Pitu. The Moon Dance

A pale moon, the colour of muslin, lit the town with the soft touch of a cat’s fur. It remained un-wavered by thin grey wisps of cloud that passed in front. The streets were dark with shadows that bulged and re-formed as the figures moved through them, slow stately shapes gliding like statues on air. Women treaded with the soft pat of thongs and girls kicked puffs of dirt around them, flitted this way and that behind the serene mothers.

Further away from the crowds and down a single ill-lit road Koming was walking like the others with her hips swinging so gently that her sarong lapped her thighs with soft ripples of silk. On her head she held a basket filled with mangoes and custard apples and multi-coloured rice sweets piled high for the gods.

She walked slowly, passing in and out of the moonlight and the shadows flickered around her as if performing a slow easy dance. Behind her, her son ran and stumbled through the dust, zig-zagging the street from one side to the other in single leaps and bounds to taunt the stone faces in the entrances to the buildings. Evil-headed columns covered in moss grimaced back at him and the gods laughed and leered as he bounced back into the light from the moon. At one entrance a dog hidden in the shadows rose its head, and was blanched like a ghost; it thrust back its hind legs and its fur stood on end and the dog barked menacingly to send a shiver down the boy’s spine.

Anim. Life in Paradise Part 3 Lapan. Escape to Singapore

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