(Original Title: “De weerwraak” in KRUIS EN KORWAR, Drs. F.C. Kamma, et al Den Haag: J.N. Voorhoeve, 1955, pp 215-219)
By BABS KAMMA
Translated from Dutch into English by Celly Akwan
***
A Raja Ampat panoramaThere he lay, the big muscular fellow, whose name was Yamuni; one of the strongest men in the village.
Crawling away in a thin cover, his small sleeping mat slid near the fire, puffed Yamuni in his sleep. His chest went gasping up and down; big drops of sweat glittered on his forehead.
And behind his closed eyes thumped the pulsation of his blood; Yamuni was sick.
“Very sick,” had the wise women of his village said and they rubbed with their dry hands his feverish limb and looked seriously at him.
One of them went into the forest to find healing herbs. Others squatted silently around the fire and waited until she returned.
They took fresh betel nuts and chewed them and were lost in thought while gazing at the little flames. Occasionally, they spat small jets of red liquids into the fire; then whizzed the burning small embers and smothered.
Suddenly, they heard the faltering steps at the doorway. They turned themselves half around and looked with stern faces at the young man who was standing behind them. The women immediately recognized him and they nodded at him to come closer.
Ashamed, a bit shy while looking around him, the boy let himself squat and shoved among them near the fire. His eyes searched for the sick man, and when he saw him lie, his face became sober.
“How is it . . . . Is Yamuni sleeping?” he asked in a whisper and bowed over to the little old woman with gray hair who was sitting beside him.
The little woman shrugged her shoulders and spat, apparently unaffected, into the fire.
“Just tell us, Kaneri,” began one of the women and she stringently gazed with her sharp small eyes at him.
“You have fished, haven’t you? And then came the rain and it fell on you, in the middle of the sea. You came back soaking wet and Yamuni, the strongest man, became sick.
“Because of a small downpour,” she decided and glanced at him scornfully. “What would happen to our people if our young men become sick only because of some little water? No, Kaneri. Tell me the truth.”
The boy was startled and glanced at the skinny woman opposite him. The old, scrawny little woman, with her eyes as those of a rat: watery and yet very mean. And Kaneri, the frightened boy, was sad because his friend lay here while churning in his sleep and sometimes moaning softly.
Then, he looked down and began waveringly, “Yes, er . . ., we rowed up to the bay, Yamuni and I. We wanted to catch fish at the reef, er . . . .”
“At which reef?” the old woman suddenly snapped at him. “At ours, right? At the Makebon reef. Kaneri, don’t tell me that you’ve gone farther away,” she suddenly exhorted him in such a way that the other women were startled by her shooting, strident voice.
“Er . . . yes,” Kaneri nodded and he tried to talk very convincingly.
“Yes, certainly. But we didn’t catch a lot and then . . . .”
Then, he suddenly began to jabber off his story: “We didn’t catch any fish. Yamuni said: ‘Come, let’s go further on and try once more.’ We rowed across the bay and tried fishing once more, now close by the village of Yenkate. And suddenly things went better. We fished for a long time; then, I suddenly realized that the wind got up. Black clouds rushed from the mountain ridges over the bay. The wind screamed through the small clefts between the mountains on both edges of the bay.
“We were lying close by Yenkate; we could notice the houses on the beach.”
A shiver ran through the old woman; she nodded speechlessly.
But Kaneri continued: “And then the thunderstorm broke loose. The rain clattered down on our heads, but we rowed further as hard as we could. We were drenched. But it didn’t take a long time before our canoe drifted over the reefs of our own village. We pulled the boat on the dry ground, covered it up with some coconut leaves and ran for home.
“In the evening, Yamuni told me he felt warm and shivery. ‘I’m going to get some sleep,’ he said. And now he is sick,” Kaneri ended his story with a sigh.
“Why Kaneri . . .?” sounded the voice of the old little woman suddenly and her question was sharp and bitter as if she had already known the answer. “Why did you go fishing at the reefs of Yenkate? Don’t you know, Kaneri, that our village is forbidden to fish there? For years, it has been that way; our ancestors have taught us.”
“Yes, but . . .,” Kaneri hesitated. The guru, the guru said that we should no longer live in hostility with the people of Yenkate. Lord Jesus has offered Peace among all peoples. What the ancestors did was not good in His eyes.” He nodded and looked at the woman soberly. But she shrugged her shoulders again and laughed a bit sourly.
Two other stilted houses in Raja Ampat“What does the guru know to tell us about?” she said contemptuously. “He’s a stranger in our village. Only a short time ago did he come to live among us.
“And since then . . . .” She spat furiously into the fire. “Since then, our young men haven’t known what our ancestors have taught us. They neglect the old laws; they dishonor everything, what was originally sacred to them. And they do only that because a guru told them about things none of us has ever heard of.”
Suddenly, one of the women stood up. “We will seek the offender,” she said. “We will foretell it and if Yenkate is shown, we know that it has called up the spirits to take revenge on the offenders of the old laws.”
In the same evening, the offender was divined, and the lot cast pointed to Yenkate. But in the same night, while the guru was kneeling beside Yamuni and praying with him, the strongest man of Makebon died.
It was Christmas the next day; the school children were busy. They joined brightly colored flowers and fruits with long festoons; in such a way, the little church was decorated.
Together with the guru, the bigger boys made a big Christmas tree. In the soft bark of a young but small banana tree, they pricked the tree with long palm leaves and supported it with strong branches.
Then, they stuck candles into long but small bamboo holders and fastened them to the branches. It became a splendid tree. Tomorrow, tomorrow would be the celebration of the Child in the Manger, the joyful Christmas celebration!
But in the evening when the guru still had another look at the decorated church, a small boy sneaked off to him, very afraid and cautious.
And then he told the guru that the people from his village were preparing themselves for a crossing to the village of Yenkate, at the other side of the bay, to take revenge on the death of Yamuni.
***
Just after the break during the Christmas festivity; a half of the candles were burning out.
“People of Makebon,” said the guru, his hands holding firmly the edges of the small lectern while bowing his head forward and looking earnestly at the rows of properly dressed up people in front of him.
“We have celebrated Christmas, the festivity of the child of whom the angels sang ‘King of Peace.’ The Child who brings peace among the peoples.
“And we, here in Makebon . . . . We have buried a young man.”
The listeners were startled for a while when they heard this, but the voice of the guru suddenly sounded loud and grim.
“We who will be baptized; we, the people of Makebon . . . .
“In the dusk, we come together to meet, to draw up a war strategy because . . . soon, we will pull our canoes in the sea and prepare our machetes; we want to murder somebody because of our fear for the wrath of our ancestors concerning the death of one of our young men.
“Aren’t we Christians? Why don’t we harass the spirits; isn’t Lord Jesus after all on our side? No, people of Makebon.
“We will put out our candles; we’re going to end our Christmas celebration because tomorrow, we’re going to sail to Yenkate and we will continue our Christmas celebration together with them. That will be our revenge. Lord Jesus Himself has set us the example when He died for us. And we want to honor His offer.”
It remained quiet in the church, but then some men stood up and put out the candles, one by one – and by the light of some resin torches hurriedly lighted, all went outside and returned to their homes.
And just as the guru and his school children had agreed upon, it also happened. The next day, very early in the morning, a small canoe crossed over the bay to Yenkate; the guru and the oldest school children went to the village to ask the people whether they might celebrate Christmas with them tomorrow.
The village head was first very suspicious. They had heard about Yamuni’s death, and were watching out for revenge. What did those people want with their “Christmas celebration” here at this time?
But he finally gave in. Good, if people trusted him in such a way, why should they then have fear for them?
The school children shouted for joy and while singing they rowed with their guru back to Makebon.
So it happened that a Christmas was celebrated once more, but this time in Yenkate.
The guru told the story of the Child in the Manger and the school children sang as beautifully as they could accompanied by the small orchestra of bamboo flutes.
And when the candles were lighted, the village head invited the people for the feast.
Suddenly, a fright ran through the guests. Eating . . . that was really too dangerous! Since earlier times, people had already mixed magic spells with the food if they wanted to kill someone without his knowing this soon.
But the people of Yenkate thought: “Go ahead, then, if you have a lot of trust in us, just taste it.” And they looked in silent anticipation at their guests.
The guru understood why the people hesitated. He, therefore, stepped forward and called: “We are happy that we could celebrate Christmas together. The feast of peace and friendship. And that’s why we’re delighted to sit around the feast and stick our hands in the same dish with them, who were formerly our enemy.”
And he and the school children crouched down around the steamy dining pots and merrily laughed with one another.
Then, the others were also encouraged, and they went sitting, young men from Makebon near old women from Yenkate, little children from Makebon near those from the village on the other side of the Dorehum Bay.
That was the revenge of the Christians from Makebon.
And later, when their canoes came across those from the other village, the rowers then greeted one another; first hesitantly and then with broad laughter on their faces.
And often there were boys who went out fishing at the reefs of the other village.
Copyright © 2010. All rights reserved. Published with written permission from the author.
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