Your Stories
Celebrating our tenth anniversary.
As a part of our tenth anniversary celebration, we like to bring our 12 titles to your attention. We will use the Your Story page to bring you excerpts of our novels in the order they were published. Meanwhile, we are reading short story submissions. Please study our writer’s guidelines and send your submissions to: dalangpublishing@gmail.com
This page will feature the selected short story of the month along with its English translation.
Bilingual writers, we would appreciate your help with the translation of Indonesian work into English. Please contact us at dalangpublishing@gmail.com
Please adhere to the following maximum word limits:
Short story minimum 2000 words and maximum 3000 words.
Please follow our Writer’s Guidelines for formatting and other submission directions.
Lolong Anjing Di Bulan (Bab 20)
Arafat Nur was born in Medan, on 22 December 1974. He has lived in Aceh since his elementary school years. He experienced the Aceh Conflict and his writing reflects several of its incidents. Nur’s work won numerous awards. Lampuki (Serambi, 2009) won the 2010 Dewan Kesenian Jakarta (Jakarta Arts Council) Award and the 2011 Khatulistiwa Literary Award; Burung Terbang di Kelam Malam (Bentang Pustaka, 2014) was translated into English: A Bird Flies in the Dark of Night. His latest novel, Tanah Surga Merah (Gramedia, 2016), won the 2016 Dewan Kesenian Jakarta Award. Nur is a farmer and spends his spare time reading literary works and books about history and philosophy.
He can be reached at arafatnur@yahoo.com
***
Bab 20
Bangkitnya Perlawanan Kecil
yang Segera Tenggelam
Kerusuhan dan ketakutan mulai merebak lagi. Pasukan yang dipimpin Wakil Panglima Pejuang Wilayah Pasai, Ahmad Kandang, melancarkan serangan dengan menembaki kawanan tentara yang berlalu di jalan raya. Mereka juga melemparkan bom rakitan di depan kantor polisi di Lhokseumawe.
Pada hari Selasa, tanggal 4 Pebruari 1997 siaran radio terus-terusan memberitakan perampokan bank BCA pada siang hari di tengah keramaian kota. Perampokan, yang dilakukan oleh tiga orang pemberontak bersenjata, menyebabkan tewasnya penjaga dan kasir serta terlukanya supir dan tiga Polisi Militer.
Aku tidak bosan-bosannya mendengarkan berita perampokan itu dari radio yang kubawa ke ladang. Aku khawatir pemerintah akan kembali mengerahkan tentara ke kampung-kampung, termasuk ke Alue Rambe. Aku termenung-menung di dangau, sambil sesekali melirik ke ladang sebelah.
Manakala kulihat Zulaiha muncul di ladangnya, segera kupadamkan radio dan bergegas melompat turun dari dangau.
Zulaiha tersenyum manis.
Kami bersama-sama memetik polong-polong hitam kecil sepanjang jari telunjuk. Aku memerhatikan polong hitam tua yang baru kupetik, polong yang membungkus sepuluh sampai lima belas biji kacang hijau di dalamnya. Sejenak aku mengalihkan pandangan ke arah langit barat daya. Cahaya matahari redup tersaput gumpalan awan putih kelabu. Ada sekawanan burung terbang di antara rimbunan pohon-pohon di pemukiman penduduk.
“Apa rencana Abang ke depan?” tanya Zulaiha tiba-tiba.
“Maksudmu?”
“Bukankah semua orang punya rencana?” tanya dia lagi.
Aku berpikir untuk menangkap maksudnya. “Aku tidak tahu apa rencanaku ke depan,” kataku.
“Apakah Abang tidak punya rencana melamar seseorang?” Suara itu terdengar bergetar. Sementara tangannya yang terlihat gugup terus memetik kacang hijau.
“Tentu saja aku punya,” jawabku meraba maksud pertanyaannya. “Namun, sekarang aku belum bisa menjawabnya.”
Zulaiha menunduk. Bayang topi caping menutup wajahnya dari terik matahari. Dia menggulir-gulirkan sebuah polong yang terapit di antara ibu jari dan jari telunjuknya.
Aku ingin ungkapkan sesuatu yang mengganjal hati kepadanya, tetapi aku tidak tahu cara mengutarakannya. Terlalu banyak persoalan yang kuhadapi dan aku tidak mungkin mengatakannya sekarang. Aku belum siap untuk kawin. Selain masih terlalu muda, aku berencana untuk bergabung dengan pasukan Ahmad Kandang.
*****
Untuk membaca cerita ini secara lengkap silakan membeli bukunya melalui:
Blood Moon Over Aceh (Chapter 20)
Maya Denisa Saputra has a bachelor’s degree in accounting and finance from the UK-based University of Bradford in Singapore. While holding a position in the accounting department of a family business, she pursues her interests in writing, literary translation, and photography.
Maya’s writings and translation work have appeared in the Buddhist Fellowship Singapore’s newsletter, “Connection,” an online platform that gathers writings about physical and mental wellness, as well as in “B.Philosophy,” and “LitSync,” online communities of aspiring fiction writers, and “Intersastra,” a literary translation initiative.
She can be reached at: maya.saputra@gmail.com
***
Chapter 20
Units under command of the resistance movement’s Vice-Commander for the Pasai Area, Ahmad Kandang, attacked small groups of soldiers that passed by the main road and threw homemade bombs in front of the police stations in Lhokseumawe.
On Tuesday, February 4, 1997, radios broadcast news about a robbery at the Bank Central Asia at the heart of Lhokseumawe.
Three armed rebels had shot dead a security officer and cashier. A driver and three military police officers were wounded.
I could not get get tired listening to the repeating broadcast and brought along my radio to the field. I sat for a while in the dangau contemplating the situation. I was afraid the government would send the military to the villages again.
When I saw Zulaiha walk into her field, I immediately turned off the radio and jumped down from the dangau.
Zulaiha smiled sweetly.
We went to pick mung beans together. I looked at the cluster of pods I had just picked. Each pod was about the size of my index finger and held ten to fifteen beans. When I looked up, gray clouds filled the overcast sky and a flock of birds fluttered between the treetops.
Suddenly, Zulaiha asked, “What are your plans for the future?”
I did not understand her question. “What do you mean?”
“Doesn’t everyone have a plan?”
I thought for a while, trying to figure out what she meant. Finally I said, “I don’t know what my plans for the future are.”
“Don’t you plan to propose to someone?” Zulaiha’s voice trembled, and the hand that continued to break off clusters of mung beans shook.
Guessing what she was driving at, I answered, “Of course I do,” and continued, “but I can’t right now.”
Zulaiha bowed her head. The rim of her straw hat covered her face.
I watched her nervously roll a mung bean pod between her thumb and index finger. I wanted to say something to her that weighed heavy on my heart, but I did not know how to say it. There were too many problems I had to face but could not talk about now. I did not feel prepared to enter into a marriage. Other than being too young, I planned to join Ahmad Kandang’s unit. I was compelled to drive away the criminals who had killed Ayah, raped Baiti, and murdered thousands of villagers. There was no way I would tell Zulaiha this. Also, if I were to take up arms against the military, I would always be chased by the police officers and soldiers. How would that affect her, Ibu, and Zuhra? Who would take care of the orchards and work in the field?
After a long silence, she asked, “When will you?”
Zulaiha’s question was not answered until mid-March.
After my meeting with Ahmad Kandang, I began to understand the nature of Mahmud’s employment. It turned out that he did odd jobs on an as-needed basis. Sometimes he was asked to take provisions such as rice and fish to a hideout; at other times, he worked as a courier, delivering messages from one rebel to another, and sometimes he was asked to pick up or deliver money. He did not know anything about weapons, let alone carry one. The only time he touched a weapon was when he was told to wipe the disassembled parts. Ahmad Kandang paid Mahmud by the job. That income was enough to meet his daily needs for a week or two.
A group of soldiers came to Alue Rambe, looking for two fugitives involved in the Lhokseumawe bank robbery. They arrested five men at Leman’s stall.
While chasing a villager in the alley in front of my house, they released some shots in the sky. Baiti, who had only recently recovered from her trauma, huddled with Ibu in the kitchen.
Mahmud, who was home, rushed out through the back door and headed for his parents’ house in Seuneubok Drien. He stayed there until the next day. When Mahmud returned, he said, “I can’t be seen too often by the soldiers.”
I thought he was correct to stay away from the soldiers, even though he had such an innocent face, the soldiers most likely would overlook him. During a road inspection, people like Mahmud were usually ignored by the soldiers.
Meanwhile, early in 1997, some people from political parties started preparing their campaigns for the election of delegates to the central and regional House of Representatives at the Buloh Blang Ara market. Most villagers favored the Green Party with a Kaaba cubic logo even though the Yellow Party, with the banyan tree logo, put a lot of pressure on them. While the soldiers by rights could not be involved in political matters, they played a big role in promoting the Yellow Party, which I heard was under the direct command of President Soeharto.
*****