Chapter 10

Bag of Rice, Husk of Coconut

The three-day festival was one of the few times of the year when the scent of sea-salt surrendered to the aromas of delicacies made with something other than what the sea could spit out. All across Lurit, Datu Hálgundî had propped up markets where both the foreign merchants and local villagers could set up stalls, tables, and mats to exchange their goods. Karí’s family, hoping to sell a few of their smaller earthen wares, had been granted a spot among sellers of kitchen tools and food.

Karí and Haban left their parents at their stall and threaded their way through the crowded, hive-like market. All around them, vendors offered grilled meat, spiced stews, and freshly squeezed fruit drinks. But the locals ignored these for now and congregated instead in a messy queue in front of one particular item: rice grains.

A wooden platform stood at the northern edge of the market, covered in sacks of rice. Karí was glad for Haban’s bulk beside her as bodies pressed close against each other. She gripped his hand as they squeezed against the shuffling villagers, bracing herself against the accidental jabs of elbows and knees and shoulders. They spent a long, uncomfortable moment in this writhing mass of bodies, until it spilled them in front of the platform. An official from Datu Hálgundî’s household stood there, holding a stack of bamboo sheets. A few others like her stood between the platform and the eager crowd.

The official looked at Haban, then at Karí. Then back at Haban. “You got married recently, did you not? Are you picking up the ration for your own household or the entire family?”

“Just five members,” Haban answered.

The official shuffled the pages and pulled a sharp writing implement from behind her ear. She struck out the names as Haban listed them. “Anata, Mun, Haban, Lala, and Karí.”

Every villager received a ration of plain and glutinous rice paid for by the datu; anyone who wanted more than their share could buy additional sacks if they could afford it. Haban exchanged five silver beads for an extra bag of black-grained rice.

As the official went about gathering their order, Karí glanced down at the platform. Most of the servants handing over bags and loading carriers were unfamiliar to her. These must be the rice-merchant’s own servants, not the datu’s. Merchant Tangad himself, however, was nowhere to be found. He was probably back in his own lodges, preening over his clothes.

The official who was handling Karí and Haban’s order finished stacking the sacks on a carrier with the help of other servants. Picking up one end of the carrier each, Karí and Haban peeled themselves away from the commotion. Haban’s steps were long and forceful, and soon enough, they reached their family’s stall, which looked sadly neglected while the villagers poured all their attention on the rice grains.

“Here’s our ration,” Karí said as they laid the carrier down. “Think it will last us at least three months this time?”

“Perhaps if Haban doesn’t inhale it all again in just ten days,” their Pa said, then winked at Haban.

“Me? Look who’s talking!” Haban replied, helping arrange the sacks beneath their stall, though he didn’t need to. With their father’s bulky frame that could have rivalled that of their previous datu, it was no great effort for him to lift several bags at once with one hand.

“Why don’t you go explore a bit?” Karí’s Ma said, handing over a pouch of beads. “Bring us back some lunch. I’m getting a little hungry just smelling all the food around here.”

Lala left the little corner where she’d arranged several of her lotions on display, and the three of them ventured off to the food stalls. There was a vendor selling stews of marinated pork and chicken that Karí knew was Haban’s favourite, and it didn’t surprise her that that was where he headed first. The tantalizing smell of tenderly cooked meat braised in soy sauce, vinegar and spices was enough to make her own stomach grumble, even though she hadn’t been hungry a moment before.

“Three orders, please!” Haban said, almost spilling his copper beads in the rush to pay.

While they waited for the vendor to scoop chunks of pork and chicken in three large husks of coconut, Karí walked down the aisle of stalls. Her gaze welcomed yellowed chicken meat skewered on grills, deep pots blackened with blood stew, pork ears and fat glistening with liver sauce, soupy fertilized duck eggs. Tubes of purple rice slathered with oil and crisped coconut flesh. Steaming rice porridges flavoured with ginger and onions. White, wiggly slabs of silken tofu drowning in sticky syrup.

In a roped-off section beyond the food stalls, Karí could glimpse flapping chickens and ducks, a row of pale pink pigs and dark beige hogs. She couldn’t imagine travelling in a caravan with animals. But last year, one of Karí’s neighbours had bought a live chicken, and they’d had eggs to share for a while, until they’d given up the chicken as an offering in a feast.

Three days was not enough for everyone to sample everything the caravan had to offer, but the traders here adhered to a strict schedule. They had other places to go to around the archipelago, especially the larger entrepots in the north and the middle islands.

Karí snapped out of her marvel when a familiar voice drifted across the heads of the people around her. “Yes, that’s right. It’s tonight, by Uncle Ilas’ rice-cake stall. There will finally be rice-cakes, I hear.” A laugh. “By the way, you mentioned you saw the bamboo vendor in the coastal market?”

She followed the sound, and sure enough, there was Dalon with the top of his head sticking out of the midst of the surrounding people. Karí looked around, found that she’d separated herself a suitable distance from Haban and Lala. Nobody would find it odd for Karí and Dalon to be talking in this place. They would just be fellow villagers, striking up a lively conversation during the festival.

Karí got a better look at him as the other villagers dispersed. Unlike the last time she’d seen Dalon in daylight, he looked neater, less harried now. His long hair was in a tight loop at the top of his head, while a bandana of ginger-yellow held any stray locks away from his face. His cotton gray tunic sported black triangles down the chest, a pattern matched by the hemline of his loincloth near his knees. Most interesting of all, Karí found he was wearing a rattan child-carrier on his back. In it was a small boy, hair short and flat on his head like a coconut shell.

She tapped Dalon’s shoulder. He whirled, then grinned upon seeing her. “Hello, Ka—“ he stopped just in time, then cleared his throat. “Hello, there.”

“Hello,” Karí greeted with a coy smile. “I was just wandering around when I saw the most handsome boy I’ve ever laid my eyes on. So I came here, figured I might as well talk to his older brother first.”

Dalon laughed so hard, he choked on a cough. When he calmed down, he shifted so Karí could wave at the toddler at his back. “Say hi to Toba!”

“Hello there, little Toba! My, you are so cute.” The toddler blinked at her with large, owlish eyes. Then he buried his face in Dalon’s back. Karí giggled. “I suppose he’s a little shy.”

“He doesn’t meet new people often,” Dalon explained, wiggling Toba’s hanging legs. “And he also doesn’t say many words yet. But he’s a sweet boy.”

Karí stepped closer to Dalon and lowered her voice. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“As ready as I can be. Uncle Ilas is already preparing a special batch of salted-egg rice-cakes to help entice a crowd.” Dalon excused himself and coughed into his elbow.

Karí stilled. Perhaps that cough from before wasn’t just from his heavy laugh. Come to think of it, was there a slight rasp to his voice now? “Are you feeling all right, Dalon?”

“Oh, I’m fine. It’s probably just all the fish I’ve smoked recently.”

“You’ve been smoking fish every day for a year, haven’t you? This is the first time I heard you sound like that.”

Dalon shrugged. “Nothing a drink of water can’t fix. It’s hot even with the sun behind the clouds.”

As if on cue, a trickle of sweat crawled down Karí’s nape. It wasn’t just that it was hot today. The presence of all these people in one place made it feel even warmer, stickier. “You’re right, I could use a drink myself. Why don’t we go get something?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’ll drink at home. I’m just waiting for the crowd to thin by the platform, then I’ll get my family’s sack of rice.”

But Karí was already eyeing a stall of coconuts. The vendor was tapping one open with a peg and a mallet. Clear fluid with bits of white coconut meat gushed from the opening and into a jar.

“Come, a cup of coconut water would freshen us up. I’ll get you one too.”

Dalon’s eyes grew round. “Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”

A weight pressed down on Karí’s chest. Dalon’s aversion to favours wasn’t an uncommon attitude in Lurit. In a village like this, it was one of the few ways someone could incur debt without committing a crime. People were generally kind, but there were also savvy folks who would take advantage of a miscommunication. But didn’t she and Dalon know each other well enough for him to believe her intentions were nothing of the sort?

Karí faced him. “Look, Dalon. I know you don’t like being indebted to anyone. I promise you that’s not what I’m trying to do.” She tried for an angle that he would understand better. “But your voice sounds like someone rubbed sand all over your throat, and if you want to perform well tonight, I don’t think you should wait until you get home to have a drink.”

Toba peered over Dalon’s shoulder at her serious tone, blinking big, dark eyes at her. Tension seeped out of Dalon’s shoulders, as if he’d been about to parry a blow, then found out none was coming. Karí had chosen the right argument.

“You’re right, of course. Let’s have some coconut water, then. It does look refreshing.” He added, almost shyly, “Thank you, Karí.”

“You are very welcome.” She smiled.

It wasn’t much more expensive to buy a whole coconut than to get a cup of its water, so that was what Karí bought for each of them. The seller tapped a hole in a coconut and slid in a hollow reed. He handed it to her and did the same for another. Karí sipped the water, relishing the cool earthiness of its flavour. Dalon let his brother down from the carrier and helped him take the first sips from his.

“Do you like it?” Dalon asked. Toba hopped happily, nodding. Dalon chuckled, then took his turn, closing his eyes to savour the drink.

When they finished, they turned back to the coconut seller who scooped out the meat from the husks and wrapped it up for each of them to take home.

“Ma is going to love this,” Dalon said.

“How is she doing, by the way?”

“Not much better.” He sobered a bit at this. “But not worse, either.”

“If you have any need for more herbs, just let me know. You won’t have to spend any money to get them from the katalonan.”

There was the briefest hesitance on Dalon’s face, but he covered it up by scanning the crowd behind her. “We should be all right for now. Look, I think I see some space on the right side of the rice platform. I better take my chance. Thank you again, Karí.”

“Not a problem at all. Take care!”

Dalon tucked his brother back into the carrier and pulled the straps over his shoulders. He bid her farewell and pushed through the crowd.

“Who was that?”

Karí spun and found Haban leaning against a pillar of the coconut-seller’s stall. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his gaze followed Dalon, whose bandana was still visible amidst the large gathering. How long had he been standing there?

“What are you doing here?” Karí immediately regretted those words, but she couldn’t quite believe that her brother had sprouted there, seemingly out of nowhere. He definitely hadn’t been there when she’d bought the coconuts.

“We finished buying food a while ago. Lala’s gone back to our stall, and I went looking for you.” Haban’s gaze slid to her now. “Didn’t expect to find you here with a boy.”

“That was, um... a storyteller. He tells stories at night.” It was the truth, at least. And if word had started to spread about tonight’s narration, then it would seem less like she was hiding something.

Haban’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Huh, yes. I heard something about that.”

“Yes, and uh, he was the one who slammed into me yesterday at the river.” Dear ancestors, why was she saying things so out of order?

“So you bought him something to drink?” Her brother’s brows shot up so high they almost disappeared among his curls.

“No! I mean, I didn’t buy him a coconut because of that. Look, he was sorry about it. And he had a bit of a rasp, and I want him to do well with the story. And the coconuts looked good.” This part was true, too. Karí wasn’t much of a liar, but if the past three months said anything, it was that she could at least keep a secret. She scrambled to change the direction of the conversation. “Do you think we can watch him tonight?”

Haban stared at her, and she schooled her expression into one of nonchalance, but a knowing smile slowly stretched across his lips. “Oh, I see. You have a little crush on him.”

That wasn’t it at all. She and Dalon had done nothing remotely romantic during their nights together, and Karí had a hunch that Dalon was much too focused on his work to entertain romance. But this idea seemed preferable over Haban suspecting there was something else going on. Something that involved sneaking out and breaking the law.

“I just heard his stories are really good,” she said with a small shrug.

“Uh huh.” Haban pushed himself off of the pillar and they walked back towards their own stall. “Why not? Let’s go see your storyteller tonight.”