Selendang Bersulam Putih

Posted on February 1, 2018 by Dalang Publishing

“Nah ini dia!” seru Zubaedah sambil menjangkau dan mengeluarkan sebuah selendang yang tersuruk di antara lipatan-lipatan kain dalam lemari pakaian. Selendang tersebut tampak kusam dan terlihat beberapa noda di berbagai tempat ketika Zubaedah membentangkannya di bawah lampu kamarnya.

Kemarin siang, surat kemenakannya dari Bukittinggi mengusik hatinya. Biasanya kemenakannya hanya menyampaikan kabar keadaan rumah di Bukittinggi yang dipercayakan kepadanya sejak Zubaedah pindah ke Jakarta ini untuk tinggal bersama Syahrul, anaknya. Tetapi, surat kemarin itu juga mengabarkan tentang berpulangnya ke rahmatullah Mande Siti Manggopoh tanggal 20 Agustus 1965, tiga minggu yang lalu. Innalillahi wa inna ilaihi rajiun. Terkesiap Zubaedah membacanya.

Sudah lebih limapuluh tahun nama Mande Siti tidak pernah lagi terdengar dan tersebut oleh Zubaedah. Dalam ingatannya, sosok Mande Siti adalah saat terakhir beliau meninggalkan Zubaedah di suatu malam gelap di tahun 1908. Walaupun demikian beliau selalu ada dalam hati dan doa Zubaedah.

Sekarang, air mata tak terbendung lagi mengalir di pipinya. Diamatinya selendang putih yang telah menguning termakan usia ditangannya, sulaman benang putih dengan corak sederhana masih terlihat jelas di sekelilingnya. Disampirkannya selendang tersebut di pundaknya dan sambil terduduk di pinggiran tempat tidur, Zubaedah teringat kembali bagaimana selendang itu diperolehnya atau lebih tepatnya diambilnya. Selendang Mande Siti yang tidak pernah sempat dikembalikannya kepada si empunya.

“Mak, Mak,” ketukan di pintu kamar mengalihkan lamunan Zubaedah. Yuni, menantunya, muncul di pintu dengan wajah tersenyum dan berkata, “Batang pakisnya ketemu di pasar nih.”

Sebelum Yuni sempat bertanya tentang mata sembab ibu mertuanya, Zubaedah buru-buru bangkit. Sambil menyusut air mata di pipi dengan ujung selendang ia berkata,”Mudah-mudahan bumbu dan kelapa kau beli juga Yun.”

“Iya, lengkap, Mak, cabai merah, bawang merah, bawang putih, lengkuas, jahe, kunyit, sereh, juga daun salam. Kelapa, saya minta langsung diparutkan di pasar.”

“Senang sekali hati Amak ada yang menjual batang paku di Jakarta ini,” sambung Zubaedah. Sambil mengikuti Yuni ke dapur, ia meletakkan selendang di sandaran kursi di meja makan.

Yuni selalu tertawa geli setiap mendengar ibu mertuanya tetap menggunakan istilah bahasa Minang, paku, untuk pakis yang baru dibelinya. Dia teringat guyonan ibunya sendiri yang tinggal di Surabaya, yang pasti akan berkata, “Sejak menikah dengan orang seberang, kamu menjadi sakti ya, karena pakupun sekarang bisa dimakan.”

Di dapur, Zubaedah langsung membersihkan daun pakis. Satu per satu batang pakis diusap dan dibersihkan dan dialiri air keran yang mengucur.

Ketika jari-jarinya membersihkan pucuk pakis yang berpilin dan duri-duri lunak pucuk itu menyentuh kulitnya, ingatan membawanya kembali pada saat lebih dari limapuluh tahun yang lalu ketika Zubaedah remaja membersihkan batang paku di pancuran di dekat rumah ladang di tengah hutan. Batang paku itu hanya direbus dan dimakan dengan nasi seadanya atau ubi yang diambil dari ladang.

“Mak, berapa banyak lengkuasnya?” tanya Yuni sambil menyodorkan lengkuas dan menyentakkan Zubaedah untuk kembali ke batang paku yang dibersihkannya.

“Ya sebentar, biar Amak tiriskan paku ini dulu,” jawab Zubaedah sambil meletakkan batang paku yang sudah bersih ke dalam tirisan. Kemudian dia mengambil pisau dan memotong lengkuas sambil berkata,”Seruas jari lengkuas, seruas jahe, seruas kunyit.”

“Seruas jari siapa, Mak?” tanya Yuni sambil tersenyum.

“Seruas jari yang memasaknya, Yuni,” jawab Zubaedah.

“Kalau begitu, kalau orang yang masaknya tinggi langsing rasa masakannya beda ya Mak dengan yang pendek gemuk, kan ukuran jarinya berbeda,” Yuni memang tidak pernah mahir kalau mengikuti takaran kira-kira Zubaedah.

“Ah, kau ada-ada saja Yuni,” Zubaedah tertawa. “Ukuran seruas jari itu kan hanya perkiraan kasar, selebihnya gunakanlah hati dan perasaanmu, dijamin apapun yang kau masak akan lezat,” jelas Zubaedah.

“Nah, sekarang kau kupaslah bawang merah dan bawang putih dan potong-potonglah cabai merah ini,” lanjut Zubaedah.

Sementara Yuni melakukan yang diminta Zubaedah, dia menyempatkan bertanya,”Kenapa Amak tadi menangis di kamar?”

Zubaedah terdiam dan memandang Yuni. Alangkah bersyukurnya bahwa Syahrul, anak tunggalnya, menikahi Yuni. Anak yang baik dan penuh perhatian, tidak saja terhadap suami dan anak-anaknya, tetapi juga terhadap ibu mertuanya. Setelah suaminya meninggal tiga tahun yang lalu, dan kesehatannya juga sudah menurun, Syahrul mengajaknya tinggal bersamanya di Jakarta. Meski awalnya Zubaedah berkeberatan meninggalkan rumah peninggalan suaminya di Bukittinggi, tetapi Syahrul memaksa dengan alasan biar dia juga tenang kalau ibunya berada di dekat dia dan keluarga.

“Amak teringat Mande Siti. Kau tahu, waktu Amak bersama Mande Siti di hutan dekat Manggopoh, batang paku inilah yang selalu Amak cari di sekitar ladang di hutan untuk jadi makanan sehari-hari, cuma inilah yang dapat kami peroleh.”

“Kenapa Amak tinggal di hutan dan siapa Mande Siti itu?” Yuni terkejut karena tidak mengira ibu mertuanya pernah tinggal di hutan dan Yuni juga tidak ingat suaminya pernah bercerita tentang itu.

Zubaedah kemudian bercerita, “Mande Siti itu sepupu jauh dari orangtua Amak. Meskipun umurnya masih muda, di tahun 1908 itu beliau belum berumur tigapuluh tahun, tapi dipanggil Mande oleh semua orang. Suaminya Bagindo Rasyid, dan anak perempuannya Dalima masih menyusu waktu itu.

“Mande Siti adalah perempuan pintar dan tangguh. Sejak kecil sudah pandai bapasambahan, yaitu bicara berpantun yang indah sekali, mengaji dan bahkan jago bersilat. Tidak banyak perempuan Minang yang pintar dan seberani beliau waktu itu.

“Bagindo Rasyid adalah pendekar juga dan Mande Siti juga ikut membantu kegiatan Bagindo. Suatu malam di bulan Juni tahun 1908, Mande Siti, Bagindo Rasyid dan beberapa orang di kampung Manggopoh menyerang Belanda di bentengnya.

“Amak ingat benar karena itu tidak lama setelah orangtua perempuan Amak meninggal. Banyak Belanda mati malam itu. Tapi ternyata ada dua orang Belanda yang sempat lolos dan mereka lari menyelamatkan diri dan melapor ke Bukittinggi. Kabarnya Mande Siti terluka dari serbuan itu. Dan mereka, Mande Siti, Bagindo Rasyid dan orang-orangnya lari dan sembunyi ke hutan di luar Manggopoh.” Zubaedah menarik nafas. Sementara matanya mengawang jauh.

“Segini cukup ya, Mak,” Yuni memperlihatkan potongan bawang merah, bawang putih, dan cabai.

“Ya, cukup, letakkan di sini.” Zubaedah kembali dengan masakannya dan meneruskan, “Amak akan menggiling cabai dan bumbu ini, sementara itu kau peraslah santan. Tolong ambilkan Amak batu lado ya Yun.”

Yuni mengambil cobek dan ulekan yang dimaksud Zubaedah dan meletakkannya di atas meja pendek yang mudah dijangkau. Ibu mertuanya sengaja bersusah payah memboyong batu lado itu dari kampung ketika pindah untuk ikut tinggal dengan Yuni dan Syahrul di Jakarta. Katanya beliau tidak biasa menggunakan cobek dan ulekan Yuni. Kata Zubaedah bumbu yang digiling dan digerus di batu lado ini akan mengeluarkan rasa dan wangi yang lebih lezat. Makanya ibu mertuanya tidak mau menggunakan yang lain selain batu lado itu.

“Kemudian, bagaimana Amak bisa tinggal di hutan dengan Mande Siti,” Yuni teringat kembali akan cerita ibu mertuanya.

“Sejak orangtua Amak meninggal, Amak tinggal di tempat Mamak Maran, kakak laki-laki dari orangtua perempuan Amak. Mande Siti sering datang berkunjung ke rumah Mamak Maran menghibur Amak waktu itu.” cerita Zubaedah. “Waktu itu, pertengahan tahun 1908 itu, di Manggopoh keadaan juga bergolak. Orang-orang sedang ramai membicarakan belasting yang baru diterapkan Belanda. Masa si Belanda meminta pajak untuk tanah-tanah pusaka di kampung. Hebohlah orang kampung waktu itu. Tanah itu bukan tanahnya orang Belanda, tapi tanah turun temurun kaum orang Minang.” Zubaedah menggelengkan kepalanya.

“Apakah santannya sudah cukup, Mak?” Yuni memperlihatkan hasil perasannya ke Zubaedah.

“Oh ya, sudah, sudah cukup. Ini juga bumbu cabainya sudah halus. Nah, sekarang kau jerangkanlah santan ini dan rebus dengan bumbu, daun serai dan daun salam ini,” kata Zubaedah. “Selama santan dijerang, jangan lupa mengaduk-ngaduknya supaya tidak pecah santan nanti. Setelah santan bergolak, baru kau masukan batang paku yang sudah ditiriskan ini,” lanjut Zubaedah lagi.

Yuni segera mengeluarkan panci dari lemari dapur dan menghidupkan kompor.

Sementara Zubaedah melanjutkan ceritanya. “Hingga suatu hari, di pertengahan bulan Juni tahun 1908, Amak mendengar dari orang-orang kampung, ada pertentangan antara ninik mamak, tetua kampung, dengan orang Belanda di Kamang. Kemudian juga orang kampung di Kamang menyerbu benteng Belanda, tentu saja Belanda marah. Dan kemudian Amak dengar pula Bagindo Rasyid, yang dekat dan sering bertukar pikiran dengan ninik mamak, ikut dalam penyerbuan itu. Memang beberapa hari kemudian, Bagindo Rasyid pulang ke Manggopoh sembunyi-sembunyi dan tidak pernah keluar siang hari, menghindari kejaran Belanda katanya.”

“Mak, sudah mendidih santannya. Pakisnya boleh dimasukkan ya,” sela Yuni sambil mengaduk-aduk panci di atas kompor. Uap dari panci yang berisi santan berbumbu memenuhi dapur. Bau harumnya menerbitkan selera.

Zubaedah mendekat dan melihat ke dalam panci dan berkata,”Ya, sudah siap ini, biar Amak yang ambilkan pakunya.” Setelah batang paku dimasukkan ke panci, Zubaedah memperingatkan Yuni, “Jangan aduk terlalu keras supaya pakunya tidak hancur. Dan kalau sudah matang semuanya, matikan kompor, tutup panci, dan diamkan sebentar supaya bumbunya meresap dan tidak terlalu panas untuk dimakan.”

Zubaedah kemudian bersiap membereskan dan menata meja makan.

Tidak lama kemudian, Yuni datang dengan membawa semangkok gulai paku, secambung nasi hangat, kerupuk jangek, kerupuk dari kulit sapi yang dikirim dari kampung untuk Zubaedah, dan dua potong ayam goreng.

“Marilah kita makan dulu, Mak. Gulai pakisnya sudah siap,” ajak Yuni ke Zubaedah.

“Tidak menunggu si Syahrul dulu?” tanya Zubaedah.

“Uda Syahrul makan siang di kantor, ada rapat lagi hari ini katanya,” jelas Yuni menggunakan kata Minang untuk menyebut suaminya dan menyambung, “Anak-anak sudah dibuatkan ayam goreng juga untuk mereka pulang sekolah nanti. Biar ini untuk kita saja Mak.”

Ketika Zubaedah duduk di meja, Yuni segera menyendokkan nasi ke piringnya. Untuk lauknya Zubaedah hanya memilih gulai paku dengan banyak kuah. Gurih santan yang dipadu dengan bumbu yang pas takarannya, tidak terlalu asin dan tidak terlalu pedas, membuat lidah Zubaedah bergoyang. Ditambah dengan kerupuk jangek yang ketika dicampurkan ke dalam kuah mengeluarkan bunyi mendesis sebelum menyusut bentuk dan ukurannya. Untuk sesaat Zubaedah merasakan kerinduannya terhadap gulai paku terbayar sudah.

Di Bukittinggi, gulai paku biasanya dimakan dengan ketupat sebagai sarapan pagi. Disajikan dengan berbagai macam kerupuk, kerupuk jangek, kerupuk singkong atau kerupuk merah biasanya. Kerupuk kampung. Biasanya teh tawar hangat sebagai minumnya.

“Enak ya, Mak,” kata Yuni sambil tersenyum dan menyuap nasinya.

“Iya, Yun, enak sekali. Terima kasih sekali Amak ke Yuni.”

“Jadi bagaimana cerita Bagindo Rasyid yang katanya lari dari Kamang tadi, Mak?” tanya Yuni setelah mereka selesai makan dan Zubaedah membantu Yuni memindahkan piring bekas makan ke dapur.

“Setelah pulang ke Manggopoh, Bagindo Rasyid sepertinya diam-diam bersama ninik mamak kampung menggalang kekuatan lainnya untuk melawan belasting Belanda itu di Manggopoh. Mande Siti diajak serta atau lebih mungkin Mande yang ingin ikut sendiri. Itulah kejadian Mande Siti ikut serta di penyerbuan benteng Belanda itu,” Zubaedah melanjutkan ceritanya ketika mereka kembali duduk di meja makan.

“Kapan Amak jadinya ikut Mande Siti di hutan?” tanya Yuni.

Zubaedah memandang selendang Mande Siti yang sengaja diletakkannya di sandaran kursi di sebelah kursinya sendiri. Sekilas Zubaedah mengusap selendang dan melanjutkan, “Amak masih teringat bagaimana terkejutnya Mande Siti ketika Amak berhasil menemukannya di rumah ladang di hutan pertama kali” Zubaedah tenggelam dalam ingatan sejenak sebelum meneruskan ceritanya.

“Mande Siti sedang mondar mandir di teduhan pohon cempedak. Dalima terlihat dibawanya di dalam kain gendongan. Begitu beliau melihat Amak, beliau berteriak, ‘Edah?! Apa yang kau kerjakan di sini?’ Sambil meraih lengan Amak, Mande lanjut bertubi-tubi, ‘Bagaimana kau sampai ke sini?’ Sementara itu Dalima merengek-rengek dalam gendongannya.

“Mande terlihat lelah dengan mata yang sayu dan selendang di kepalanya tidak beraturan seperti asal menutup kepala saja, kusut masai. Dalima juga seperti tidak nyaman, merengek-rengek dan mukanya memerah karena menangis.

“Amak berusaha membujuk Dalima menenangkan tangisnya. Tiba-tiba Dalima mengulurkan kedua tangannya minta digendong Amak, dan Mande Siti melepaskannya.

“Mande kemudian mengajak Amak masuk ke dalam rumah dan setelah menyediakan segelas minum yang buat Amak benar-benar menjadi pelepas haus, Amak menceritakan apa yang terjadi ke Mande Siti.

“‘Mak Maran mengenalkan ambo dengan si Burhan, kemenakannya yang masih saudara jauh Tek Banun, istrinya. Kalau ambo mau menikah dengan si Burhan, maka tanah warisan amak ambo akan aman di tangan keluarga.’ Amak langsung menceritakan apa yang ada di kepala waktu itu.

“‘Baru sebulan Amak kau meninggal, si Maran sudah panjang pikirannya ke urusan tanah segala ya,’ kata Mande. ‘Biarpun tanah masih di tangan keluarga besar, tapi dengan si Belanda yang seperti tukang palak, siapa yang akan membayar belastingnya. Sanggup kau?’

“‘Tidak taulah, Mande, kalau urusan itu. Ambo belum berpikir sejauh itu. Yang ambo rusuhkan adalah si Burhan itu. Ambo belum mau kawin, Mande. Tapi ambo sadar tidak punya pilihan. Ambo berutang budi ke Mak Maran. Sepeninggal amak ambo, beliau sekeluargalah yang membantu ambo.’

“‘Ya, kau sudah gadis, umur sudah tujuh belas kan? Sudah pantaslah dikawinkan,’ kata Mande Siti.

“‘Tapi tidaklah Mande. Untuk menghindari si Burhan dan Mak Maran, ambo sudah berencana mau ke Bukittinggi saja. Tapi sebelum sempat berangkat, kampung kita keburu di bakar Belanda, Mande. Tidak tahu mau kemana ambo. Banyak sekali tentara Belanda waktu itu. Katanya semua pasukan dari Agam dan Pariaman juga datang menyerbu Manggopoh waktu itu. Juga mereka yang dari Kamang.’

“‘Bagaimana cara kau lari dari Manggopoh waktu itu dan bagaimana kau tau Mande di sini?’ sela Mande Siti.

“‘Ambo sedang di jalan pulang dari parak waktu itu. Cerita tentang Mande dan Bagindo Rasyid malam itu di benteng Belanda sudah jadi cerita orang kampung sejak pagi. Ramai cerita di lapau dan setiap orang sudah berwanti-wanti bahwa pasti akan ada balasan dari Belanda ke Manggopoh. Mereka sudah siap dengan belati dan pisau masing-masing di pinggang.

“‘Sewaktu sudah dekat kampung, ambo mendengar teriakan-teriakan dan melihat asap pekat mengebul, kemudian orang-orang berlarian ke segala arah. Ambo terkejut. Ambo mencoba lari ke rumah. Tapi kampung seperti sudah terkepung api. Belanda membakar Manggopoh, Mande. Akhirnya ambo ikut lari mengikuti orang yang paling banyak.’

“Muka Mande berubah menjadi sangat prihatin sewaktu mendengar cerita amukan Belanda.

“‘Bagaimana kau sampai ke sini?’ tanya Mande.

“‘Ambo lari sampai ke tepi hutan. Orang-orang yang ambo ikuti mulai berpencar. Katanya supaya Belanda bingung, lagipula Belanda tidak tau daerah hutan ini. Ambo juga mendengar Mande dan Bagindo Rasyid menghilang ke hutan, meski ambo tidak terlalu jelas ke bagian mana. Jadi waktu itu ambo bergabung dengan Mak Munah dan dua orang lain. Ambo tau Mande bersaudara dengan Mak Munah, jadi ambo kira Mak Munah tau dimana Mande berada. Begitulah, setelah dua hari di hutan, ambo sampai di sini dengan Mak Munah. Ijinkanlah ambo sementara ikut Mande. Ambo bisa bantu menjaga Dalima.’

“‘Kerjaan bahaya yang kau lakukan mencariku, Edah! Tapi apa boleh buat, kau sudah di sini. Tidak ada jalan lain selain kau tinggal di sini. Tapi di sini juga tidak selalu aman, kita harus selalu waspada. Sewaktu-waktu Belanda bisa muncul, aku juga mendengar mereka sudah mengerahkan pasukan dari seluruh nagari.’”

Zubaedah berhenti sejenak dan sambil menghela napas kembali mengusap-usap selendang putih di sandaran kursi. Selendang itu yang selalu disimpannya baik-baik. Dia mengira masih akan bertemu dengan Mande Siti dan bisa mengembalikannya. Tidak pernah terbayangkan olehnya selendang itulah yang akhirnya menjadi pengganti Mande Siti di hidupnya.

Zubaedah kemudian melanjutkan, “Begitulah, Amak tinggal di rumah ladang dengan Mande Siti. Ada beberapa perempuan kira-kira seumuran Mande dan laki-laki berbadan tegap seperti pendekar yang juga ikut tinggal waktu itu. Katanya mereka adalah orang-orang yang membantu perjuangan Mande Siti dan Bagindo Rasyid.

“Kalau siang hari Bagindo Rasyid dan beberapa orang pria berkelewang berjaga-jaga di sekitar pinggiran hutan. Sementara Mande Siti dan Amak dengan beberapa wanita lainnya berjaga-jaga di tempat kami tinggal, rumah ladang yang ditinggalkan penghuninya entah kenapa. Untuk memasak kami mengumpulkan kayu bakar di sekitar rumah, ada tungku di rumah itu. Karena tidak membawa banyak perbekalan, kami mencari apa saja yang bisa dimakan di sekitar hutan.

“Beruntung ada pohon cempedak yang buahnya mulai ranum di dekat rumah dan agak jauh ke dalam hutan, banyak tumbuhan paku yang bisa dimasak. Kami memasak apa adanya karena tidak banyak bahan dan bumbu yang bisa diperoleh. Untuk minum, ada mata air di sungai yang tidak jauh dari rumah.

“Malam hari kami berkumpul di dalam rumah dengan api penerangan sekedarnya untuk menjaga rumah dan tempat persembunyian tidak terlalu menarik perhatian dari luar. Bagindo Rasyid mendengar bahwa setelah kampung Manggopoh dibakar dan karena Belanda tidak menemukan dirinya dan Siti, mereka kemudian mengerahkan pasukan lengkap dan menyusuri setiap tempat dan mulai merapatkan pencarian ke daerah pinggiran hutan.

“Amak sehari-hari membantu Mande Siti memasak dan menjaga Dalima yang waktu itu baru belajar berjalan. Kasihan si Dalima terpaksa ikut merasakan susahnya hidup di pelarian dan di tengah hutan umur segitu.

“Selama di hutan Mande Siti masih rajin mengaji dan mengajarkan Al Quran ke kami. Sesekali beliau juga mengajarkan jurus-jurus silat sederhana dan mendasar untuk pertahanan diri. Memang Mande Siti terkenal sebagai jago silat sejak gadisnya.

“Waktu hari kesepuluh Amak di hutan dengan Mande, tiba-tiba malam-malam dua orang Bagindo Rasyid tergesa-gesa mendatangi Bagindo. Mereka mengabarkan telah melihat sekelompok Belanda mulai memasuki hutan.

“Segera setelah itu, Bagindo Rasyid memerintahkan semua yang berada di rumah dan yang berjaga di luar untuk berkemas. Amak menggendong dan menenangkan Dalima yang mulai menangis melihat orang-orang yang sibuk berlalu lalang, sementara Mande mengumpulkan barang-barang penting yang bisa dibawa. Bagindo Rasyid dan para pria berkumpul dalam lingkaran di luar rumah dan bergumam sesama mereka.

“Mande Siti melarang Amak ikut dengannya. Dalima diambilnya dari gendongan Amak lalu beliau berkata, ‘Kau, Edah, kau pergi ke hilir sungai, menyebranglah dan langsung keluar dari sini. Jangan membantah. Kau ikuti Mak Munah dan lainnya.’

“Malam itu Amak melihat Mande bergabung dengan Bagindo Rasyid dan lainnya meninggalkan rumah ladang. Dalima digendong Bagindo Rasyid, Mande di sampingnya. Mereka diikuti beberapa pria yang membawa obor. Saat itulah Amak melihat selendang putih Mande Siti tercecer di dalam rumah. Amak kemudian mengambilnya.

“Itulah terakhir kali Amak melihat Mande Siti. Amak mengikuti perintah Mande. Setelah keluar dari hutan, Amak pergi ke Bukittinggi dan kemudian tinggal dengan adik dari Apak dan keluarganya. Tidak lama kemudian, Amak bertemu dan menikah dengan ayahnya Syahrul. Kami menetap di Bukittinggi seterusnya.”

Zubaedah mengambil selendang bersulam putih dari sandaran kursi dan menghapus air matanya dengan sudutnya.

“Minumlah dulu, Mak,” kata Yuni sambil menyodorkan segelas air putih.

Zubaedah meneguk air putih. “Batang paku itulah yang menjadi makanan sehari-hari waktu itu,” katanya seperti bergumam. Zubaedah bangkit. Sambil menyampirkan selendang putih yang sudah menguning itu ke pundaknya ia berkata, “Amak mau sembahyang dulu. Sembahyang untuk Mande Siti.”

***

The Shawl With White Embroidery

Posted on February 1, 2018 by Dalang Publishing

“There it is.” Zubaedah reached for a shawl buried among the folded clothes in her wardrobe. When she unfolded it under the lamp of her room, she noticed the material was faded and stained in several places.

A letter she had received from her nephew in Bukittinggi yesterday afternoon weighed on her mind. Usually, her nephew’s letters only told her about the condition of the house in Bukittinggi that she had entrusted him with when she moved to live with her son, Syahrul, in Jakarta. However, yesterday’s letter also contained news about the death of Mande Siti Manggopoh, three weeks ago, on August 20, 1965. Innalillahiwainnailaihirajiun—we belong to Allah and to Him we shall return. The news had stunned Zubaedah.

For over fifty years, Zubaedah had neither heard nor spoken the name Mande Siti. Zubaedah’s last memory of Mande Siti was when she left in the middle of the night in 1908. However, Mande Siti had always remained in her heart and prayers.

Now, Zubaedah could no longer hold back her tears. She gazed at the white shawl she held; time had yellowed the material, but the border of simple white embroidery was still bright. Zubaedah took a seat on the edge of her bed. Draping the shawl around her shoulders, she started to remember the time when the shawl had become hers—or more accurately, when she had taken it. Mande Siti’s shawl: Zubaedah never had the opportunity to return it to its rightful owner.

“Mak, Mom.” A knock on the door snapped Zubaedah out of her musings.

Yuni, her daughter-in-law, stood smiling in the doorway. “I found the fiddlehead ferns in the market,” she said.

Before Yuni could say anything about her swollen eyes, Zubaedah quickly rose, wiping her tears with the shawl. “Hopefully you also bought the spices and the coconut, Yun.”

“Yes, I bought all we need: chili pepper, shallots, garlic, galangal, ginger, turmeric, lemongrass, and bay leaves. I also had the coconut grated at the market.”

“I am so glad someone is selling paku in Jakarta.” Following Yuni to the kitchen, Zubaedah stopped to drape the shawl over the back of a dining room chair.

It always amused Yuni whenever her mother-in-law used a Minang word like paku for ferns; in Java, paku are nails. She thought of her mother, who lived in Surabaya. She would have undoubtedly joked, “Since you married your Sumatran husband, you have turned into a mystic! Now you can even eat nails!”

In the kitchen, Zubaedah immediately washed the ferns. She rinsed each frond thoroughly. As her fingers worked the curled fern tips and touched the small thorns, her memories went back more than fifty years, when, as a teenager, she washed ferns under a water spout near a shack in the forest. At that time, they simply boiled the ferns and ate them with rice or yams from the fields.

“Mak, how much galangal do we use?” Yuni handed Zubaedah some galangal and brought Zubaedah’s attention back from the past.

“Wait a moment. Let me strain this first.” Zubaedah placed the cleaned ferns in the colander. She picked up a knife and sliced the galangal. “A joint of each: galangal, ginger, and turmeric.”

“A joint of whose fingers, Mak?” Yuni smiled.

“The cook’s, Yuni,” Zubaedah replied.

“So, if the cook is tall and thin, the flavor will be different than if the cook is short and fat, because their joints are different.” Yuni was never good at following Zubaedah’s rough measurements.

Zubaedah laughed. “Ah, it’s just like you to say that, Yuni.” She explained, “A joint is just a rough measurement; use your heart and feelings for the rest, and I’m sure that whatever you cook will be delicious. Now, peel the shallots and garlic and slice the chili pepper.”

As Yuni followed Zubaedah’s instructions, she took the chance to ask, “Why were you crying in the bedroom?”

Zubaedah fell silent as she gazed at Yuni. She was truly grateful that her only son, Syahrul, had married Yuni. She was kind-hearted and thoughtful, not only toward her husband and children, but also toward her mother-in-law. After Zubaedah’s husband passed away and her health started declining, Syahrul had invited her to live with his family in Jakarta. Despite her reluctance to leave her husband’s home in Bukittinggi, Syahrul insisted, using the excuse that he would be more at ease knowing his mother was nearby.

“I was reminded of Mande Siti. You know, when I lived with Mande Siti in the woods near Manggopoh, we would always look for these ferns in the fields around the woods for our meals; these ferns were all that was available.”

“Why did you live in the woods, and who was this Mande Siti?” Yuni was surprised. She never knew that her mother-in-law had lived in the woods; her husband had never told her anything about it either.

Zubaedah then began her story. “Mande Siti was a distant cousin of my parents. Even though she was still young—back in 1908 she had yet to turn thirty—everyone called her Mande—Mother. Bagindo Rasyid was her husband; their daughter, Dalima, was still at the breast.

“Mande Siti was a clever and tough woman. She was skilled in bapasambahan, which is the art of conversing beautifully in pantoum, reciting from the Koran, and even performed martial arts. Back in those days, there were not many Minang women who were as brave and clever as she was.

“Bagindo Rasyid was a warrior, and Mande Siti was always by his side. One night in June of 1908, Mande Siti, Bagindo Rasyid, and others from Manggopoh attacked the Dutch fort. I remember the night clearly because it happened not long after my mother’s death. Many Dutch perished that night, but two people fled and reported the raid to Bukittinggi. I heard Mande Siti was injured during the attack. She, along with Bagindo Rasyid and his men, hid in the woods outside Manggopoh.” Zubaedah sighed as she gazed into the distance.

“This should be enough, right Mak?” Yuni showed the peeled shallots, garlic, and sliced chili pepper.

“Yes. Put it over there.” Zubaedah returned to her cooking. “I will grind the chili pepper and the spices. You can squeeze the liquid out of the grated coconut. Can you get me the batu lado, Yun?”

Yuni fetched the stone mortar and pestle Zubaedah had asked for and placed it on top of a short table within reach. Her mother-in-law had insisted on bringing her batu lado from the village when she moved in with Yuni and Syahrul in Jakarta. She said she wasn’t used to Yuni’s earthenware grindstone. Zubaedah said that spices crushed on a batu lado were tastier and more fragrant, and that’s why she would use no other than her own batu lado.

“And how did you come to live in the woods with Mande Siti?” Yuni returned to her mother-in-law’s story.

“After my parents passed away, I stayed with Mamak Maran, my mother’s brother. Mande Siti often visited his house to comfort me,” Zubaedah said. “At that time, around mid-1908, there was turmoil in Manggopoh. People were talking about the belasting that had recently been levied by the Dutch. Can you imagine, they had the nerve to levy taxes on lands that belonged to the villagers for generations. No wonder the villagers were in an uproar. That land did not belong to the Dutch. It belonged to the Minang people.” Zubaedah shook her head.

“Is this enough coconut milk, Mak?” Yuni showed Zubaedah the coconut milk she had extracted.

“Yes. The chili and spices are also ground up enough. Now, boil the coconut milk with the spices, lemongrass, and bay leaves,” Zubaedah instructed and added, “Don’t forget to stir while it is boiling so the coconut milk won’t curdle. Once the bubbles appear, just add these ferns.”

Yuni immediately took out a cooking pot from the kitchen cabinet and turned on the stove.

Meanwhile, Zubaedah continued her story. “Then, around mid-June of 1908, I heard from the villagers that there was an argument between the ninik mamak, the village elders, and the Dutch in Kamang. The villagers of Kamang raided the Dutch fortress and, of course, the Dutch were angry. I also heard that Bagindo Rasyid, who was very close to the ninik mamak and often exchanged ideas with them, had joined the raid. Sure enough, a few days later, Bagindo Rasyid returned to Manggopoh secretly. He never went out during daylight. He said he was trying to prevent the Dutch from coming after him.”

“Mak, the coconut milk is boiling. Can I add the ferns now?” Yuni interrupted while stirring the pot on the stove. The steam of the seasoned coconut milk filled the kitchen.

Zubaedah came closer. She looked into the pot and said, “Yes, it’s ready; let me get the ferns for you.” The aroma made her hungry.

After the ferns were added, Zubaedah warned Yuni, “Don’t stir too hard or you’ll mush the ferns. Once everything is cooked, turn off the stove, close the pot, and let it steep for a while so the spices settle, and it cools off a bit.”

Zubaedah prepared to set the table.

Not long after, Yuni came in with the fern curry, a plate of rice, jangek, beef cracklings, and two pieces of fried chicken.

“Let’s eat, Mak. The fern stew is ready,” Yuni said to Zubaedah.

“Are we not waiting for Syahrul?” Zubaedah asked.

“Uda Syahrul will have lunch at the office. He has another meeting today.” Yuni used the Minang term to refer to her husband, then added, “I’ve made fried chicken for the children, for when they come home from school. This is just for us, Mak.”

When Zubaedah sat at the table, Yuni immediately served her some rice. Zubaedah took a helping of fern curry with plenty of sauce. The blend of the perfectly measured spices—not too salty and not too spicy—and the addition of jangek cracklings that sizzled before shrinking when dipped into the sauce, made Zubaedah’s mouth water. For a moment, her craving for a bowl of fern curry was completely satisfied.

In Bukittinggi, fern curry is usually eaten for breakfast with ketupat, rice packed inside a diamond-shaped, woven palm-leaf pouch. It is served with various traditional crackers, such as jangek, cassava, or yam crackers, and accompanied by a glass of hot tea.

“This is delicious, isn’t it, Mak?” Smiling, Yuni took a big bite.

“Yes, Yun. It’s delicious. Thank you very much.”

“So what happened to Bagindo Rasyid after he ran away from Kamang, Mak?”

“After returning home to Manggopoh, Bagindo Rasyid—along with the ninik mamak—secretly rallied forces to fight again against the Dutch in Manggopoh. Mande Siti was either asked to join, or wanted to come along herself. That’s how she became involved in the attack on the Dutch fort.” Zubaedah carried on with her story.

“When did you go with Mande Siti to the woods?” Yuni asked.

Zubaedah looked at Mande Siti’s shawl that she had purposefully draped across the backrest of the chair next to her own. She briefly caressed the shawl and continued, “I still remember how surprised Mande Siti was when I first managed to find her at the shack.” For a moment, Zubaedah was lost in her memories before moving on with her story.

“Mande Siti was pacing back and forth in the shade of a cempedak tree, carrying Dalima in a sling. As soon as she saw me, she shouted, ‘Edah?! What are you doing here?’ She reached for my arm and continued repeatedly, ‘How did you get here?’ while Dalima whined.

“Mande looked exhausted, and her head shawl had been put on haphazardly. Dalima looked uncomfortable, too. She was crying, and her face was flushed.

“I tried to coax Dalima to stop crying. When she suddenly extended both of her arms to me, Mande Siti let her go.

“Mande then invited me inside the house and, after offering me a drink that was a true thirst quencher, I told her what had happened. Mamak, Uncle, Maran had introduced me to Burhan, his nephew, a distant relative of Tek Banun, his wife. If I agreed to marry Burhan, then the land that I inherited from my mother would safely remain in the family.

“‘It’s only been a month since your mother died,’ Mande said, ‘and Maran already has his mind on the land business? Even if the land is safely in the hands of the extended family, with the Dutch acting like relentless leeches, do you think you will be able to pay the belasting?’

“‘I don’t know, Mande,’ I told her. ‘I haven’t thought that far. What I’m fussing about is that Burhan man. I don’t want to get married yet, Mande. But I realize that I don’t have a choice. I owe Mamak Maran. After my mother died, he and his family were the ones who supported me.’

“‘Yes, you’ve come of age; you’re seventeen, aren’t you? You ought to be married by now,’ said Mande Siti.

“‘But I don’t want to, Mande. To avoid Burhan and Mamak Maran, I planned to go to Bukittinggi. But before I had a chance to leave, the Dutch burned our village, Mande. I didn’t know where to go. There were too many Dutch soldiers. According to rumors, all of the troops from Agam and Pariaman joined the attack on Manggopoh as well. So did those from Kamang.’

“‘How did you run away from Manggopoh, and how did you know I was here?’ Mande Siti interrupted.

“‘I was walking home from the field at that time. The story about you and Bagindo Rasyid at the Dutch fort that night had been the talk of the villagers since morning. The news spread from the village store, and everyone predicted that retaliation from the Dutch would be coming to Manggopoh. The villagers prepared themselves and carried their knives strapped to the hip.

“‘As I was nearing the village, I heard screaming and saw thick smoke rising. People were running in different directions. Shocked, I tried to run home. But it looked like the village was engulfed in fire. The Dutch had burned Manggopoh, Mande. I ended up joining the largest crowd.’

“Deep concern showed on Mande’s face as she listened to the story of the Dutch’s rage. ‘How did you get here?’ she asked.

“‘I ran to the outskirts of the woods. The crowd I was following began to scatter. They said that they wanted to confuse the Dutch, who were not familiar with this part of the woods.

“‘I had heard that you and Bagindo Rasyid had disappeared into the woods, although it wasn’t very clear where you’d gone. So I joined Mak Munah and two others. I knew that you were related to Mak Munah, so I figured she’d know where you were. After two days in the woods, we arrived here. Please let me stay with you for a while. I can help take care of Dalima.’

“‘Finding me was dangerous, Edah! But what’s done is done; you’re here now. There is no other option for you but to stay. But it’s not always safe here, either. We need to be on our toes—the Dutch can show up at any time. I’ve also heard that they’ve deployed troops from all the districts.'”

Zubaedah paused. Sighing, she stroked the white shawl on the backrest. She always thought she would see Mande Siti again and return it. It never crossed her mind that the shawl would ultimately replace Mande Siti’s presence in her life.

Zubaedah looked at Yuni and continued, “So, that was how I came to live in the shack with Mande Siti. There were several women around my age, and brawny, warrior-type men who also lived with us at that time. They said that they were people who supported the revolt of Mande Siti and Bagindo Rasyid.

“During the day, Bagindo Rasyid and a couple of men with short swords stood guard around the outskirts of the woods, while Mande Siti and I, along with several women, guarded the place where we stayed: a shack that had been abandoned by its previous occupants for some unknown reasons. For cooking, we collected firewood around the house; there was a wood stove inside. Since we hadn’t brought many supplies, we just looked for anything that was edible in the woods surrounding us.

“We were lucky to find a cempedak tree with ripening fruit near the house, and a little farther into the woods, there were plenty of ferns that we could cook. We made do with what we had since we weren’t able to find many ingredients or spices. We drank from a spring near the river not far from home.

“At night, we gathered inside the house. We kept our lights low to prevent attracting attention to our hideout. Bagindo Rasyid heard that when the Dutch burned Manggopoh and failed to find him and Siti, they deployed fully equipped troops and traced every location while closing in on the edge of the woods.

“Every day, I helped Mande Siti cook and take care of Dalima, who, at that time, had just begun learning to walk. Poor Dalima, at such a young age, she was forced to experience the difficulties of life.

During her time in the woods, Mande Siti still ardently recited and taught us the Koran. Once in a while, she taught us simple, basic silat moves for self-defense. Mande Siti had been known for her silat skills since she was a teenager.

“On the tenth day I spent in the woods with Mande, two of Bagindo’s men rushed to him in the middle of the night. They informed us that a group of Dutch soldiers had been sighted entering the woods.

“Bagindo Rasyid instantly ordered everyone in the house and those outside standing guard to pack up. I carried and soothed Dalima, who started crying when everyone bustled about, while Mande packed some essentials that she could bring with her. Bagindo Rasyid and the other men gathered in a circle outside the house and whispered amongst themselves.

“Mande Siti forbade me to come with her. She took Dalima from my arms and said, ‘You, Edah, follow the river downstream, then cross it and get out of here immediately. Don’t argue with me. Follow Mak Munah and the others.’

“That night, I watched as Mande joined Bagindo Rasyid and the others to leave the house. Bagindo Rasyid had Dalima in his arms, and Mande was by his side. Some men with torches followed them. That’s when I noticed that Mande Siti’s white shawl had been left in the house, and I took it.

“That was the last time I saw Mande Siti. I did as she had ordered me to. Soon after I left the woods, I headed to Bukittinggi and stayed with my father’s sibling. Shortly afterwards, I met Syahrul’s father. We married and lived together in Bukittinggi after that.”

Zubaedah took the white embroidered shawl off the chair and used a tip to wipe her tears.

“Have a drink, Mak.” Yuni pushed a glass of water toward her.

Zubaedah took a sip, then said, “Those ferns were our everyday meal.” Rising, she draped the shawl over her shoulders. “I am going to pray now,” she said. “Pray for Mande Siti.”

***