Chapter One - Richard Lewis

Chapter 29
Upon a mat underneath a makeshift awning, the area lit by a neon bulb buzzing
like a headache, Nol chopped onions. His uncle and other men of the community minced
other spices for the ceremonial dishes of roast pork and pig's blood. As Nol grabbed
another handful of onions, it occurred to him that pre-mixed lawar spices would be a
good addition to Product Ziro's item list.
The snick-snack of cleavers and the chatter of gossip filled the night. A man Nol
didn't recognize slipped in from the shadows and bent to Dharma's ear. Dharma put down
his cleaver. Rising, he gestured for Nol and Sudana to come with him. Dharma's son and
grandson also followed, carrying a lantern, a knife, and a couple empty enamel basins.
They filed out the back gate to the bamboo grove behind the pig sty, where a pickup was
parked in a clearing, the vehicle guarded by two men. They flicked their cigarettes away
and undid the tarp covering the pick-up bed.
The man who'd fetched Dharma played a flashlight over two large green sea
turtles, their fore and hind flippers pierced together by twine. "Your special menu item,"
he said to Dharma.
"Memé ratu," Sudana breathed as Nol began to salivate. These days, one had to
skulk around like a drug fiend to find turtle to eat.
But he recalled Dian's joy that time they'd released the young turtles. "This is
illegal," he said.
Even in the dark, Nol could feel the heat of his uncle's glower. "Eating turtle been
a part of our culture for generations," Dharma rumbled. "I'm not going to let a bunch of
foreign turtle-huggers tell me what I can and can't do."
The driver's assistants slid bamboo poles through the tied flippers and lowered the
heavy creatures to the ground. Dharma paid the driver, who tucked his flashlight under
his arm and counted the bills by its beam. Satisfied, he grunted his goodbye and drove
off, the pickup's red taillights dwindling away. In the bamboo grove, now lit by the single
lantern, Dharma and his son quickly prepared for the slaughter, turning the turtles over on
their shells to expose the softer underside to the knife. The enamel basins were placed to
catch the blood. Nol watched, his stomach tightening.
Dharma handed the sharp butchering knife to Nol. "You do the first one."
Nol reluctantly took the knife. "I've never done this."
"A first time for everything."
The handle was cold in Nol's hand. The lantern's flame sputtered in the breeze.
"Tomorrow your son Putu will wear the keris for his tooth filing," Dharma
whispered. "Listen carefully now, the keris rattled in its sheath. I heard it from my
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