BY ALEXANDER MERING
The moon moved from the jackfruit tree, illuminating a few stray fireflies circling above the village where a wedding was taking place.
The night was late, but the deafening noise from the dangdut songs mixed with folk songs blaring from the stage had attracted the non-stop attention of people from all over.
It was not only the locals, but also workers from the palm oil plantation and forest harvesters from the nearby camps.
A few of the men sat cross-legged under the blue tents by the side of the stage. It was near the warung- warung (stalls). One or two of them looked in our direction with suspicion. They knew Laurensius Edi, but surely they did not know me, as I had only started frequenting the village this past month.
Edi is a handsome man, with fair and clear skin like most Dayak Salako. Don’t ask him how many girlfriends he has, though. He was also one of the few youths from Loncek village that were fortunate enough to attend school. His father was a pensioner who had taught in primary school, and had to bring up eight children, one of them is Edi. For his school fees, Edi would take up any job — selling sausages, used clothing and even become a forest harvester.
