In the blink of an eye, the peaceful sail had turned into a struggle to survive. I regretted coming along on this expedition with the Societeit crazies to meet a shaman who didn't even care about his own life. I gazed at the dark surface of the sea, unable to imagine what lay beneath. I dreaded sinking into the dark foreign world.
We were powerless; it was like we were being tossed up and down in a giant's hand, about to be hurled into the storm. Then the storm came and pummeled the boat mercilessly. Whirlpools swirled, and the boat spun round and round like a top. We all fell along the deck. The captain acted quickly to lower the wind-torn sail, close the hold, get sharp objects out of the way, and kill the engine. He ordered us to tie our bodies to the mast. We wrapped the rope around our waists a few times and bound ourselves to the mast so we wouldn't be thrown into the sea.
The captain's face showed no sign of hope. He too tied himself to the mast. If we drowned, our bodies would float from the ends of the ropes at the bottom of the sea, dangling like octopus tentacles.
The waves showed no sign of subsiding. In fact, they grew worse. All we could do was wait for the ship to sink.
The moment we feared had arrived. In the distance we saw a terribly tall wave. We shook with fear. The terrifying wave crashed into the boat and broke the mast we were tied to, creating two large "splinters." One of the broken pieces hit the body of the boat, creating a hole and allowing water to gush in.
Mujis, Mahar and the Chinese man, who had been holding on to the sail, were hit by the other splinter and thrown to the deck. If the hold had not been closed, they would have become fodder for sea creatures. They screamed with fear, overcome by gripping panic. I thought this was the end for us, that the sea would soon turn red as the sharks had their feast. But at the most critical moment, I faintly heard someone shouting. The retired port master was crying out the azan— the call to prayer—over and over again, as we were being tossed around violently and water began filling the deck. But gradually, the boat's thrashing magically calmed.
The port master echoed the azan over and over again, and as the azan rang out, the swells of waves calmed down more and more. Within a very short amount of time, the horrifying waves faded away, reabsorbed by the black clouds. We were amazed by the drastic change. The savage waves became tame, and a moment later the wind stopped, as if a fan had been turned off. The life-threatening storm vanished like nothing had ever happened. I often heard a story from the Sarong people that if they are in a troubling situation at sea and there is nothing else they can do to help themselves, their last resort is to ask Allah's help through the azan. We had proven that true.
Night fell.
The captain read the almost-full moon and the stars that shone brightly in the sky above. He started the engine. The boat sailed once again.
Not much later, the captain turned off the engine and looked out from the boat with expert eyes. We saw black shadows in front of us, unclear, covered by mist. We were worried, full of anticipation about what other danger would come our way—pirates perhaps, big animals, or maybe even another storm. Suddenly the captain pointed and yelled something in his hoarse voice.
"Pirate Island!"
It stood alone, like a foreign object surrounded by the sea. Pirate Island looked like it did not want any visitors. Long howls of wild dogs could be heard, swearing at the ghosts that haunted the island.
The island exuded mysticism and had the feel of a cemetery; apostasy, betrayal, and rebellion against God. There were screams of animals being sacrificed. One could smell the tang of blood, the stench of corpses left out in the open air, and the smoke of incense used to summon the devil. The dogs howling in the still of the night were nowhere to be seen. Sometimes they sounded like crying babies or old grandmas begging for mercy while being licked by the flames of hell. These sounds broke our spirits. Tuk Bayan Tula's hypnotic power was very great. At that moment, I had to admit that Tuk Bayan Tula, wherever he was, was truly a powerful shaman.
We got off the boat and followed a path toward the opening of a cave. We found palm leaves laid down for each of us at the mouth of the cave. We had been greeted and had to be ready to accept the risk of death.
Inside the cave we could see a thin cloth flapping around. Slowly, like smoke wafting burning wet wood, a tall figure appeared. I saw the figure moving without touching the ground. Everyone doubted the existence of magic, but with my own two eyes, I saw a human float on air, move back and forth like a weightless object. This figure possessed magic, he was feared by all Malays, he was the one and only human with enough knowledge of witchcraft to cross the sea, he was half man half ghost. He was Tuk Bayan Tula.
Tuk Bayan Tula was two meters away from us, standing respectfully around him. A black cloth encircled his body. His brown and white hair, mustache, and beard were long and unkempt. His cheekbones were very defined, implying his ability to perform unimaginably cruel deeds. His eyebrows were thick and high, showing that he feared nothing, not even God. His most prominent feature was his eyes, flashing like a bear's, completely black.
The ghostly shaman did not show the slightest bit of friendliness. Mahar stood spellbound staring at him, not brave enough to approach him. Flo moved closer to Mahar and tugged his hand. This extraordinary girl pulled Mahar toward the shaman without hesitation.
Very carefully, Mahar whispered to Tuk Bayan Tula. The shaman paid no heed. He gazed far off to the ocean shimmering under the moonlight. Mahar, in a voice that could scarcely be heard, told him of the deathly danger we had experienced on the way to meet him.
"... storm ... strong winds ... broken mast ... azan ..."
Tuk Bayan Tula listened without interest. Mahar continued the story to tell him why we came.
"Flo and I ... are going to be kicked out of school ... we've already gotten three warning letters for our red marks ... we want to ask your help so we can pass our exams."
Unexpectedly, Tuk Bayan Tula turned toward Mahar and Flo. The two naughty children turned deathly pale. He patted Mahar's shoulders and shook his head. Mahar lit up. The members of the Societeit looked proud because their chief had been touched by the powerful shaman they held sacred in their hearts. Mahar knew what he had to do. He took out a piece of paper and a pen and respectfully handed them to Tuk Bayan Tula. The shaman took them and went back in the cave with unfathomable speed.
What happened next was very strange. We heard loud voices clamoring inside the cave, like ten people fighting. We gathered closely, on guard, fearful of the invisible animals' howls.
It was clear that Tuk Bayan Tula was fighting vicious creatures in there. It seemed that in order to fulfill Mahar's request, he had to fight off thousands of ghosts. Traces of regret appeared on Mahar's face. He couldn't bear the thought of his beloved idol dying because of his request to pass the school exam.
Dust billowed out of the cave from the struggle of wild creatures inside. The battle remained intense until finally a scream of defeat was heard. Dozens of shadowy figures appeared like corpses covered in black cloth flying out of the cave, through the santigi treetops, before vanishing over the sea.
Tuk Bayan Tula returned to the entrance of the cave in tatters. The cloth encircling his body was torn, and his face was a mess. I was alarmed to see such a powerful person in shambles like this. He had put his soul on the line in order to fulfill Flo and Mahar's request to help them not get kicked out of school.
Tuk Bayan Tula raised a roll of paper with his orders up high as if to say, Look at this, you useless little worms. No one, in plain view or as phantoms, can stand against me. I have vanquished devils from the depths of hell for miracles that defy the laws of nature. Your exam scores will transform in the dark to save you at your old school. Take your prize because you are brave young children who have fought death to meet me.
Tuk Bayan Tula surrendered the roll of paper, which Mahar seized with both hands like a beggar on the brink of starving to death who receives food. Flo, Mahar and all the members of the Societei
t bowed to Tuk Bayan Tula. I didn't want to bow, which made Mahar quite unhappy with me.
Mahar put the roll of paper in a used cylinder for holding badminton shuttlecocks. He put the container in his jacket.
Tuk Bayan Tula gave us conditions for opening the message when we got home and he pointed to our boat so we would get moving. As quick as lightning, like the wind, he vanished, disappearing as the darkness and incense smoke from the cave engulfed him.
We ran to the boat. The captain immediately started the engine, and we fled. We made an agreement to open the message in three days, under the filicium tree, after school.
Chapter 42
The Shaman's Message
IT WAS unusual. It was the middle of the day and many people were gathered in the schoolyard. All of Laskar Pelangi was there. The entire Societeit de Limpai too. The delegation sent to Pirate Island while searching for Flo was also there.
Mahar also invited the captain, coffee shop gossipers, the post master, boat skippers, and a few amateur connoisseurs of the paranormal. Everyone was excited to witness the opening of the message from Pirate Island.
Mahar made a special request to Kucai to also invite his reporter friends from the newspapers in Tanjong Pandan, the ones who had supported us during the threat of the dredges. For Flo and Mahar, the expedition to Pirate Island to meet the all-powerful shaman Tuk Bayan Tula was an extraordinary event that ought to be shared with all of Belitong; many had gone on expeditions there but did not succeed. They had either been chased away by Tuk Bayan Tula or lost at sea.
Kucai delivered Mahar's request to the reporters. However, the journalists were rational, and they didn't want to get involved in Flo and Mahar's shamanistic dealings.
The Societeit's success story of going to Pirate Island and bringing back a message from the shaman spread quickly throughout the village and immediately lifted the Societeit's reputation. Because of the successful crazy expedition, people no longer hurled insults at the Societeit. They immediately became a respectable elite group, and not a collection of ridiculous time-wasters. That's why so many people were gathered in our schoolyard this afternoon, to congratulate Mahar on his shamanistic achievement, to hear stories to satisfy their curiosity about the half man half ghost, and to find out what kind of magical recipe the shaman provided the lousy students to pass their exams.
The funny thing was, because of the Societeit's success, people also came to express their interest in becoming new members of the ghost organization. They considered Mahar the next Tuk Bayan Tula, and Flo a new inspirational shaman. They were willing to give up healthy thinking in exchange for Mahar's outlandish thinking. As secretary of the Societeit, I was very busy writing all the names of wannabe members.
Flo and Mahar waited impatiently for Bu Mus to go home. If she were to find out, she would surely shut down the message-opening ceremony.
After Bu Mus left the school, Flo and Mahar left the classroom with happy faces. Everyone followed their light steps toward the filicium tree.
Flo and Mahar's faces shone with delight because the burden of their lousy marks that had been weighing them down soon would vanish. They were convinced Tuk Bayan Tula would rescue their futures, just as he had rescued Flo before.
Mahar took his place standing on a protruding root of the tree, the highest one. It had been reserved for him by his followers. It was like he was at a podium. Mahar stood full of dignity. His gaze swept over all in attendance.
As usual, before performing a ritual, Mahar gave a speech. The truth was, he was addicted to giving speeches. He stroked the shuttlecock container that held his and Flo's educational insurance.
"Fortune favors the bold!" his voice thundered.
Applause erupted, and the loudest of the applauders were the Societeit members, responding to the opening of the great speech.
"We sold our valuables, took the risk of being banished from the face of the earth by Tuk Bayan Tula, but in the end, we proved that Societeit de Limpai is not a bunch of morons!"
The Societeit members nodded proudly to themselves and especially to their leader, Mahar.
"We conquered the sea, almost drowned, and were saved by the azan of the harbor master."
The harbor master was delighted with being praised by the leader, even though his wife was still whining about his selling the glass display case. He put his hands before his chest and bowed repeatedly like a Japanese person.
"We ourselves witnessed Tuk Bayan Tula fight a deathly battle with ghosts for the sake of this message! As head of the Societeit, I feel respected by him!"
Then he did his amusing but annoying signature gesture.
"Parapsychology, metaphysics, and the paranormal—they have been proven to be usable in any area!" Then he pointed to us, his classmates.
"Hey, you there! You can read books until your eyeballs fall out. You can study until you throw up, but Tuk Bayan Tula will make me and Flo smarter than you. We can move up through the classes until there are no higher classes to be reached!"
My stomach hurt from trying to hold back laughter, but I was amazed by how great an orator Mahar was. His speech was better than any speech given by our politician, Kucai, and even greater than those of the Minister of Education.
Finally the moment of anticipation arrived.
Mahar opened the sealed shuttlecock container. His face was at once giddy and tense. He would soon read his and Flo's declaration of independence from their demanding educational colonization. With great care, he took the roll of paper out of the container.
He didn't open it right away, but closed the speech with a choked up voice first.
"This is the highest honor for the Societeit de Limpai."
Everyone wanted to know the magical words written by the most powerful shaman in the world. Their hearts were pounding. Everyone got closer to Mahar. Those who couldn't get close enough got up in the low branches of the filicium because they wanted to witness the reading of the message. Flo's face was red from holding back her excitement. She jumped up and down, unable to wait any longer for the delightful surprise. Slowly, Mahar opened the roll, and there, written clearly on the paper, was:
These are Tuk Bayan Tula's instructions: If you want to pass your exams, Open your books and study!
Chapter 43
Elvis Has Left the Building
WE WERE hating Samson's hard-headed behavior. At the moment, we were having a big debate under the filicium tree. Nine against one. He foolishly fought for his position. He didn't want to lose.
The topic of the debate was actually quite simple. The night before, we had watched the film Pulau Putri, or Princess Island, which starred a legendary Indonesian comedian, S. Bagyo. In the film, S. Bagyo was stranded on a deserted island, inhabited only by women. The kingdom—or rather 'queendom'—of the island was being terrorized by an ugly witch. The witch's cackle was enough to make the movie watchers wet themselves.
Twice a month, we watched movies after magrib prayer at a barn-like building that was usually used as the PN coolies' meeting place. The movies were provided by PN especially for children of non-PN staff. It was also known as the blue collar cinema. The cinema was of a low-end drive-in quality, and it had two TOA speakers to project the sound. Because the floor wasn't designed like that of a normal movie theater, the viewers farthest back were not able to see. The ten of us, including Flo, filled the bench at the very back of the theater.
The PN staff children watched at a different place called Wisma Ria (House of Fun). Movies were played there every week. The moviegoers were picked up by a blue bus. And of course there was a strong warning outside of the theater: "No Entry for those without the Right."
We had no idea that the beautifully titled film—Princess Island—was actually a horror movie. From the title, we thought we'd see a few beautiful princesses smearing themselves with suntan lotion, running around and giggling on the beach.
"Cool," said a glowing Kucai.
But we were way off. Just a few mom
ents after the film started, a witch arrived with her sinister cackle. Ghouls joined in the cackling. S. Bagyo ran for his life.
Sitting in the back, I could see the coolies' children shrinking into their seats every time the evil flying witch appeared. The girls cried. A few children who weren't strong enough to watch ran for their lives from the ramshackle theater and never came back.
From my seat I saw Samson to the left of me not watching at all. He hid under Syahdan's armpit. Syahdan hid under A Kiong's armpit. A Kiong under Kucai's armpit, and Kucai hid under my armpit. Trapani and I hid under Mahar's armpit. Trapani cried like a baby for his mother every time the witch destroyed a village. Mahar kept his head down like someone praying.
The only ones still sitting tall were Sahara, Flo, and Harun. They laughed loudly at the sight of S. Bagyo running like crazy from the witch. When he succeeded in getting away, they clapped their hands.
On the way home from the theater, we held hands. When we passed the graveyard, Trapani's hand was cold as ice.
The next day during our afternoon rest period, Samson insisted that the witch was being chased by S. Bagyo. Why he thought this, we had no idea. We all protested in unison because that was the opposite of what actually happened.
"Impossible," argued Kucai.
"I saw you shaking under Syahdan," A Kiong disputed.
Samson tried to defend himself. "Did you watch? As far as I know, Sahara, Flo, and Harun were the only ones not hiding."
Sahara glared at us with disgust, "All boys are cowards!" she said sassily.
Harun nodded in full support of Sahara's opinion.
"Just because we only looked up every once in a while doesn't mean we don't know how the story went," Kucai said, cornering Samson, but staring at me.
Hearing the words looked up every once in a while, Sahara became even more disgusted.