LOVE SONGS OF LOLOBATA

POISONED ARROWS

Until now I still hold a grudge and curiosity on who stuck a poisoned arrow in the chest of baba. No eyewitnesses saw. Baba was in the field alone that morning. Found dead by villagers whose fields border our fields. As far as I know the baba has never had problems with the togutil tribe or other forest tribes that inhabit this Lolobata forest area. Baba also never had serious problems with the village head and other villagers. My suspicion tends to lead to a stranger suddenly coming to control our fields shortly after Baba's death. Unfortunately I have absolutely no evidence to accuse anyone.

“Tara may be the stranger who killed ngana pe baba, Fa.” Arfa refuted my guess while glancing and then back to split the wood.

I sneered and went back to cleaning the wood that Arfa had split and then put it in the firewood storage warehouse.

“Iya, tara may it.” Deya nodded in affirmation of Arfa's words. I'm sick of seeing it. Deya never had his own principles, anything that came out of Arfa's mouth was always considered right.

“Why not?” challenge me with a loud voice.

My stern voice managed to stop Arfa from splitting the wood and looked at me intensely.

I melengos. I don't want to stare at that guy. The attitude of a sturdy man who is leading in running is not like the level and style of speech that is passionate. Arfa is a gentle hearted man. He was relentlessly advising me to be patient and accept my fate. Tired of my ears to hear his advice. For me, I'm patient enough. I never complained about my fate either. Even if I have a grudge and a curiosity, I think it's natural. Wh why? Because my son was killed and after a few years passed no one knows who killed him and for what reason he took the life of Baba.

“They are modern people. They can expel us with a piece of paper containing a mining concession license from the central government. Tara needs to kill ngana pe baba. After all they just started operating after ngana pe baba died.” Arfa answered calmly. Smile just floated away..

Deya looked at me with a flame-filled look of jealousy. The adorable black girl immediately sat down to line Arfa's fingers on the root of the old walnut tree that poked large above the ground.

This time I have no words to say. Arfa's right. Strangers are very rich. It was easy for them to drive the villagers out of their fields with little money. Even if someone is against them they would choose to put a rifle, not with a traditional weapon of poison arrows. The proof does not take long the village head chose to accept a little money and then move the family and their citizens' homes into the forest outside the land that is claimed to be a concession owned by the mining company.

So far, the foreigners have never been forced by violent means. Some residents can still stay in the village. The company also opens opportunities for citizens who try their luck by applying to become manual laborers and heavy equipment operators. One of them is Arfa who feels very lucky to get a job at the company. For him it was a proud achievement. Although not having formal education Arfa can read. have a strong physical and willing to learn until he was accepted as a worker in a company that cleared the forest to find metals that he said are selling used as raw materials for modern society equipment.

I'm ending that conversation. Free. Arfa is now a worker at a company that I think has ravaged the Lolobata forest. Obviously, he would definitely side with his master. Our thinking has been different.

“Baba ngana is calm in heaven. Just ikhlaskan. All you need to think about is the future of ngana itself that is still alive.”

“Betul.” Again Deya confirmed what Arfa said.

“My future is here. I will stay here guard baba's grave until Salman returns,”.

“Bad women alone. How can you marry Tara?”

“I'm happy with my life now.”

“But marrying the sunah prophet. Baba would have loved to be in heaven if ngana got married."

“You were the only one who got married. Deya will gladly accept your proposal. Isn't that Deya?”

Deya blushed in embarrassment.

“I want to wait, Fa.”

“People just fit to be friends and will still be friends forever,” I replied with a smile glancing at Deya who looked satisfied with my answer. I summed up my two best friends with both hands.

Actually I don't want to see Arfa's face disappointed. But in this case, I have no other choice. He said many times he would propose to me. I even talked to my mom and dad. My answer remains the same. No one can force me. Our friendship I think is more beautiful than a marriage bond. I'd rather Arfa stay friends forever. Besides, I knew Deya liked Arfa. Let not the seeds of love triangles ruin our friendship that has been established since we were children.

Both are good friends and I hope things don't change, as I want the forest to stay sustainable and the natural ecosystem to stay awake.

I don't want a change. Maybe my mind is too narrow and static. Is it because my knowledge is limited? Sometimes my desire to go on adventures is to find new experiences and things that I do not meet around where I live. But after a rethink, I prefer to bury that desire to hold firm

personal commitment as custodian of heritage land and baba's tomb. I don't know why I feel Salman is still alive. I'm sure one day Salman will come home. I must wait here in the wilderness of my birth.

Baba is not a native of the Lolobata jungle. He is a Bugis immigrant who was originally assigned by a charitable foundation to preach in remote areas, including those who lived nomad in the forests. In the past, the people of our village lived moving around the river. The fields are moving too. Their house is simple. Erected from wood and roofed woven sago leaves. Their simple house was in the form of a wallless stage. Baba was the first to erect a walled wooden house and a small mosque next to it. Baba built it with the help of several foundation people when he had begun to be accepted and trusted by a group of jungle people who live around the river. Gradually some families are interested in learning new knowledge brought by baba. They see the routine and shrewdness of baba

planting is better than living as a forest encroacher. They also live around the river, set up simple-walled wooden houses in gotong royong, and manage the fields that have been divided into equal sizes for each head of the family. The formation of the village was led by a man whose body was large and respected by all members of the tribe. People consider him a leader. Later, we called him the father of the village head.

Every day the small mosque is increasingly visited by residents. Not only serves as a place to worship, mushola is also used as a place to chat, exchange ideas, and learn simple things to survive. Slowly Baba taught people living in this forest how to read, write, count, teach and simple agricultural science. The villagers exchanged practical knowledge about medicinal plants and the types of edible forest plants. Because his ancestors lived in the forest, our villagers were good at archery and throwing spears. They are good at smearing arrows with poisonous plants for hunting and self-defense. There are several types of poison plants that are used to smear arrows. The effect is different and is used for different functions. Unfortunately according to the physician of poison masters, the

the poison contained in the arrow stuck in the chest of Baba is not yet known. It reinforces my assumption that it is likely not these villagers killed baba.

Baba loves this village. That's why I don't want to get out of my village in the middle of the wilderness. I was determined to always guard Baba's tomb and continue his struggle. But reality is no longer the same. People leave this village one by one. No more children are learning to write and read here. Our Mushola has been quiet for a long time. Some of the wood is rotted. I alone bring to life the past of this village. Sometimes Arfa and Deya visit me.