Twilight That is (Not Yet) Gone: a Short Story by Bambang Kariyawan Ys.

Cik Siti never tires of accommodating the twilight. Sitting in the cottage. Make friends with coconut trunks that have long collapsed among the dense perepat trees. His eyes were filled with anticipation for someone he really missed.
“Father… come back,” said Cik Siti softly, clinging to the perepat leaves that grew between the coconut trees.
Repeatedly said this sentence while waiting for the sun to fall on the earth. All the longing has been petrified in the chamber of his heart. The lump of longing had coagulated.
I remember when Cik Siti was little, my father always took her to enjoy the crashing waves of the sea. Throwing down perepat trees. The tree that once became a legendary story about the symbol of Commander Ali’s victory by planting 1000 perepat trees. The fruit that my mother always served was used as shrimp paste sauce. The combination of noodles and sago plates tastes really delicious.
It’s like there’s a ritual at dusk. Afternoon bathing in the ditch in front of the house with friends. The ditch flows with brown water. It feels different to bathe together in this ditch. Wrapped in wet cloth, Cik Siti and her friends bathed, washed and hummed to each other about the nature of this village. Flowing brown gullies grew between pink lotus flowers. Felt in the bath of the king’s daughters.
Semukut, the name of a village that still holds sadness about rubber that never tires of being cut. Rubber prices continue to fall, leaving behind stories of past glories. The aroma of ojol was once so united with Cik Siti. Accompanying father uphill from night to morning. From these results, daily needs are met. However, as the price of rubber plummeted, my father was forced to use the most reckless method that the village residents usually used. This method is by smuggling into neighboring countries. This method can be double-edged. if it passes, then the extension of fate will continue. But if you fail, you will face fate and you will disappear somewhere. Sad stories about people who were caught. Including the sad story that now belongs to Cik Siti. Cik Siti’s father hasn’t been going back and forth since he left to smuggle. leaving Cik Siti waiting for that time, who knows when it will come. Over and over again, Cik Siti’s friends persuaded her not to often wait for sunset on the beach.
“There are lots of sea gnomes that you can catch later,” advised Biah, Cik Siti’s good friend.
Ignore these advices. Over time, Cik Siti needed to make ends meet by continuing to carry out her routine of waiting for dusk. She busied herself working in the charcoal burning panglong because she couldn’t stand picking up rubber that didn’t have a clear direction. Panglong, another term for factories, thrives in Semukut village. Many people depend on their livelihood by working in panglong arang. Even though it is actually very sad, the income obtained by sacrificing time and cutting down mangrove forests every day. Cik Siti works at the charcoal panglong to keep the charcoal kitchen fire always burning.
“The charcoal will continue to burn and blacken, but I will never forget about my father. It is my father who I always look forward to returning to this village at dusk.”
Siti doesn’t have any other work apart from working at Panglong Arang. Your face is beautiful like Princess Jamilah according to our village legend. “Slowly, it will turn black like charcoal and your moon face will be there,” joked Biah, a friend from his house on stilts who was already in disrepair.
“The important thing is that I can eat while extending the time so I can always wait for father and welcome the sunset.”
“Never mind, Miss Siti, forget it. You’d better think about your future. Remember that Jamal is always chasing you. Serve Jamal. I also feel sorry for him, like his back is missing the moon.” Biah joked again in his yard which was lush with basil.
“It’s better to be busy with charcoal than to think about Jamal, whose heart is as black as charcoal, like Commander Abbas in the legend of our village. I don’t want to die tragically and turn blue like Jamilah,”
Cik Siti really maintains the rhythm of her day by waiting for dusk and burning charcoal. Piles of wood are burned every day in kilns that bubble with the heat of the burning fire. After dusk he traced the paths lined with rubber trees leading to the beach. Sitting on a fallen coconut trunk in the middle of a grove of perepat, Cik Siti looked far away, waiting for the sun to set.
“Father, come back,” said the words again like a quiet mantra, calling out a figure who was missed by friends who were rubbing against a fishing boat moored on the shore. That’s the round of Cik Siti’s day.
The days in Semukut are getting worse. What is usually shady is becoming increasingly barren. overflowing water increasingly floods the roads. Houses on stilts are unable to limit the flow of water. In fact, now floods have become a new guest for this village.
Since the flood hit, Cik Siti feels like she has lost her twilight hours. The beach, which usually waits for dusk, is now overflowing. there is no side to carry out solemn rituals waiting for dusk.
“Cik Siti, do you know the reason why we often flood now?”
“What’s the cause, Sis Biah?”
“You know where you work. Cutting down endless mangroves along the riverour people are being fooled about plans to replant mangroves on our seashore.”
Cik Siti just realized that all this time she had been hearing whispers of people discussing the origin of the raw material for the charcoal where she worked. Mangrove wood and nytel resulting from illegal logging. Not permitted. hectares of mangrove forests are slowly being cut down. Every day tons of mangrove wood is cut down without mercy.
“Really? I don’t want to lose the evening and wait for dad. I have to do something.”
Since then, Cik Siti no longer wants to work at Panglong Arang.
“What do you eat when you don’t work at Panglong Arang?” Ask your co-workers who usually work together to keep the fire bubbling.
“I want to eat sempolet every day my mother cooks,” joked Cik Siti.
“But I don’t know, what’s important to me is that the habit of waiting for dusk doesn’t disappear.” Cik Siti continued while making Cik Siti’s face look carefree while picking perepat fruit for her lunch menu.
“You seem to be going crazyWhat you’re waiting for is fun at dusk, there’s nothing else but dusk, dusk, and dusk.”
“I like it.” Once again, Cik Siti made a sad face.
That’s how Cik Siti is, the ritual of waiting for dusk cannot be hindered by anyone.
Since finding out that obstacles await her in the evening due to mangrove logging, Cik Siti decided to quit the factory and took various steps to stop it.
He met the boss of the charcoal factory to stop cutting down mangroves any more. He got an answer.
What do you want to do if you don’t work in Panglong anymore?”
You don’t need to think about it. I can look for a place on the beach, help make thatched roofs, work in sago, rubber, coconut, coffee, areca palm plantations, and there are many other things I can do.”
“I have paid a lot to build this panglong. Panglong has made this village known as a charcoal supplier throughout the country. You should be proud of that. The charcoal from this island is the best in the whole world.”
Cik Siti looked at Tauke full of anger. He held his fingers which were blackened with charcoal.
“It doesn’t matter whether we want charcoal number one or how many, what is clear is that we don’t want this village to flood in an uncertain direction because our mangrove forests are used up to be used as charcoal. Who’s to say what Tauke did for this country? It turns out that Tauke had been lying all this time by exchanging the packaging for this village’s charcoal with packaging from a foreign country. Tauke has lost this village with Tauke’s cunning methods! Look at what I’m going to do. “You’ve taken my Tauke’s weapon,” Cik Siti growled softly, full of revenge.
Stumbling through the mud left by the flood, Cik Siti headed to the beach to wait for dusk.
“Dad, come back. Help Siti.” The sentence was repeated over and over again, like repeating a healing mantra from an inland tribe.
The dark night crept on. Anxiety filled his rumbling chest. A shroud of anger leads her to do something beyond her ability as a woman who wants to always accommodate twilight.
The next day, Tauke and the charcoal panglong workers were shocked by the burning of the wood storage warehouse and the ship transporting charcoal to overseas countries.

Pekanbaru, 2019

Bambang Kariyawan Ys., a Teacher. WA: 08117595971