Randa stood in front of the house, watching a group of women chatting animatedly. They had just brought up his name. The moment he heard Aunt Tatik's teasing tone, he decided not to stay silent.
"Hahaha… no, Auntie," Randa said with a faint smile. "I wasn't fired. I'm the one who fired the company."
The air suddenly grew still. Several heads turned at once, including his mother's, who looked confused.
"What do you mean?" Aunt Tatik's brows knitted, her voice rising slightly.
"I mean, I didn't want to work there anymore," Randa replied casually, slipping his hands into his pockets.
For a moment, doubt flickered across Aunt Tatik's face, but her instinct to stay on top quickly returned. A smug smile tugged at her lips.
"Oh, I see… So where are you working now? Must be somewhere better, right?" Her tone pretended to be friendly, but the challenge was obvious.
"Of course," Randa nodded flatly. "Now I'm farming at home."
The women exchanged looks—some stifling laughter, others puzzled. Aunt Tatik stared at Randa as if he had just cracked a bad joke.
"Oh, come on, seriously? Farming? You're putting that on the same level as an office job? That's not even comparable, Randa…" she scoffed, glancing around to make sure everyone heard.
"Yes, Auntie," Randa remained calm. "Because farming earns me two to three times what I made back then."
His tone was steady, but his words cut deep. Aunt Tatik's face hardened, disbelief written across it. Her lips moved silently, as if cursing under her breath or searching for a comeback.
"Oh, right," Randa added with a wider smile. "By the way, how's Rendi, Auntie? Still at home? I heard he was supposed to leave for Jakarta. Did he go? I heard you even sold some land for it. Did it work out?"
The blow landed squarely. Aunt Tatik's smile froze. Her eyes darted to the ground, then to the curious faces around her. Everyone knew the gossip: Rendi was supposed to get a job in the capital, his family even selling property for it—but nothing had come of it so far.
"N-no, it's fine…" she stammered, forcing a smile. "He'll be leaving any day now! My son will be successful, just wait and see. He'll even bring people from this village to work in Jakarta. Better than farming—there's no money in that!"
Her voice tried to sound firm, but it cracked with fragility. A few of the women exchanged glances, some suppressing laughter.
Randa let out a soft sigh. For him, dragging out the argument was pointless. In the game of pride, you couldn't sink too low or you'd be trampled, but rise too high and you'd become the target of envy and spite.
"All right then, I'll wait for the job openings, Auntie." He closed the conversation with a calm smile.
"If I explained everything, they'd just be jealous anyway," he thought to himself.
He stepped inside, leaving behind the awkward silence. Some of the women tried changing the subject, but the tension lingered.
His mother, Siti, looked at him curiously. "Where are you going now, Randa?"
"Here, Mom," Randa replied, grabbing his conical hat and a small bag. "I'm going to Uncle Wayan's to buy some bamboo."
"Oh, all right. Be careful," his mother said with a trace of worry, afraid the gossip had upset him.
Randa nodded and left. The women's voices trailed faintly behind him, softer now, full of embarrassed whispers and hushed curiosity.
He didn't care. His steps were steady along the narrow path. With every stride away from the house, the weight of the conversation lifted. His mind shifted toward the plans he needed to carry out.
The smell of wood and earth filled the air, guiding him to a house decorated with carvings and wooden ornaments.
He'd been there before. Back then, the stone and wood crafts had seemed ordinary. But now, after training as a first-level mason and carpenter, they carried new meaning.
His eyes roamed over the wooden carvings lining the wall—Balinese motifs, intricate and flowing.
"So different from Minang carvings," he thought. "Back home, the lines are bold and majestic. But these… delicate and complex."
He moved closer, running his fingers across the smooth wooden surface. A natural sense of admiration welled up.
While he was absorbed in the details, a middle-aged man emerged.
"Ah, Randa! Why didn't you call out? Come in!"
"Ah, Uncle, I was just fascinated by the Balinese wood and stone art. I've been learning carpentry and masonry lately, so I wanted to take a look for inspiration."
"Oh really? I didn't know you could work with wood and stone. Show me your work sometime."
"Sure, Uncle, I will. By the way… has your bamboo grown enough to harvest?"
"Yes, some of it. Why do you ask?"
"I want to build a chicken coop, Uncle. I just bought a hundred chicks from a friend, but I don't have a place for them yet. I'd like to build it myself. Can I buy some bamboo from you?"
"Oh, I see… you don't need to buy it. Just take as much as you need. Come, I'll help you cut some."
"Oh no, Uncle, I'll need quite a lot…"
"It's fine. Come on."
Uncle Wayan led him to the bamboo grove. Together they picked the best stalks and cut them down. With his carpentry skills, Randa could immediately judge the strongest fibers and joints. "These are perfect," he thought.
Soon, a pile of bamboo was ready. Randa was grateful for Uncle Wayan's kindness and generosity.
They hauled the bamboo back to Randa's house in several trips, sweating heavily. His mother brought them drinks, while Randa disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two golden-yellow bunches of bananas.
"Here, Uncle. These are Kepok bananas from our garden. They're sweet—try them later."
Uncle Wayan blinked in surprise. "Oh, what's this for, Randa?"
"Well, since you wouldn't let me pay for the bamboo, I'd like to give you these instead. Sorry if they look a bit plain."
"Thank you, Randa," Uncle Wayan said warmly.
"No, I should be the one thanking you, Uncle."
The atmosphere grew warm with mutual generosity. But a sharp voice suddenly cut in.
Aunt Tatik glanced over with a faint smile. "Wow… smart of you, Randa. Trading all that bamboo for just two bunches of bananas. Very frugal."
Her voice was sweet, but her gaze pierced.
Randa swallowed hard. The other women immediately looked at him strangely. Uncle Wayan quickly stepped in:
"No, no—it's fine. Besides, Randa wanted to pay, but I refused."
Randa's mother was about to speak, but he signaled her to stay quiet. He knew what she meant—their bananas were valuable, worth more than they seemed.
"A gift is symbolic," Randa thought. "Even if it's small, the meaning runs deep. But not everyone understands that."
"Hahaha, sorry, Uncle Wayan. I really didn't mean anything by it. I just wanted to return the favor."
"It's all right, Randa. I know."
Randa added another bunch of bananas. Uncle Wayan tried to refuse, but eventually accepted after Randa insisted.
Randa was content, even though from afar, Aunt Tatik still looked at him with that faint, belittling stare.
He ignored it. He had work to do.
With the bamboo ready, all he needed now were some building materials—chicken wire and cement, which he could get from the hardware store.
He drove his father's car into town.
The moment he entered the store, the familiar smell of soil, cement, and harsh chemicals hit him.
"Good afternoon, Uncle Aliong. Do you have chicken wire and cement?"
"Yes, yes…" the bespectacled Chinese shopkeeper replied, setting down his calculator to greet him.
Randa selected what he needed and consulted with Uncle Aliong on the proper quantities. After a short discussion, he made his decision and paid.
"Thank goodness I've been earning from selling fried bananas lately," Randa muttered, slightly strained, thinking of how expensive the materials were.
After the purchase, he returned home and waited for the delivery truck.
Not long after, Uncle Aliong's truck arrived.
"Just unload it here, Uncle Aliong," Randa directed.
"Okay, okay!"
His father helped carry the materials. Since it wasn't much, the unloading went quickly. Once finished, Uncle Aliong said his goodbyes, and Randa and his father went inside to rest.
They would start work the next morning.
...
Meanwhile, at Wayan's house, Kadek had just returned from shopping when she noticed three bunches of bananas on the table.
"Eh, what's this? You bought bananas?"
"No, these are from Randa. He gave them to me."
"Why would he give you bananas?"
Wayan told her everything, including the gossip that had made things awkward and embarrassed Randa.
"Good thing Randa didn't take it to heart. Otherwise, it could've gotten messy."
Kadek nodded. Seeing her husband's irritation, she suggested, "Then let me fry some of the bananas. You can eat them."
Wayan agreed.
Soon, the aroma of fried bananas filled the house. Kadek came out with a plate of golden fritters, smiling brightly.
"I didn't expect Randa's bananas to smell this good."
"Me neither. Let's taste them." Wayan took one, bit into it carefully, and his eyes lit up. His face broke into a smile.
Kadek was curious. "How is it?"
"Try it yourself, you'll see."
She hesitated, then took a bite. Instantly, she couldn't hold back her praise.
"This is delicious!"
"Right? I didn't expect it either. Turns out Randa's really good at farming. These bananas are definitely valuable. Imagine—he quit a good company job just to farm."
"Oh, really? Seems like gold shines wherever it is—even in farming."
"Exactly. Let's save some for Gede and Ayu."
Kadek nodded. What parent wouldn't want to share something good with their children?
...
The next morning, before dawn, Randa was already busy in the fields.
His father joined after tending the cows.
Watching Randa build the fences and chicken coop with such skill, his father couldn't help but marvel.
"Randa, you really worked at a company all this time?"
"Yes, why?"
"Seeing how skilled you are with tools, I'm starting to think you worked in a furniture factory."
"Hahaha, no, Dad. Just a hobby."
Faisal simply nodded. As long as his son worked hard and wasn't lazy, that was enough.
By noon, father and son had finished about a fifth of the project—turning part of the teak and pine forest into a chicken coop.
They went home for lunch, and in the afternoon Randa continued selling fried bananas as usual.
Day after day, his routine stayed the same: farming and carpentry in the morning, selling in the afternoon.
Slowly but steadily, he dug holes, laid foundations, attached wire, and built the coop.
On the seventh day, it was complete.
After his shift selling bananas, Randa stood gazing at the pine and teak grove, now fenced with chicken wire. He ran his hand across it, feeling the texture. A satisfied smile spread across his face. All the effort had been worth it, even though his back had been aching for days.
He instinctively pressed his lower back before stepping inside to see the neat, clean coop.
His mother and younger sister, Nisa, who had been curious all along, now looked proud.
"You're pretty handy with tools," Siti teased.
Randa smirked at his mother. "Well, of course—look whose son I am!"
Nisa pulled a face. "Ugh, so full of yourself!"
Randa just chuckled, then pulled out his phone.
"Hello, Rizky? The coop's ready. Can you deliver them now? I'll be waiting."
After the call, he sat with his mother and sister, who were preparing fried bananas to welcome his friends.
Soon, a familiar pickup truck rolled up by the field.
Randa rushed to greet them. "Hey, how are you guys?"
"Good. Let's unload the chickens first, then catch up!"
"Sure!"
They got to work unloading.
Randa's back had been sore all morning, but he ignored it. Then, as he lifted a cage with five chickens inside, a sharp pain shot through his spine—like a hot needle stabbing deep.
He even heard a sound like bones shifting.
"Ah!" he cried out. His legs buckled, and the cage nearly slipped from his hands.
Everyone turned in alarm.
Siti ran to him, her face pale. "What's wrong, Randa? What happened?" she asked frantically, her hands already on his back.