Leila Chudori - Home

Aji and Rama each helped themselves to one of the banana leaf packets. Opening the leaves on their plates, they began to use their right hands to mix the foods with the rice. At that moment they heard heavy footsteps dragging themselves across the floor and, looking towards the source of the sound, saw a pillow-wrinkled face.

Andini came forward, her head down and her eyes half shut. “Mama, I could smell your chicken and the chili sauce all the way in the bedroom!” she said with a wide smile and quivering nostrils. “All this food, Papa… You must have done something right to deserve such special treatment.”

Andini plopped on her chair, still oblivious to her surroundings, but then suddenly her eyes opened wide when she realized her brother was there, seated across from her at the table.

“Hey! We’ve got a guest!” Andini screamed happily as she leaned her head towards her brother.

The word “guest” caused Rama to look down for a moment, but then he raised his head, mouthed the word “Hi” to his sister, and scooped some anchovies and peanuts onto the side of his rice.

When Andini went to pick up some of the shredded omelet with her fingers, her mother patted her on the hand. “Even if you don’t want to bathe, Dini, you should at least wash your face and brush your teeth.”

Andini grinned, picked herself up from the chair, and traipsed towards the bathroom. Once inside, she stuck her head back out and called to her brother. “Hey, Bro, you’re looking real good. All dressed up like that. What’s happening? Are you going to propose to a girl or something?”

Rama almost choked on his mouthful of rice. Both his parents noticed and quickly glanced at each other. Rama covered himself by swallowing a glass of water.

Andini could be a wildly wicked tease and had a sharp tongue to match, but this time she was not conscious that with her blithe comments she had set a landmine on the breakfast table. After brushing her teeth, slapping some water on her face, and loosely knotting her hair, she rushed back to the table again, unaware that she might have said anything out of turn. Instead, she started chattering about school; the difficulty she was having in writing her thesis on The Waste Land ; about Lintang, who just so happened to bring a vintage edition of Eliot’s work with her; and about the trouble she was having in tracking down her advisor, who was always out of town, while Lintang, who went to the Sorbonne, was having the opposite problem, with her advisor always getting on her back.

“Lintang? What Lintang are you talking about?” Rama asked, not realizing he was nearing the landmine.

“Our cousin, dummy. Do you know another Lintang?” Andini took a chicken leg and began to nibble on the crispy skin.

Rama looked at his parents and then at his sister who was now engrossed in eating her nasi uduk . “Lintang Suryo?” he asked as if befuddled. “Where did you see her?”

“She’s here now, visiting,” his mother answered.

“Working on her final assignment,” Andini immediately corrected, “and she’s going to stay for a couple months.”

Rama suddenly lost his appetite. His nasi uduk on its banana leaf — with its sprinkling of fried shallots and shredded omelet, dressed with chili sauce and anchovies and peanuts — now tasted flat. He found himself unable to raise his head; he couldn’t chew his food, much less swallow. Lintang, the daughter of his uncle, Dimas Suryo, the very person who had made his life so difficult, was here in this house?

“Yeah, and tomorrow she’s going to interview Tante Surti,” Andini went on, either unaware of or not caring about the changed look on her brother’s face. “She’s even trying to get an interview with Pramoedya Ananta Toer!”

Rama tried to calm his pounding heart. He took another sip of water to clear his throat, but found himself unable to begin a sentence.

“You’re not finished already, are you Rama?” his mother asked. “If you don’t eat the food, your sister will,” she said, pushing the serving platter with several packets of nasi uduk toward him.

Rama nodded weakly. “I still haven’t finished my first,” he said to his mother as he, pushed his rice around the plate. “So what is Lintang’s assignment about, what with her having to interview Tante Surti and all?” he asked his sister with trepidation.

“About the victims of September 30, 1965, and its impact on victims’ families. For sure, Tante Surti will be an important source of information on the subject,” Andini answered lightly.

Rama tried to force himself to eat. Nasi uduk was truly at the top of his list of favorite foods and he did want to show his mother his appreciation for her work, but now he was having difficulty swallowing even a grain of rice. Meanwhile, his sister continued to chatter: about the books that Lintang had brought for her and how happy she was to finally meet this cousin with whom she had traded books and corresponded for so many years, at first through letters but more recently through e-mail.

“Remember how we used to have to wait ten days to two weeks just to receive a letter,” she said. “I did love getting all those beautiful French stamps; but now, with e-mail, you can exchange letters in a matter of seconds. Amazing, isn’t it!” she prattled on, trying to convince her mother, who had no skill in the use of electronic technology, of the wonder that was the communications systems of today.

Her mother’s attention, however, was on Rama, who had already finished his lunch. When offered a second serving, Rama politely refused and took his used plate into the kitchen. Both of his parents were surprised by the sudden change in him: his polite and reticent behavior. Even Andini noticed the change and put a brake on her chatter.

Rama returned to the dining room with a long look on his face.

“Would you like some fruit, Rama?” his mother asked. “There’s papaya, bananas, and watermelon in the refrigerator.”

“Thank you, Mama, but I think we need to talk.”

“All right then, we’re here to listen,” she said sympathetically.

“Uh-oh, should I make myself scarce?” Andini asked point blank. “This sounds like personal territory.”

“No, Dini. You should be here too.”

Aji was losing patience with his son’s reticence. “OK, Rama, tell us what it is.”

“I came here today to tell you that I want to introduce you to Rininta,” said Rama slowly.

“This sounds so serious.” Andini giggled to hear the formal tone of her brother’s voice.

Her mother flashed a look at Andini, indicating the need for her to give her brother time to speak.

Rama looked at his parents. “But this is going to be more than just an introduction. I’ve actually been seeing Rininta for a long time. More than three years already.”

His parents looked at each other in surprise. Aji’s heart beat faster.

“Ever since starting to work at Cita Karya…”

“Oh, does she work there too?” Andini asked.

“No. She’s Pak Pri’s daughter.”

“And who is Pak Pri?”

“Pak Priasmoro, the director of the company.”

“The director general?”

“No, he’s beneath the director general. He’s head of the company’s construction division. I work for him.”

“Ohhh…”

No one seemed to have anything more to say. Aji, Retno, and Andini of course knew that for the past four years Rama had been working as an accountant at PT Cita Karya, a state-owned construction company, and that his position was one of trust. As such, they were also certain that if Rama had been able to pass the security clearance required to work at a state-owned corporation, then he could only have done so by dropping the use of Suryo as his final name and concealing his family background.