Bule Situations: Wiwik

By Wombat | February 17th, 2006 | 5 Comments »

It took a minute before I looked up to see a pretty young girl asking what I wanted. She stared, and repeated her question.

“Where’s the old lady ?“, I asked.

“Oh you mean my grandmother “.

Her eyes froze my whole being with a cold glare when she spoke and I knew then that she didn’t appreciate my abruptness. So much so that she ignored me completely and proceeded to serve the person who stood beside me. In front of her, on a makeshift wooden table, were placed several circular stainless steel pots. In each were the various ingredients of Gudeg Yogya.

On a large plate were chicken pieces, already cooked and yellowish in colour from Tumeric, piled high and there for the choosing. It was poetry in motion to see this young girl’s movements. Using the flat of her upturned palm she placed a square piece of thick brown paper and upon that, a square of banana leaf. The young girl then proceeded to ladle out the food from the containers onto a large scoop of boiled rice on the banana leaf. I was amazed at her speed and she was just as efficient at taking payment for the meal, carefully placing the money neatly into a small pocket in the front of her waist level, stained apron she wore. Then the young girl stirred each pot with the large wooden spatula to her satisfaction and straight away the lids were returned to each pot to keep the warmth within.

The young girl, whom I estimated to be eighteen years old, was beautiful. Her facial characteristics were highlighted by the strong bone structure, the curve of the cheekbone emphasised the softness of her warm glowing complexion. Her lips were perfectly formed and I imagined that when she smiled, then it would light up the room she was in. The lamplight sparkled upon her long, raven coloured hair which flowed to her waist. My thoughts were many and all noble as I admired her intently. I began to wonder why such a beautiful young woman would be serving food at a stall. With her beauty, and indeed poise, surely she could be applying her assets in a position that would be beneficial to her future.

She obviously became aware of my admiration as she turned to face me and stared deep into my eyes. It was a soft stare and one which strangely warmed my heart.

“Mau apa Pak ?“.

I knew what I wanted and I was pleased that she had forgotten my rudeness earlier. Even though I could speak Bahasa Indonesia, I just pointed at the various pots gesturing my choice without saying anything instead preferring to gaze at her. The young girl began smiling cheekily as she ladled the food onto the banana leaf and out of nowhere she quietly spoke fluently, “I can speak English Pak“.

Why did she say that, I thought. My lips were moving but no words were coming from my mouth. She laughed, beautifully – I took a deep breath. A few seconds after, the words finally came out of my mouth.

“What I would really like to know is your name“.

She was laughing sweetly as she finished wrapping my food. I thought that her name must be as beautiful as she was. Her laughter turned into a cheeky smile which lit up her face delightfully. The young girl looked deep into my eyes once more and then she began to giggle in a childish manner. She hesitated at first and then happily replied with that cheeky tone.

“Wiwik“.

As I struggled to pronounce her name properly, she couldn’t control her laughter through her smile.

“No Pak, you don’t say it like that. You pronounce it this way ‘Wee Wee’“.

My urge to laugh uncontrollably was suppressed by my respect for the young girl. Wiwik still had that beautiful smile as she put out her hand to be paid for the meal. As I gave her the Rp7,000 I felt the softness of her skin.

“Thankyou. You do have a very beautiful name even though I cannot pronounce it“.

She was very kind in her eyes as she replied, “Pak, just say ‘Iwik’. I like that“.

I nodded my head, smiled as warmly as I was able and said goodbye to her. As I turned to walk away, a soft voice from behind ceased any further movement.

“You come back tomorrow night eh“.

Why did she say that I thought as I glanced back at Iwik wondering if she knew me from another time in Yogyakarta.

I stepped down off the sidewalk onto becak alley. I couldn’t help but wonder if she really knew the real meaning of her name in the Western world!. I most certainly wasn’t going to enlighten her.

Hurriedly I returned to the hotel. From years of experience, I knew what a cold breeze meant. As soon as I felt it, I knew that heavy rain wasn’t too far away.

By Barrie Lie-Birchall