Translated from Sundanese into English by Josephine
Natania.
“Sujang, have
you been full?” asked Nini[1]
Jumsih, looking at her grandson who was eating cross-legged in the middle of
the house.
“Take my meal if you haven’t.” She
held out a plate full of rice with fried eel for the side dish.
“You don’t need to, Mom. Just eat up
your lunch.” Kang[2]
Sabri spoke for his son. “There’s quite portion for him in tetenong[3].”
But Nini Jumsih ignored this remark
and still gave her meal.
Sujang is Kang Sabri’s youngest
child whose age was about 4 years and 4 months. It is the normal time for kids
to be very fond of food.
“It’s alright. I give it willingly,”
she explained. “Meal is just a small thing since I can’t give any others.
Besides, I’ve been full with any kinds of food while Sujang is still a kid with
such big appetite.”
These words silenced him since what
her mother said was truly right. Sujang was being gluttonous. “Don’t spoil him
too much, Mom.” That was he could only say.
“Spoil
him? I don’t have anything to do that, Sabri!” She silenced him with her words
once again.
Honestly,
he wanted to be generous to his son and mother, but his work demanded him to
use money economically. Every day, with his motorcycle, he drove somebody to
the places they wanted and they would pay him for the service. Nevertheless, in
the village like this, passengers were not always in certain numbers every time.
On Saturdays, he usually got more money because many factory workers went back
home from towns or cities.
If it was taken for daily needs, his
earnings could only afford to buy food, while there were five people to feed
on. His wife, his two children, his mother who lived together since his father
passed away, and himself.
It was difficult to do any works
right now, even more in the village. The costs were also increasing all the
time. With this kind of condition, if one always felt dissatisfied, unhappiness
would surely follow.
In
addition, Kang Sabri worked in fields
to hoe the soil, but it was only sometimes. He also had his own field from
selling a small block of land. This land was actually an inheritance from his
father, but it was rather infertile, so whatever he planted would not give any crops.
Actually he was not willing to sell
that small block. An inheritance had to be carefully treated. He understood it
very well, but as the proverb may say that we must live to its fullest. However,
the money he got from selling the land was used well for the family’s needs and
so far, thanks to God! They still could eat every day and his motorcycle was in
a good condition.
In the evening…
The sky was very clear, even no
sight of dark clouds above. The wind blew hard from the west to the east side.
“Hurry, Sujang! Take a bath! We
watch kite play in the great rice field,” Nini
Jumsih loudly called.
Sujang stood completely naked.
Having just played on the side of chicken’s cage, his body was fully dirty.
Probably he caught some undur-undur[4].
“Wait for me, Grandma! I go along
with you.”
The boy got off quickly at once to
the shower. Nini Jumsih followed him
from behind and took two fistful of harendong[5]
leaves.
“Clean well, dear. Don’t just
pouring water! Ah, let me scrub your body.”
She scrubbed the boy’s body with harendong leaves till all the grime
removed. The leaves can be used as soap, though they do not have much foam, but
it is good to remove skin dirt.
After he put on some clothes, he and
his grandma went to the great rice field. They really came on the right time as
harvest season had just been over. As far as the eyes could see, the wide flat rice
field stretched over on a great distance. It would be pleasant to fly kites
there.
“Wow, there have been many people,
Sujang,” whisper Nini Jumsih. “Let’s
go to the hut over there! It’s a nice place to watch,” she continued and led
the way by holding the boy’s hand. They tracked down the rice-field dikes.
These two happy people sang song
together while watching many children who were trying to catch each other’s
kites. The broken kites were the ones to fight for. The children, bringing gantar[6],
trooped down towards those kites.
Shout and laughter were heard from
the south. Certainly there was ball game played there. The ball itself was made
of straws, rounded to form a ball shape.
In the evening like this, the great rice
field would always be surrounded with cheerful children, especially after
harvest season.
Without any notice, all of a sudden
the children came to the hut where Sujang and Nini Jumsih were singing. They ran after a broken kite flying
towards the hut. They were all on their guards and put their sticks up as high
as their hands supported.
“You do want a kite, do you?” Nini Jumsih asked Sujang who was flabbergasted,
noticing the boys’ bustle. Hearing the question, he only fixed his eyes upon
her grandma without uttering a word.
Two days ago, he fought with his
brother for a kite. The brother, instead of giving it, hid it on the attic.
Sujang sobbed and rolled round and round on the floor, but neither the father
nor the mother paid serious attention to him. “Sujang is still is a kid. He
hasn’t been able to fly kite, he may fall forward on the other hand,” said his
mother.
To make Sujang stop crying, Nini Jumsih asked him to pick cécéndet[7]
leaves and dig for yams. When the dusk fell out, he successfully brought the
leaves and the yams home in both full hands.
Nini
Jumsih stroked Sujang’s hair softly.
“If
you want a kite, I’ll get it for you, dear”
Sujang
leaned over to her while she continually stroked his hair. Maybe it is true
that sometimes the love we have for our grandchildren is bigger than the love
for our own children.
Nini
Jumsih stood, fixed her sarong, and pulled it up a bit.
“Sujang,
stay here and wait for me!”
She
lifted her head up and looked at the kite flying there. The kite flew closer to
the hut. It seemed that the string was broken. She quickly jumped. So did the other
children. They both hunted the same thing. She forgot her age and her hunched
body. She chased, slightly kicked the boys, and shouted,” That’s mine! That’s
for my grandson!” Of course the boys directly set aside, afraid to compete with
an old woman. Realizing their changed reaction, she replied them with shy look
and glanced back to the kite up there.
Nini
Jumsih then tried to grab the tail, but it loosed her grip and swung away to
the ditch. The people, who was watching kite play at first, dumbfounded looking
at this old woman’s action. Not only her energy was bigger than the young
children, but also her jump was above them.
She
grabbed once more. Got it! But as a result, she plopped down into a watery
ditch. The kite was safe, on the other side she became soggy wet.
Knowing
this accident, Sujang jumped towards her grandma. She rose up and shivered but
ignored her wet clothes. “Fly this, while the day is still bright.” Her grandson obeyed her though
had not been able to fly it high. The day ran into dawn slowly till tonggeret[8]
was heard singing and the mountain wind was coldly felt.
“Let’s
go home, Sujang! It’s getting dark. You can try it again tomorrow,” Nini
Jumsih suggested. Tears filled her eyes seeing her grandson so happy to
have a kite. He rolled the kite strings into a piece of wood as following her
grandma into the house.
“Sabri,
come here. Please cover me with the blanket. My body feels cold,” Nini Jumsih shouted.
Kang
Sabri came hurrily to his mother, feeling rather worried that she unusually shouted
like that. He touched her forehead, getting shocked by the high fever that welcomed
him. “Mom, let me put a moist towel on your forehead, will you?” but she
refused.
Since
that moment, Nini Jumsih was ill and
not for a long time till she passed away. Kang
Sabri still remembered her last words, “Sabri, take a look at Sujang. Maybe
he’s been able to fly kite.”
After
her grandma’s death, Sujang just played kite at home. He was afraid to play in
the great rice field as no one accompanied him there.
Finally,
one day he said, “Grandma, I can fly kite now!”
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