This story began twenty years ago. I'm five
mercy.
Since morning, my hometown village has been busy.
In two months the rainfed rice fields will harvest,
Green rice shoots can be seen on the hillsides.
A dense forest lay above him, shrouded in mist.
The leaves were still wet, dew decorated the edges.
The air felt cold, steam coming out every time
exhale. Three cars with rolling wheels
the mud was stuck in front of my father's house. Just a car
certain ones that can pass through the steep roads of Barisan Hill,
after heavy rain last night.
Twelve people jumped out of the cars, they
wear boots, thick pants, jacket, hat, look
dashing, and what caught my attention the most, they were
carrying a rifle. It's not a kecepek, a homemade firearm
villages I've seen, they carry weapons
fire belonging to military forces. My brain immediately thought,
Maybe it's in their backpack, it also has a flap
grenade. But that's too much, I rubbed that face
hit by a spider web.
To see the cars, my father shuffled down
from the steps, holding on, dragging his feet
paralyzed one, laughing broadly approached the group. I
it was rare to see my father, who was sickly, laugh after that. Usually he grumbles more, gets angry
angry. One of the group approached,
It seemed like their leader was also laughing out loud.
They hugged, patted on the shoulder. Like an old friend.
"Syahdan, we haven't seen each other in a long time." That person,
with narrow eyes, exclaimed. He is the same age as Kutikik
My father, around fifty. His body is short, stocky,
only my father's shoulders.
Father chuckled. Reply pat on the back.
"How was your trip, Young Boss?"
"Bad, Syahdan. Last night, we almost got lost, one
My car also almost rolled over into a dark valley. One
Another tire burst, still behind, hopefully
get here before evening, or our plans come true
delayed, the car was carrying three hunting dogs.
Good grief! How did you get to live here,
shahdan? Far from anywhere, like the ends of the earth.
It's so hard for us to find it. And become a farmer?
Since when can people who only know fighting
grow rice, huh? You hit the paddy?"
"Long story, Young Boss." Father laughed again,
gripping his staff more firmly, "You guys go up
upstairs, my wife has prepared coffee and juadah. We can talk over breakfast. Of course you'll be hungry after that
tossing and turning on the winding roads."
The narrow-eyed person nodded. Exclaim, command
his entourage.
I stood near the steps, listening to the conversation.
Several other village residents also watched
crowd, they were standing in the yard of my father's house.
Interested in looking at jeeps with big wheels?
Cars rarely enter our village.
I know who this troupe is, I've been told
Father since a month ago. There will be hunters from the city
who come, they will hunt wild boar.
Our village is actually not like other villages
you know. We call it the gutter. There are only two
or thirty wooden stilt houses, it lies
far apart separated gardens or courtyards. If you want
call the neighbors, you can open the window then
shout as loud as you can—that's why the intonation
the inland people of Sumatra sound harsh. This year,
the wild boars gave us a hard time, there were so many of them, and
invaded the fields. If not overcome, rice fields that
hard to maintain can be destroyed. Even every night
paddy fields guarded, fitted with repellent cans, too
surrounded by a solid fence, the results are useless. The pigs
always have a way in, and they are not afraid of sound cans, there are tens or maybe hundreds of them.
The village elders have given up, Dad hasn't, he said
will ask for the help of hunters from the city.
"Do we have to pay them, Syahdan?" Elder
the village asked worriedly.
Dad shook his head, at the meeting a month ago, "No
a penny, bro. They really like to hunt pigs. That
City people's hobby. Maybe some pigs will be carried by
them, to eat. That's the only payment."
I, who also attended the meeting, got it right away
concluded, those are definitely the people who are allowed
eat pork. Because my mom at home said many times
Sometimes, pork is haram to eat.
"Bajang!" My father shouted from above, already up the terrace
house on stilts, "You help your Mamak prepare
food. Don't just stand uselessly down there."
I nodded, immediately climbing the stairs.
Fifteen minutes. The twelve hunters were already sitting in
on a stretch of mat, their firearms were laid out
lined up in the bamboo hall. Also backpacks, large flashlights, ropes,
nets and other equipment. I immediately knew, judging
deft movements, they must be hunters
experienced. What I didn't expect was,
My father turned out to be close to the leadership this group. They sat close together in the corner of the mat,
talking like long lost friends.
"Come here, Bachelor." My father shouted again.
I'm the one holding up the kettle of hot coffee
turned around.
"Come on!" My father glared, impatient.
I hurried to the corner of the mat.
"This is my son, Young Master." Dad pointed at me, "His age
fifteen. His name is Bujang."
"Ah, you didn't say in your letter that you had one
son, Syahdan?" The narrow-eyed person
looking at me, from head to toe, "Her body
big like his father. It's like local government
mature. His eyes were sharp black. I like her. Which grade are you
you now?"
My father shook his head, laughed, "No school. Like
his father."
The narrow-eyed man was still looking at me, "Come here, Bujang.
Closer."
I took another step, sitting with my knees on the mat.
"Are you good at hunting wild boar like
your father?
"Do not expect." Father chuckled, cutting off the reply, "He
never even entered the forest alone. her mother
very anxious. Everything is completely forbidden, very afraid
his son was injured. Just in case he's an only child."
The narrow-eyed man nodded in disbelief.
"Would you like to join the hunt this afternoon?"
I nodded quickly—before even looking
the expression on my father's face sitting next to him.
"That's great! Let's see how good you are on the inside
there. Your father was once a great hunter,
give him a shotgun, he'll drop one-
one pig at a time."
That's too fast a conversation. Even before me
realized it, I had obtained a golden ticket that
I've wanted it all this time. Half an hour later, in the kitchen
house on stilts, Mamak is not happy, her face is sad
sweating from cooking curry, you see
sour. But you assure me that all is well
just. They were talking in particular, about a hunting permit for me.