meeting a Dukun

Needing some time alone, I made my way to a place on the rocky coastline, where I knew I was unlikely to be disturbed from my thoughts. I had been unable to practice Silat for a full week now, due to injuries received at the last training session. The bruises had cleared up but I still found it difficult to sleep, and walking anywhere was uncomfortable. Still, I needed to get moving, to hear the sound of the ocean, to recharge my senses, and reconnect with the world around me.

 I was looking for something, but I was unsure of what I might find. I felt slightly anxious with anticipation of the unknown. The ocean breeze took some of the heat out of the overhead sun, cooling my skin as I traversed the rocks, spraying me with fine droplets as I continued making my way to an area where tall pines grew amongst the papaya trees. 

A thin figure of a man emerged from the ocean ahead of me, and walked across the rocks in my direction, leaving a trail of water after him. His skin was dark brown from the sun, his hair was cropped close to his skull, and he wore no decorations or jewellery. The most striking characteristic about him was his blue eyes, rare in someone from this part of the world. 

He smiled faintly as he approached me, and stuck out his hand, offering the traditional greeting of peace. His grip was strong, like he didn’t want to let go of my hand. I matched his grip, unsure at first if it was a trap, thinking maybe he wanted to take advantage of me here on the rocks. Gripping his hand I felt an unexpected level of awareness. There was something familiar about him yet also something slightly unnerving. Perhaps it was only his blue eyes I thought, yet I was reluctant to drop my guard. He seemed to notice my hesitation, and cautioned me to be careful in such a way that I was left wondering what exactly he meant. Then he left go of my hand and wished me peace. The waves pounded the rocky shoreline, spraying us both with salt water.

I continued on my way, now and again looking over my shoulder to make sure I was not being followed, and settled down on a flat rock under the pines to watch the sunset. Two great sea eagles had been perched in the uppermost branches of the pines, and as I arrived they took off. 

One of them headed out to sea, the other one headed towards the volcano. Beautiful creatures they were, floating effortlessly until they were soon out of sight. I kept my eyes fixed on the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of them, and was startled when a shadow fell across me. How long had I been staring into space I wondered. Standing silently before me with his back to the sun was the man who I had met earlier. He carried in his hands a small bundle wrapped in blue plastic, was holding it like it contained something precious.

He again offered me a greeting of peace, and I returned it to him, motioning him to sit down. The truth was he had caught me off guard, in a moment of utter relaxation. He laughed, as if he had just read my thoughts, and offered me a cigarette. I noticed he had only two left so I pulled out my pack, the local currency here, and gave him some. He took two, but did not light up.

He opened his blue bundle and from where I was sitting I could see that it contained a bundle of small notes, a shirt, and what appeared to be a kris dagger. 

I became alarmed at the sight of the knife, but the man smiled and offered me the fist of money instead. I was confused, but the man only grinned and started speaking to me rapidly in a mix of English and Bahasa Indonesia. I declined his offer of money, by now intrigued about this unusual character before me.

Although I could not comprehend everything he said, I understood enough to know he was speaking about my past. I had an uncanny feeling about this man, he seemed to know everything about me and we had only just met. He laughed, and told me to me careful. He reminded me of the time I was almost trapped in the back alleys of an African city and was forced to fight, a story I had not shared with anyone. He mentioned the machete and the four men who tried to rob me on a separate occasion, thousands of miles ago. How could this man, a homeless man with little or no formal education, know such a thing had occurred? He continued speaking to me, reminding me about my family, and about places of significance which I had visited in the past. I was rooted to the spot, wondering what would he refer to next?   
He told me I had two spirit protectors. It was not the first time I had heard this. The sea eagles had returned, and now hovered above me, as if to emphasize the moment. The man smiled, his blue eyes lighting at the edges.

Throughout, he kept repeating his advice to me to be careful, making me repeat the words until he was satisfied. Although I knew by now that this man would not physically harm me, the uneasy feeling in my gut refused to go away. I kept thinking of the kris knife in his bag, wondering what it was for. Could it be used for more than just self defence, I wondered?

I recalled the story I had been told of an ancient Silat master who was deemed to be invincible when in the possession of a kris blade. It could be that this man believed such a story also, black majik flourished in these parts, and the signs were everywhere for those who had eyes to see. 

The man was most likely a dukun, I thought, a shaman. He looked into my eyes and smiled, nodded, and held out his hand. He asked me to be careful, said the word “parang” and made a chopping motion to the back of his neck. We shook hands, he wished me peace, and walked off over the rocks carrying his bundle with him. After watching the sundown, I slowly and carefully made my way home. I didn’t mention the encounter with the dukun to anyone.

Two days later, the dukun unexpectedly appeared at the door to the office. He was smiling slightly as he asked the people inside for some spare change, but he was looking directly at me. His eyes twinkled, and he reminded me to be careful. He didn’t need to say anything to me, for the message was clear. Once I pass through the doorway, there can be no going back. The parang could be everywhere and anywhere. The shaman wished us all peace, and looked directly into my eyes once more before walking away. I never saw him again.