Mountain of Fire (4 page)

The
bule
lowered his voice and tried to explain the situation again. “What are these signs, Mbah? I have been working with the Yogyakarta's Centre for Volcanology for months now. We are monitoring the volcano's activity with eight machines. The volcano is alive! The entire area is on high alert. You must allow people to leave the village.”

Pak Eko said he knew the Merapi as well as the machines. The Merapi's spirits would tell him when it was time to leave.

Pak Eko paused as if lost in his thoughts while the crowd stood alert, worried, waiting for the Guardian to speak. “The villagers must honour the mountain. They must let it know that they care about it, and not just take away greedily. A full moon night is coming and we will go on the
Tapak Bisu
to appease the mountain,” he announced.

The crowd that had been listening silently while the two visitors talked to the old man exploded with chatter. Everyone started talking at once. Fitri could see her father, waving his arms around agitatedly.

“What is the
Tapak Bisu?
What does ‘appease the volcano' mean?” whispered Agus.

“Shhh,” said Fitri, punching him to stay quiet. But the
bule
was also asking the same question.

The policeman spoke up. “It is a ceremonial walk to please the volcano when it is angry, the Silent Walk. Pak Eko will circle our village and then make offerings to the Merapi. The ceremony must be done at midnight in complete silence.”

He paused for a bit, and then said. “The next full moon is in a week.”

“A week!” The
bule
grabbed the policeman's arm and took him some ways away from the old man. “A week later! This is crazy. They need to evacuate right away. We can't leave these people here for a week!”

The
polisi
was shaking his head but he could do nothing. The villagers would not leave unless Pak Eko gave the order to do so. They trusted him completely. Besides, if they left, who would protect their homes, belongings and cattle?

No, leaving their homes was not possible. The Silent Walk would have to fix this.

People started straggling back home slowly. There was nothing more to be said. No one would ever disagree with the old man. If he said the mountain was safe, it was safe. That was that.

Fitri and Agus saw their father walk up to the policeman and the
bule. “
It is late, Bapak,” he said using the respectful term of “Sir” to address the two visitors. “Would you like to stay at our home tonight? And go back to the city tomorrow?”

Fitri felt a twinge of pride for her father. Ayah was one of the few men in the village who had been to Yogyakarta, had a school education and spoke a smattering of English. Outsiders did not intimidate him, as they did some of the other village folk.

Agus nudged her excitedly. “The
bule
is coming to our home!”

“Yes, he is,” Fitri said, looking thoughtful. “I think Ayah has invited him to stay with us so he can ask him more questions. You know, about the Merapi. I think he is really worried.”

The children stayed where they were for a while and then, in silence, made their way home. Fitri was lost in her thoughts and Agus, sensing she was worried, followed quietly. If Ayah was worried, the situation with the Merapi must be serious.

On the way home, Agus felt a few pebbles hitting him on his head. He turned around to see three boys following them, giggling and making faces.

“Hey Agus, ask the spirits in the Merapi to fix your face. Why don't you go to the crater and ask them,” one of the boys yelled out.

“Yeah, maybe you will fall in,” another boy said. They all started laughing.

Agus lowered his head. Tears welled in his eyes and he hid his mouth with his hand. For the hundredth time he cursed his luck for being born with a deformed lip and wished he could somehow get back at these boys. “One day I'll show them!” he muttered under his breath.

Usually Fitri would have turned right around to yell back at the boys and protect her brother. But on this day, her thoughts were elsewhere. She kept a firm grip on Agus' hand and walked faster to catch up with her father. She asked him the question uppermost in her mind, “Ayah, why do people listen to Mbah Eko?”

“What do you mean?” asked her father.

“I mean, how do we know he is right? The white man doesn't think so.”

Her father smiled, “Well, it's like this. Why do you listen to your teacher at school? Because you believe he is right. Correct?”

Fitri nodded.

“Now if someone came and told you that he is actually wrong, would you believe the new person?”

Fitri shook her head.

“Exactly. This is the same thing. People trust what they know. It takes time to change their minds. The man from the Volcanology Centre is an outsider and not Javanese. He isn't even Indonesian. We don't know him. Most of us have known Mbah Eko all our lives. And even if some of us believe the outsider when he says that the volcano is not safe, it is not an easy thing to leave your home,” explained Ayah.

“I hope the Guardian is right,” Ayah continued. “I don't have a good feeling about this.”

FIVE : THE TREASURE AND THE SECRET CAVE

The
bule
and her father talked late into the night. The white man asked all kinds of questions about Pak Eko, and his influence on the people.

“Why don't the people believe us?” Pak Andersen said in an exasperated tone. “What does the Guardian of the Merapi know that we as men of science don't?”

Ayah tried to explain as best as he could. “We believe he can talk to the spirits in the volcano. The spirits tell him when it is time to leave. He can't stop the eruption, but we believe that the mountain will give him enough warning. We hope and pray it only clears its throat and does not cough. If it needs to cough, it will give us enough time to leave.”

Ayah paused. “It is a complicated relationship with the volcano, Pak Andersen. It is not always easy for outsiders to understand it.”

Agus skulked around, staring at the
bule,
fascinated by his first close encounter with a foreigner. The white man peered at Agus.

“Come here, boy. Let me have a look at you,” the
bule
said in his halting Bahasa, gesturing to the boy's lip. “What's wrong with your lip?”

A poke from his mother sent Agus scuttling towards the white man.

“Have you taken him to a
dokter,
a surgeon? This kind of thing can be fixed,” he said, examining the boy's face.

Ayah shook his head. “There is no
rupiah,
Pak. Where is the money to take the boy to a big hospital in the city?”

“Maybe you should. I have a doctor friend in Jakarta. Maybe he can recommend someone to have a look at the boy.”

Despite himself, Agus cast an excited look at his father's somber face.

“You are a great believer of science, Pak Andersen,” Ayah said. “But not all problems can be solved through science. We do not have the money to go to the city hospital. And we have bigger problems on our heads,” he said, looking at the smoking mountain.

Ayah's words were a harbinger of trouble. At four in the morning, the earth moved and rocks tumbled down the mountain. Fitri felt the ground moving a few split seconds before she felt her mother shaking her awake. “Fitri, Agus! Wake up! We have to leave!”

People ran out of their homes terrified that the volcano had finally erupted. But the tremors stopped, just as suddenly as they had started. Both the
bule
and the policeman were trying to calm everyone down.

“It's okay, it's okay! Everyone listen up. It wasn't an eruption. Just a small tremor,” the policeman was shouting.

Agus looked terrified. “Fitri! What about the
lahars?
If they start coming down, can we run fast and get away? What about Pak Eko? He is even closer to the crater.”

Fitri did not answer because she did not want to tell him the truth. There was no way anyone could outrun
lahars.
They were deadly mudflows.
Lahars
started after a volcanic eruption and moved like liquid concrete, full of mud, rocks and debris. They moved at super speeds, faster than any man or animal could run, destroying and sinking everything in their path.

Instead she said, “It's okay, Agus. There is no
lahar
yet.”

Pak Andersen was on his radio, talking to his office in Yogyakarta. The villagers crowded around him, worried, anxious. They had so many questions. Would it happen again? Is the volcano going to erupt? Is the lava loose? Is it flowing towards them this very minute?

The
bule
shook his head. “It is the same level of danger as before.”

He turned to Fitri's father. “Pak Eko must let the people leave the village. The eruption could happen anytime. Speak to him again,” he urged.

A group, along with Ayah, set off for Pak Eko's hut to see if he was okay, and to ask him again whether they should leave, or stay for the
Tapak Bisu.

Over an hour passed and Fitri huddled under a warm blanket in the doorstep of her house, shivering in the cold early morning air, watching the nervous excitement outside. People were waiting for the group) to return from Pak Eko's hut.

“Psst, Fitri, I have something to show you,” Agus popped up, whispering to her. She realised she had not seen him after the earthquake. In all the excitement, Agus had gone missing.

“Why is your face so dirty, you monkey? Ibu had better not see you now.” She touched his shirt. “Are you wet? How did you get wet?”

“I followed Ayah to Pak Eko's hut, to see what he would say.”

His sister was about to yell at him, but something in his face stopped her. “When the earth moved... something, something is there, Fitri,” he almost whispered to her.

“What do you mean something is there? Are you making up stories again? Like the last time you thought you saw a big bear in the mountain? We don't have any bears here,” Fitri snapped at him.

“No, no, Fitri, I promise. This is something else,” he said excitedly. “Something is there in the ground.”

Fitri found it impossible to soothe the agitated boy, so she told him she would spank him if he was making up stories to annoy her, and reluctantly agreed to follow him.

They ran up the mountain till they reached the watchtower. At this point, Agus should have taken the road that led back to the Guardian's hut, just as he had done yesterday. Instead, curiosity had gotten the better of him and, on impulse, he took the other road and went up towards the government sign-post that read “
Berbahaya”.

It was deathly quiet.

“That's it, Agus. We can't go on anymore. It's too dangerous,” his sister said looking around nervously.

“It's only a little way further,” Agus said.

Fitri stood there, refusing to move.

“Just a bit further, Fitri. Come on! Not near the dome!” Agus said urgently. “Come on!”

It was times like this that she thought her little brother was braver than her. Agus led her on the path till they came to a section of the mountain with a small stream. Just across the stream, the path became rocky with paved stones and the road led further up. There were large stones scattered over the stream to help people cross over. Agus jumped from stone to stone like a goat, splashing his already-wet shirt, crossed to the other side and came to a halt.

“Look,” said Agus, pointing a little to the left.

At first, Fitri saw nothing. She was focusing on the smell around her – rotten eggs! Just like Ayah had said.

The early morning light was still faint and she did not know this part of the mountain well. Then she saw it. The earthquake had cracked open a large crevice in the ground. Through it, going into the ground, she could see...

“Steps! These are steps!”

“Yes, I told you something is here,” said Agus, looking very pleased with himself.

The steps seemed to disappear into a hole. Both kids looked in but pitch darkness stared back at them.