The Plantation - Di Morrissey [76]
‘Yes, you will. Come on, we’ll help you.’
Children came scampering down to meet them, bare feet barely touching the fragile looking steps and swaying bridge. They stared shyly at the Europeans but once Chitra spoke to them, they clustered around her bursting with questions.
‘Here comes Tuai Rumah, the chief. He’s the headman of the longhouse, and he will issue our formal invitation,’ said David. ‘He’s also known as James and he speaks some English. His son, Charles, is quite well educated, but I don’t know if he’s here. There’ll be a bedara, a welcome ceremony, later.’
Julie tried to absorb everything. She followed Chitra, carrying her backpack but when she came to the narrow ladder, she stopped.
‘Barefoot is easiest. Turn your feet sideways and go up like a crab. Hold onto the bamboo railings. Someone will bring your gear,’ Chitra told Julie.
Cautiously, Julie managed to scramble up the long ladder. She was followed by two little girls who just walked up it without hanging on, carrying Julie’s backpack between them.
Two bare-breasted women in sarongs waiting at the woven cane bridge were full of welcoming smiles and giggles. The older woman with her dry breasts like deflated balloons, long looped earlobes and missing teeth had bright black button eyes that were full of mischief and fun. The other woman, a baby tied to her back by a length of red cloth, was sweet faced and took Julie’s hand as she stepped onto the swinging bridge.
The longhouse was surrounded by bananas, jack fruit and durian trees, and a garden plot. A rice field could be seen further up a hill. Under and around the raised long-house were dogs, chickens and pigs. Several notched logs led up onto the long open verandah, or tanju as Chitra called it. Here washing hung, large looms with half- completed woven rattan mats leaned against the wall, a bitch lay feeding a litter of puppies and children played while families gathered to watch the visitors.
Stepping onto the tanju, Julie felt the slatted wooden floor creak and move with her weight. Shoes were removed, and they moved into the gloomy shade of a parallel long corridor that was the communal living area. Baskets, tools and storage bins were suspended from a loft and outboard motors, plastic tubs, a pile of gourds used to carry water, lengths of rattan and several large woven conical hats were piled against the walls.
‘This is the ruai, the main indoor verandah, and those are the bilek, individual living quarters for each family,’ said Chitra indicating the row of doors partitioning off each small apartment.
David took Julie’s arm. ‘Here we are. Because of the number of families in residence we might have to share rooms.’
‘I don’t mind sharing with Chitra,’ said Julie quietly.
‘Ah, she’ll be sharing with Matthew.’ David gave her a big smile and wink. ‘They’re old friends.’
‘Oh.’ Before she could ask where she would be sleeping, the headman came to them and introduced his wife. She smiled, picked up Julie’s bag and led Julie to the centre bilek and ushered her inside. The room was big, but cluttered. Two large mats had a traditional woven blanket on each while an intricately designed, half-completed blanket hung from a long loom leaning against the wall. The old leather suitcases and a basket in one corner probably held clothing, Julie thought, while sarongs, shirts and some bead necklaces were displayed along the bamboo frame of one wall. Large pots, including a Chinese ceramic one, water carriers, a brass gong and other metal ornaments, and a beautiful feather headdress were scattered about the room.
There was a roof flap, which was opened by a pole, letting in fresh air, and a bamboo door was propped open, showing a walkway that crossed to another small room. It was built with bits of corrugated iron and was obviously a detached kitchen. It occurred to Julie that fire must be a dreadful hazard in longhouses, even when the cooking fires were separated from the main dwelling. She recalled now seeing a small fireplace in the ruai, but this must be