Arafat Nur lahir di Medan, 22 Desember 1974. Sejak usia SD pindah ke Aceh dan hidup dalam kecamuk perang saudara hingga dia dewasa. Sejumlah peristiwa di Aceh dituliskannya dalam puisi, cerita pendek, dan novel. Di sela-sela kesibukannya sebagai petani dan pekerja serabutan, dia gemar membaca buku-buku sejarah, filsafat, dan sastra.

Lampuki (Serambi, 2009) merupakan novelnya yang memenangkan Sayembara Novel Dewan Kesenian Jakarta (DKJ) 2010 dan meraih Khatulistiwa Literary Award 2011. Novelnya, Burung Terbang di Kelam Malam (Bentang Pustaka, 2014) telah diterjemahkan ke bahasa Inggris dengan judul A Bird Flies in the Dark of Night. Novel terbarunya Tanah Surga Merah (Gramedia, 2016) kembali memenangkan Sayembara Novel DKJ 2016. Arafat bisa dihubungi di arafatnur@yahoo.com

Hak cipta ©2017 ada pada Arafat Nur. Terbit atas izin dari penulis. Hak cipta terjemahan ©2017 ada pada Minerva Soedjatmiko.

 

 

Lelaki Ladang

 

Hasan mesti bergegas memetik cabai di sepetak tanah di lembah dekat alur yang airnya hampir kering. Bagian tanah lembah yang tidak terlalu luas itu menjadi tumpuan harapan penduduk Buket Kuta di saat kemarau sedang melanda. Kampung itu tersembunyi di kedalaman sunyi rimbunan kebun kelapa terlantar yang telah berubah hutan belukar, berjarak lima belas kilometer dari jalan raya Medan-Banda sepanjang Aceh Timur. Untuk mencapai Idi, kota kecamatan yang tidak ramai, orang harus mempuh dua puluh kilometer lagi. Penduduk Buket Kuta tidak mengenal kota kabupaten, apalagi kota provinsi yang entah di mana letaknya, bahkan dengan angan-angan pun sulit mereka gapai.

Hasan bisa melihat di seberang sana, sisa Kampung Kulam, kampungnya dulu yang sudah tidak berpenghuni lagi. Pada tahun 1999, setahun setelah Soeharto terpaksa meletakkan jabatannya sebagai presiden dan Jakarta menjadi kacau, para pejuang mengambil kesempatan menyerang pos-pos tentara, sebagai pelampiasan terhadap pemerintah. Mereka mengecam karena tidak mendapat bagian hasil yang adil dari sumber daya alam Aceh yang habis dikeruk pemerintah pusat. Ketidakpuasan atas ketidakadilan ini disuarakan melalui pemberontakan yang terus menerus dilakukan.

Di Kampung Bukit Kuta cuma sekitar lima belas keluarga saja yang tersisa dari kampung mati itu, termasuk Hasan sebagai kepala keluarga, yang oleh tentara tidak ditemukan bukti keterlibatannya ikut membangkang pada pemerintah.

Hasan memang masih ingat bahwa di awal-awal perlawanan, tidak ada paksaan terhadap pajak nanggroe dan orang-orang kaya memberikan sumbangan dengan suka rela. Waktu itu perang masih seumpama api dalam sekam dan belum terlalu muncul ke permukaan. Kaki tangan pejuang bisa leluasa berkeliaran ke mana saja, menemui pengusaha dan orang-orang kaya di kota tanpa khawatir dicurigai tentara.

Serdadu yang jumlahnya masih sedikit hanya kenal satu dua dalang pemberontakan lewat foto yang mereka bawa, juga lewat selebaran-selebaran yang mereka tempelkan di dinding kedai, dan meunasah sebagai seruan kepada masyarakat agar melaporkan kepada tentara bila ada yang melihat orang-orang dalam selebaran itu.

Namun, kala perang berlangsung lama dan keadaan para pejuang makin terjepit, mereka meminta uang dengan paksa pada siapa saja sebagai biaya perjuangan. Mereka tidak bisa lagi menemui orang-orang kaya di kota. Sehingga, pajak nanggroe kemudian diwajibkan pada penduduk kampung yang masih bisa didatangi, tak peduli bahwa kaum petani itu hidup menderita dan papa.

Hasan terengah menarik karung berisi panenan diantara tanaman cabai di ladang.

Kampung Kulam yang tinggal kenangan dan telah menjadi hutan besar, tempat ular dan babi bersarang. Di kampung itu pula banyak penduduk yang mati dan telah terkubur. Hasan teringat bapak, mak, dan adik perempuannya. Seketika air mata jatuh menimpa ujung sepatu bot karet yang selalu dipakainya di luar rumah.

***

Sambil memetik cabai, Hasan mengunyah sebatang alang-alang sambil mengingat kembali saat para tentara marah besar sebab seorang pejuang nekat menghadang truk tentara dan membunuh sepasukan serdadu dengan tembakan bazoka.

Ratusan tentara datang keesokan harinya membakar rumah-rumah, dan menembaki siapa saja. Kampung tempat Hasan tinggal jadi ladang pembantaian. Tak peduli perempuan dan anak-anak, beberapa dari mereka ikut terkapar bersama laki-laki yang rubuh ke tanah bersimbah darah. Beruntung bagi Hasan dan istrinya, mereka saat itu tidak sedang di rumah. Mereka berada di ladang.

Dari ladang yang berjarak sekitar satu kilometer dari rumah, mereka bisa mengetahui kegaduhan di pemukiman, teriakan-teriakan prajurit yang menghardik dan memaki, serta letusan tembakan berkali-kali yang getarannya sampai ke dada. Setiap kali bedil meletus, napas Hasan tertahan dan jantungnya berdebar. Saat letusan senjata terjadi saling sahut, seakan ada segerombolan lain balas menyerang, Hasan dan istrinya yang sedang bunting lari menghilang ke hutan.

Ketika sejumlah tentara itu pulang ke pos mereka masing-masing, Hasan menemukan kampungnya sudah rata. Tak ada lagi rumah orang tuanya, tak ada rumah tetangga, tak ada lagi rumah yang tersisa. Semua sudah musnah dibakar. Cuma mayat-mayat terkapar di halaman rumah, dan berserakan di ladang-ladang kelapa dan palawija. Hanya mereka yang berada jauh dari pemukiman saja yang selamat. Melihat semua itu, jiwa Hasan terguncang selama berhari-hari kemudian serupa orang hilang ingatan.

Ketika sadar, dia menangis. Mengutuki perang. Kemudian hari, setelah guncangan jiwanya mereda, dia belajar untuk lupa. Hidup di sini harus bisa melupakan luka. Hidup menuntutnya bekerja. Dia bersama istrinya membangun gubuk baru di kampungnya sekarang.

***

Ratusan, mungkin juga sudah ribuan kali tentara yang mendirikan pos di pinggir kampung Buket Kuta ini memeriksanya. Hampir saban hari isi rumahnya digeledah, setiap jengkalnya diperiksa, dan mereka tak pernah menemukan senjata. Meskipun begitu, setiap kali serdadu datang memeriksa dan mengawasi kampung itu, Hasan tetap menjadi bulan-bulanan penyiksaan, sebagaimana juga setiap lelaki yang mereka temui.

Tentara sengaja memukuli penduduk, agar orang-orang membenci pejuang. Tersebab pejuanglah mereka terus-terusan dianiaya. Karena tidak sanggup melawan prajurit-prajurit garang bersenjata lengkap itu, penduduk menjadi marah dan geram dengan orang-orang yang melawan pemerintah. Ketika serdadu datang, merekalah yang harus lari menyelamatkan diri ke hutan untuk menghindari penyiksaan.

Setiap kali tentara meninggalkan kampung-kampung sehabis memburu pejuang, Mando Gapi dan anak buahnya selalu muncul bagai dari dalam bumi. Panglima Sagoe, petinggi pejuang kecamatan, itu tetap menuntut pembayaran pajak. Lelaki berahang persegi itu tidak peduli terhadap keadaan penghuni kampung yang teramat susah.

Agaknya dia begitu kesulitan mencari anggota baru yang mau diajaknya berperang melawan serdadu pemerintah. Banyak sudah orang yang mati, dan yang tersisa begitu ketakutan ketika melihat senjata.

“Hutangmu pada kami semakin menumpuk, dan akan lunas semuanya jika kau bergabung dengan kami!” sergah Mando Gapi.

“Aku punya anak, Bang,” ibanya.

“Selalu itu alasanmu!”

“Aku tidak tahu harus bagaimana.”

“Kau masih beruntung punya keluarga. Kami tak punya siapa-siapa lagi selain senjata. Apa pun alasanmu, kau harus tetap membayar pajak. Itu adalah tanggung-jawab orang yang tidak mau ikut berperang!”

“Tapi, aku tak punya uang, Bang,” kata Hasan.

“Bukankah cabaimu hampir panen?”

“Tapi, aku belum memetiknya. Hutangku pada Dullah juga banyak,” keluh Hasan.

“Kau selalu mengeluh. Berperang pun menolak. Jadi jasa apa yang bisa kau sumbangkan demi kepentingan orang banyak, dan demi martabat bangsa Aceh yang sudah habis dinjak-injak pemerintah? Mereka merampas hasil bumi kita, menguras minyak, gas, dan menebang kayu-kayu untuk kertas. Ketika menuntut untuk merdeka, mereka mengirimkan tentara, membunuh lelaki dan memperkosa perempuan-perempuan kita. Pantaskah sekarang kau berdiam diri saja?”

“Kalau aku tidak punya anak dan istri, aku juga akan ikut berperang, Bang,” balas Hasan gugup.

“Alah, kata-katamu itu sungguh tidak meyakinkan. Kau tidak menunjukkan bukti apa-apa. Untuk memberikan pajak nanggroe saja kau kerap menghindar. Lihat kami yang telah mengorbankan semua harta kami untuk membeli senjata dan rela hidup sengsara di hutan yang selalu dalam intaian dan ancaman senjata serdadu laknat!”

Hasan mendengus bingung, “Aku tidak tahu, Bang.”

Mando Gapi menepuk keningnya, menggeleng-geleng, lantas berkacak pinggang.

“Dengar,” ucap Mando Gapi. “Aku ini mau berbaik hati padamu. Kaupetik itu cabai, jual, dan sisakan uangnya untuk kami. Aku akan mengambilnya besok atau lusa!”

Hasan terpaku di beranda rumahnya, memandangi Mando Gapi yang berbalik badan, meninggalkan rumahnya.

Sepeninggalan Mando Gapi, Hasan beringsut lunglai, menjongkok, lalu bersandar pada dinding rumah. Tiba-tiba tubuhnya begitu lemah, tak bertenaga, bahkan untuk berdiri saja sulit. Kata-kata Mando Gapi yang memaksa, berikut ancaman-ancaman yang bernada lunak, ditambah perkara utang-piutang di kedai Dullah, membuat kepala Hasan pening dan telinganya berdenging-denging.

Reza, anaknya yang berumur tiga tahun, muncul dari dalam rumah, menghampirinya, mengusik ketenggelaman dirinya dalam kegamangan.

Hasan menarik tangan anaknya ke dalam pangkuan, membelai-belai kepala bocah itu, sedangkan matanya menerawang jauh dengan pikiran tidak menentu. Dia terjepit antara Mando Gapi dan tentara. Sekarang juga dia harus memetik cabenya!

***

Sudah pasti prajurit yang tinggal di pos pinggir kampung itu mencium gelagat Mando Gapi menyusup ke kampung Buket Kuta. Karenanya para lelaki di kampung terpaksa melarikan diri ke hutan jika tidak ingin jadi bulan-bulanan mereka. Pagi tadi Hasan pulang, setelah teperangkap lima hari lima malam dalam hutan, kurang tidur, gelisah tidak menentu, dan tubuhnya begitu lelah. Di gubuk ditemui Saudah, istrinya, lagi tersedu. Reza, merengek-rengek minta makan.

“Kita tak punya apa-apa lagi, Bang. Beras habis,” ucap Saudah pilu.

Hasan menjawab dengan tatapan pedih. Perutnya juga perih. Bukan hanya wajahnya yang kumuh, otaknya juga lusuh. Hasan begitu geram, tak henti-henti mengutuk perang laknat itu.

Kalau saja hutangnya tidak menumpuk di kedai Dullah, dia pasti sudah melesat ke sana. Namun, dia begitu malu menemui lelaki empat puluhan itu untuk mengutang barang tiga bambu beras dan dua ons ikan asin. Dullah belum tentu bersedia memberikannya sebab hutang lama belum juga terbayar. Hasan membayangkan dirinya tidak akan sanggup menghadapi Dullah yang akan terus-terusan mengeluh rugi pada siapa saja yang datang mengutang.

Hasan tahu, setiap kali sepasukan tentara masuk ke kampung itu, Dullah terpaksa merelakan barang-barangnya, berikut beberapa rupiah uang di laci, yang langsung dikeruk tentara, seolah itu semua milik mereka. Dullah akan menyaksikan penjarahan miliknya di depan mata, tanpa berusaha menentang. Sikap tanpa perlawanan demikian, menyelamatkannya dari siksaan pasukan beringas yang sibuk memukuli dan menendang pantat dua tiga penduduk yang kebetulan sedang berkeliaran di sekitar kedai. Sambil melayangkan tendangan, mereka menunding wajah-wajah kotor petani itu sebagai pemberontak.

***

Hasan membuka kaus kumalnya yang koyak di sana-sini, lalu memukuli kepalanya dengan tangannya yang kekar. Bau pesing, bekas kencing anaknya di lantai tanah itu semakin membuatnya pusing. Dia berpikir keras sambil berjalan mondar-mandir di ruang sempit itu, dan beberapa kali hampir menginjak kaki Reza yang menyebabkannya menjerit.

Saudah membelah dua bagian mentimun yang dibawa pulang suaminya, yang ditemui Hasan di sebuah lading terlantar saat meninggalkan tempat persembunyian. Separuh dari mentimun itu diberikan pada Reza yang membuat anak itu seketika diam. Bocah itu dengan rakusnya mengigiti potongan mentimun itu. Airnya muncrat, meleleh di sekitar mulutnya.

Ketika Hasan duduk di lantai, Saudah datang dengan sebotol minyak tanah. Kulit hitam itu bengkak-bengkak serupa bekas gigitan serangga. Saudah mengoleskan minyak tanah itu ke sekujur badan lelakinya.

Hasan tahu betapa istrinya begitu mencintainya, dan Saudah juga tahu betapa suaminya sangat mencintai dia. Namun, mereka kehilangan cara untuk menanggapi atau menerima. Di tengah kemelut dan penderitaan yang begitu menyesakkan selain dari ketakutan semua perasaan terasa asing, seolah perang tak memberikan ruang sedikit pun untuk cinta.

“Sampai hutan mana Abang lari?”

“Hutan Damar.”

“Jauh sekali?”

“Tentara terus mengejar kami. Pasukan kami memancing tembakan. Mungkin ada tentara yang kena tembak. Laki-laki yang ingin selamat terpaksa melarikan diri bersama kelompok pejuang yang terus menyingkir ke tepi hutan.” Hasan memijit betisnya yang terasa pegal dan menyambung, “Serdadu pemerintah tidak akan memperbedakan lagi raut wajah petani dari wajah pemberontak, bentuk rupa mereka sama. Bau tubuh mereka juga sama, sebagaimana bau tubuh kumuh orang yang jarang mandi. Patutlah tentara mengamuk hari itu. Rupanya kami berhasil menembak salah satu dari mereka.”

Hasan berhenti sejenak dan melayangkan pandangan ke Saudah. “Apa yang mereka lakukan di sini?”

“Orang-orang termasuk anak-anak dikumpulkan di meunasah. Beberapa anak laki dipukul. Menuding-nuding bapak mereka penyebab seorang prajurit terbunuh.” Saudah mendesah.

“Kau diapakan mereka?”

“Cuma dibentak.”

Hasan terdiam sejenak lalu bertanya, “Mereka tak mengambil barang-barang dalam rumah?”

“Tidak. Mungkin tidak ada lagi barang yang akan mereka ambil. Tapi, mereka begitu kesal dan mengamuk. Ternak-ternak yang mereka lihat ditembaki.” Saudah menjelaskan.

“Kambing kita?” wajah Hasan cemas.

“Juga mati.”

“Kau tak memasaknya?”

“Bangkainya mereka bawa.”

Hasan menyentak tubuhnya, melesat lewat pintu. Dia berlari-lari ke kebun belakang, melewati pohon-pohon kelapa yang setahun belakangan ini engan berbuah. Kemarau membuat kuning daun-daunnya, dan banyak pelepah tercampak ke tanah. Hasan berhenti berlari. Kedua tangannya memukul-mukul kepalanya.

“Memang jahanam!”pekiknya. Dia berjalan gontai melewati semak-semak. Di dekat pematang sawah, tumbuh beberapa batang singkong. Sepintas ditatapnya batang-batang padi yang masih menancap ke tanah seperti seikat kecil batang lidi. Daunnya kering. Tanah tempat batang padi itu menancap pecah-pecah, retak di sana-sini. Padahal dia sudah banyak menghabiskan tenaganya untuk membajak dan mengurus tanaman di sepetak sawah itu, belum lagi kerugian biji gabah sebagai bibit yang akhirnya binasa. Tumbuhan padi itu tidak akan menghasilkan apa-apa, selain kurasan tenaga dan seperempat karung gabah yang terbuang sia-sia.

Di kebun singkong Hasan mengepalkan tinjunya dengan geram melihat batang-batang umbi tercerabut. Ada bekas kekasaran terjadi di sana. Tapak-tapak babi hutan itu sebagai bukti. Hasan memaki-maki. Perutnya perih. Dia teringat perut istri dan anaknya.

Akhirnya dibawa pulang juga sisa-sisa singkong yang masih tinggal di dalam tanah, yang tidak bisa dijarah babi hutan. Hasan mengorek sisa-sisa umbi yang masih tertinggal dalam tanah seperti ayam yang mengorek tanah mencari cacing. Umbi-umbi yang masih serupa akar kayu itu memang keras karena belum berisi.

Sesampai di gubug, Hasan menyerahkan ubi hasil korekannya ke Saudah. Dia kemudian merebus akar kayu yang keras itu tanpa bersuara.

Meskipun masih tengah hari, tubuh Hasan menginginkan tidur. Tubuhnya begitu keletihan sekembalinya dari pelarian, ditambah kurang tidur karena tidak ada tempat tidur selama di hutan, ditambah pula perasaannya yang tidak nyaman. Selama lima hari terperangkap di hutan, dia bersama pemberontak dan petani lainnya hanya tidur-tidur ayam. Perasaan cemas selalu menghantui, membuat mereka terjaga sebentar-bentar.

Setelah lama dia membolak-balikkan tubuh di ranjang kamar, mata lelahnya tidak kunjung bisa terpejam. Begitu pula keinginannya bercumbu yang terkadang timbul tak tentu waktu, yang kapan saja bisa berkobar, tak peduli siang, tapi tidak ada nyala gairah sama sekali meskipun istrinya kemudian ikut merebahkan diri di sampingnya.

“Aku mau petik cabai,” Hasan meloncat dari ranjang, lalu menyambar karung kosong di sisi pintu.

***

Sekarang, dengan bersemangat Hasan mondar mandir di antara tanaman cabai mengisi karungnya. Tangan kekar itu agak gemetaran menyambar buah-buah cabai, tidak peduli merah atau hijau. Tangannya seolah begitu terampil, cepat menyambar buah itu pada tiap-tiap batang yang bergelayut. Tetapi, seringkali pula tangan itu menyambar daun, yang disangkanya buah hijau. Kadangkala buah busuk yang tangkainya masih menempel di dahan ikut terenggut dalam genggamannya. Dia berusaha memusatkan pikiran pada pekerjaannya, tapi sering gagal. Selalu saja ada bayangan menganggu yang berkitaran tak jauh darinya.

Hasan sendiri di sana, lenyap dalam kesunyian senja. Seraya memetik cabai, seringkali dia tebarkan pandangannya ke sekeling begitu dirasakan ada sosok lain yang hadir, seolah telah berdiri di belakangnya selayak hantu. Dia begitu khawatir kalau tiba-tiba sepasukan tentara sudah berdiri mengelilinginya—itu kerap terjadi karena pasukan pengintai sering mengendap di semak-semak selama berjam-jam dan muncul tiba-tiba tanpa menimbulkan suara.

Para prajurit tidak akan percaya lagi kalau dirinya cuma seorang lelaki ladang. Sekalipun petani, di petang hampir gelap semacam ini tidak ada lagi yang berkeliaran di ladang. Kecuali pemberontak kelaparan yang sedang mencuri tanaman petani.

Hasan ingin lekas-lekas menyudahi pekerjaannya. Tangganya itu begitu cepat menyambar, tanpa peduli pucuk-pucuk cabai muda yang ikut terengut. Dia tahu, harga cabai lagi mahal. Kalau buah-buah cabai itu habis dipetiknya maka dia bisa menukarkan dengan satu karung beras, cukup bagi keluarganya untuk bertahan selama sebulan, tanpa perlu mendengar keluhan istri dan rengekan anaknya yang minta makan.

Jalur pokok cabai yang sudah dipetik itu bagai dijamah binatang liar. Batang-batangnya patah, dan beberapa buah berserakan di tanah bersama daun-daunnya yang gugur dan tercerabut dari tangannya. Hasan menyadari kerusakan tanaman cabainya itu, dia tahu daun-daun pada cabang-cabang yang patah itu nantinya akan layu berguguran.

Terasa begitu lambat pekerjaan itu, dan waktu begitu cepat melesat. Kini buah masak, hijau, bahkan putik dan busuk masuk ke dalam karung. Nanti malam di rumah dia bisa memisahkannya dari buah yang bagus. Karung itu sudah penuh. Hasan segera bangkit. Dadanya berdebar-debar begitu disadari hari sudah meremang. Perasaannya bercampur aduk antara senang dan ketakutan. Terbayang pula istri dan anaknya yang menunggunya dengan cemas membawa pulang beras.

Secepatnya dia mengikat mulut karung itu dengan tali plastik bekas. Lalu menyeretnya di jalan setapak yang diapit ilalang tebal. Matanya menyebar ke segala arah. Sengaja dia tidak memikul karung itu supaya tidak kelihatan jika ada orang yang menengoknya dari jauh. Hasan berjalan mengendap-endap sambil menyeret karung cabainya.

Ketika melalui jalan setapak yang terhalang semak-semak tinggi, Hasan bisa berjalan tegak dan merasa lega. Kalaupun ada orang di kejauhan sana, mereka tidak akan melihatnya. Hutan belukar di sekeliling melindunginya dari pandangan orang-orang.

Hasan teringat istri dan anak. Dia sadar bahwa meskipun apa yang terjadi dia harus tetap ke ladang, menanam padi, singkong, dan cabai. Padi dan singkong bisa dimakan. Cabai dijualnya pada Bang Dullah. Jika kena harga, istrinya bisa belanja ke Pasar Idi, beli baju, dan barang-barang lainnya. Dia tidak mau ikut-ikutan berperang dengan hidup tidak menentu. Keinginannya cuma sederhana, hidup bahagia,seadanya, bersama istri dan anaknya.

Sekonyong-konyong, seperti bayangan hantu berkelebat, beberapa sosok berpakaian loreng menyergapnya dekat semak-semak situ. Tentara. Hasan terkesiap, karung cabai di tangannya terlepas. Sebelum suaranya sempat keluar, sesuatu yang keras telah menghantam tengkuknya dengan begitu kuat. Hasan langsung rubuh terjerembab ke tanah. Tubuhnya tidak berkutik lagi.

***

Kegemaran Minerva Soedjatmiko akan semua bentuk bacaan dimulai dari Bundanya, yang kerap membacakannya buku-buku tentang tokoh ilmuwan /seniman seperti Leonardo Da Vinci. Kemudian, di bangku SD, Minerva sering ditemukan di perpustakaan, membaca novel dalam berbagai rupa. Setelah disarankan meraih pekerjaan di bidang yang lebih menjamin penghasilan, ia mempelajari ilmu ekonomi dan hukum di jenjang universitas. Namun, Minerva tidak dapat melupakan semangatnya dan rasa bahagia pada saat berbagi kecintaan membaca dengan orang lain; pada akhirnya, Minerva memutuskan untuk beralih menjadi guru bahasa. Kini Minerva bekerja sebagai jurubahasa dan penerjemah di suatu perusahaan yang bergerak di bidang media dan komunikasi. Minerva bisa dihubungi di minerva.soedjarmiko@cdcplus.co.id

 

 

 

Man of the Fields

 

Hasan hurriedly harvested the chili peppers growing on a patch of land near the stream that was starting to run dry. The farmers of Buket Kuta placed their hopes on the harvest of this small area of the valley when the dry season hit. Their village was tucked away in the deep silence of coconut groves that, neglected, had turned into overgrown woods, some nine miles off the main road between Medan and Banda, along Eastern Aceh. Idi, the closest small city, was about thirteen miles farther. Without any available public transportation, the villagers never ventured out. They had no idea what the world beyond Buket Kuta looked like.

Hasan gazed across the valley at what remained of Kampung Kulam. The village where he had grown up was now abandoned. In 1999, a year after Indonesia’s President Soeharto was forced to step down and the government in Jakarta fell into chaos, rebels in Aceh began attacking army posts in retaliation against the government. The rebels claimed that the government had exploited the natural resources that belonged to the most northern province of Sumatra, and the Acehnese had not received their fair share of proceeds. Their discontent erupted in a series of protests.

Hasan was the breadwinner of one of fifteen families from Kampung Kulam who now lived in Buket Kuta. The soldiers had found no evidence of him being involved in revolts against the government.

Hasan still remembered the beginning of the rebellion against the government. At that time, there had been no coercion in collecting what the rebels called pajak nanggroe—contributions to support the uprising. Resentment against the government was widespread, and the rich city folks who supported the rebels’ cause gladly made donations. The war was merely a spark of discontent; something similar to an ember held in a damp chaff to keep from flaring. Rebels moved around freely to meet with businessmen and wealthy people in the city without fear of drawing the millitary’s suspicion.

The few government soldiers there were back then only recognized one or two of the rebel organizers. The army affixed posters with photographs of the rebels to the walls of shops and meunasah, the prayer house, encouraging the community to report any sightings of the people shown on these flyers to the authorities.

The war dragged on, however, and the rebels became cornered and financially pressured. They began to exhort money from everyone. When the wealthy residents fled, the rebels turned a blind eye to the peasants’ hardships and poverty and made the nanggroe dues compulsory for villagers as well.

Hasan sighed and pulled his harvesting sack across the path between the chili beds. Kampung Kulam was but a memory; it had become a dense forest that snakes and boars called home. Numerous villagers had been killed and buried there. Hasan thought of his father, mother, and younger sister. Tears fell onto the rubber boots he always wore when leaving home.

***

As he harvested, Hasan chewed a reed and recalled the army’s wrath after a rebel blocked their truck and killed a battalion of soldiers with a bazooka. Hundreds of soldiers arrived the next day to punish Kampung Kulam, burning homes and shooting everyone in sight. The village that Hasan had called home became a slaughterhouse. Blood flooded the ground as women and children were killed along with the men. Luckily, at the time, Hasan and his wife were out in the fields.

Even though the field was more than half a mile away from home, they could hear the soldiers’ shouting as gunshots reverberated through the air. Each time there was an eruption of gunfire, Hasan’s breath caught in his throat and his heart pounded. When he noticed the artillery fire being returned, Hasan and his pregnant wife ran to hide in the forest.

Once the soldiers returned to their posts, Hasan found that his village had been razed; there was not a single home left standing. Everything had been burned to the ground. Bodies littered the yards of what used to be homes; more were scattered in the fields among the coconut trees and crops. Only those who happened to be far away from the village had survived. The sight of it all shook Hasan, and he suffered from a kind of amnesia for days.

When his senses returned to him, Hasan broke into tears and cursed the war. Only over time did he learn to forget. Living here required the ability to forget pain. Life demanded him to work. Thus, he and his wife built a new hut in Buket Kuta, where they now lived.

***

The soldiers at the post on the outskirts of Buket Kuta searched the village hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of times. They searched Hasan’s home almost every day, but never found any weapons. Nevertheless, each time the troops patrolled the village, Hasan and other males were always a target of their anger.

The military abused the farmers to make them hate the rebels for causing the military persecution. Helpless to fight back against the heavily armed soldiers, the villagers could only run away and seek sanctuary in the forest.

Each time the military departed after their raids, Mando Gapi and his men appeared. The square-jawed commander of the rebels demanded the villagers pay the nanggroe dues without considering how they suffered. He was having trouble finding new members willing to join the fight against the military. So many lives had been lost; those still standing shuddered at the sight of a weapon.

“Your growing debt would be paid off if you joined us,” Mando Gapi barked.

“I have a child, sir,” Hasan pleaded.

“You always use that excuse!”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re lucky to even have a family. We have no one, just weapons. It doesn’t matter what you’re dealing with, you still have to pay up. That’s the price of not participating in the war!”

“But…I have no money, sir.”

“Aren’t your chili peppers about ready for harvesting?”

“But, I haven’t picked them. Besides, I owe Dullah, the village grocer, a lot of money.”

“You always complain. You won’t even join the war. What do you contribute to the greater good, to defend the honor of the Acehnese as the government tramples us? They’re seizing our oil and gas, destroying our forests to manufacture paper. And when we demand independence, they send their troops to kill our men and rape our women. Is it right that you remain silent in the face of all this?”

“If I didn’t have a wife and child, I would join the war, sir,” Hasan answered nervously.

“Come on, you aren’t fooling anyone. You can’t prove to have contributed anything. You even avoid paying the nanggroe dues. Look at us. We’ve sacrificed all of our possessions to buy weapons and lead a miserable existence in the forest under constant watch of those damned soldiers!”

“I don’t know, sir,” Hasan mumbled, confused.

Mando Gapi slapped his forehead, shook his head, and put his hands on his hips. “Look, I’m trying to be nice. Go, pick those peppers, sell them, and give us some of the money. I’ll come back for it tomorrow or the day after!”

Hasan, standing frozen on his porch, stared at Mando Gapi as the man turned around and walked away.

As soon as Mando Gapi left, Hasan slumped. He suddenly felt incredibly frail, powerless to the point that standing was a challenge in itself. Crouching, he leaned against a wall. Mando Gapi’s threats, on top of his debt at Dullah’s shop, made Hasan’s head spin and his ears ring.

Reza, his three-year-old son, walked toward him from inside the house.

Hasan pulled his son onto his lap. Stroking the boy’s head, he gazed into the distance, thoughts tumbling through his head. He was stuck between the army and Mando Gapi. He needed to harvest his peppers immediately.

***

The army had tracked Mando Gapi to Buket Kuta. Their search forced all adult males in the village to flee to the forest again. After hiding there for five days and five nights, Hasan had returned home that morning. He was exhausted. Sleep deprivation and an undefined restlessness had caused his entire body to be sore. His wife, Saudah, greeted him, weeping. Reza bawled for food.

“We don’t have anything anymore, dear. We finished the rice,” Saudah told him.

Hasan responded with a pained look. His stomach ached as well. Not only was his face ragged, his mind too was worn out. Hasan furiously condemned this cursed war.

If only he did not have so much debt accrued at Dullah’s shop, he would surely have rushed over there. But Hasan was overcome with shame at the thought of asking the middle-aged man for a bit of salted fish and rice on credit. Considering Hasan’s prior debts, Dullah might not be willing to provide him with these staples. The shopkeeper always complained of his losses to anyone who borrowed from him.

Hasan knew that each time troops entered the village, Dullah was forced to surrender his inventory to them, along with however many rupiah were in the drawer. The army picked everything clean and acted as if they owned it all.

Each time, Dullah watched them loot his shop without any attempt to resist. This conduct saved him from the abuse served up by the soldiers, who instead busied themselves with kicking villagers who happened to be wandering by the shop. As the kicks hit their marks, the soldiers threw accusations at the farmers’ dirty faces, alleging they were rebels.

***

Hasan took off his stained and tattered shirt and slapped his head with a burly hand. The stench of urine where his son had wet the dirt floor made his headache worse. Pacing the tight space, he barely missed stepping on Reza’s foot, causing the child to scream.

Saudah split the cucumber Hasan had found in an abandoned field as he was leaving his hiding place in the forest. She handed a piece to Reza, which immediately quieted him. As the toddler bit into the cucumber, its juices squirted and dripped from his mouth.

Hasan sat down on the floor; his dark skin was covered with little welts similar to bug bites. Saudah came to him with a bottle of kerosene and rubbed the kerosene all over her husband’s body to soothe the welts.

Hasan knew how much his wife loved him; Saudah knew how much he loved her. And yet they had lost the ability to respond to or receive such emotions. Amidst the peril and misery that smothered each day, every emotion other than fear felt strange; war left no room for love.

“How far did you go this time?”

“To the Damar Forest.”

“That far?”

“The soldiers kept coming after us. Our men opened fire and shot one of them. The soldiers were furious. Whoever wanted to stay alive was forced to join the rebels, who ran into the forest.” Hasan rubbed his calves and continued, “The soldiers made no effort to distinguish farmers from rebels—to them, we all look the same. Our filthy bodies even smell the same. But it’s no wonder the soldiers were furious; we did shoot one of them.”

Hasan paused and sent Saudah a scrutinizing look. “What did they do here?”

“They gathered people, including children, in the meunasah. Several boys were beaten. Their fathers were accused of causing the death of a soldier.” Saudah sighed.

“What did they do to you?”

“They just scolded me.”

“They didn’t take anything from our house?”

“No. There isn’t anything left for them to take. They were really mad. They shot whatever livestock they saw.”

“Our goat?” Concern was written all over Hasan’s face.

“Dead.”

“Did you cook it?”

“They took the carcass.”

Hasan pulled away and darted out the door. He ran to the back garden, past the coconut trees that had refused to bear fruit for the past year. The drought had turned the leaves yellow and caused the ribs to drop to the ground. Hasan stopped running. He beat his head with both hands.

“Damn it all!” he screamed, stumbling through the bushes. Close to the narrow walk bordering the rice paddies, a few cassava plants had sprouted. Stalks of rice still rose from the soil like tiny bundles of thin sticks; the leaves were parched. He had plowed the land and tended to the seedlings on this plot. Yet, the ground of the rice paddies was hard and cracked. The plants had perished, the seed wasted.

At the cassava patch, Hasan clenched his fists when he saw the uprooted plants. Boar tracks explained the damage. Hasan cursed. His stomach hurt; he thought of his wife’s and child’s stomachs.

He eventually decided to take home the boars’ leftovers. Hasan dug for the remaining roots with his hands like a scavenger. The immature tubers were hard, like tree roots.

At home, Hasan handed Saudah the meager harvest.

She silently boiled the thin, tough roots.

Though it was only noon, Hasan yearned for sleep. During the five days he was trapped in the woods, he could only catnap along with the other farmers and the rebels. A ceaseless anxiety kept everyone awake.

After a while of tossing and turning on his cot, Hasan still could not fall asleep. Neither was his passion aroused when he looked at his wife. Although he had been away from home for five days, and normally his desire for her could be sparked at any time of the day or night, he remained unmoved, even after she lay down next to him.

“I’m going to pick the chili peppers,” he told her, jumping out of bed and grabbing an empty sack next to the door.

***

Now Hasan moved between the chili beds with an urgency to fill his harvest bag. His calloused hands trembled slightly as he picked the peppers, regardless of the fruit being red or green. His fingers, skilled and swift, plucked each pepper from every hanging stem. Sometimes, in his haste, he seized the rotten ones that had not fallen off the stem. He tried to stay focused on the task at hand, but failed miserably. A shadow followed him relentlessly, circling nearby.

Hasan was alone as twilight draped the field. While gathering the peppers, he could not keep himself from looking around as if there was another presence, someone standing behind him like a ghost. He worried about suddenly being surrounded by a military squad. Soldiers on surveillance often concealed themselves in the bushes for hours before unexpectedly appearing without a sound.

They would never believe that he was merely a man working the fields. No one would still be wandering in the fields when it was almost dark. Unless, of course, they were starving rebels stealing the farmers’ crops.

Hasan wanted to get the job done quickly. He knew the price of chili peppers was at a high. If he could harvest them all, he would be able to buy a sack of rice, enough for his family to live on for a month. His wife would have no need to complain, and his son would not beg to be fed.

The row of peppers he had picked looked like wild animals had foraged there. Some branches were broken, some fruit scattered on the dirt. Hasan realized the damage. He knew the broken branches would wither and drop their leaves.

He seemed to make such little progress while time passed so quickly. Now, all chili peppers—ripe, green, or still in bud, and even the rotten ones—were bagged. The sack was full. He could sort the good from the bad later that evening at home.

Hasan straightened himself. His heart pounded when he realized how late it was. Delight and fear filled him. He imagined his wife and son, anxiously waiting for him to come home with rice.

Hasan hurriedly tied the top of the sack with a used plastic strap. He looked in all directions, then dragged the bag down a path between thick weeds. He deliberately did not carry the sack on his back, to avoid being noticed from afar. Hasan crept forward, lugging the bag behind him.

When he reached a portion of the path that was blocked from view by high shrubs, Hasan was able to walk upright and felt relieved. Even if there were soldiers out there, they would not be able to spot him. The surrounding grove gave him cover.

Hasan thought of his wife and child. Come what may, he must always return to the fields to plant rice, cassava, and chili peppers. The rice and cassava could be eaten. The peppers could be sold to Dullah. If the price was right, his wife would be able to buy groceries, clothes, and other things at the Idi Market. Hasan had no wish to join the war. He merely wanted to live a happy life with his wife and child.

Suddenly, like the silhouette of a ghost passing by, several figures dressed in camouflage jumped out of the nearby bushes. Soldiers.

Hasan gasped and let go of the sack of peppers. Something hard slammed into the nape of his neck. Before he could utter a sound, Hasan collapsed.

***