ANCESTRAL INHERITANCE

Dreams about His Identity

..."Make Shame"...

It rained for a while last afternoon. After that, keep drizzling until now. Half of the village's streets are empty. Only people who have important business will come out.

Already muddy muddy muddy streets, lighting is still rare. There are also only low-power bulb lights that glow dim golden.

"Where are you going, Buk?" Ningsih appeared in the kitchen, just returning home from the sanggar.

Today there are no dancing rehearsals because the sanggar is fixed-just the severe part, anyway. Ningsih went there to clean up the dirt of the remnants of materials used for repair.

"Back work straight to Hamlet Lor meet Mbah Mun."

Mbah Mun was one of the oldest village elders, almost eighty years old, but still healthy and able to farm.

"Oh yeah, not tomorrow."

"Have, don't nag. Mending a shower there keep helping mom."

Ningsih stepped away while making a lip. Not out of thought, why is there no lurah who really intend to build this village. Time still running for office promises grandiose to seek support, once elected, yes, that is ....

Until some time ago Mr. Wahyu and some residents around his house, filial work looking for coral sand in the joints to hoard the road ahead of the house so as not to muddy.

While Ningsih was still in the bathroom, Pak Wahyu came home. "Ndok's home?"

"After that, another shower."

Ningsih appeared in the kitchen from the direction of the door that leads to the bathroom-bathroom is located next to the kitchen.

"Bathletes, sir, let's not catch a cold. Just take a moment to get a towel with the sarong first."

That's how this little family loves each other - giving each other attention even in small terms.

After finishing cooking and all also had a bath, the event continued to the dining room.

"So you met Mbah Mun and Bu Saji ...." Hanging his sentence, Pak Wahyu feeds a spoonful of rice along with side dishes to the mouth.

"What's the hell, sir?"

"Most, yes, about madness, Ndok," said Ms. Rusmini. The female voice in this calm woman is smooth, she is 42 years old, but still looks very young. Being paired with Ningsih even like sisters

"Father, yes, must say first the same elder about your wishes, who wants to make the stage of art right nyadranan."

"Keep Mbah Mun said what?"

"Maybe he said. Mbah Mun also kepengen the sanggar was revived. Ms. Saji is also supportive, she says she wants to help fund it."

"Kok, just now the thought of wanting to fund, yes, sir? Yesterday the time of the late Pak Saji was still in office, where have you been?"

"Hush! Can't say that. People have good intentions, yes, just accept it, then let it pass."

Pak Wahyu, anyway, did not want to run as Lurah, even though many are supportive. Uh, would rather be a Kasun. If only Pak Wahyu became lurah, Ningsih would be more free to revive the sanggar and enforce the rules of compulsory dance for the children of Pangangan Village.

Selfish, yes, let it be. Preserving the ancestral heritage, right, is not something bad.

Eating while chatting, time continues to roll was not felt. Ningsih went into the room after finishing tidying the tableware.

Sitting leaning on the bed looking through the learning journals and package books to teach tomorrow, his mouth yawns every once in a while, his eyes feel very heavy.

Giving up on drowsiness, Ningsih finally fell asleep. His body slowly slumped and lay in an uncomfortable-neck position slightly bent.

The night continued to creep, the drizzle still did not stop, the atmosphere so it felt a little gripping.

The ivory-yellow woman was gathered in the middle of the hangar room, crying as she pleased, her voice was heartbreaking.

"Change Princess." Ningsih stepped closer very slowly.

The ivory-yellow woman continued to cry, her shoulders and back shaking.

"Bah Putri, why cry Mbah." Ningsih knelt to the side and touched her shoulder, the woman immediately turned her head. "Let'soooooo!" Ningsih shouted hysterically. So surprised to the point of falling.

The eyes of the Princess bleed. The Princess cries blood.

Ningsih woke up from sleep, immediately sat down while wiping sweat, breathing was dull. "The Princess cries blood. What is this sign?"

_________

Remember, the benchmark for the progress of Pangangan Village is the surrounding villages whose conditions are much worse. When it rains, their village roads are almost impassable because the mud can reach above the ankles.

To avoid accidents, usually they prefer to pass through the streets of Pangangan Village. Although it has to rotate and further, no problem.

More advanced, but that does not mean progress is evenly distributed. Lor Hamlet is a hamlet whose condition is much more concerning than the other three hamlets.

The road uphill and downhill is not muddy at all, but that does not mean easy to pass. Big, medium, small, whole, chapped rocks, all there is. Not macadam stones that are deliberately arranged, but the stones that are naturally there, scattered not because.

Not careful, just a little slip can immediately fall rolled. However, it seems that for those who have lived in Lor Hamlet for the rest of their lives, it is not a big deal. They look comfortable when they cross it.

The natural panorama of Dusun Lor is very green and beautiful, where the houses of the residents side by side and face the rice fields.

One block there housing, the next block of rice fields, so it keeps criss-crossing. In fact, the house that was at the very corner, the backyard had fused with the edge of the forest.

The condition of the residents' houses is also still far from the residents of Dusun Kidul. The houses here are still walled with bamboo and planks. The land is also still land. To dry the harvest they usually stretched mats or tarps.

Bu Lurah rode a motorbike, passing the road very carefully, his body also twisted when avoiding rocks that would be dangerous if reckless to be swept.

At just eight in the morning, several people passed by, leading bicycles loaded with wood or grass. The mothers of the vegetable carts were seen guiding their bikes, treading very carefully.

In front of the spacious house, Bu Lurah went straight in and parked his motorcycle in the right corner. The door was open, but no one seemed to be.

"Sir!" Bu Lurah entered while shouting.

"Father in the kitchen, Sri!"

Appearing at the kitchen door, Bu Lurah immediately said, "Call Mbah Mun and Mbah Surip. I want to talk."

Mr. Padianto who had been squatting, was fanning the fire in wait to boil water, rushed up.

"Is it not too early?"

"I can now." Incredibly, his tone was like a big boss.

Not saying anything more, Mr. Padianto immediately left. The village elders do mostly live in this Lor Hamlet, even in the past the village was here because of the generations that so lurah are usually residents of Lor Hamlet.

After the Village Hall was moved to Dusun Kidul which is located more strategically, somehow who is often chosen as a candidate from there.

Not long after, two elders sat in long chairs opposite to Pak Padianto and Bu Lurah who were each seated in a single chair. At the table were four cups of hot tea that still reflected smoke and a plate of fried bananas.

"Gini lo, Mbah .. The market is now rame. Merchants and buyers alike luber-luber in the street, blocking passers-by"

"Wait a minute, Ndok," the oldest Mbah Mun interrupted. "Kok, not talking about madranan even talking about this market how, to?"

Bu Lurah's face was instantly sour, her bright red lips pout. "That can be discussed next time. Now the language used to be about markets that seemed too narrow--"

"The market is wide, Ndok." Mbah Mun interrupted. "If the sample luber-luber it means less pinter set."

"It's straight away!" Bu Lurah riled. "That market I'll widen!"

"Did? Expanded how else? It's left-right, front-back, already lo road, Ndok!" The elder who looked younger than Mbah Mun, stared intensely at Bu Lurah. It was Mbah Surip.

"Punden and sanggar dance want me to dismantle, would not make the market--"

"Eladalah ..."--Pak Padianto patted the table quite hard-"don't haphazardly you, Sri! Punden was the home of Mbah Danyang the patron of Pangangan Village. Sanggar ancestral heritage, your ancestors used to build the hangar! Do not touch charcoal on the face. Shame on your ancestral descendants!"

"Newly last night Mr. Wahyu came to ask permission, Ndok Ningsih wanted to teach the nari children to perform art right now. Lah, you really, even want to dismantle. You are lurah, you should know that punden same sanggar is ancestral heritage. Sacred place, can't be careless. Sembrono--"

"What culture?" Bu Lurah interrupted Mbah Mun without hesitation. "For so long there was no such thing as a hangar! My decision is unanimous! The market tree wants me to widen, it's more useful, more productive, than the same shoulder that is not useful at all!"

"Wehladalah, your lamb if you say do not come from that mangap, Ndok. I'll be later." Mbah Surip pointed towards Bu Lurah. "I don't agree! Point!" His finger was now tapping the table many times, his gaze sharply denouncing.

Mbah Mun and Pak Padianto also voiced disapproval, but Bu Lurah shook her head.

"Actually I gathered these elders together, not because I wanted to ask for approval, but just wanted to tell. So, these monks agree whether or not, I don't care. The plan will still work. Ti-tik!"

Bu Lurah immediately stood up, without saying goodbye grumbling away, leaving the three old men who exchanged glances of shock.

"My agent, don't let this matter be heard by others. Secret first. And you,"- Mbah Mun appointed Pak Padianto-"nasehati the Sri, do not let Mbah Danyang wrath."

[Connected]