At home in Purwokerto

Traditional style windows in the upstairs family room.

After Dwi’s father came home and we all became acquainted, it was time to take us around and meet some of the relatives. Andreas actually had to visit his doctor and get a prescription, so he took us along, thinking that it would be a quick trip, but the doctor was late for the appointment, so we had to kill some time. Since it was close by, we went to visit one of Dwi’s aunts who runs a beauty salon. It felt strange to be going into what I’ve always thought of as a ‘women’s world,’ but people there don’t seem to notice such things. Auntie’s beauty salon was just an extension of her home, and another place to show hospitality.

We entered the salon and were introduced by Andreas. This was, I think, a surprise visit for Auntie, her employee, and her customers, but they didn’t seem very busy, so with us men seated on two couches and the ladies sitting about on salon chairs, we struck up a conversation—at least those who could speak bahasa did. I listened very closely to see how much I could catch, and interjected little bits of bahasa when I was asked a question. It really was a great experience, just like being with my own relatives when I was a child. Family, and especially extended family, is very intact here.

After awhile, Andreas returned and we began the process of rounding people up to go to dinner this evening. It’s amazing how many people we were able to fit in his car. Auntie and some other female relatives came and then we returned home and picked up the rest of the family. Night was coming on quickly, and so was the nightly thunder shower. It started raining as the last bit of sunset light vanished behind the tiled roofs of the houses we passed on the way to the restaurant.

The streets we passed through would seem like narrow alleys to Americans. This city is definitely laid out in the Asian, maybe traditional, pattern. I haven’t been to Europe, but I imagine this is also how it is in old towns there. The American pattern of wide streets and boulevards is a luxury of a land with unlimited space. Personally, I like the coziness, and the mystery, of these ancient alleys, where suddenly after meters of uninteresting walls and gates, you might come upon the most splendid, hidden entrance to an even more interesting house or shrine.

We reached our destination and quickly ran inside the restaurant for cover. The rain was beginning to pour now, not just drizzle. A few faint thunderclaps were heard. I wish it were day time, so I could see exactly where we were, but the night and the soft glow of the lamps made the complex of unwalled pavilions, interspersed among ponds and gardens, a dreamlike wonder. We were seated at the long table in the picture. Really, the table was too big for us, and after seeing how we had accidentally divided ourselves at the two far ends of it, we moved ourselves more evenly around it, so we could be near each other. I had the pleasure of sitting next to Eko (while he told the story that follows), whom I already knew from our exchanges on FaceBook, even before I knew he was Dwi’s brother.

Eko is a very interesting young man, about twenty-six years old. He works with his father in a wood products company, and I believe he is one of the buyers, that is, of raw lumber. I wanted to visit their company with them, but on this trip there wasn’t enough time. During dinner, one of the subjects that came up was the Chinese zodiac. ‘I am a metal rabbit,’ I told them. And we each went around and told the others our animal. Then, spontaneously, Eko started telling us a tale.

Long ago in ancient China, the Jade Emperor, Yu Huang Shang Di, decided there should be a way to measure time. On his birthday he told the animals that there was to be a swimming race. The first twelve animals to cross a fast-flowing river would be the winners and each have a year named after him.

All the animals lined up along the river bank. The rat and the cat, who were good friends, were worried because they were poor swimmers. Being clever they asked the ox if he would carry them across the river. ‘Of course,’ said the ox. ‘Just climb on my back and I will take you across.’

The rat and the cat jumped on and were very excited when the ox soon took the lead in the race. They had almost reached the other bank when the rat pushed the cat into the river, leaving him to struggle in the water. Then, just as the ox was about to win the race, the rat leapt up on his head and onto the river bank to finish first. ‘Well done,’ said Yu Huang Shang Di to the rat. ‘The first year will be named after you.’ The ox had been tricked into second place, and the second year was named after him.

Shortly after, the exhausted tiger clawed his way to the river bank to claim third place. It had been an enormous struggle for him against the strong currents. Yu Huang Shang Di was so delighted with his efforts, that he named the third year after him.

Next to arrive was the rabbit, who hadn’t swum across at all. He hopped across on some stepping stones and then found a floating log which carried him to the shore.
‘I shall be very happy to call the fourth year after you,’
the surprised Jade Emperor explained.

Just then a kind dragon swooped down to take fifth place. ‘Why didn’t you win the race, as you can fly as well as swim?’ Yu Huang Shang Di asked. ‘I was held up because some people and animals needed water to drink. I needed to make some rain,’ the dragon explained. ‘Then, when I was nearly here, I saw a poor little rabbit on a log in the water, and I blew a puff of wind so that the log would float to the river bank.’ ‘Well, that was very kind of you, and now you are here, so you will have the fifth year named after you.’

The next thing the Jade Emperor heard was the sound of the horse’s hooves. Just as he was thinking the horse would be the next animal to arrive, a sneaky snake wriggled out from around one of the horse’s hooves. The horse was so surprised that he jumped backwards giving the snake a chance to take the sixth place in the race. The poor horse had to be satisfied with seventh place.

Not long afterwards, a raft arrived carrying the goat, the monkey and the cock. They explained to the Emperor how they had shared the raft that the cock had found. The goat and monkey had cleared weeds and pushed the raft to the shore. The Emperor was very pleased that the animals had worked together. He named the eighth year after the goat, the ninth after the monkey, and the tenth after the cock.

The next animal to reach the river bank was the dog. ‘Why are you so late when you’re one of the best swimmers?’ asked Yu Huang Shang Di. ‘The water in the river was so clean that I had to have a bath on the way,’ explained the dog. His reward was to have the eleventh year named after him.

Now there was one year left, and the Jade Emperor wondered when the last winner would come in. He’d nearly given up when he heard a grunt from the boar. ‘You took a long time to cross the river,’ he said to the boar. ‘Well, I was hungry and stopped to eat,’ explained the boar. ‘After the meal I felt so tired that I fell asleep.’ ‘Ah, but you’ve still done well,’ said Yu Huang Shang Di. ‘The last year of the twelve will be named after you.’

As for the cat who had been pushed into the water by the rat, he finally crawled out of the water but was too late to have a year named after him. He felt very cross with the rat and since then cats have never been friends with rats. From that day to this the Chinese Zodiac has followed this cycle of years named after these twelve animals.

We all thanked him and congratulated him for telling this tale, even though only a few of us could understand it—he spoke in rather excellent English—and I decided then and there that I would include it when I wrote the story of this night.

Meanwhile, the food, delicious and nourishing, kept coming. It was mostly roasted fish, various vegetable dishes, and of course, plenty of mendoan. I concentrated on the veggies and mendoan, and drained at least a couple of glasses of teh manis. Actually, to back up a bit, before we actually ate, we went to wash our hands in a little sink on the edge of the pavilion. Looking down into the pond below us we could see dozens of large, even gigantic, golden carp, just like you see in Asian paintings. It felt like we were in a Song Dynasty teahouse in Hangzhou, everything so peaceful and softly bright.

By now, actually during Eko’s tale, the rain was pouring in sheets. It was a real downpour, pierced by occasional lightning and thunder. Though the pavilion was open, it wasn’t windy, the rain seemed to fall straight down, and no one got wet. We started joking about the name that I had given Dwi—Arjuna—and mused on the relationship between Arjuna and Yudhie, my son, whose full name is Yudhisthira. Both young men now are named after two of the five Pandavas.

Arjuna the archer, Yudhisthira the righteous king and eldest brother. Andreas looked over at me sitting across the table with my head of white hair, and called me, ‘Bhishma!’ The grandfather of the Pandavas, their protector and mentor, Bhishma. What an honor! Then he pointed at himself and his dear wife seated beside him and laughingly said, ‘Pandu’ and ‘Kunti,’ the names of the father and mother of the Pandavas.

Suddenly, in the cool evening and soft lamp light, we somehow began to become family to one another, through the remembrance of an ancient epic which was wholly unrelated to the ancestral heritage of any of us. It’s an Indian epic which came to Yndonesia in ancient times and was accepted by the Javanese. But Andreas and his family are Chinese, and me, I’m a European. At that table, only Yudhie could claim any connexion to the heroes of old.

All too soon, the supper was over, and we slowly got up from our seats and made ready to depart. The rain had by now died down again, and the night felt crisp and fresh. I think there were even stars visible in the sky. The city had quieted down too, as we drove through the streets to drop off the Auntie and others who were not staying at Andreas’ house. Then, we were home, bid goodnight to our hosts, and Yudhie and I followed Dwi up to the second floor where we would sleep.
Home again, at last, in Purwokerto.

Next… Mother of hot springs