shelf where her silver-haired monkey could sun himself.
So Busuk forgot her grief, and she watched with ill-concealed eagerness the
coming of Mamat’s friends with presents of tobacco and rice and bone-tipped
krises. Then for the first time she was permitted to open the camphor-wood chest
and gaze upon all the beautiful things that she was to wear for the one great day.
Her mother and elder sisters had been married in them, and their children would,
one after another, be married in them after her.
There was a sarong of silk, run with threads of gold and silver, that was large
enough to go around her body twice and wide enough to hang from her waist to
her ankles; a belt of silver, with a gold plate in front, to hold the sarong in place;
a kabaya, or outer garment, that looked like a dressing-gown, and was fastened
down the front with golden brooches of curious Malayan workmanship; a pair of
red-tipped sandals; and a black lace scarf to wear about her black hair. There
were earrings and a necklace of colored glass, and armlets, bangles, and gold
pins. They all dazzled Busuk, and she could hardly wait to try them on.
A buffalo was sacrificed on the day of the ceremony. The animal was “without
blemish or disease.” The men were careful not to break its fore or hind leg or its
spine, after death, for such was the law. Its legs were bound and its head was
fastened, and water was poured upon it while the kadi prayed. Then he divided
its windpipe. When it was cooked, one half of it was given to the priests and the
other half to the people.
All the guests, and there were many, brought offerings of cooked rice in the
fresh green leaves of the plantain, and baskets of delicious mangosteens, and
pink mangoes and great jack-fruits. A curry was made from the rice that had
forty sambuls to mix with it. There were the pods of the moringa tree, chilies and
capsicums, prawns and decayed fish, chutneys and onions, ducks’ eggs and fish
roes, peppers and cucumbers and grated cocoanuts.
It was a wonderful curry, made by one of the Sultan’s own cooks; for the
Punghulo Sahak spared no expense in the marriage of this, his last daughter, and
a great feast is exceedingly honorable in the eyes of the guests.