No Smoke Without Fire

NO SMOKE WITHOUT FIRE AN INDONESIAN-INSPIRED ANTHOLOGY DEV GUNAWIDJAJA

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NO SMOKE WITHOUT FIRE AN INDONESIAN-INSPIRED ANTHOLOGY

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Copyright Š 2018 Dev Gunawidjaja All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical form, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

ISBN Characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Editing by [insert name here] Front image cover by [insert name here] All photographs by [insert name here] Book design by [insert name here] Printed and bound in the United Kingdom First printing in May 2018 Published by Nusantara Imprint Bath Spa University Newton St Loe Bath Visit www.nusantaraimprint.com/no-smoke-without-fire

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Contents Introduction / 07 Dev Gunawidjaja / Timun Mas / 11 Aaron Shepard / Too-Too-Moo and the Giant / 15 Ridha Harwan / The Tiger People / 19

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Introduction Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.

Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.

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Timun Mas DEV GUNAWIDJAJA

Timun studied the branch on the tree in front of her—the one that held her deflated bundle of forages—and blinked the harsh sunlight away from her eyes.

Sweat trickled down her temple, her arm aching from dangling for so long. She reckoned she could make the jump, but the branch didn’t look sturdy enough to hold her for long.

Only one way to find out.

She swung her legs back and forth, back and forth, until the she could see the tips of her toes in her line of vision. She kicked with all her might and leapt.

A rush of air blew her hair away from her face and she felt the roughness of bark under her palm. “Yes!” she exclaimed, a second before the sound of wood breaking caught her attention. Before she knew it, gravity took a toll on her.

She fell on her back with an “Ack!”, her head, elbow and ankles screamed with pain. As she lied there waiting for the throbbing to subside, she reached for her bundle—a thinning gunny sack—and rummaged through its contents.

Just a handful of mangosteen; nothing more, nothing less.

Gingerly, she got to her feet and limped back home. Thankfully, it wasn’t far. She saw the hut’s roof peeking from beyond the thicket.

“What happened to you?” Srini screeched as soon as Timun walked in.

“I fell off a tree getting this.” Timun handed her mother the bag with a wince. She collapsed on the floor shortly after; it wasn’t any cooler than the ground outside. “I threw it and it landed on a high branch.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“You made me forage during a drought. I had to keep myself busy somehow.”

Srini hobbled to the makeshift dining table and sat on the only, rickety, chair. “And you’ll be thanking me when you don’t starve to death.”

“No, but we’re cutting it close.”

“I’d rather not have it come to worse.” Srini took a mangosteen and brought it close to her face. “Now do be so kind and collect some kindling for me.”

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“Why didn’t you tell me to go get them before I left?” Timun spluttered.

“I forgot to.” When Timun didn’t move, she said. “Go on. What are you waiting for?”

Birds skittered in the distance. “What’s with you?”

“What, dear?”

Timun sat up. “You’re being curt and distant, which isn’t like you at all.

You demand I gather fruits when you clearly know there’s a drought happening. We’re lucky mangosteens are resistant to it.” Srini said nothing.

“I don’t know. You’ve just been more . . . agitated lately. Did I do something wrong?”

Srini frowned and looked away. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong. Just a bit ill, is all. I just wanted something that might make me feel better. Now get us some wood, why don’t you? The food won’t cook itself.”

It was a weak argument. Mangosteen was fine as is; kindling was just another reason to get Timun to leave. But she decided against arguing. “Fine.”

With the forest dried up, kindling was everywhere. If her mother wanted her out of the house, she wasn’t coming up with good ideas. Not only could her mother easily have gathered some herself, she was the one who usually did it anyway. It’s not like her mother to eagerly kick her out, either. So what gives? Timun couldn’t wrap her head around it.

She’d picked up a twig between her toes and added it to her bunch when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Her head jerked up and she found herself eye-to-eye with a golden-furred kancil—a mousedeer.

“Oh,” Timun said, stunned. “Hello there.” She was careful as to make as little noise as possible when she approached it. It didn’t move when she knelt in front of it. Its eyes glinted; she could see her reflection in them.

Timun had to put the kindling down to pet it. She’d never felt anything so soft and fuzzy in her life. She was dimly aware of a deep vibration beneath her then, more birds taking to the air.

“What w—” The mousedeer nipped her fingers, seemingly tugged at it, and ran before she could finish the notion. “Ow!” She grabbed as many kindling as she could and took off after it. The vibrations grew stronger with every passing second; she couldn’t stay on her feet long enough to catch up with the mousedeer. It bounded ahead, but would look back at her as though it was impatiently waiting for her.

“Where are you taking me?” hollered Timun as she was thrown off balance once more. Picking up her pace proved difficult with the progressing 12

quake. A shadow had fallen over the forest. “Oy! What’s happening?”

She found herself round the back of her hut and stopped dead in her tracks. The second she caught sight of the monstrous green giant, she threw herself behind a tree, a hand clasped tightly over her mouth, her heart bursting with terror.

“Where is she?” The giant thundered. “Where is she?”

“She’s ill, Butho.” Timun could barely her mother over her panic. “Her flesh is no good for you.”

The giant banged his fist down and made the earth rumble. Timun bit down her tongue so hard to stop a scream, she tasted blood. “Don’t think you can get out of this so easily,” he snarled. “A deal’s a deal. I gave you her out of the goodness of my heart. It was your job to nurture her, but you know as well as I do that she was never yours. Now where is she?”

Silence followed, until Srini finally said, quietly, “Three days, Butho. Give her three days to heal and, I promise you, she’s all yours.”

Timun desperately wanted to believe that the conversation had come to an end, but all she felt was a piercing stab in her chest when she heard her mother’s blood-curdling scream.

“Three days,” Butho repeated, but as a threat. “Remember that.”

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Too-Too-Moo and the Giant AARON SHEPARD

Once on the island of Java there was a little girl named Too-too-moo. She lived with her Mama in a one-room house in a forest. They were poor but they were happy.

Or they would have been happy, if not for a terrible giant who came every day.

Each morning, when Too-too-moo woke up, she fastened her hair in a knot with her long hairpin. Then she hurried into the woods to help Mama gather firewood and herbs to sell at the village market.

When that was done, Mama cooked a small pot of plain rice and shared it with Too-too-moo for breakfast. She also cooked a huge pot of sweet porridge.

She made it from tasty rice flour, fragrant coconut milk, and lots of sugar.

But not even the tiniest bit of the porridge was for Too-too-moo and her Mama. It was all for the giant. Mama knew, if the giant came and did not find a full pot of porridge, he would eat Too-too-moo instead!

Then Mama left for the market, while Too-too-moo did the housework.

She shook out their sleeping mat, swept the floor, and washed their few dishes.

Then she went outside to play.

Soon she heard the giant’s terrible footsteps.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Too-too-moo ran into the house, picked up the covered pot of porridge, placed it outside on the doorstep, and shut and locked the door. Then she crouched and trembled in a corner.

The giant stamped up to the house. With one huge finger, he knocked on the door—Tock, tock, tock. Then he called, “Too-too-moo! Where are you?”

And Too-too-moo answered, “In the house.”

“And where is your Mama?”

“At the market.”

“And where is my PORRIDGE?” “In the pot!”

The giant took off the cover, picked up the pot, and swallowed the 15

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porridge in one big gulp. Then he threw down the pot and stamped back through the forest.

When Mama returned in the evening, she brought food that she had bought with the money earned at the market. But since they had to feed the giant, there was never enough for themselves.

One day, Mama did not sell as much as usual. When she came home, she had only enough food for the giant. She and Too-too-moo had to go hungry.

The next day was the same. And so was the day after that.

Too-too-moo and her Mama were starving.

On the fourth morning, Too-too-moo got up, fastened her hair with her long hairpin, and helped Mama gather firewood and herbs. Then Mama cooked the porridge for the giant and left for the market.

The sweet smell of the porridge filled the little house. Too-too-moo was so hungry, she couldn’t stand it.

“I’ll eat just one spoonful,” she said to herself. “The giant will never know.”

Too-too-moo uncovered the pot and ate one spoonful. But she was too hungry to stop! Before she knew what she was doing, a quarter of the porridge was gone.

Then she heard the giant’s terrible footsteps.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Too-too-moo quickly covered the pot, placed it outside on the doorstep, and shut and locked the door. Then she crouched and trembled in a corner.

The giant stamped up to the house. With one huge finger, he knocked on the door—Tock, tock, tock. Then he called, “Too-too-moo! Where are you?”

And Too-too-moo answered, “In the house.”

“And where is your Mama?”

“At the market.”

“And where is my PORRIDGE?” “In the pot!”

The giant took off the cover, picked up the pot, stopped, and looked.

“This pot is not full!” bellowed the giant. He threw it down and called again, “Too-too-moo! Where are YOU?” Too-too-moo did not answer.

With one blow of his fist, the giant knocked down the door. He reached in his long arm and felt all around till he found Too-too-moo. Then he pulled her from the house, tossed her in his mouth, and swallowed her in one big gulp.

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Too-too-moo tumbled into the giant’s stomach. “Please let me out!” she shouted.

But the giant didn’t listen as he turned and stamped back through the forest.

Too-too-moo cried and shook with fear. Then all of a sudden, she remembered her long hairpin.

Quickly she pulled it from her hair. With both hands and all her strength, Too-too-moo stuck it into the giant.

“YOW!” howled the giant.

Too-too-moo stuck him again.

“OUCH! YOW!” The giant danced about, but there was nothing he could do. “TOO-TOO-MOO, STOP!” But Too-too-moo did not stop. She stuck the giant again and again.

The bellowing giant raced through the woods. Mad with pain, he did not look where he was going. He tripped on a root and cracked his head on a rock.

The giant was dead!

But Too-too-moo was still trapped inside.

At that moment, Mama was on her way home. She had been lucky that day, and had quickly sold all she had carried to market. So she had bought rice and fish and vegetables, and even roasted peanuts as a special treat for Too-too-moo.

But when she reached the house, she saw the porridge thrown down and the door knocked in. She called, “Too-too-moo! Where are you?”

There was no answer.

Mama grabbed a big cooking knife and ran along the trail of the giant’s footsteps, calling, “Too-too-moo! Where are YOU?” Still no answer.

Then she came to where the giant lay dead. But her daughter was nowhere to be seen, so she called one last time, “TOO-TOO-MOO! WHERE ARE YOU?” And Too-too-moo answered, “IN THE GIANT!” With both hands and all her strength, Mama slit open the giant’s side.

And out climbed— Too-too-moo!

From that time on, Too-too-moo and her Mama were happy. There was no more giant to bother them. They always had enough to eat. And they had sweet porridge for breakfast, every single day.

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The Tiger People RIDHA HARWAN

Long ago, there are many tigers in the forest of Sumatra. The Tigers have always stolen away the villagers’ cattle and frightened them. The villagers never called this tiger by its real name in their conversation about the tiger.

The villagers thought that the Tigers could understand the human language. They would feel insulted if weak creatures like the human if they called them by their real name. The villagers knew how big a tiger could be.

The villagers believe that some Tigers could change themselves into the human being. They also believe that there were people who could turn themselves into a tiger.

These tiger’s people had a double life. In the daytime, they were the ordinary peasant. At night, they would leave their huts and creep into the forest to change themselves into tiger. There are many stories about such tiger people and here is one of them.

Once, there was a sales man who used to travel from village to village to sell cloth. One day, he was on his way on the road. He carries big bundle of beautiful woven, fabric, sarongs, and headscarves. Finally, he arrived at a crossroad.

The left the road was broad and smooth. The right it was narrow and full of stones. After a while, he decided to choose the left road. He thought that a good road would lead him to the real and generous customers in the village.

He walked on this road. The further he walked the bush becomes the trees which grew on each side of the road.

When dusk feels, there was still no sign of a village. The sales man did not meet a single person too. There were only monkeys on the trees and lizards hide in the grass.

At long last, he could hardly see the shadows of the trees. It started to be dark in that forest. Then this sales man saw a big house.

When he knocked the door, an old woman opened the door and asked what he wanted. He said that he wanted to sell a cloth, but he could not find any village.

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The man asked if the old woman allowed him to stay in her house. He just needs for one night because the forest was full of tigers. He was afraid if those Tigers would eat him.

The old women feel sorry for the sales man, but he could do nothing.

She said that her husband, brother, and son were all Tigers. If they found the sales man in the house, they would kill him.

The man felt frightened, and he did not know what to do. Finally, the old woman felt sorry for him. Then she allowed the man entered the house. She warned the man not to make any noise while her family was at home.

This woman gave the man meal. She took the bundle of cloth from him and hid him in a small room at the top of the house. Then the man growling and scratching in the room downstairs.

The tiger’s man had come home. As soon as they were inside, those Tigers said, they smelt a man inside the house. The old woman said that there was no man in the house. She told those Tigers people that a half an hour ago, a man trying to sell cloth.

He left his cloth and sarongs behind, and then went to the forest to sleep under the tree. Tomorrow he will come back for the bundle. The woman showed the Tigers people a bundle of cloth.

Those tiger’s people were interested in the fabric and sarongs. They wanted to have one. Every one of them chose a sarong and a headscarf. Those Tigers paid for those things with big pieces of gold since they did not have money at all.

After dinner, they decided to go back to the forest to look for the man and frightened him. It would be fun to scare the daylights out of him, they thought.

The next morning, the old woman woke up the man. She told him to go as fast as he could before the tigers’ people came from the forest. She gave him the pieces of gold. The old woman showed him the nearest way to the village.

This salesperson thanked the woman then he walked away as fast as he could. He did not stop until he arrived on the main road and knew that he was safe.

When he looked at his bag, he saw that gold. He found that they were worth a thousand times more than the cloth the Tigers people had bought. He returned home as a wealthy man. How happy he was.

After a year’s latter when he had forgotten about the bad night, he decided to go back. He wants to go to the house in the forest with some expensive woven cloth and jewels to sell to the tiger’s men.

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When he arrived at the place where the crossroad used to be, he found nothing. The broad and smooth path had disappeared. For days, he walked around the whole area. However, he could not locate the way to the old woman’s house.

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Credits Blue, D, 2016. Tiger Tiger. DeviantArt. Accessed 18 April 2018. < https://destinyblue.deviantart.com/art/Tiger-Tiger-555676386> Harwan, R. (2018). The Tiger People, Indonesian Children Myths from Sumatra. [online] Legends and Myths of Indonesia. Available at: https://indonesiantale. blogspot.co.uk/2013/07/The-Tiger-People-Indonesian-Children-Myths-fromSumatra.html [Accessed 18 Apr. 2018].

Merril, D. 2007. Bengal Shadows. Accessed 18 April 2018. < http://www.davemerrillart.com/bengal-shadows.htm> N. Amalin. 2015. Timun Mas and Buto Ijo. Behance. Accessed 25 April 2018. < https://student.unsw.edu.au/citing-images-and-tables-found-online> Shepard, A. (2001). Too-too-moo and the Giant (Javanese, Indonesian Folktales). [online] Aaronshep.com. Available at: http://www.aaronshep.com/ stories/022.html [Accessed 18 Apr. 2018].

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Fantastical wonders build the foundation of the great archipelago, but what if there was more lurking beneath the surface? Fantasy takes on Indonesia in No Smoke Without Fire: An Indonesian-Inspired Anthology. Ten individuals come together to tell their stories about how the nation came to be. We will introduce you to tales that combines both the mundane and bizarre: from mothers who cursed their own son for his ignorance, mere mortals who build mountains overnight, to goddesses who come down to earth to smite those whoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve wronged her.