Grandma Lahei

"Never mind, Ni, just bring it. This is too much," said Marna, holding back the grandmother who continued to pull out the contents from her lanjung.

"Don't refuse."

"Marna will take only what's necessary."

"Why not take it all?"

"Marna doesn't have a refrigerator. Besides, at home, it's just Marna alone; there's no way Marna can finish it all by myself."

"It can still be reheated for tomorrow." Grandmother Lahei continued to insist that Marna accept it, and she didn't stop pulling out all the contents from her lanjung.

The lanjung is similar to a backpack but rounder in shape and more traditional, open at the top without a lid. It resembles a large drum. In the interior Dayak communities, it's common to carry their young children inside the lanjung whenever they go out.

Almost every home in the interior forests of Kalimantan has this traditional carrying tool. It's almost mandatory for every family to own one because of its usefulness in carrying harvests. The lanjung is made from thinly stripped rattan or split rattan used as both framework and seating when placed on the ground.

"It's okay, I'll give this to you."

"But what about Ni's child?"

"As long as I get coffee, he'll surely like it," replied the grandmother, her face lighting up with a smile.

"If Ni wants coffee, Marna has plenty."

The grandmother's eyes immediately sparkled. She seemed to be offered pieces of gold, because for the people in the interior, coffee is far more useful than gold, despite knowing its higher value and price.

"Oh, Ni, now I'm embarrassed," said Lahei. Her face looked radiant, pretending to be uncomfortable.

Marna turned back into the house. Coincidentally, she had just bought 2 boxes of coffee and 10 kilos of sugar from the city. Actually, since ancient times, whenever one of their family members went to the city, coffee was the first thing they remembered to buy.

As Marna re-entered the house, Grandma Lahei played her sapeq instrument again. This time, her mouth joined in singing the 'orang ulu' song.

The sound of string plucking was so melodious. A joyful tone followed Grandma Lahei's mood. Marna, hearing the music, didn't immediately come out; she stayed quietly, listening and feeling the resonance of the strings behind the door.

The grandmother continued playing the sapeq strings. Hearing the plucking sound made it feel like the entire world stopped. Each pluck seemed like magic that could freeze time.

The singing with its distinctive tone echoed with the sound of the sapeq strings. It was greeted again by the voices of nature, originating from all kinds of forest animals. The calls of the lutung monkeys echoed. A troop of lutungs leaped and ran on the branches. Birds joined in like a choir. Their chirping delighted the listening heart. Plus, the natural green hues bathed in the morning sunlight, reflecting dewdrops like beautiful golden sparkles.

"Come here if you want to hear the music!" Grandma Lahei called out. She seemed to know Marna was secretly watching her play the sapeq.

Feeling her name called, Marna stepped out from behind the door. She brought 5 packs of coffee and 2 kilograms of sugar.

"Sit here. Ni will teach you to play it."

Marna shook her head and said, "No, Nek. I prefer listening to each pluck. Somehow, every time I hear its sound, I feel enchanted into your mood. If you ever need coffee and sugar again, come back here, I will always prepare them for you."

Lahei smiled, "You're very kind." Then her fingers played the sapeq again. Its sound was so distinctive. It had been a long time since Marna had heard the sapeq played directly in front of her. During her college days in the city, whenever she missed her hometown, Marna often played this music to ease the longing within her.

She returned to her hometown to take care of the house where she was born. Seven of her siblings died from a plague. The same fate befell her mother and uncles. She had been married; her husband passed away while working at sea with her brother. Now she had returned to her parents' house, leaving behind the house her husband had given her near the coastal village.

Among her family, Marna was the most educated member. She was also the only one from her family who had been abroad. Yet, she was now the only remaining member of her family. She became the last descendant of her lineage.

"Do you like the song?"

"I really like it, Ni."

The grandmother sipped her coffee and finished all of it, leaving only the coffee grounds at the bottom of the glass.

"Thank you, it feels like I've received a stack of gold from you," Grandma Lahei said, placing her hand on Marna's left shoulder.

"Come back, Ni, if Nek passes by here again."

Grandma Lahei packed up all her vegetables. She only left the deer thigh, as she didn't want to accept kindness for free. According to Dayak philosophy, if someone gives you a bowl of rice, you must repay it with a bowl of gold.

"Thank you. Ni, I'll head home now," Lahei bid farewell. She descended the stairs one by one and waved her hand to Marna.

As she was about to leave, Lahei suddenly remembered something she needed to tell the girl. She turned around and shouted a bit.

"Don't open the door if someone knocks in the middle of the night! Don't accept male guests you don't know!"

"Yes, Ni," Marna replied, still standing on her porch.

With 5 packs of coffee and 2 kilograms of sugar, Lahei was very happy. The coffee was enough to share with her large family. It would last for a week until a company truck passed by again to buy all their basic needs from the city.

On her way home, Lahei saw 6 motorcycles passing by. Three of them were carrying two riders each, while the other three were ridden solo. Lahei noticed something suspicious about their behavior, but she couldn't guess who they were, certainly not from the Upper Village.

The nine men just passed by briefly. However, almost all of them glanced towards the longhouse where she had been given coffee earlier.