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Pasola (Chapter 20)
Since 2005, Yuni Utami Asih has taught the English Education Study Program (FKIP) at her alma mater, Mulawarman University. During her childhood, her father borrowed books for her from the mobile library. In high school, she fell in love with Ermah’s Indonesian translation of The Count of Monte Cristo (Dunia Pustaka Jaya, 1992). She continued her master’s and doctoral studies at the State University of Surabaya. In 2011, she was funded by the Indonesian Ministry of Education and Culture to visit Leiden University in The Netherlands. She stayed for two months to deepen her research for her final doctoral project, the phonology of the Kenyah language.
In addition to teaching, Asih has also been a guest speaker in several English language courses.
Yuni Utami Asih: kelasyuni@gmail.com
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Pasola
Chapter 20
From the heights of the hill, Koni’s gaze swept to the foot of the horizon and the vast, dusky blue ocean. She heard hoofbeats approaching but did not turn her head or acknowledge their presence as the horse halted next to her and Waleka dismounted. He tethered the horse to a nearby lamtoro tree and sat down next to Koni. “One hundred horses, one hundred buffaloes, and one hundred cows,” he said without preamble. “That’s the price.”
“That’s the selling price for Tila Wula, your flesh-and-blood daughter?” Koni’s voice shook.
“Yes! Is it not enough?” Waleka stiffened, ignoring the voice of alarm from his greedy heart.
“And you used the money from the sale of your daughter to buy a seventh wife.” Koni’s voice was flat.
Waleka tried a different tack. “Her price was much cheaper than yours!” he exclaimed. “I paid twice as much for your dowry! Why aren’t you ever satisfied? What makes you so difficult? Inya Pitu is already ours, period. She can help you weave, fetch water, carry wood, take care of the horses, and help with your children and grandchildren. She can also teach Wula everything.”
“Teach Wula everything?” Koni snapped. “No need!”
“You’re still not satisfied!” Waleka shouted. “No one lives in the ancestral house but you. Only you rule in the Big House! And you are not satisfied?”
“Are you not satisfied sleeping in rotation from one fieldhouse to the next?” Koni spat back. “You don’t even know how many children and grandchildren you have. Tell me, how many? Tell me now!” Koni looked away in disgust.
Waleka’s slap was swift and hard. “How dare you say that!”
Koni gasped and faced her husband. “You own fields!” she screamed. “You own cows, buffaloes, and horses. You employ all the shepherds. You own the ancestral house … the uma parona that will be rebuilt!” Koni paused to catch her breath. “You have all these things to pay for women! One woman is not enough. Two are not enough! Three are not enough! You have become a briber and a thief to get the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh!” Koni straightened herself before launching her final accusations. “There will be an eighth. There will be a ninth. Never mind the number of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren that these wives produce. I ask you again: Tell me how many children you have and their names. Where are they now, what have they become?”
Shocked, Waleka stared bug-eyed at Koni. If it were not for his eyelids, his eyes might have popped out of their sockets. “Do you know who I am?” Waleka’s voice rose dangerously. “Shut up and obey me! I am an elder!”
Quietly, Koni said, “You don’t care about Tila Wula.”
Waleka shrugged. “Eh, she is your daughter.”
“What? Is Wula not your daughter as well?”
Waleka rose, walked quickly to his horse and untied it. Without speaking, he mounted and loosened the reins. He clucked his tongue, and the horse bolted, carrying Waleka away and leaving Koni alone on the hill.
The wind caressing the waving grasses witnessed Koni’s tears.
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