusp between girlhood and womanhood. Both now had long combed, cascading black hair that obscured their faces as they leant forward but their smiles were evident, showing rows of pearl-white teeth. Their proportions seemed similar, although this was difficult to ascertain since the smarter sarongs they had just changed into had been arranged so generously that the cloth fully covered all but their dark smooth fore-arms. Their feminine hands were evidently used to hard work. Bandri thought now that one of them may be about the same age as Ayu, while the other girl was younger. He could see that Agung trembled with excitement, but pretended unsuccessfully to be more interested in the bamboo mug in front of him.
The man leant forward in his seat, speaking quietly in Malay:
“I am sorry to ask you so many questions – perhaps you will understand that we are on our own here. Some strangers cannot be trusted.. We used to live near Bitung.”
“There are many people in Bitung,” Bandri commented vaguely.
“When you told me you were going to Bitung it was very worrying for us. Please promise that you will not tell anyone in Bitung about us here.”
“We promise,” Agung volunteered. “Can we do something to help?”
“My daughters speak kindly of you, and I think I trust you – but now I cannot tell you more. Just be wary when you go to Bitung.”
As he spoke, Lestari left her seat and joined her daughters in the kitchen beside the house. After his wife had left them, Eko leaned a little further towards them over the table.
“Many tribesmen do not have the same respect for women that you do,” he said in a confidential tone. Then he rose stiffly to his feet and walked slowly around to the kitchen, leaving the two friends sat in the porch on their own.
Bandri and Agung neither spoke to each other nor looked at each other. Through a narrow path Bandri got a glimpse of a small pebbled and white sand beach. Between the vegetation on each side of the path he coul
d just see beyond to the jade-blue waters of the bay, and across to Bangka Island on the far horizon. He could now hear the waves hitting the beach beyond for the first time since they arrived, and thought how the world around them was vast and often unknowable.
Not too long later, both Lela and Lyana appeared with plates of food and more drinks, alerting the men to a new atmosphere. Both women had changed their hairstyles, one holding her hair back with a carved wooden clasp tied with twine, and the other using an ornate seashell also bound to the hair with twine. They did look very similar, both having pleasant oval faces and smiling eyes, yet slightly different from each other in the curves of their noses and in other small ways.
Their brother also appeared to have been given the task of looking after them, and was asking if they needed anything. Bandri sensed that the young women tarried, as if wishing to stay after serving the food.
“Please – if it’s alright - can you sit with us?”
Agung’s expression almost pleaded for them to agree. Demurely, they took the seats vacated by their parents. The four of them sat self-consciously aware of the newness of the situation, saying nothing for a few moments, until one of the ladies spoke with a clear voice in Javanese:
“Agung told us your name is Bandy.”
Wondering how this had happened - maybe by mistake or by design on Agung’s part - Bandri attempted to correct the error:
“Ba-n-D-R-I”
“Baandreee”
“Well yes - are you Lela?”
“No, Lyana.”
Agung, evidently feeling more confident now, introduced everybody:
“Lyana and Lela, this is my good friend Bandri from Likupang.”
Bandri glanced towards the kitchen, trying to see Eko and Listeri.
“Our parents are not hungry this morning, and want you to eat and refresh yourselves for your long journey,” Lyana reassured him.
The conversation in a mixture of both dialects progressed gently on from the introductions, although it appeared that Lela was less forthcoming than her sister who appeared to be a little older. The men told them about Likupang and what happened with the launching of the boat, and then in great detail the story of the pig getting inside the house, bringing enjoyment and laughter to all at the table. The boy, whose name they learnt was Raharjo, listened keenly and by now had taken the remaining seat.
As they talked, Bandri observed how closely the two sisters gazed at Agung, occasionally glancing at each other as if silently communicating their opinion of him. This was new territory for his friend. Bandri was still bemused as to how Agung had found himself in this circumstance, and worried now about what would happen when he produced the gifts. Bandri could easily understand why they would be interested in his friend, but he presumed there might be some competition for his attention.
Lyana appeared remarkably self-confident in her manner, whereas Lela seemed quite shy in comparison. Lela self-conciously fluttered her fine eyelashes and dropped her gaze when Bandri looked at her; she had more delicate features with a cute nose and dimpled cheeks when she smiled. Like their younger brother, the sisters had striking dark-brown irises that were almost black, set within the bright whites of their eyes, standing out well in their healthy brown complexions. Perhaps Lela was prettier, thought Bandri, although Lyana was very attractive too. However, he reminded himself that he was just an observer in these matters; he was married and fully committed to Ayu.
“Can I look at this?” asked Lyana, referring to the machete which was still lying on the table where Eko had placed it.
Using both hands, she inspected the heavy implement, showing it to her sister. The two young women observed their honeyed reflections in the polished bronze blade. Having missed the earlier explanation, Lyana asked about the inscription, and so this was explained.
“Can you make marks for other names?” Lela asked in her lighter voice. She flashed a coy smile at Bandri.
“I can try – would you like some symbols for your name?”
When all three nodded in eager affirmation, Bandri asked Raharjo if he could find some big smooth grey pebbles from the beach and something white to make marks with. The boy went to his task, returning a short time later with a few large pebbles and a piece of bleached white staghorn coral.
Choosing a smooth flattish pebble, Bandri scratched two whitish symbols to represent “Le-la”, and handed it over the table to the young lady he now knew as Lela. She received it with joy and thanks, showing it excitedly to her sister. By now he had marked a second suitable pebble with three symbols for “Ly-an-a” and passed this across the table.
The young women were transformed into ecstatic giggling girls, each comparing the symbols for their names, holding the rocks as if they were precious treasure. Agung picked up the largest pebble and wrote the symbols for “Pa-n-tai”, adding to the girls’ wonder.
Now Raharjo wanted his name, but the only pebble left was too small.
Bandri looked across at the happy conversation between Agung, Lela and Lyana about the inscriptions. Taking this opportunity he got up to walk with the boy to try and find a smooth long pebble for his name. As he left the table, he noticed that around the corner of the house from their kitchen, Eko and Lestari had been listening to the events unfolding in their porch.
Lestari looked across at him briefly with tears in her eyes, and smiled.
On the beach the man and the boy hunted for a suitable pebble. Raharjo had a great many questions for his new friend. Bandri answered as many as he could, or thought he should, and then asked the boy a few in return.
Bandri learned that Eko had been getting weaker for about a year, and now had a lot of pain especially when he walked. He didn’t eat much and they worried a lot about him. Raharjo was very young when they came to Pantai and couldn’t remember where they were before. Despite his tender years, the boy felt he needed to do everything he could to look after his family.
“Do you collect honey for your sick father?” asked Bandri.
“I haven’t collected it from the big bees – but I get some sour honey from the little black bees that don’t sting.. Father used to bring some smooth honey home from the big bees before he got ill, but I’m afraid of being stung.”
“The little stingless bees make honey that we put in cooking – and we use it for putting on red skin and cuts, but I like to eat it too,” said Bandri. “The best honey is from the big bees.”
“I like the little bee honey too - except they fly up my nose!” The boy laughed, and added wistfully “Father likes smooth honey best.”
“We can get some smooth honey from the big bees now if you like?” suggested Bandri, knowing that Agung would be happy to stay a little longer at Pantai. “I saw a bee house just near to your place.”
Along with Raharjo, Bandri approached Lestari and asked her if it would be alright to show her son how to collect some honey from a colony nearby.
“That would be a good thing,” she replied. “I think my husband will eat some honeycomb.”
They returned to the porch, where Agung was getting a lesson on how to thread twine though the hair and knot it around the end of a clasp without being able to look at what you were doing. The big man listened with rapt attention as if it was some instruction on metalworking.
“We’re going to find some honey,” Bandri announced, casually picked up the machete. “We won’t be long,” he added, raising his eyebrows at his friend.
Alarmed at the prospect of having to cope on his own, Agung looked aghast at Bandri, but accepted the situation with good grace.
Walking back into the forest they soon came to the old tree trunk lying on the ground that Bandri had noticed earlier. From a small hole underneath the rotting log could be seen small honeybees darting in and out of the entrance.
Bandri pulled the boy away from standing directly in front of the entrance, so as not to block the path of the bees as they carried on with their business.
“You can get close,
but don’t get right in front of the entrance to the nest – then they won’t bother you.”
“They are so fast! – They just come out and wait a little bit by the hole, then shoot straight out.. and there – another one coming straight back to the hole and it goes right inside - how do they do that?”
“I don’t know how they find their way back to the same hole – but it’s wonderful isn’t it?.. Where do you think they go in the forest?”
“Are they going to get honey?”
“The honey is in the honeycomb inside – I don’t think they’re getting honey from the forest, but they make it when they get back.”
The boy listened keenly as Bandri explained.
“If you look at the flowers you see the bees all over them – they land on a flower and then go to another flower - so I think they are getting their food from the flowers.”
“But the flowers don’t have honey in them,” the boy said, shaking his head and his curls of wild hair.
“When I looked at the flowers they were landing on, I was looking for the honey – but you’re right they don’t have any honey - but there are other things inside the flower, like little yellow dust and sometimes you can see some liquid – so I think that’s what they’re feeding on.. Look at that one coming back – can you see the yellow blob – that’s the yellow dust stuck to its legs.”
“So they make the honey with the liquid and yellow dust?”
“That’s right,” answered Bandri, impressed by the boy’s alertness and curiosity.
He explained how they needed to get green leaves and dry sticks. While Raharjo did this he cleared away the vegetation in front of the entrance with the machete carefully so as not to disturb the bees. Once the smoker was ready, he demonstrated how to light it.
With the smoker under way, the agitated bees took avoiding action and Bandri started to cut into the log with the machete to open up the entrance. The soft wood gave way easily and soon a hole was made big enough so that the colony inside could be clearly seen.
“There are masses of them running and wiggling all over!” Raharjo said in wonderment.
“They cover their honeycomb with their bodies as they make their honey – and you will see some of the comb has got the young bees inside – but we need to get some more smoke in there and then they will fly away.”
The two immersed themselves in the activity, enveloped in pleasant smelling wood smoke. Bees and the life of the forest thrummed around them. After the bees had mostly vacated the hole, Bandri reached in slowly to gently prise off the closest honey-filled comb. He lifted it out, giving the comb to the boy who inspected it and placed it in the basket.
One by one they took the combs out. Bandri showed him that the fourth, fifth and sixth combs had the eggs and developing bees inside. Once all nine combs had been collected, they gathered up their equipment. Just before they left the still buzzing honeybees, Bandri told Raharjo:
“We just need to say thank you to the bees for giving us their honey.”
When the two of them approached the house they could hear the sound of conversation coming from the porch, where everyone else was now seated around the table. As he stepped into the porch Bandri was taken aback to see the shiny bronze bird on a length of twine around the neck of the mother, Lestari! And then even more so to see the gleaming dolphin hanging as a pendant on Eko’s hairy chest!
As the seated group burst into laughter, he realised the joke was on him.
It appears that what had been his greatest fear had somehow been unfounded. Ever since he saw the two ornaments he foresaw a social calamity when Agung blundered into offending both girls and their parents - by offering tokens of his love to both women at the same time! He wished he had witnessed the scene but now he would have to be content with Agung’s explanation, after they continued their journey.
The pendants were taken off and given back to their rightful owners. The young women put them over their heads to dangle on the fabric of their sarongs, and then they were taken off again so that he and Raharjo could see what they looked like on their fine plaited coconut twine, and then swapped so that Lela and Lyana could appreciate each of them again.
Bandri also noticed that the hair clasps had been swapped again. Seeing the state of Agung’s long hair he wondered what his friend would have looked like with the ornaments.
Mindful of the need to continue their journey, Bandri said that they should really be going, suggesting that they could visit again on the way back. With the prospect of seeing the sisters again soon, Agung also agreed that they needed to leave and thanked the family for their welcome.
Laden with more food for their journey, Lyana, Lela and Raharjo escorted them as far as the freshwater pond, which Bandri did agree was very clean and clear. After everybody said many ‘Good byes’ and ‘Thank yous’, the two men walked away along a winding narrow path, soon to emerge from behind a rock onto a path they knew from earlier trips to Bitung.
Once they were well away from Pantai, Bandri said positively:
“You seemed to be getting on well with the girls - and with Eko and Listeri.. Did everything go well when we went for the honey?”
“Biasanya tidak” - “Not usually.”
Bandri recognised one of his friend’s favourite phrases which often left him puzzled, but might betray hidden meaning.
“But they really liked the bronze gifts, didn’t they?”
“I think so.”
After a short while, Bandri’s desire to find out what had happened with the gifts got the better of him:
“Tell me then – when we went to collect honey - how did you give the bird and the dolphin to the girls?”
Agung didn’t answer straight away.
“I wasn’t sure what I should say – I was on my own,” he said eventually. “Do you know how difficult it was?.. And it was confusing with the Java - but I really wanted to give the animals to the girls.”
Bandri felt worried now:
“What did you tell them?” But then he felt guilty at interrogating his friend: “Sorry, it’s your affair,” he apologised. “I shouldn’t ask.”
At this point in their travels they came upon a flattish sandy area close to the shore with a few smooth boulders embedded in the ground. Agung slowed up and stopped with a sigh, then sat himself down on a convenient boulder. Bandri followed his example.
“It’s just that after I put the box on the table, and they took out the little animals – they looked at me so much that I didn’t know what I really said.. I wanted them not to think that I liked them so much – just that the gifts were not so important – not like I was asking them to marry me.. But maybe there was a misunderstanding.”
“Alright - but I still don’t understand what you’re worried about?”
Agung sighed again, before he said:
“I told them I made gifts for other girls as well.”
Stifling a laugh, Bandri averted his face for a few moments, until he desperately tried to change the subject:
“It’s remarkable!” he attempted to muse. “They’ve been hidden there all that time.”
“Not usually!” Agung’s demeanour was uncertain.
“The land changes here – the cliff and the way the pond appears when you don’t expect it,” pondered Bandri more believably. “It’s like there’s a crack in the rocks. The path along the coast goes past Pantai – so nobody goes there.”
“They had what they needed,” sighed his friend, still unsettled.
“They’re lucky that the Bahoi tribesmen haven’t found them,” said Bandri trying to be positive, but then realised his mistake.
Agung shuffled uncomfortably, muttering through his teeth:
“Where else could they go?.. Bangka?!”
“Bangka Island’s quite big,” said Bandri, trying to lighten the tone. “I don’t think anyone lives there yet.”
“Do we move Likupang to Bangka?” Agung groaned. “And after Bangka where do we go?” Not waitin
g for an answer he went on “If Bahoi saw us move to Bangka they could follow – and we have to get ore from Bitung.. We have to make bronze.”
“If we move Likupang it’s best to join with our Malay people in Manado,” said Bandri as he thought again about the future for Likupang. “We can’t use the path by the coast and going through the forests is too dangerous for the children.. And for mother, she’s too weak now – she wouldn’t make it.”
“Java can track you in the forest,” stated Agung.
Bandri sighed deeply, thinking that if only they didn’t have to worry about the Javanese tribesmen everything would be fine. “We have to understand the Java – some of them are good – like Eko’s family. If only the rest of them could learn respect for girls.”
“Most of them are pigs,” Agung sniffed in contempt. “They do what animals do!”
“Bahoi can’t stop us in their small boats,” Bandri said, determined to take a positive tack in this achingly serious discussion. “We’ll make the big boat strong enough. We can take it round the coast - next dry season, when the winds and currents are alright.”
Agung nodded slowly and grunted decidedly:
“We get ore – then get back.”
Bandri raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement, his heart heavy with anxiety as he thought about having to leave Ayu and the family to collect rock.
5 Bitung
They needed to think again about their route, since it was already well past mid-day and there would be a hard journey ahead of them to reach Bitung. Scraping a stick in the smooth sand at their feet, Bandri outlined the rough shape of the coastline, including the two islands outside the bay and the long island near Bitung in the south. Likupang was marked with a large grey pebble beside the river. Right now they were by the bay – marked with a cross - not that far from home. With the machete Agung scratched a large cross for Bitung.
Looking southward they could see the summit of Tongkoko, and further away the conical peak of Klabat – these were drawn in too. For good measure Bandri added the approximate positions of the rising and setting sun.
“There are Java villages by the sea on the other side of Tongkoko,” said Bandri remembering their last trip. “We were lucky not to be seen.”
“Bad spirits near Klabat,” muttered Agung. “But it’s quicker.”
“Hilly in places,” pondered Bandri. “Unless we stick to the valley between Tongkoko and Klabat which would be longer.”
“Straight is quicker,” grunted Agung pointing southwards with his machete.
They felt more of an urgency now to get to Bitung, collect ore, and get back as soon as they could. Groups of men sometimes explored along the coast, or travelled for other reasons, just as they were doing. Eko’s warning about tribesmen in the Bitung region did not make them fear for their own safety, but for the safety of those in Pantai and Likupang.
Most settlements were fishing villages; there were fewer people inland. Making their way through the dense forest was hardly ever easy. Midges, mosquitoes, leeches and other biting nuisances were an occupational hazard. The inner forest was more humid, especially in the valleys. They noticed the beauty of the forest less as they battled their way through it.
As the light faded they had progressed less than half way to Bitung. They stopped for a rest after a long hill climb, hoping for a clear moonlit night so that they may be able to push on. But the moon had yet to rise.
Beside a streamlet they made an encampment, but didn’t bother with a fire. They sat and ate the food they had brought with them. A cacophony of nocturnal sounds filled the warm air.
Innumerable animals called, thrummed and flicked. The shimmering rasp of crickets mingled with the chirping of cicadas, the warbling of frogs and the guffaw of geckos. Multitudes of flying foxes jostled and twittered in their evening roosts after gorging on nectar, pollen, blossoms and fruit. In the fragrant richness of the forest canopy macaque monkeys grunted, cucus marsupials chortled and palm civets squeaked. Hidden in the dank lushness of the undergrowth were shy anoa buffalo and snorting babirusa pig-deer. Now and again, the louder noises of feeding and mating scintillated the darkness - scuffling, howling or the screeching of some exotic bird.
Breaking off some suitable twigs, they chewed them to help clean out their teeth. The coconut net hammocks were strung up between convenient trunks, with resin rubbed into the rope supports to discourage ants and the like. They climbed in and dozed in the mild night air. Bandri later remembered dreaming about being on a big boat at sea when something struck him hard on the side of the head with a loud noise:
“Bangun!” - “Wake up!”
In a heartbeat, he fell out his hammock onto the rocky ground. Dazed, he staggered to his feet as Agung pulled him backwards. Coming to his senses, he stared in disbelief as an enormous snake coiled its way down the trunk and over the freshly vacated hammock. The long patterned creature, heavy and thicker than a man’s thigh, slithered its way back into the undergrowth. The reticulated python was a respected forest spirit and its sleek muscular body had a sinister beauty.
“That has to be the biggest I’ve seen,” mumbled Bandri in his stupor, rubbing his throbbing ear. “Longer than your crocodile.”
“She could smell you,” Agung remarked dryly. “I had to hit something.”
The stars multiplied above and between the trees, to be outshone by the three-quarter moon climbing above the horizon. Under this celestial canopy the nocturnal rainforest simmered with life. The hum of a disconnected cacophony and movement of milky moon-shadows merged into an all pervasive organism.
As the light improved Bandri considered getting underway again.
“Do you think there’s enough light?”
“There’s a lot of shadow – some bad snakes come out at night,” advised Agung. “You could step on one.”
Bandri chuckled at Agung’s wry sense of humour, conscious that his friend had probably saved him from being a meal for the giant python. But the nagging worry of leaving Ayu and the others made Bandri restless. He felt full of energy now and couldn’t sleep.
There was a rocky outcrop near their brief encampment.
“If we get to the top of those rocks, we can get a better view of the land - maybe there’s a clear path we can follow?” suggested Bandri. “What if we stay by the river in the valley?”
From their packs they dug out the simple pig-skin leg coverings. They tied them on so that their ankles were also given some protection, and then scrambled up until they were above the trees.
An awe-inspiring moonlit sight greeted them. Across the valley, silhouetted against the star-studded western sky, the mountainous volcanic bulk of Klabat rose up in the ghostly light like a massive octopus with the ridges curving out as tentacles. The bright moon shone over their shoulders, casting the mens’ own drawn-out shadows down the rocky slope which descended into the canopy of the rainforest and the winding valley floor. Rearing up behind them was the mass of Tongkoko spreading out into eerie shadows.
The rasping calls of crickets dominated the hallucinogenic murmur that surrounded them. Dark outlines of bats and nightjars whirled in the night sky. The moist air held the scents of countless plants and animals. Against the dark shadows of vegetation, fireflies turned off and on again. There were no lights or sounds of human habitation. In this land they appeared to be the only people alive.
As they stood together, they both felt the ground shake a little and then cease.
“Tongkoko is snoring again,” Bandri quipped.
“We should be doing that,” moaned Agung.
“Look - if we take it steadily down this rock slope until we get to the bottom of the valley we should be able to find our way.”
“There are so many shadows,” said Agung. “We need things to hold onto.”
The two ended up agreeing to work their way down the left edge of the slope which seemed better lit, and where they could steady their descent with scrubby vegetation. Slipping and grasping, working
sideways, one leg down at a time, they descended into the forest trees that covered the lower slopes.
In the dimmer light amongst the trees, they lit torches which threw a warm flickering light onto the surrounding vegetation. Hacking a way through the undergrowth and vines took time. The flames and the noise the two men made helped to drive away potentially dangerous tree snakes, tarantulas, scorpions and other animals that hunt their prey at night. Eventually, they found the river in the valley floor; turning left they followed its path between Tongkoko and Klabat.
After several hours the moonlight faded. There would be a few hours of darkness; now they could sleep before a fresh start at sunrise. A raised place was chosen and surveyed for any obvious threats. Hammocks were fixed and climbed into.
The Tropical Sun - Belief, Love and Hate Page 3