From the Domain of Fire
by Raka Ibrahim

Translated from Indonesian into English by Rain Chudori

117º44'56.13" E, 8º6'59.96" S.

Ten thousand years ago, Satonda fulfilled her first promise: whoever scatters the coal, will reap its ashes. Once upon a time, a small island, at the tip of Sumbawa was ravaged by a volcanic eruption. We don’t know whether our ancestors were there to witness the tragedy, whether they saw how the sky blossomed from orange to pitch black. All we know is that after the colossal eruption, a large caldera appeared, gaping at the center of Satonda, like a wound that refuses to heal.

Perhaps this is what happened after: across from the bay, beneath the tranquil shade of the mountain, Tambora’s heart ached to witness its mother’s annihilation. Only a few years after the destruction of Satonda, Mount Tambora erupted, spewing ash and volcanic rocks into the air, falling across the land like rain. The sea could not bear it, and flooded Satonda. And so, the ocean has been trapped in the caldera for thousands of years; the salt now grows even richer than the sea.

These are not facts that I’ve learnt from textbooks. It is merely one of the many stories crafted by the people of Labuan Kenanga to explain the strange world that they live in.

The tiny village lies on the coast, between Satonda and Tambora, the two volcanoes that marked their steps on the landscape of Sumbawa. Even though there is access to electricity and a few of the streets have been paved, most of the houses were simple structures constructed with wood and brick, and a large yard where they would build a fire. Many of the buildings were half finished, as if its owners assembled them slowly. Everywhere, there were brick houses with wooden frames, unpainted homes, motorcycles that have been stripped apart, leaning against the trees. In this place, everything is in a state of becoming.

This is why Labuan Kenanga needs a story. It’s the only link they have with their long lost past. There are no monuments or inscriptions left to remind them of their ancestors. There are no buildings from thousands of years ago, haunted by ghosts of their childhood, no myths of a fair and just king who lives eternally within their folklore. Everything vanished in an instant, more than two hundred years ago, and from the mound of these ashes, new stories have been born.

When Mount Tambora erupted again in 1815, the ashes scorched at least nine thousand people who lived at its feet. The three kingdoms that straddle its base — Pekat, Sanggar, and Tambora were annihilated. There was almost nothing left from the mark of history. For the next thirty years, nature reclaimed her inheritance. The territory returned to wilderness and was uninhabited by humans. It wasn't until the mid-1840s that the Dutch colonial government sent experts from Sweden to look for cultivable land. They agreed that the volcanic soil of Tambora was suitable for growing coffee, and a civilisation was rebuilt on the graves of the last three kingdoms.

The coffee plantations that stood on the slopes of Tambora were the first traces of human settlement after the 1815 eruption. A few of the Bima people have returned, treading the land where their ancestors once lived. Forced labourers were brought all the way from Bali, and their descendants now remain in the Hindu villages dotted on the slopes of the mountains. The rest of the inhabitants are the Bugis, who sailed from their village to look for fish, but was then carried by the current to the far south.

They lived at the foot of the mountain until the time of Independence, when villages began to appear on the coast. It was only until the 1960s that people began to arrive in Labuan Kenanga village — merchants from Java and fishermen from Bugis who settled on the beach to fish and to trade. More and more immigrants arrived from every corner of Sumbawa, either to farm or head to sea. Gradually, the place began to feel cosmopolitan. The Bima people lived side by side with the Javanese immigrants. A Christian village was built right next to a Muslim village.

The spacious land promised abundance, and the newcomers demanded it. It wasn’t long until the Bugis ruled over the sea. Their canoes rested on the shores of Labuan Kenanga, as they waited for the moonlight to fade away so they could cast their nets for the evening. Migrants from Central Java controlled the grocery stores, warungs, and market stalls. They reported to the middlemen and investors, almost all of whom were from Surabaya. Later on, young scholars were sent from West Java and Bali to occupy government posts.

Everyone fled to Labuan Kenanga, united by the promise of fertile land and a sea rich in fish, a land that lived for generations, between fire and ash. If Tambora was the place where a promise is fulfilled, then Satonda is the place where a vow is born.

We were just about to climb the slopes of Satonda when we heard the sound of a speedboat from a distance. The sound of a getek engine meant a fisherman, but a speedboat on a remote island meant the ocean police or officials from the national park. Our guess was right. From a distance, we saw an officer in a dark brown uniform, smoking on the beach. He stood up and walked over to the hall, clutching a stack of pink-colored tickets that had just been torn up. His name is Pak Totok, and that morning, he was patrolling solo in Satonda.

Pak Totok has only been in charge of the national park for five years, but his family's fate has been intertwined with this island for a long time. Thirty years ago, his late father gradually cultivated Satonda's reputation as a hidden paradise. With his minimal English and Dutch, he looked for curious travelers on the slopes of Tambora and sold promises about the deserted caldera island. Every weekend, they would head to Satonda in a modest canoe, braving the swift currents of the strait with their paddles.

After dropping out of middle school, Pak Totok began to accompany his father on these impromptu crossings. For ten years, they transported people in their own rowboats, before the local government rewarded their dedication with small speedboats. This small business kept their family alive until his father died fifteen years ago. And now, Satonda continues to support his family, raising his children, and sending them to university.

However, long before tourists came to gawk at the caldera, the island had a reputation as a sacred place. Even, a haunted place. Migrants and natives alike – who return home with vague memories of their ancestors – believe that any vows spoken under Satonda's shadow will be granted.

For hundreds of years, those who wish to try their luck would wail at the gaping caldera, making vows and prayers. Then they would set out, either to sea or to wander, with the blessings of Satonda. After the promise is kept, the person must immediately go home and face Satonda. They would have to cross the strait, brave the tide, and arrive with offerings – goats, cows, or cramped cages filled with chicks.

After offering prayers of gratitude, they would slaughter the offerings on the beach to be eaten with their family and the souls of Satonda who, that evening, will return to their slumber with a full belly. Or, they would climb to the top of the hill carrying a chicken coop, releasing the chicks into the bushes, to be swallowed by the caldera. A devout person will stay longer on the island, meditating on the edge of the caldera until he falls into deep contemplation.

Calamity awaits anyone who breaks their oath to Satonda. The Mother will appear in their dreams, reminding them of a debt that must be paid. The arrival of Ibu Satonda is the first warning. If they do not immediately come to pay their respects, the violator of the oath will be visited by a disease that is so heartbreaking, it is as if death itself lives in their body.

Pak Totok saw for himself the ways Satonda would collect its debts fiercely. When he was a teenager, his father was visited by Babinsa officers who panicked and asked to be taken to Satonda immediately. Apparently, this poor officer had vowed to slaughter a chicken if his career improved, but he served on a faraway island and didn't have time to come home to Satonda.

One morning, several months after his first dream, he found his stomach bulging and emitting an unpleasant odor. For days, the Babinsa could not get out of bed, paralyzed by the pain that would not subside. His family took turns sending witch doctors, thinking his enemies had casted spells on him. But none of their counter spells were effective.

The Babinsa then realised his sin. He asked his son to fetch water from a lake, and then rubbed the water on his stomach while he pleaded for a second chance. That same night, Ibu Satonda visited him once again in his dream, and his stomach returned to normal. This time, the Babinsa did not want to delay. He ordered the first ferry ticket to Labuan Kenanga and arrived at Pak Totok's house early in the morning.

Pak Totok was still a teenager at that time. He still remembered how the Babinsa, panting as he raced towards the island carrying a chicken coop, begged to be brought to Satonda.

Pak Totok does not know what happened to the Babinsa. He does not know the fate of any of the souls he brought across the strait, but their faces were etched in his memory. A high school boy who hoped to be accepted to a university in Java. A barren woman from Germany, hoping to have a child. An anxious girl who prayed for a cure to his father's illness.

There were only two things that Pak Totok was sure of: the first is that all of them went home with expression of relief, and the second is that the crowd that flocked to Satonda never subsided. Satonda is an uninhabited terrain that at times, would be covered by the shaded of the darkest clouds. But for generations of people, the island is a symbol of hope and promise for the future. Everything begins with Satonda. And for the discourteous, everything ends with Satonda.

However, Pak Totok's father's dedication did not end in Satonda. For decades, it has been an open secret that the slopes of Tambora is filled with historical fields, begging to be harvested. One by one, artifacts with mysterious origins would appear. When the lands were cleared, trees were razed, and the creeping of industrial destruction begin, the land slowly revealed the remnants of a civilization that has been lost and buried, deep under the earth.

In 2006, these rumors began to be taken seriously. Archaeologists arrived from Jakarta, Bali and abroad, carrying shovels and heavy equipment. They climbed Tambora with the intention of solving the mystery of the disappearance of the three kingdoms.

Pak Totok and his father were among them. For archaeologists, they were important assets. Both spoke fluent English, were respected by the villagers, knew the area, and had a strong attachment to the history they were trying to uncover. Pak Totok remembers their journey up the slopes of Tambora, how they chopped up thickets and forest vines. He also remembers the tireless digging, and the secrets that the mountains revealed, one by one.

They have nothing but stories. A plantation worker who found a broken Chinese urn while trying to pave the road. Suspicious wooden structures emerging from the ground after several floods and landslides. A distant relative of Pak Totok – a village chief who keeps a jar of human teeth. It was the only thing left of his ancestors, waiting for reinforcements to arrive so that one day, the story of the doomsday flash that swallowed his ancestors will be told. This alone guided the people of Tambora, like the torn pages of a great soliloquy.

After the first batch of artifacts was transported from the slopes of Tambora to researchers in Lombok and Bali, Pak Totok's father's health deteriorated rapidly. The man that had once been one of the most powerful figures in the island, shrank and lost his passion right in front of Pak Totok’s eyes. His father was often pensive, looking out at the sea from their humble home. Only a few weeks later, he was on the verge of death. This gradual loss is etched in Pak Totok's memories. His whole life was devoted to Satonda. However, his last service was dedicated to her son.

There was a sad silence after Pak Totok finished his story. His smile just broke again when he talked about his children. He has high hopes for his eldest son, who is studying on another island and has dreams of becoming an entrepreneur. He’s close to his youngest child, who displays talents both for surfing and for TikTok. This place has given everything for his family. But it fills him with joy to see his children weaving their own dreams, beyond Labuan Kenanga.

He looked straight towards the top of Tambora, lost in the clouds. We have seen this on occasion, since we arrived. Labuan Kenanga and Satonda lying under the bright sky, while Tambora lies in a gray cast. Forever, a land in mourning. Forever, a child longing for its mother.

Dari Mana Datangnya Api

117º44'56.13" E, 8º6'59.96" S.



Sepuluh ribu tahun lalu, Satonda menunaikan janjinya yang pertama: barangsiapa menabur bara akan menuai abu. Alkisah, pulau mungil di pucuk Sumbawa itu porak poranda akibat letusan gunung berapi. Kita tidak tahu apakah nenek moyang kita telah ada di sana, menyaksikan langit merekah jingga kemudian hitam pekat. Kita hanya tahu bahwa setelah letusan mahadahsyat itu, sebuah kaldera besar menganga di tengah Satonda, seperti luka yang menolak sembuh.

Kelanjutannya barangkali begini: dari seberang teluk, dari bayang-bayangnya yang teduh, hati Tambora teriris melihat Ibunya terpuruk. Maka hanya berselang sekian tahun dari hancurnya Satonda, gunung Tambora meletus juga, meluapkan abu serta batu panas ke udara. Muatan itu lantas turun dalam bentuk hujan yang begitu riuh sampai laut tak kuat menampungnya dan air bah datang meliputi Satonda. Kaldera itu terisi air laut yang terjebak di sana selama ribuan tahun, sampai kini kadar garamnya melampaui samudra.

Ini semua bukan fakta kering yang saya panen dari buku pelajaran. Melainkan, hanya satu dari sekian banyak cerita yang gemar dikisahkan warga Labuan Kenanga untuk menjelaskan dunia ganjil yang mereka tinggali.

Desa mungil itu berada di pesisir, terapit antara Satonda dan Tambora, dua gunung berapi yang menorehkan jejaknya pada lanskap Sumbawa. Meski listrik terjamin dan sebagian jalanan telah diaspal, kebanyakan rumah di sana tetap terdiri dari struktur kayu dan batu bata sederhana, dengan pekarangan luas yang dipakai untuk membangun perapian. Banyak bangunan nampak separuh jadi, seolah konstruksinya dicicil oleh pendirinya. Di mana-mana, terlihat rumah batu bata yang menyisakan rangka kayu, rumah batako yang belum dicat, dan motor yang dipreteli lalu disandarkan asal ke pepohonan. Di tempat ini, segalanya berada dalam keadaan menjadi.

Maka Labuan Kenanga butuh cerita, sebab hanya itulah penghubung mereka dengan masa silam yang lama binasa. Tidak ada monumen atau prasasti yang tertinggal untuk mengingatkan mereka akan para leluhur. Tidak ada bangunan usia ratusan tahun yang ditinggali hantu-hantu masa kecil, atau legenda raja adil yang abadi dalam tradisi. Semuanya musnah dalam sekejap lebih dari dua ratus tahun lalu, dan dari gundukan abu, tumbuh kisah-kisah yang melulu baru.

Ketika gunung Tambora meletus lagi pada tahun 1815, ia membumihanguskan setidaknya sembilan ribu orang yang tinggal di kakinya. Tiga kerajaan--Pekat, Sanggar, dan Tambora--musnah sampai jejaknya hampir tak tersisa. Selama tiga puluh tahun setelahnya, alam merebut kembali hak warisnya. Daerah tersebut kembali meliar dan tak dihuni manusia. Baru pada pertengahan 1840-an, pemerintah kolonial Belanda mengirim pakar dari Swedia untuk mencari tanah yang dapat dibudidayakan. Mereka bersepakat bahwa tanah vulkanik Tambora cocok untuk ditanami kopi, dan peradaban dibangun kembali di atas kuburan terakhir tiga kerajaan.

Perkebunan kopi yang berdiri di lereng Tambora adalah jejak pertama pemukiman manusia di sana setelah letusan 1815. Segelintir orang Bima kembali, menapaki tanah yang pernah ditinggali nenek moyang mereka. Pekerja paksa dibawa jauh-jauh dari Bali, dan keturunan mereka masih tinggal di kampung-kampung Hindu yang bertebaran di lereng gunung. Sedangkan sisanya orang Bugis, yang berlayar dari kampungnya untuk mencari ikan, lantas diantar arus sampai jauh ke selatan.

Mereka bercokol di kaki gunung itu hingga masa Kemerdekaan, ketika kampung-kampung mulai bermunculan di pesisir. Desa Labuan Kenanga sendiri baru ramai pada tahun 1960-an, setelah saudagar dari Jawa dan nelayan dari Bugis bermukim di pinggir pantai untuk berdagang dan mencari ikan. Pendatang makin banyak tiba dari tiap penjuru Sumbawa, entah untuk meladang atau melaut. Lambat laun, tempat itu mulai terasa kosmopolitan. Orang Bima hidup berdampingan dengan pendatang Jawa, sebagaimana kampung Kristen hadir bersebelahan dengan kampung Muslim.

Tanah yang lapang itu mengobral janji yang ditagih satu per satu oleh para pendatang. Sebentar saja, laut telah dikuasai orang-orang Bugis. Sampan mereka bertengger banyak-banyak di pantai Labuan Kenanga, menunggu terang bulan surut supaya dapat menebar jala. Pendatang Jawa Tengah menguasai toko kelontong, warung, dan kios-kios pasar. Mereka melapor pada tengkulak dan investor yang hampir semuanya berasal dari Surabaya. Belakangan, sarjana muda banyak dikirim dari Jawa Barat dan Bali untuk menduduki pos-pos pemerintahan.

Mereka semua mengungsi ke sana, dipersatukan oleh janji tanah yang subur dan laut yang kaya ikan, hidup turun temurun diapit Ibu api dan anak abu. Namun, bila Tambora adalah tempat janji dipanen, maka Satonda adalah tempat setiap sumpah dilahirkan.

Kami baru beranjak mendaki lereng Satonda saat terdengar bunyi speedboat dari kejauhan. Bunyi mesin getek berarti nelayan, tapi speedboat di pulau terpencil berarti polisi air atau petugas taman nasional. Dugaan kami tepat. Dari kejauhan, tampak seorang petugas berseragam coklat tua sedang merokok di pantai. Ia bangkit dan melipir ke balai, menggenggam setumpuk karcis merah jambu yang belum lama disobek. Namanya Pak Totok, dan pagi itu ia patroli sendirian di Satonda.

Pak Totok baru lima tahun menjabat sebagai penjaga taman nasional, tapi nasib keluarganya telah terikat pada pulau ini sejak lama. Tiga puluh tahun lalu, almarhum ayahnya berangsur-angsur memupuk reputasi Satonda sebagai surga yang tersembunyi. Bermodal kemampuan bahasa Inggris dan Belanda seadanya, ia mencari pelancong kurang kerjaan yang gabut di lereng Tambora dan mengobral janji tentang pulau kaldera yang sepi perhatian. Saban akhir pekan, mereka berangkat ke Satonda dengan sampan sederhana yang dikayuh dayung, menantang arus selat yang deras.

Setelah putus sekolah saat beranjak SMP, pak Totok mulai menemani bapaknya dalam penyeberangan-penyeberangan dadakan ini. Mereka sepuluh tahun mengantar orang dengan perahu dayung milik sendiri, sebelum pemerintah daerah menghargai pengabdian mereka dengan speedboat mungil. Bisnis kecil itu menyambung hidup keluarga mereka sampai bapaknya meninggal lima belas tahun lalu. Dan kini, Satonda pula yang menghidupi anak-anaknya, sampai mereka kuliah dan beranjak dewasa.

Namun, jauh sebelum para wisatawan datang untuk melongo lihat kaldera, pulau tersebut memiliki reputasi sebagai tempat yang keramat, bahkan angker. Para pendatang maupun penduduk asli–yang pulang membawa kenangan samar akan para leluhur–percaya bahwa sumpah apapun yang terucap di bawah bayang-bayang Satonda akan dikabulkan.

Selama ratusan tahun, orang-orang yang hendak mengadu nasib akan meratap pada kaldera yang menganga, menyampaikan nazar sambil diiringi doa-doa. Kemudian mereka berangkat, entah melaut atau merantau, dengan pangestu dari Satonda. Setelah janji ditepati, orang itu mesti segera pulang dan menghadap pada Satonda. Ia mesti menyeberang selat, menantang air pasang, dan tiba membawa sesajen–entah kambing, sapi, atau kandang-kandang sempit berisi anak ayam.

Setelah doa syukuran, mereka akan menyembelih persembahan itu di pantai untuk disantap bersama keluarga dan arwah-arwah Satonda yang tidur kekenyangan. Atau, mereka akan naik ke puncak bukit menenteng kandang ayam, lantas melepas anak-anak ayam sampai hilang ditelan semak-semak. Seorang yang taat akan tinggal lebih lama di pulau, bersemedi di pinggir kaldera sampai jatuh dalam perenungan yang dalam.

Malapetaka menanti siapa saja yang melanggar sumpahnya pada Satonda. Sesosok Ibu akan muncul dalam mimpi mereka, mengingatkan mereka akan hutang yang harus dibayarkan. Kedatangan Ibu Satonda adalah peringatan pertama. Apabila tak segera beranjak, pelanggar sumpah itu akan didatangi penyakit yang begitu memilukan, hingga seolah-olah kematian telah luruh dalam tubuhnya.

Pak Totok melihat sendiri bagaimana Satonda menagih hutangnya dengan ganas. Saat ia remaja, ayahnya didatangi petugas Babinsa yang panik minta segera diantar ke Satonda. Rupanya, petugas malang ini pernah bersumpah akan menyembelih ayam apabila karirnya dilambungkan, tapi ia dinas di pulau yang jauh dan tak sempat-sempat pulang untuk menghadap.

Suatu pagi, sekian bulan setelah mimpinya yang pertama, ia mendapati perutnya menggelembung dan mengeluarkan aroma tak sedap. Selama berhari-hari, Babinsa itu tak bisa beranjak dari kasur, dibikin lumpuh oleh rasa perih yang tak kunjung reda. Keluarganya silih berganti mengirim orang pintar, mengira ia habis disantet musuh. Tapi tak satupun ajian mereka manjur.

Babinsa ini paham dosanya sendiri. Ia minta anaknya mengambil air dari sebuah danau, kemudian ia usapkan air itu pada perutnya sambil menangis minta kesempatan kedua. Malam itu juga, ibu Satonda melawat lagi dalam mimpinya, dan perutnya kembali normal. Kali ini sang Babinsa tak ingin tunda-tunda. Ia pesan tiket feri pertama ke Labuan Kenanga dan tiba di rumah pak Totok pagi-pagi buta.

Pak Totok masih remaja kala itu. Ia masih ingat bagaimana sang Babinsa terengah-engah menenteng kandang ayam, memohon diantar ke Satonda.

Pak Totok tak tahu bagaimana nasib Babinsa itu di kemudian hari. Juga nasib orang-orang lain yang ia antar menyeberangi selat. Wajah-wajah mereka terpatri dalam ingatannya. Seorang anak SMA yang berharap diterima kuliah di Jawa. Seorang mandul dari Jerman yang ingin segera dikaruniai anak. Seorang gadis cemas yang berharap penyakit ayahnya disembuhkan.

Hanya dua hal yang diketahui pasti oleh pak Totok: bahwa mereka semua pulang dengan raut wajah lega, dan bahwa kerumunan yang berduyun-duyun ke Satonda tak pernah surut. Satonda memang tak berpenghuni dan kadang dinaungi awan gelap. Tapi bagi warga turun temurun, pulau itu adalah simbol dari pengharapan dan janji-janji masa depan. Segalanya bermula dari Satonda. Dan bila mereka kurang ajar, segalanya akan berakhir pula di sana.

Namun pengabdian ayah pak Totok tidak bermuara di Satonda. Selama puluhan tahun, sudah jadi rahasia umum bahwa lereng Tambora adalah ladang sejarah yang minta dipanen. Satu per satu, artefak dengan muasal misterius bermunculan di sana. Pembukaan lahan, penebangan pohon, dan merayapnya industri perlahan menyingkap sisa-sisa peradaban yang selama ini hilang terkubur sekian meter tanah.

Pada tahun 2006, desas-desus itu mulai ditanggapi serius. Arkeolog tiba dari Jakarta, Bali, dan luar negeri, menenteng sekop dan peralatan berat. Mereka mendaki Tambora dengan niat menyudahi misteri hilangnya tiga kerajaan.

Pak Totok dan ayahnya ada di antara mereka. Bagi para arkeolog, mereka aset penting. Keduanya lancar berbahasa Inggris, dihormati warga desa, mengenali daerah tersebut, dan punya keterikatan kuat dengan sejarah yang hendak mereka uraikan. Pak Totok ingat perjalanan mereka menaiki lereng Tambora, mencacah semak belukar dan sulur hutan yang tumbuh sedemikian lebat. Ia ingat juga akan penggalian yang tak kenal lelah, serta rahasia yang diungkap satu per satu oleh gunung.

Mereka tak punya apa-apa selain cerita. Seorang pekerja perkebunan yang menemukan pecahan guci Cina saat hendak mengaspal jalan. Struktur kayu mencurigakan yang muncul dari tanah setelah banjir dan longsor. Atau kerabat jauh pak Totok–seorang kepala dusun yang menyimpan setoples gigi manusia, satu-satunya yang tersisa dari leluhurnya, dan bertahan di sana menanti bala bantuan datang supaya kisah kilat kiamat yang menelan nenek moyangnya dapat terungkap. Hanya inilah yang memandu para penduduk Tambora, seperti sobekan halaman dari sebuah puisi agung.

Setelah kloter pertama artefak diangkut dari lereng Tambora ke peneliti-peneliti di Lombok dan Bali, kesehatan ayah pak Totok merosot dengan cepat. Sosok yang selama ini digdaya di mata pak Totok menyusut dan kehilangan gairah. Ayahnya kerap termenung, memandang ke arah laut dari rumah mereka yang sederhana. Hanya sekian pekan terbaring, beliau sudah di ambang ajal. Kehilangan berangsur ini begitu berkesan di kenangan pak Totok. Seumur hidupnya diabdikan pada Satonda. Tapi, pelayanan terakhirnya justru kepada anaknya.

Ada suasana hening yang pilu setelah pak Totok menyudahi ceritanya. Senyumnya baru merekah lagi saat bicara tentang anak-anaknya. Ia punya harapan besar untuk anak sulungnya, yang kuliah di luar pulau dan punya mimpi jadi wirausahawan. Ia dekat dengan anak bungsunya, yang sama-sama jago mengarungi ombak maupun TikTok. Tempat ini telah memberikan segalanya bagi keluarganya. Tetapi ia gembira melihat anak-anaknya punya mimpi yang jauh melampaui Labuan Kenanga.

Ia menatap tegak lurus ke arah puncak Tambora yang hilang ditutup awan. Sejak kami tiba, hal ini sering terjadi. Labuan Kenanga dan Satonda cerah, sementara Tambora dirubung kelabu berkepanjangan. Tempat itu seperti menolak berhenti berkabung.

Raka Ibrahim is a journalist, author, and inept sailor. His writings on music, arts and culture, and the politics of everyday life has been published on various national and international media. His acclaimed debut novel, How God Created Light, was published by The Comma Books in 2018 and won the LitRI Translation Grant that same year.

In 2021, he joined the cultural sailing vessel Arka Kinari as its crew, sailing through barely charted waters for six months in east Indonesia, holding cultural exchanges and floating live performances from the ship for coastal communities and far-flung ports. As of today, he's a contributing writer for The Jakarta Post.

Thank you to Rain Chudori for translating Raka’s story.