Fanny J. Poyk adalah lulusan Institut Ilmu Sosial dan Ilmu Politik Jakarta (IISIP), mulai menulis sejak tahun 1980an di berbagai majalah  dan suratkabar. Tahun 1994-2004 menjadi wartawan dan memimpin peliputan di Tabloid Fantasi, sebagai penasihat media di Kementerian Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan Direktorat Pembinaan SMA, menjadi Pemimpin Redaksi Majalah Sastra Komodo Courier dan Pemimpin Redaksi Majalah Orchid Magazine.  Fanny juga menulis cerpen untuk antara lain, suratkabar Jurnal nasional, Sinar Harapan, Suara Pembaruan, Pikiran Rakyat, Surabaya Post, Suara Karya, Timor Expres, dan Kompas. Cerpennya terpilih menjadi 20 cerpen terbaik pilihan Kompas 2016.

Fanny bisa dihubungi di poykfanny10@gmail.com,

Hak cipta ©2018 ada pada Fanny J. Poyk. Terbit atas izin dari penulis. Hak cipta terjemahan ©2018 ada pada Laura Harsoyo

Cerita Di Balik Tenun Ikat

Bapa Tua Hermanus Messakh duduk termenung di depan rumah bebaknya yang terbuat dari anyaman bambu. Di depannya lima ekor babi dan ayam bergerak bebas ke sana-kemari. Beberapa ekor babi sudah dijualnya di rumah makan Bambu Kuning untuk dibuat menjadi daging se’i. Ya, daging asap khas kota Kupang, Nusa Tenggara Timur (NTT) itu, sangat laris dan disukai masyarakat sekitarnya. Beberapa ekor ayam kampung peliharaannya mati, konon ayam-ayam itu diracun orang karena Bapa Tua terlalu pelit untuk membagikan telur-telurnya ke penduduk sekitar.

“Eeee Bapa eee…itu ayam su batalor, kasih beta satu telur sa untuk sarapan ini pagi,” pinta Pinto Mauk, tetangga pengangguran yang doyan minum sofi, minuman berasal dari pohon lontar yang sudah diragi.

Bapa Tua marah sekali.  Hardiknya, “Lu pi sana, kerja cuma mabok mau makan enak terus!”

Pinto diam, namun di hatinya ia agak tersinggung. Dengan langkah limbung ia keluar dari rumah bebak Bapa Tua, berjalan ke kebun lontar milik David Taka. Dia hendak meminta satu buah gula lempeng yang dimasak isteri David, Mini. Lalu, keesokkan harinya, ayam-ayam Bapa Tua Hermanus Messakh beberapa mati. Dan sasaran utama yang menjadi tertuduh, Pinto. Lelaki pemabuk sofi itu terbengong-bengong tatkala Bapa Tua Hermanus Messakh menuduh dia yang membuat mati ayam-ayamnya.

“Lu mangaku sudah, kamu yang membuat ayamku mati,” tuduh Bapa Tua.

Pinto berdiri, tapi masih terlihat limbung, pengaruh minuman keras sofi masih menghiasi otaknya. Matanya menatap Bapa Tua dengan kuyu. “Sambarang sa…beta tidak membuat ayam-ayam Bapa mati. Beta cuma mau minta telor satu sa, tapi Bapa sonde kasih, jangan salahkan beta kalau ayam-ayam itu mati, beta sonde tau itu binatang makan apa,” ujar Pinto dengan kesadaran yang masih berada di angka lima puluh persen.

Bapa Tua Hermanus Messakh hanya diam, mungkin dia berpikir tak ada gunanya bertengkar dengan orang yang sedang mabuk. Dia berkata dalam hati, esok dia akan membawa beberapa ayam-ayamnya yang masih sehat ke pasar untuk dijual. Semua uang yang terkumpul nanti, akan dia belikan tenun ikat di toko Enci Yulia yang terletak di tepian Pantai Tode Kisar dekat Kota Tua Kupang.

***

“Untuk apa Bapa Tua beli kain tenun ikat?” tanya keponakannya Eben Messkah.

“Lebe baek kumpul tenun ikat dari pada piara ayam, kain-kain itu akan beta jual di depan Hotel Yulia, dekat Pasar Koenino sana. Banyak orang bule menginap di sana, nanti beta bisa dapat untung lebih banyak dari pada piara ayam,” ujar Bapa Tua Hermanus Messakh masih dengan nada geram.

Kini, di ruang tamu rumahnya, sudah terkumpul dua puluh tenun ikat dari beragam kabupaten yang ada di NTT. Bapa Tua Hermanus Messakh membelinya di kampung Oesao dan desa Kefa dan Soe. Di kedua desa itu dia mencari penenun kampung yang mahir mencampur bahan-bahan pewarna alami agar tenunan terlihat kuno. Kata Bapa Tua Hermanus pada sang keponakan, Eben Messakh, “Ini tenun paling bagus di Soe, harganya mahal karena dibuat dari bahan-bahan alami yang ada di hutan-hutan di sana. Lu lihat, dia sonde luntur pas dicuci, warnanya juga tahan lama. Nanti, beta mau beli lebe banyak lagi, biar dapat untung lebe besar.”

***

Dalam beberapa bulan, Bapa Tua semakin tergila-gila pada tenun ikat ketika seorang nyonya Cina kaya asal Jakarta memborong seluruh jualannya. Bapa Tua lalu menjalin persahabatan dagang dengannya. Ia mengantar sang nyonya ke perajin tenun yang ada di seluruh Kupang, Oesao, Kefa, Soe, Timor Tengah Selatan hingga Belu yang berbatasan dengan Timor Leste. Setiap dagangannya habis, dengan mata berbinar ia tunjukkan uang hasil berdagang itu pada sang keponakan.

Si Bapa Tua mengutarakan niatnya untuk membeli tenun ikat Timor Tengah Selatan dan juga desa Belu lebih banyak lagi. Tenun-tenun dari dua desa itu terkenal dengan warna-warninya. Ia benar-benar tidak sempat lagi pada kegiatannya semula, berdagang minuman tuak dari pohon lontar, ayam kampung dan ternak babi. Semua peliharaannya itu diserahkan pada Eben Messakh sang kemenakan dengan perjanjian bagi hasil, 60 buat Eben, 40 untuk dirinya.

“Beta adil kan? Lu dapat hasil yang lebe banyak,” katanya sembari memamah sirih, seluruh bibir juga giginya berwarna jingga karena sirih. Dengan menyirih Bapa Tua senang, sebab ia tak perlu menyikat gigi dengan odol lagi. “Irit toh? Menyirih itu sehat, gosok gigi dengan odol buat gigi keropos,” katanya selalu.

Eben Messakh, sang keponakan yang pengangguran namun telah memiliki dua anak, menganggukkan kepala tanpa membantah. Lelaki bertubuh gempal berusia sekitar tiga puluh tahun ini, mungkin otaknya telah berkarat karena meminum sofi. Sudah sejak memasuki usia akil balik, ia melakukan itu. Tanpa sofi hidupnya merana. Ia juga harus rela isterinya menjadi tenaga kerja Indonesia (TKI) ke Malaysia.

Bapa Tua Hermanus Messakh selalu berpesan padanya untuk rajin-rajin membaca koran. Katanya, “Hee… kamu jangan pasang muka bodoh terus, pergi ke pasar Koenino, jadi tukang parkir di jalan biar dapat duit. Minum sofi terus otakmu akan berkarat. Bagaimana mau kasih makan kau punya anak-anak? Tiap hari lu juga harus baca koran, lu lihat pengumuman di koran, jangan sampai ada pengumuman binimu mati dengan isi perut kosong baru dibawa pulang. Lu jangan enak-enak saja, jadi TKI itu berat. Lu harus malu jadi laki-laki, jangan cuma bisa piara itu burung dan minum sofi saja.”

Eben Messakh menggerutu dalam hati. Anting di telinga kirinya berpendar kala tertimpa cahaya rembulan, tatto bergambar rajawali dan naga di kedua pangkal lengannya bertengger gagah, perkasa dan kekar. Kala dia berjalan lengkap dengan topi baseball yang bertulis freedom, Eben kian merasa dia mahluk kota besar yang sangat bergaya seperti yang dia lihat di layar televisi kala menonton Bruno Mars menyanyi. Sang Paman kerap dibuatnya kesal.

“Lu pikir, lu su jadi penyanyi kah? Tiap hari minum sofi, lu kira lu sudah yang paling gagah di seantero Kupang. Sana, pergi ke pasar, lu jual telur-telur ayam ini!”

Tetapi tenun ikat kemudian menemukan jalannya yang cukup memilukan. Tatkala Bapa Tua Hermanus Messakh kembali ke tempat para perajin tenun, dia terkejut melihat nyonya Cina asal Jakarta sudah memborong seluruh tenun yang menjadi langganannya. Bapa Tua melalui tatap mata tuanya memandang nanar ketika semua tenun sudah tidak ada lagi.

Tenun ikat terbaik yang dibuat dari bahan-bahan alami bermutu tinggi, sudah dibawa ke Jakarta, di sana kain-kain itu akan dijadikan pakaian adibusana oleh para perancang papan atas. Selanjutnya perjalanan sang tenun yang telah berubah wujud menjadi pakaian kelas atas itu, akan diusung pada pameran pakaian adibusana musim semi dan panas di Paris, Milan, New York hingga Hongkong. Andai saja Bapa Tua Hermanus Messakh tahu harganya, dia akan pingsan sebelum kembali ke rumahnya.

Lalu, sambil berjalan pulang, Bapa Tua Hermanus menggerutu sendirian, “Eeee…tahu begitu beta sonde kasih tahu itu rumah-rumah penenun ke Aci Jakarta, beta manyasal.”

Sejak itu, Bapa Tua Hermanus Messakh, tak pernah mau tahu lagi tentang kisahnya bersama tenun ikat.

Eben Messakh sang keponakan, kali ini bisa berpikir lurus sedikit, ia melihat pamannya yang sedang murung lalu berkata, “Bapa eee…beta su bilang kalau Bapa jangan tarlalu percaya deng orang-orang Jakarta. Mereka suka baku tipu. Lebe baek kita bikin sofi, kita jual ke warung-warung kopi di Pantai Tode Kisar, untungnya lebe besar, kalau mereka mabok, itu sudah biasa. Biarkan saja.”

Bapa Tua Hermanus Messakh membisu.

Esoknya, kampung Oesao gempar. Mereka melihat Bapa Tua dan keponakannya jalan-jalan di tengah desa dengan tubuh telanjang bulat sambil memegang botol sofi; mereka mabuk berat setelah seharian meminum minuman itu.

Bapa Tua sambil berjalan dengan langkah terhuyung-huyung, terus-menerus mengoceh, “Itu Aci orang Jakarta, dia su ambil beta pung rejeki. Dia su ambil…”

***

.

Laura Harsoyo dilahirkan di Makassar dan dibesarkan di Palembang dan Surabaya. Laura menyelesaikan kuliah S-1 pada tahun 1994 dari jurusan Sastra Inggris, Universitas Airlangga.

Laura suka membaca karya sastra dan tertarik untuk menulis fiksi. Sewaktu bekerja di dunia perhotelan selama 21 tahun, dia sempat menulis artikel kuliner untuk majalah kuliner Chef! di Jakarta. Dia juga bekerja sambilan sebagai penerjemah lepas untuk berbagai lsm yang harus memberi laporan kepada yayasan pendana.  Sekarang Laura khusus bekerja sebagai penerjemah lepas untuk nonfiksi maupun fiksi.

Laura dapat dihubungi di: harsoyolaura@gmail.com

The Tale Behind the Ikat

Hermanus Messakh sat pensively in front of his bebak, a hut with walls of woven bamboo. Five pigs and several chickens roamed in the old man’s front yard. He had sold several of his pigs to Bambu Kuning, the restaurant that made se’i, the smoked meat that Kupang, the capital of Indonesian province Eastern Nusa Tenggara, was noted for. Several of his chickens had recently died. Rumors had it that they were poisoned by people who wanted to get even with the old man, who was too stingy to share his eggs with his neighbors.

“Hey, Bapa.” Pinto Mauk, an unemployed neighbor who was fond of drinking sofi, an alcoholic beverage made out of fermented lontar, approached him. “Since your chickens have been laying, may I have just one egg for breakfast this morning?”

“Get lost,” the old man snapped. “All you do is get drunk, yet you still expect to eat well.”

Pinto did not say a word, but deep down, he was offended. Staggering, he left the old man’s bebak and headed for David Taka’s lontar orchard. He was going to ask for a piece of sugar disc that Mini, David’s wife, made.

The next day, Hermanus Messakh discovered that more of his chickens had died. Pinto was the main suspect. Pinto listened, bewildered, as the old man accused him.

“Just admit it, you killed my chickens!”

Still groggy from his sofi hangover, Pinto wearily stared at the old man and said, “I didn’t kill your chickens. All I asked for was one egg and you refused to give it to me. Don’t blame me for the death of your chickens. I have no idea what they’ve been eating.”

Hermanus Messakh said nothing more. Perhaps he thought it was pointless to argue with a drunk. He planned to sell some of the remaining healthy chickens at the market the next day and use the money to purchase the ikat cloths at Enci Yulia’s shop at Tode Kisar Beach, near the Old Town of Kupang.

***

“What are you buying those ikats for?” Eben Messakh, Hermanus’s nephew, asked.

“It is better to collect these ikats than to raise chickens. I will sell the ikats on the sidewalk in front of the Yulia Hotel, near the Koenino Market. Many foreigners stay there and will want to buy our traditionally dyed and woven cloth. It is much more profitable than raising chickens.” Hermanus Messakh was still annoyed.

Soon, the old man had gathered twenty pieces of ikat from various districts in Nusa Tenggara Timur. He bought them in the villages of Oesao, Kefa and Soe, where he had traveled in search of weavers skilled in mixing the natural colorings that gave the ikat textiles their antique look. Hermanus said, “This is the best ikat in Soe. The ikats are expensive, as they are made from natural material that comes from the local forests. The colors won’t fade when washed. I will purchase more, so I can make more money.”

***

Within several months, the old man had become infatuated with ikat, especially after a rich Chinese lady from Jakarta purchased all of his supply. Hermanus and the lady established a business relationship, and Hermanus took her to weavers all over Kupang, Oesao, Kefa, Soe, South Central Timor, and even to Belu, located near the border of Timor Leste. Every time he sold out of ikats, Hermanus showed the money to his nephew, with sparkling eyes.

Hermanus expressed his intention to buy even more ikats from South Central Timor, as well as Belu village.

He was so immersed in the ikat business,that he no longer had time to make lontar wine and tend to his chickens and pigs.

Hermanus handed over his old business to his nephew, with an agreement to share the profits in parts of sixty percent for Eben and forty for him.

“I’m fair, aren’t I? You get the bigger share,” Hermanus said, chewing a wad of betel leaves. He liked chewing betel leaves so much that his lips and teeth were stained orange. Hermanus claimed that chewing betel leaves eliminated the necessity to brush his teeth with toothpaste. “I’m not only saving money,” he stated happily, “but chewing betel leaves is healthy, whereas brushing your teeth with toothpaste will cause your teeth to rot.”

Eben Messakh simply nodded. He had been drinking sofi since he was a teenager, and the alcohol had corroded his brain. He could not make it through the day without drinking. Unemployed at thirty and with two children to care for, Eben had to let his wife work as a migrant worker in Malaysia.

In the beginning, Hermanus would reprimand his nephew. “Hey, wipe that stupid look off your face. Go to the Koenino market. Be a parking attendant there and earn some money. Drinking sofi all the time will only dull your brain. How are you going to feed your children? Make sure you read the paper every day. Make sure there’s no announcement about your wife being brought home already dead. The life of a migrant worker is hard. You should be ashamed for taking it easy and only caring about keeping your glass filled with sofi and Mr. Happy’s well-being.”

Eben Messakh grumbled. His left earring glowed in the moonlight; tattoos of a mighty eagle and a fearsome dragon covered his forearms. Whenever he walked down the street wearing a baseball cap with the word “Freedom” embroidered on it, Eben felt like he was the most fashionable person in the city, just like Bruno Mars, who he watched singing on TV.

Eben’s attitude often disgruntled his uncle. “Do you really think you’re a singer?” the old man grumbled. “You think that drinking sofi every day will turn you into the most dashing man in all of Kupang? Go on! Sell these eggs in the market!”

But soon, the story of the ikat took a tragic turn. When Hermanus Messakh visited the weavers, he was surprised to learn that all the ikat was gone.

The Chinese woman from Jakarta had bought them all.

Hermanus gawked in disbelief.

The best ikat, made out of natural ingredients, were all taken to Jakarta, where they would be turned into haute couture dresses by top fashion designers. They then would continue their journey to Paris, Milan, New York, and Hong Kong to be displayed at exclusive fashion exhibitions. If Hermanus could see the price tags on those dresses, he would have fainted right there.

Walking home later, he muttered, “Had I known that this would happen, I would not have taken that lady to those weavers. I really regret that.”

After that, Hermanus no longer wanted to be reminded of his association with the ikat.

When he saw his uncle looking so sad, Eben Messakh, who happened to be sober, said, “Bapa, I’ve told you not to trust those people from Jakarta. They only want to deceive us. Let’s just make sofi. We can sell the liquor to the cafes and coffee shops at Tode Kisar Beach. We’ll be able to make a bigger profit there. Ignore the people when they get drunk like they usually do.”

Hermanus remained quiet.

The next day, Oesao village was in an uproar. Hermanus and his nephew were staggering naked through the village while guzzling a bottle of sofi. They were heavily intoxicated after drinking all day. Staggering, the old man slurred, “That Aci from Jakarta has taken away my fortune. That sister took it all away…”

***