Tomorrow it finally begins. Years of planning, dreaming, imagining, saving and waiting. We bought this little slice of nature nearly 4 years ago. One and a half hectares of Gunung Setan, a steep slope with 3 flattish peaks and a scattering of banana, rubber and durian trees between the villages of Ketambe and Bintang Benar. For a long time we weren't even sure if we could build here to make our home in Sumatra. The hill rises sharply, nearly a 45 degree angle, which I couldn't imagine a car climbing safely. In the end we decided to consult someone with experience in these things, who assured us it could be done. So we planned a path, marked out the areas, and tomorrow the excavator arrives to prepare build sites and begin creating our ambitious and lengthy driveway.
We headed out to the land late afternoon in anticipation of the delivery truck. It had been a hot day but now the clouds had rolled in and a cool breeze was sweeping up the valley. We'd been here many times before, but always on a mission with a time limit. While quietly waiting there was now a moment to just take it all in.
I wandered about, squelching in the spring water rising from the ground and following the trickles to a gorge at the border. Safar collected bits of old rubbish from before our time, burning them and letting the smoke drive the mosquitos away. We sent up prayers and requests for guidance in looking after this place and talked about what types of trees would grow well here and there. I scarpered up the hill collecting perfect, crumbly black soil for growing the seeds we'd been collecting, then found a big root beneath a durian tree and sat for a while looking down through the valley.
Safar had also made his way up the hill further across as he collected chilli seedlings, carefully removing them from the path of potential destruction from the excavator. Each in our own little space on the side of the hill, we watched. The giant dead tree rising up over 80m had an eagle's nest at the top and was cracked by lighting, threatening to one day crash across the road. Friends rode past on motorbikes down below, honking in recognition. Dragonflies chased mosquitos back and forth. The sun began to set and fruit bats began their nightly migration across the sky above us. The mosque sang out the call to prayer. The distant mountains faded from orange to red showing deep shadows between its chasms. It was pure, contented joy to be in this place. What a privilege to be able to live here.
Moments before leaving we heard an eagle screech and Safar pointed to one of the durian trees further up. The huge bird had made its home there in our absence. I hoped to get a better view of it later.
The truck delivering the excavator had not yet arrived. But no matter, perhaps tomorrow.
