Short Story (Cerpen)

Fireflies in the Sky Jakarta

He returned to this city because of fireflies and memories. In fact, he hopes to spend the summer holidays on Galapagos— Island even though he knows, his lover always visits the island not for romantic reasons, but because of the turtle. The turtle was named George.

Peter's eyes will sparkle every time he tells it. He was a direct descendant of the tortoise species that Charles Darwin observed when formulating his theory of evolution in the 19th century. How many times has he heard Peter say that? You have to see for yourself, how cute the turtle is. He is bald and has big eyes. He is old and lonely. But soon he will have a descendant.

There's a point in his friends' jokes, too. You know, Jane, that's the risk of having a zoologist girlfriend. You must first become an interesting primate to make him interested in making love with you.

That's exactly what's in it. I don't need to worry. Because Peter is more interested in paying attention to rare animals than blonde women. And he laughed though he felt silly when he realized: how much he had to fight for the attention of his lover, precisely with such rare animals.

Peter once told me about a rare nightingale he had found with a group of researchers from the Worldwide Conservation Society in the limestone hills of the lowlands of Laos; a discovery that Peter thought was so amazing, it has not been in the last 100 years that new species have been discovered in Asia. You know, the nightingale's chirping is much more melodious than the nightingale in H. C. Andersen's fairy tale. The feathers are green. Peter once told me about a mysterious and impossible golden cat, but he managed to see it in the mountains of Tibet, was darting up the trees with a movement like flying.

Every time they had a chance to meet— when they should have spent every minute with lovemaking—his lover was busy talking about the purple frog he found in Suriname, the dung beetle, the legless lizard, the red duiker, the red duiker, dwarf galago, a mokole mbembe on the Zambeze River, a long-boned rat called Zanzibar, akalat Ukwiva— bird and I don't know what other strange names— until his obsession found a mermaid species that he believed was still alive in the waters of Kiryat Yam, Israel. I will be second only to Richard Whitbourne, captain of the ship that in 1610 had seen a mermaid in the Newfoundland harbor of St. James….

The sky began to darken and the buzz of vehicles that crowded Horrison Street infiltrated the Gratitude Cafe. Jane Jeniffer recalls, seven years ago, when she enjoyed the lemonade house at this cafe, she met Peter Bekoff, who appeared with an iguana on his shoulder. As there were hardly any empty seats, the man approached his desk.

You know, why did I come here with an iguana? Because if I come with Jennifer Lopez, this cafe will be filled with paparazzi at once, and you can't calmly enjoy your lemonade house…

I don't know, why at that time, he thought it was funny words. Maybe that is why, often we miss the first meeting. We always want to repeat memories.

***

Don't you want to see fireflies?

In the past, as a child, he was fascinated with creatures like those only in fairy tale books. In frenzied San Francisco, where he had lived since childhood, he had never seen a firefly in person. He glanced at Peter who was so absorbed in looking at the fireflies he kept in jars. Its greenish-yellow light was pale.

These fireflies are special, not the Lampyridae group in general. The locals believe that these fireflies come from curious spirits. The spirits of raped women….

Realizing that Jane did not pay much attention to the fireflies and often looked at the somber San Francisco sky that loomed over the window, Peter touched his arm. Believe me, there, you will find a magnificent sky filled with millions of fireflies. Then his voice was almost soft, and we made love under him….

But he didn't think fireflies were special, as Peter said. Perhaps because at that time, he harbored disappointment, knowing that in the end Peter would not invite him to enjoy the warmth of Galapagos Island, but to this hot and noisy city.

This is definitely not a city on the list that he wants to visit during the holiday season. Peter took him to the densely populated settlement of the old unkempt city. Many empty shops were abandoned, and burnt-out abandoned mansions were left almost collapsed. In the charred buildings that the fireflies breed, said Peter. In fact, he had previously imagined exotic tropical forests, or rice fields, where thousands of fireflies flew. Peter seemed to ignore his cahoots, busy taking out cameras, photographs and some other equipment from his backpack.

He waited no joke. As the gloomy twilight grew darker, in his view the charred buildings were like shoddy and squatting strange creatures, bearing pain. And from the dark recesses of those buildings it was like there were dozens of eyes that were silently staring at him. Like someone living and living in those dark buildings. Then he saw a soft yellowish flickering, flying around.

Look, Peter patted her on the shoulder. They started to appear. The fireflies….

Those are the moments he will never forget in his life. He watched as dozens of fireflies poured out of the building. They were hovering low, as if some magical steps were walking through the air. Dozens of fireflies then scattered like dresses that fluttered so gracefully. Several flying fireflies approached him.

Close your eyes, and listen, Peter whispered. Those fireflies will tell you the story….

He felt a stillness that made him slowly close his eyes, while Peter carefully prepared a micro-mic, the soft sensor is able to record the lowest sound waves—according to Peter the tool can capture the voices of spirits, commonly used ghost hunters. The silence was like a puddle of cold air, which lingered sighing. It sounded like the petals of a flower that were open; the fluttering of the wings of a firefly, passing so close to his ears, like a whisper leading him into their world. He continued to saturate, listening to the kudang-kudang tell stories.

Look at that fire. After the fire was extinguished, people found my body scorched in ruins….

That voice, that voice slipped softly within his ears. And it was like watching the fire gobbling up the shopping mall. Watching the people screaming in anger and looting. He saw a fair-skinned woman being dragged by several masked burly men. Black smoke is rising. Some people threw Molotov cocktails at a store, then ran away on motorcycles. The fire is burning. The woman screamed and thrashed, dragged into a store that was abandoned by its residents.

Look at that building. That's where they raped me….

They're so violent!

Our spirits then incarnate fireflies….

Look..look….

He saw dozens of fireflies flying in groups, like a lush glow floating in the darkness. Dozens of soft voices continued to slip into his ears. He felt his body slowly float, like drifting away from those sounds.

Come on, come with me. Come on, let you understand all our suffering….

Jane!!

He heard an anxious scream.

Jane!!

There was a hand pulling him, making him graze. Peter shakes his shoulders, Jane! You all right?! The voices, slowly withering away. But like there's something that's never going to disappear in his life. He stared blankly, as if a part of him was still there. It was as if part of his soul had been carried and bound to the firefly. Then he was more silent, looking in amazement at the thousands of fireflies that appeared scattered from the charred buildings, like emerging from the mouth of a cave. The more night the more fireflies filled the sky of the city. Millions of fireflies floated about, like rivers of light slowly flowing through and inundating the sky. The sky of the city was filled with a light yellowish green glow that pulsed softly; like the flickering of stars so low, and you could touch it.

That night he felt Peter's touch and embrace seep so deeply. A kiss that will not be forgotten. The most impressive kisses under the light of fireflies. The kisses that always bring him back to this city and the memories.

***

The first time, the fireflies were seen appearing was in mid-2002, four years after the riots. A resident saw him emerge from one of the charred buildings. The longer, the fireflies grow more and more, continue to breed, and always appear mid-year. The residents then believe, the fireflies are the incarnation of the spirit victims of the riot. The spirits of women who were tortured and raped. People here still believe that fireflies come from the fingernails of the dead. From the dead man's fingernails came the fireflies. Often, people hear crying sounds emerging from the abandoned buildings. The buildings are like monuments of unkempt grief.

Peter told me all that, as if he wasn't a zoologist. Often science is unable to explain all the secrets, Peter said, guessing his doubts. Can you explain what you just experienced with logic?

Indeed, he could only feel, like there was something the fireflies wanted to tell him. The supernatural voices he heard were like echoes that could not be simply wiped from his memory. He believes that all events in this world always leave an echo. Like echoes, they will always come back. That's why he always comes back to this city. For fireflies and memories.

He was always fascinated to see millions of fireflies fill the city sky. The sky incarnated a yellowish expanse of light. It was the only sight he always wanted to enjoy. He and Peter loved to lie on the roof of the building, watching the millions of fireflies fill the city sky. At times like that, really, you would not be able to find such an amazing panorama of the sky in any part of the world, other than in this city.

Later, if I die, I will moksa incarnate fireflies. I'll live in that colony of fireflies. And you can always look at me among those fireflies….

At that moment, he just laughed at Peter. Everything is different when it becomes a memory.

***

He was on a business trip to Louisville when he received the call: Peter died. Exactly disappeared. Some people told stories of Peter's body plunging from the top of the building. Maybe he jumped. Maybe someone pushed him. Peter's sliding body suddenly lit up, glowed, then broke into thousands of fireflies. Overly dramatic depictions of death, or perhaps even melancholy! Maybe it's true that way. But it may also be true of the rumor: Peter was obliterated for trying to connect the firefly phenomenon with the riots that occurred many years ago in this city.

From year to year the population of fireflies is indeed increasing. The emergence of fireflies that fill the sky of the city of Jakarta becomes an extraordinary phenomenon. Many later called it one of the wonders of the world. Become a tourist attraction. Every mid-May, when millions of fireflies emerge from the ruins of regional government buildings and then set the buildings to become cultural and tourist reserves—many tourists who come to watch. The locals have even made it an annual event. They sat on mats, holding several entertainment attractions along the way, while waiting for the night when the fireflies filled the city sky. Visitors will cheer with joy when a group of fireflies appear, fly around the city sky, and scatter like fireworks. How majestic. How exquisite.

Jane's eyes always glazed over every time she saw it; imagining Peter was among the millions of fireflies that filled the Jakarta sky. That is why fireflies and memories always make it back to this city.

He was looking at the sky full of mementos with teary eyes, when a visitor beside him said, Beauty does often make us sad….

Jane smiled. I suddenly remembered the event that caused the fireflies to appear. Do you remember that event?

That guy shakes. Jane wasn't too surprised. People in this city no longer remember the riots.

Jakarta, 2010-2011