ilut

Pronounced  ee-loo. She is eleven years old, and either an angel or a butterfly or a bird…I am not quite sure yet. When I first met her I thought she was just a shy quiet wallflower of a girl, compared to her rambunctious seven year old sister, and the rest of the kids in the extended family of cousins that were hanging out with me here at the house most every day. But then I started to pay more attention to her. I saw that she was just beginning to show little breasts growing on her chest. Her sweet smile and pale face were always calming and pleasant to have as a backdrop to all the other kids. I began to notice that every time the 4 year old cousin was having a small temper tantrum he would scream out her name, so that she would come and save him. And she always did. She would just suddenly appear, without a word, and knew exactly how to be with him so that he felt loved and calm again. Even if it meant him shouting commands at her to bring him water, or to tell someone something, she immediately performed the task without a word, almost blending into him.

A few days after I had started paying attention to her, complimenting her on her drawings, or saying a few words here and there to her, I noticed she looked different. I wondered if she had overnight become a woman, and possibly was beginning her menstruation. Her whole face kind of opened up and she had a glow about her. While all six of us would be sitting on the porch drawing in our drawing books, she would quietly be singing, or be working on a delicate interpretation of what someone else had just drawn. More and more I followed her comings and goings to try and understand what was different about her. There was a lot of "healing" going on with everyone, including me, and I asked some of the cousins if they too noticed that ilut seems suddenly more outgoing, singing more, smiling more, speaking in her almost hushed voice more, laughing more, joking with everyone more. They too agreed. I was happy to see the change. She was blossoming before our very eyes.

She would always be the one that would quietly go and bring whatever was needed from the forest or from her grandmothers' house, in order for us to continue an activity we had started but were now missing something in order to complete it. Never a word spoken, just would quietly rise and go and bring it. She never pushed or demanded attention but seemed to be the glue connecting all of us in whatever we were doing. As I would begin to make the flower offerings in the early afternoon, she would quietly ask if she may pick the flowers from the garden, or do I need a banana leaf, or would I like her to make the little leaf cups. There was always so much going on with all of the kids aged 3-15, that I didn't always pay attention to ilut even though she was the key to many things. But lately she and I would be the only ones still on the porch while the others had run off for ice cream or something. And she would suddenly rise, and as if flap her wings and gracefully and swiftly float off the porch and join the other children. Where did that come from? There was no one she was doing it for since they were all gone, and she was not doing it for me. But there she was with her arms going up and down as her feet quickly ran down the two steps and onto the grass and off to the road. She looked like a bird. How strange.

Then one day she showed up at the house with some long palm leaves that she was swiftly weaving into a little woven rice basket for the offerings. It was something I had been trying to learn unsuccessfully for a few years. I asked her if she was able to teach me how to make one. She smiled and happily agreed. She sat down next to me on the edge of the porch, and so gently and delicately and nimbly began to walk me through the 10 step process. I was lost after the third move, so she unraveled her weaving and smiled and began again, and again, and again. I felt no need to apologize for my slowness and lack of talent. For her it was fine to show me again and again, slower, happily complimenting me if I succeeded in twisting the leaf in the right direction. After over an hour of patience and an inner peace that made it so nice to have her as my teacher, I told her that she can join the kids and I will try and learn from the aunt or grama, that were also now sitting on the porch making them. As each of them sat next to me in turn, I realized how lucky I was that ilut was my guru (teacher in Indonesian). The others were criticizing, worked too fast, didn't unravel when I got lost, were demanding I do it a certain way, or trying to move my hands. Where is ilut my guru? I realized then how important it is that there be the right connection between student and teacher in order for me to truly be able to open up and learn.

The following day I again asked if she would sit with me, since after a few more hours with the other teachers, I had still not figured it out. Again she peacefully repeated over and over the necessary steps to create the woven rice packet. While the others played, she accepted my request for help, just like from the 4 year old with his demands. She never thought of herself, but almost invisibly gave to whoever, whatever was needed. I commented to her uncle about how special I realized she is. He said that her grandfather also noticed that whenever he is feeling a little tired, she is the only one of all the grandchildren that immediately senses it and will quietly come over and start to rub his legs or touch him to comfort him. I wondered if being the special best one, was something important for her. The others proudly shared on the day they received their report cards how they were first or second or third in their class of 35 children. I asked what number ilut was, and they said eighth. I was happy that that was not where her priorities were, in being the best in the class, although the others had a natural nack for it and didn't seem to be doing it for praise.

When the 7 of us had gone for a walk through the forest to get to the shop on the main road, all the children were busy collecting little flower pods that pop when placed in water. She joined in with them, laughing and running and collecting, and then as we stood underneath the roof of a nearby shop while it rained, she quietly opened up her little collection of pods and placed them underneath the drops of rain so that the water would allow them to pop. Never saying a word but allowing all the others to join in the activity. As we returned home through the forest again, the other children had run ahead and I found ilut and I behind and the last ones. I looked as she bent down to gather more greens in her already full hands. I wondered what she was picking now? I asked her what it is, and she quietly and happily said that the pet rabbit likes this and she is bringing him food. No one brings the rabbit, which belongs to one of the other children, weeds, except for ilut, who is always thinking of others and their needs. Next I began to collect the leaves and flowers I would need for the offerings, and she gladly offered to go to the grandmothers to bring the ones I still needed, again gently flapping her "wings" as she glided off the porch. I began to think that maybe she is not a bird, but rather a butterfly. She is there, just beautiful and bringing pleasure to others.  When we both arrived back at the porch to begin making the little flower cup offerings, she had already started to shred the leaves into the "easter basket filler grass".

 As I folded the banana leaves into little cups, I suddenly noticed that her shreds were so thin and perfect, like something I had never seen yet. This was an occasion to sit and watch and learn from her. My thin, delicate, frail ilut, was holding the knife and quickly shredding the pandan leaves with such quiet power and stability. Gentle but firm. I was learning new ways to get the results I dreamed of, from her nimble movements.  Later, at the sea, the other children quickly undressed and jumped into the water with their underwear, and encouraged me to join them. I stood at the shore and looked at the sea and saw that there was a strong tide that had lifted all the bits and pieces into the water and I preferred to forego it, enjoying clear water another time. As I sat on the shore I noticed that ilut was sitting there next to me. I asked her why she doesn't join them. She said it does not suit her. I asked if it is because she doesn't like swimming in the sea. But she said she enjoys it, but that today the sea is not in the right condition for swimming in. She stated it as a fact, without any regret or emotion. When I commented that I too don't like swimming in it when it is full of debris, she smiled a smile of recognition, that someone understands what she means. And there we sat, the two of us looking out at the children playing. And I realized that she is an angel.