Era soft “e” as for
“elegant.” A Minangkabau like her mother from the central Sumatran region of
Padang, Indonesia, immediately adjacent Singapore.
Two years ago in the middle of
Ramadan Zainuddin had procured a wheelchair here for the old Minangkabau
following her stroke. It had helped a good deal even on the rough pavements and
roadways of Batam, where the mother had been forced to join her younger
daughter.
The old
woman reluctantly remained in the flat Era had bought on Batam, when she really
wanted to return to the place of her birth. (Indonesian Batam Island is East of
Singapore; Sumatra West.)
As usual the television was on above
the bed the pair shared with the well-named young granddaughter Angely, top of
her class at school and second at the afternoon Madrasa.
Quiet,
uncomplaining, responsible, thoughtful; Angely was a child from an earlier era
which was still the
contemporary in many corners of the Straits region.
Angely
shared food with Grandma. The child would have had no hesitation accepting food
from Grandma’s mouth. The pair looked after each other when Era was over in
Singapore working.
Since
the problems at Immigration the family needed to be careful with expenses, food
included. Working without a permit was disallowed in Singapore. Authorities
knew it went on, the traffic between the two islands—Batam and Singapore—was
substantial on the fifty minute ferries. Last year Era had been refused entry
for no better than unfounded suspicions arising from the frequency of travel
and limited funds displayed at the desk. (Era had been warned
about messages from clients and bosses on her phone. A two month prohibition.)
The television was a distraction
more than anything. None of them paid much attention, the old Minangkabau least
of all.
Men and
women of the Minangkabau’s kind had never been properly captured by television
of course; through
their example sometimes they could save the younger generation.
That night
the old mother started up again and more persistently on her theme of a return
to Sumatra. The old woman that night pressed in a peculiar fashion that was
different and difficult to counter.
The old
Minangkabau’s son and his family were settled in Jakarta; older daughter
likewise in the capital. Now Era had bought the flat on credit in Batam; and there
was Angely’s schooling. Nothing remained for them
in Sumatra.
Nevertheless, the old woman kept on with renewed insistence that night; arguments
that were all insufficient and had long been.
Harping
on a return to Sumatra. Return, the old Minangkabau would return.
Era was
a little puzzled by her mother and wearied a little by her insistence.
In the morning the mother had taken
rice and biscuit. Lunch a good portion again and also supper after maghrib.
The
household of three had prayed quietly and briefly on the bed before the
burbling television. After a pause the old Minangkabau started in again with
the same thing.
—
Mother, we cannot, her daughter replied with the same arguments as before.
Again
another round of the same.
And the old Minangkabau had the last
word before she lay down her head in her daughter’s lap.
Angely
read one of her school-books more than looked at the television.
The TV
patter continued as the old woman rested and Sumatra receded once more. It was
not noticed precisely when the old Minangkabau passed over.
— Ibu.
Ibu.
Angely did not turn or lower her
book at the first attempted rousing. Seven years old, a firm and lasting
impression of her Grandma for a bright, alert young girl.
The Minangkabau are known for their
matriarchal society; the women resourceful, renowned traders.
Seven hundred Singapore dollars, six
and one half million Indonesian Rupiah Era had saved from her work across the
water and from her sikit,
sikit, little, little biznis. Funeral and wake—two hundred people through
the room in the forty-eight hours—emptied the account.
Angely
has met the challenge of a half serve of chicken rice in the morning and the
remainder for lunch, while her mother Era makes do with cheaper mee.
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