Kuala Cenaku, October 29, 2007. The sun rises behind the trees. A pair of hornbills flying over to greet the day strode the small team of orange T-shirts spotted with mud, "Tim Pembendung Kanal - Damming Crew." But no one wears gloves soaked, there is 'something not quite right: the other side of the dam, still under construction and' parked along a boat, about ten meters and switches. Still, as always at a traffic light red.
No, this really did not expect. What makes us a vessel of that scale in a drainage channel?
From the boat out a man and a woman, and peek behind the curtain three children. The clothes are faded rags, their faces bear the brunt of resignation, used to wander about in the mud if great efforts.
An exchange of cigarettes and words, and leaves a new story. They lived in the forest, fishing, cultivating a bit 'of cassava in a piece of land. Then there were the employees of the company and they told him to leave. Thus, from day to day. They put their few belongings on the boat-house, and have started. But nobody had told him that the channel was closed. Now waiting with the patience of those who have no alternative.
What do we do? Removing the channel is not talked about, and then the stakes are now deeply embedded in the ground, never give up his grip. No, the solution 'just one: building a ramp for the boat, above the dam. And then pull, pull, as hard as possible.
As the tide slowly build chute rooms. The water reverses and flows from the river, filling the channel. The boat gradually rises. When we begin to pull all the strings with which we have harnessed the ship, it seems a surreal scene, in the middle 'between Frizcarraldo and an epic Egyptian pyramids. But it 's all true. At the end of the boat climbs on top of the dam and diving lazily on the other side, plunging without apparent damage.
"Selamat tinggal, Pak" bye uncle. Two arms waving in the air, the boat moving away, while new beams keeps piling on the dam under construction.
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