The Fifth Season (35 page)

Outside on the porch, the retired general sat with a colleague discussing the mounting security problems which now plagued the rural communities. When Hani appeared, the men halted their conversation, her father covering documents with some loose papers she noticed lying on the deeply-scratched coffee-table. He looked up, then smiled, but his eyes conveyed no mirth.

‘Hani, I want you to press my uniform,'
he said, frowning as his eyes fell on his daughter's bare midriff.

‘Which one, father?'
she asked, surprised at his request. In earlier times this task would have fallen to one of their servants. Now, without their presence, the responsibility for the laundry and other household chores had fallen upon Hani. In months gone by, when she had suggested that her mother might wish to iron her husband's clothes, the woman had suffered an apoplectic rage then locked herself away in the bedroom for days.

‘Ask your mother to give you my battle-dress,'
he ordered,
‘she will know
which ones I mean.'
Hani did as instructed, finishing this task while her mother remained in her room resting. She informed her father that his uniform was ready, then slipped out of the house quietly and hurried down the street before the General became aware of his daughter's absence. He had been overly strict with the girls, unwittingly driving his youngest daughter into an early marriage.

Hani walked quickly, ignoring the irritating
becak
driver who followed, his wiry muscular legs pumping the iron three-wheeled pedicab closely behind as he hustled for the fare. Hani had no money to squander on the ride. Besides, it was not that far to her sister's home which lay three blocks down the street, behind the central markets. As she walked along the dusty broken street, Hani tied a handkerchief around the lower part of her face, then opened her umbrella to protect her skin from the sun's savage rays.

She heard the harsh blaring sound behind, and stepped off the road onto the cluttered footpath to avoid being run over by the bus. The over-laden monster rumbled past, followed by clouds of dust and thick, brown-ish, suffocating diesel smoke which sent pedestrians scurrying away in panic. A wave of motorcycles drove noisily by, their riders and passengers choking in the wake of the bus ahead.

Hani waited for some minutes before continuing down the road.

Where possible, she kept to the footpath but, as roadside-peddlers had already staked their claims over most of the uneven pathway, Hani found herself competing with the undisciplined traffic flow once again.

‘Hey, Hani!'
she heard someone call. Glancing back, she squinted, unable to identify the face hiding behind the motorbike helmet. Her eyes fell on the jacket's insignia and hesitated. Then as recognition came, she pulled her handkerchief loose and stepped forward and pinched the rider's arm, causing him to wince with the playful gesture.

‘Hi Budi,'
Hani greeted her childhood friend.
‘Where are you going?'

He disengaged gear and killed the small engine. Fuel was expensive and becoming scarce. He lifted the visor covering his face then removed his helmet. Budi extracted a rumpled, soiled cloth from his pocket and wiped his face before responding.

‘I'm leaving for Samudera Beach. Want to come?'
he answered, teasingly. It was a familiar game they once played as teenagers. The fishing harbor was a favorite destination for young couples seeking some privacy from their own over-crowded homes. Hani had been down to the seaside several times, but never with Budi.

‘Okay, then,'
she laughed,
‘but you'll have to get me back before dinner!'

Budi's smile widened, enjoying the light banter. The round trip would require at least four hours, and as it was already late afternoon, neither took the other seriously. Hani noticed the young man's eyes roam briefly, his gaze returning to hers, embarrassed that she might have read his thoughts. Her petite frame filled the jeans perfectly, her tiny, almost child-like, bare waist giving her the appearance of some half-dressed doll. Hani removed the golfer's cap and, with a practiced wave casually flicked her head, releasing her black, shining, shoulder-length hair.

‘Where were you going, just now?'
he asked, still sitting astride his prized possession. His father had given him the money for the Honda just months before the market had collapsed.

‘I was going to visit Reni,'
Hani answered,
‘just to get out of the house.'

She knew that Budi would be aware of the circumstances surrounding the Purwadira family's return to the mountain city. His own family had moved from their former home into a larger house. Budi's father had prospered where others had failed. He now headed the state-run, local electricity authority which provided many opportunities to supplement his government income.

Power failures had become endemic as the country's infrastructure continued its rapid decline. Poor maintenance, due to insufficient funds, contributed to the system's erratic supply, but it was primarily graft which prevented the power company from operating efficiently. Hani understood from conversations she had overheard that townspeople who enjoyed almost continuous power supply, paid dearly for this privilege. She flashed a smile at the young man, then looked up the street in the direction of the markets.

‘I'll give you a lift,'
Budi offered. Hani appeared reluctant, taking some seconds to decide.

‘Terima kasih Budi,'
she said, thanking him as she slid onto the pillion seat and, sitting sideways, placed her right arm around his waist while holding her open umbrella with the other. Budi fitted his helmet, restarted his Honda and, following his passenger's directions, they soon arrived at their destination.

Hani slid off the motorbike and stood straightening her clothes as Budi looked on admiringly.

‘Want me to pick you up later?'
he asked, hopefully. He had not seen her for some time, and was surprised at how she had matured.

‘Would you?'
she replied, demurely, placing her hand on his arm.
‘I'll only 
be here for a few minutes, Budi. Come in and say hello to Reni,'
she suggested.

Budi considered this, then shook his head.

‘I have a few messages to run for my father. How about I come back in an
hour?'
Hani thought about this, then smiled.

‘Terima kasih, Budi, you are very kind.'

‘Okay then, it's settled. I'll pick you up at four o'clock,'
with which he gunned the Honda's engine and drove away, waving with his free hand. Hani watched him disappear as he wove through the disorderly traffic, almost hitting an oncoming truck head on. She checked her clothing again, then entered her sister's cramped accommodations to wait for Budi's return.

At four o'clock, and true to his promise, he arrived and drove Hani a short distance out of town, further into the hills. There, alongside the highway leading down to the southern coast, they found a Padang-styled roadside restaurant which served traditional Sumatran food. Hani was delighted that Budi had chosen this place. She had not been out with anyone for more than a year, and the pleasure of being there lifted her spirits immeasurably.

‘Tell me about Jakarta,'
Budi asked, selecting the dish of curried brains to start. They could eat whatever they wished from the amazing selection, paying only for those dishes they touched.

‘Let's eat first, Budi, I'm starved,'
Hani pleaded, not particularly keen to discuss the past. Budi laughed, scraping the remains of the otak onto his rice.

‘Okay, but you've got to promise not to eat then run.'
Hani smiled at his response, pleased that she had put him off this easily.

‘It's a promise,'
she agreed, not at all anxious to return home too soon.

Waiters dashed around the busy restaurant, obviously a favorite of the coach drivers. The smell of cooking oil hung heavily in the air, and Hani guessed that the oil would have been recycled more than once, because of the current shortages. Hani had counted more than a dozen buses parked outside, their passengers now busily gorging themselves on the hot, spicy food.

Hani spooned the steamed rice into a larger bowl, then passed this to Budi. Together they attacked the selection of curried and fried offal dishes.

As they ate, they talked, demolishing more than one serving of
paru-paru
and
hati goreng,
the fried lung and liver dishes whetting their appetites even further. Within minutes of eating the
babat pedas,
both gulped their sweet, iced-tea as the chili-laden tripe burned its way to their stomachs.

With tears in their eyes, and brows covered with perspiration, they continued to fill themselves with the highly spiced food as one busload of travelers departed, while another poured inside to take their places.

Finally they both had enough. Budi raised a small dish, offering it to Hani who shook her head, pulling a childish face as she did so.

‘Enough!'
she moaned, patting her still flat stomach. Budi agreed, then paid the bill. They remained awhile longer at the restaurant, sipping iced tea and as it would soon be time for the evening prayer period, they decided to return to Sukabumi, and their homes.

‘You still haven't told me about Jakarta, Hani,'
he complained, as she slipped off his bike not far from her house. Hani had asked Budi to drop her at the corner, fearing her father might see.

‘Well, if you're really interested, you might invite me out again,'
she suggested, crossing the fingers on one hand behind her back. She had enjoyed the afternoon, and wanted Budi to ask her out again.

‘Tomorrow, then?'

‘Yes, Budi, for sure,'
Hani responded, happily. She squeezed his arm gently, then turned to walk the short distance home.
‘I'll wait for you here.

Okay?'

‘What time?'

Hani thought for a moment.
‘You don't have anything to do for your
father?'

‘Sure,'
he replied,
‘but I'll tell him that I have something important to do.

I'll pick you up at ten in the morning, Hani, then we could take a ride down to
the coast if you wish.'
He was not at all certain that she would agree.

‘You want to take me to Pelabuhan Ratu?'
she asked, surprised but pleased. Pelabuhan Ratu was the harbor village area adjacent to Samudera Beach.

‘If your parents will let you go.'

‘They won't,'
she said, her heart sinking at the very thought of asking.

‘Then why tell them?'
Budi suggested encouragingly. He could see that Hani was considering this and pressed on.
‘We could be back early in the
afternoon.'

‘Are you sure, Budi?'
she wondered, not really needing any encouragement.
‘It would be very bad for me if I didn't return before dark.'
He understood, and nodded affirmatively.

‘I promise to get you back in time, Hani.'
She bit her lip, deep in thought.

It would be wonderful to escape for the day.

‘Okay,'
she agreed, not entirely confident of her decision. Hani feared her father and clearly understood the consequences of being caught out.

‘I'll be here then,'
she agreed, then added,
‘but please don't leave me standing
here alone.'

‘Don't worry,'
he said,
‘I'll get here a little early so you won't have to wait.'

With this, Hani smiled widely and waved goodbye with her fingers, then strolled slowly home, turning her head and smiling in acknowledgment as Budi streaked past. She watched him turn at the corner, and disappear from view. Then, with a sigh, she went inside to prepare for the
Magrib
prayers, noting from the cheap Taiwanese wall-clock that she had only just made it back in time. She looked into the small room her brother occupied and was surprised to find this empty. She washed, and changed into more appropriate house-clothes, then knocked on her mother's door to join her in prayer.

Her father would have left for the mosque for this purpose, leaving the women to fulfill their religious duties at home. There was no answer, and so Hani knocked again then opened the door to enter.

Inside, she could see her mother asleep on the bed. Hani smiled, moving closer on tip-toe so as not to awaken her, knowing that she would not be indisposed to missing the prayers. Fading light cast a faint glow between partly-closed curtains, touching her mother's face as she lay peacefully on the bed. Hani advanced further, curious that she had not undressed before retiring as her mother would never sleep in this attire. Her eyes darted around taking inventory, noticing the torn envelope on the bedside table and the paper lying crumpled on the floor. She bent down and retrieved the letter, but was unable to read this in the poor light. Hani leaned over her mother, concerned as the room was uncomfortably hot, assuming that she had fallen asleep with the windows shut tight.

Her hand brushed her mother's arm, shock registering immediately on the young woman's face as the cold, lifeless limb alerted Hani that something was dreadfully wrong.

‘Ibu?'
she cried out, her concern turning to fear as she pulled her mother's body up into a sitting position, and shook her, but there was no response.

“Ibu?'
this time louder, anxiety sweeping through her body. Her next cry caught in her throat, unable to escape as realization of her mother's demise took control. Hani choked, and grabbed her mother fiercely, holding her tightly to her small bosom as the room was suddenly filled with her long painful wail, the chilling cry immediately raising the alarm.

Concerned neighbors rushed into the house. They knew that Hani was alone, as it was no secret that the general had left earlier, dressed in uniform, and accompanied by his son. They had observed the jeep full of soldiers arrive and take them both away. Several women comforted Hani, whilst another hurried away to inform the deceased's other daughter, Reni.