Page 3 of A is for Ahool

I had frozen in place at the first glimpse of her, unable to stop looking. Her plush pink lips moved as she muttered under her breath in a language I did not understand. I watched as she shifted her weight and crouched down to examine the ground more closely. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat, but it did not seem to affect her focus.

I had been simply curious at first. Who was this small human female who wandered the jungle alone? She was far from any path, but she did not smell of fear. Only the faint scent of coconut and female musk. It had frozen me in place.

The scent of her filled my lungs with each deep breath, wrapping around my heart and awakening something I had never expected to feel. When I was very young my father spoke to me of the mating urge. He said I would know my beloved by her scent. That it would change me and I would never be the same.

As I stared at the slight figure wandering through my jungle, I knew my father had been right. This human, this small, perfect being, was meant to be mine. And no matter how much her scent called to me, we were not the same. When I looked at her, I saw beauty beyond reasoning. But when she looked at me, she would see a monster.

Chapter Two

Annisa

I woke far too early the next morning. Weak daylight painted the ceiling of the hut, spilling in the window that faced the tiered rice paddies. On the other side of a thin screen, my hosts still snored quietly. I rolled off my low cot onto my knees and reached for the bowl and jug beside the bed.

I quietly filled the bowl with water from the jug and splashed water on my face. Even so early in the morning, it was already balmy. That did nothing to change my plans. I had to convince the head of the science department and my overprotective parents that I was capable of doing my own field research.

The first time I visited Mount Salak, I was a grad student working on my thesis. I was with a mixed-gender group of seven from my university, and finding time to be alone in the jungle was nearly impossible. Now, three years later and graduated, I could return as an assistant professor. Alone. It was both thrilling and daunting.

After morning prayer, I stood and stretched. My hijab had twisted during the night, leaving my dark waves spilled across one shoulder. I slept with it uncovered and unbound at home, but it felt uncomfortable with only a screen separating me from mixed company. I twisted my long hair into a bun at the nape of my neck and readjusted my scarf.

I had taken the time to bathe and change my clothes the night before, so there was only the borrowed kain kebat to consider. The long, brightly colored cloth belonged to my host, Emak, who was kind enough to supply me with several wraps for my visit. I lifted the first Kebat from the small stack.

It was covered in thick bands of burgundy and gold in a thatched pattern reminiscent of the home’s walls. I took a moment to appreciate the handmade skirt before I wrapped it around my waist. I was free to wear my pants underneath, but in the village, the skirt was required.

I left my small sleeping area and paused in the main living space. The fire in the center of the hut lightly smoldered, a faint trail of smoke rising to escape the window high in the back wall. I tapped my hands on my thighs as I walked over to look out the front door at the narrow path that served as the main street. It was quiet.

I squinted down the street to where it ended just before the tree line. It would be rude to leave without speaking to my hosts. I had time. Even as I walked over to sit on the edge of the porch, I felt jittery.

More than my career hinged on this trip. If I could find the elusive lily, and show it in its natural environment, maybe I could make a difference. Change policies. Find a way to save what little wild was left on the island.

Every year, the jungle shrank a little more to make room for cropland. It was progress, but it was also devastation. If I could prove that the lily still existed in the wild, prove that the jungle was worth saving, maybe I could shelter the rest of the national park. Maybe, I could still the knife carving at the edges of the land.

A loud throat clearing jerked me out of my thoughts. I turned toward the screen to see my hosts shuffling out into the morning light. My gaze flicked to Abah for a brief moment before returning to Emak. She smiled and nodded.

“I trust you slept well,” Emak said.

“I did, thank you. And you?” I asked.

“We slept well. Thank you,” Emak answered for her and her husband. She gestured for me to follow her.

I grabbed my knapsack and walked with her out into the morning light. Emak stopped at the edge of the porch to tip her face up to the sun. She smiled, deepening the lines etched into her copper skin, and I found myself smiling in return. Emak opened her eyes to look at me.

“Eager to get started?” she asked with a knowing smile.

I ducked my head. “Very,” I murmured.

“Let me pack you food for the day,” Emak said, starting to walk without waiting for agreement. She was quick despite her age.

I hurried after her. We walked down the road to the larger bamboo structure that served as the communal kitchen. Over a dozen women were already busy with food preparation when we arrived. They chatted with each other in the local language as they worked. I tried to join in the food preparation, but Emak shooed me to the side.

“You are a visitor,” one of the other women said in stilted Indonesian.

I nodded hesitantly and scanned the large room. Along the back wall, five large pots hung over a trench full of flickering flames. The rest of the room held two long tables where the women were preparing the food for the men at work in the rice patties. After a few minutes, Emak emerged from the group with a folded cloth.

“This should suit you for the day,” she said, holding it out to me.

I took the small bundle thankfully.

“Be back before nightfall,” Emak cautioned.