its stomach in half, they found hair, clothes and a necklace. That's when I saw Bodenga urge forward amongst the visitors. He sat down cross-legged beside the crocodile. His face was deathly pale. He pitifully pleaded for the people to stop butchering the animal. They took the firewood out of its mouth and backed off. They understood that crocodile worshippers believed that when they died they became crocodiles. They also understood that for Bodenga, this was the crocodile his father had turned into because one of its legs was missing.
Bodenga cried. It was an agonizing, mournful sound. "Baya ... Baya ... Baya," he called out softly. Some wept with choking sobs. I saw Bodenga's tears streaming down his pockmarked cheeks. I felt my own tears stream down my face, and I couldn't hold them back. That unfortunate crocodile had been his only love in his outcast and forlorn world, and now that love had been taken away.
Incoherent grieving escaped Bodenga's mute mouth as he lamented. He then tied up the crocodile and carried his father's carcass to the Linggang River, dragging it along the riverbanks towards the delta. Bodenga hasn't returned since.
Bodenga and the incident of that evening created a blueprint of compassion and sadness in my subconscious. Perhaps I was too young to witness such a painful tragedy. In the years to come, whenever I was faced with heartwrenching situations, Bodenga came into my senses.
That evening, Bodenga truly taught me about premonitions. And for the first time, I learned that fate could treat humankind very terribly, and that love could be so blind.
While Lintang didn't have an emotional experience with Bodenga like mine, that hadn't been the first time he was faced with a crocodile on his way to school. It's not an exaggeration to say that Lintang often risked his life for the sake of his education. Nevertheless, he never missed a day of school. He pedaled 80 kilometers roundtrip every day. If school activities went until late in the afternoon, he didn't arrive home until after dark. Thinking about his daily journey made me cringe.
The distance wasn't the only difficulty he faced. During the rainy season, chest-deep waters flooded the roads. When faced with a road that had turned into a river, Lintang left his bicycle under a tree on higher ground, wrapped his shirt, pants and books in a plastic bag, bit the bag, plunged into the water, and swam toward school as fast as he could to avoid being attacked by a crocodile.
Because there was no clock at his house, Lintang relied on a natural clock. One time, he rushed through his morning prayer because the cock had already crowed. He finished his prayer and immediately pedaled off to school. Halfway through his journey, in the middle of the forest, he became suspicious because the air was still very cold, it was still pitch black, and the forest was strangely quiet. There were no bird songs calling out to the dawn. Lintang realized that the cock had crowed early, and it was actually still midnight. He sat himself down beneath a tree in the middle of the dark forest, embraced his two legs, shivered in the cold, and waited patiently for morning to come.
Another time, his bicycle chain broke. It couldn't be fixed again because it had already broken one too many times and was now too short to be reconnected. But he wasn't willing to give up. He pushed the bike about a dozen kilometers by hand. By the time he got to the school, we were getting ready to head home. The last lesson that day was music class. Lintang was happy because he got to sing the song Padamu Negeri ("For You Our Country") in front of the class. It was a slow and somber song:
For you, our country, we promise For you, our country, we serve For you, our country, we are devoted You, country, are our body and soul We were stunned to hear him sing so soulfully. His exhaustion didn't show in his humorous eyes. After he sang the song, he pushed his bike back home, all 40
Bodenga cried. It was an agonizing, mournful sound. "Baya ... Baya ... Baya," he called out softly. Some wept with choking sobs. I saw Bodenga's tears streaming down his pockmarked cheeks. I felt my own tears stream down my face, and I couldn't hold them back. That unfortunate crocodile had been his only love in his outcast and forlorn world, and now that love had been taken away.
Incoherent grieving escaped Bodenga's mute mouth as he lamented. He then tied up the crocodile and carried his father's carcass to the Linggang River, dragging it along the riverbanks towards the delta. Bodenga hasn't returned since.
Bodenga and the incident of that evening created a blueprint of compassion and sadness in my subconscious. Perhaps I was too young to witness such a painful tragedy. In the years to come, whenever I was faced with heartwrenching situations, Bodenga came into my senses.
That evening, Bodenga truly taught me about premonitions. And for the first time, I learned that fate could treat humankind very terribly, and that love could be so blind.
While Lintang didn't have an emotional experience with Bodenga like mine, that hadn't been the first time he was faced with a crocodile on his way to school. It's not an exaggeration to say that Lintang often risked his life for the sake of his education. Nevertheless, he never missed a day of school. He pedaled 80 kilometers roundtrip every day. If school activities went until late in the afternoon, he didn't arrive home until after dark. Thinking about his daily journey made me cringe.
The distance wasn't the only difficulty he faced. During the rainy season, chest-deep waters flooded the roads. When faced with a road that had turned into a river, Lintang left his bicycle under a tree on higher ground, wrapped his shirt, pants and books in a plastic bag, bit the bag, plunged into the water, and swam toward school as fast as he could to avoid being attacked by a crocodile.
Because there was no clock at his house, Lintang relied on a natural clock. One time, he rushed through his morning prayer because the cock had already crowed. He finished his prayer and immediately pedaled off to school. Halfway through his journey, in the middle of the forest, he became suspicious because the air was still very cold, it was still pitch black, and the forest was strangely quiet. There were no bird songs calling out to the dawn. Lintang realized that the cock had crowed early, and it was actually still midnight. He sat himself down beneath a tree in the middle of the dark forest, embraced his two legs, shivered in the cold, and waited patiently for morning to come.
Another time, his bicycle chain broke. It couldn't be fixed again because it had already broken one too many times and was now too short to be reconnected. But he wasn't willing to give up. He pushed the bike about a dozen kilometers by hand. By the time he got to the school, we were getting ready to head home. The last lesson that day was music class. Lintang was happy because he got to sing the song Padamu Negeri ("For You Our Country") in front of the class. It was a slow and somber song:
For you, our country, we promise For you, our country, we serve For you, our country, we are devoted You, country, are our body and soul We were stunned to hear him sing so soulfully. His exhaustion didn't show in his humorous eyes. After he sang the song, he pushed his bike back home, all 40
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