A lunch

Opo and I arrived at the entrance to the forest. There, there is a house, and a small shed where we usually leave the car. Then, usually, we put on our boots, contact porters to carry our supplies, and walk to the field station. Today there is something unusual happening. We are invited to join for lunch. I have never been inside that big house. Opo is unsure, they insist, we accept.
It is a lunch to celebrate the return from far away of the son of this important man. There are 16 men sitting with their legs crossed, along the walls of a large room. In the center, several bowl-shaped and conical piles of rice, a huge chicken, some smaller birds, bowls of soup, banana leaves as place mats. Then there is the prayer. I am very excited and proud of being allowed in there. And so glad that contrary to most other places in Indonesia, my presence is accepted and ignored, no special treatment, change in behavior, smiles, looks – all normal. The atmosphere and setting are solemn. The prayer is started by a middle-aged man, a sort of introduction, and then an older one takes over and performs an amazing litany, monotonic, long, interspersed with “amen-like” responses and unfamiliar gestures from the gathered men. Then the huge chicken (especially for this country, where poultry is usually quite scrawny) is passed to a young man who starts tearing it into pieces with his hands. The pieces are passed around, and we eat. Then coffee, from their plantation. I am not offered, I am given one, piping hot and with about 6 spoonfuls of sugar, as customary. And smoking, every single one of them. Homemade cigarettes, with tobacco taken from a pile that is drying outside.
We thank, and depart.