~~~~~
Bandri and Harta were on look-out duty as most of the tribe crowded into the two rooms of Agung’s house. Both sisters now had short hair, and both were dressed in fishermen tops and kathoks. The transformation was striking, but not yet totally convincing.
“They still need to dust their legs and arms with mud or something,” commentated Eko.
Listeri looked disapprovingly at her husband.
“Something - but not mud – and something on their necks just here.”
Kusama tried to be encouraging:
“At a distance they will look much more like older boys now.”
Praba sucked his lip as he studied the outfits. He was not convinced.
“There is still something about the outline – they look too.. smooth..”
Puteri interrupted her husband.
“What he means is that..” she picked up some spare fabric and quickly folded it up.
“..maybe a little padding might help here ..” tucking it under the fabric on one of Lela’s shoulders. Joyah joined in: “..and maybe here.”
Lyana tousled her sister’s hair a little, saying airily:
“Is that more like a boy?”
Praba gazed at Lela, and she smiled modestly in his direction. His appreciation of her youthful beauty needed little stimulating, but her alluring coyness as she looked at him generated a powerful tingle of sexual excitement. When he first saw the sisters in Pantai, a bolt of awareness had flashed through him. Now they were living here in Likupang, a profound yearning was taking hold; Lela in particular he found intensely desirable. Forgetting himself, Praba blurted out:
“They’ll see her smile!”
Joyah and Puteri both turned towards him and glowered at his apparent insensitivity.
“Alright, alright,” Praba said amicably. “They just have to look and behave like boys do.”
“We will try our best,” said Lyana. “When we are outside we can use the bow and act like boys do.”
“My daughters understand this is important,” said Eko placidly. “We have been talking about this. Agung agrees that they should also be seen to do some wrestling on the beach. We asked Bandri if he will kindly show them some wrestling in the house first, and then he can pretend to wrestle with them on the beach.”
Agung stood at the back of the room, quietly observing the proceedings.
“They – they will have to be careful,” Praba faltered, trying his best to hide the feelings of surprise and jealousy that swept over him.
The chattering visitors had left Agung’s house now. Listeri stayed with her husband in their room, while the young women dressed as boys were in the next room, adjacent to the work shed. Raharjo had just gone off with Harta. Agung was about to walk out into his work shed, thinking that Lyana and Lela were now going to change their clothes.
“Agung,” Lyana said softly “You haven’t said anything about our outfits.. What do you think?”
He had been standing at the back of the room, feeling that he should not say anything, happy just to watch and keep his thoughts to himself. He turned back into the room to look at them both. Lyana stood there, gently smiling at him with her head on one side, while Lela waited quietly behind her with slightly raised eyebrows as if asking a question.
His heart skipped a beat - they wanted his opinion. How could he tell them what he really thought? To him they looked wonderful whatever they were wearing. Then he knew for certain - he had told Eko the truth. His mouth went dry. He swallowed and couldn’t help but give a little cough, as he struggled to find words.
“Are you alright?” Lyana asked with concern in her voice, but with eyes that smouldered as she stepped closer. She put a hand soothingly against his throat, looking confidently into his blinking eyes as his words stumbled:
“Yes.. yes, fine – thank you.”
“I want to thank you,” Lyana said with a soft dulcet tone, pausing as she moved her hand tenderly to the side of his neck. “For saving me from those men.”
Before he could utter a word in reply he found himself yielding to the slightest pressure from her fingers as she pulled his head down towards her. She planted a single kiss on his unsuspecting lips.
Just after the mesmerised man was released from the kiss, Lela kissed him delicately on his cheek while his head was still bent low.
“Thank you for looking after us,” she whispered close to his ear.
In his splendid stupor he managed to remember Lyana’s question:
“I like your outfits.. very much,” he stammered as he raised his head.
Not knowing what else to say, and blinking as if blinded by a bright light, he hesitantly backed through the door way, gently closing the door.
After the meeting in Agung’s house Melati and Sukma had gone to look after Musang in his cage. They sat quietly chatting to one another as Musang lay in Sukma’s lap.
“Sssh, look,” whispered Sukma. “My brother’s just come out - maybe he’s going to try on the wig.”
Through the small gaps in the cage wall they could see across to Agung’s work shed. If they kept still and talked very quietly, they knew he probably wouldn’t notice them spying on him. They watched as Agung simply stood looking at the door for some time, as if in a trance.
“He’s just standing there – doing nothing,” Melati whispered. “What’s wrong with him?”
“There you are – now he’s looking at the wig,” Sukma sniggered.
Agung still appeared to be thinking about the wig as he held it in his hands.
“He’s taking a long time – go on, put it on!” urged Sukma with whispers of pent-up anticipation.
At last, he looked quickly about to check that he was alone, and then put it on.
Melati and Sukma desperately stifled their joyous giggles.
He appeared to get it on back to front at first. Pushing it about and stroking the hair down around his face it began to look convincing. Evidently still uncertain, he pulled out the gleaming machete and tried to peer at himself in its partial reflection.
The two girls now had tears of laughter rolling down their cheeks, but were forced to clamp their hands over their mouths, fearing that he would hear them. At length he ventured out into the open, walking slowly, head held upright, right past Musang’s cage down towards the other men working on the half-finished boat.
The Tropical Sun - Belief, Love and Hate Page 27
