Kite Season

Wayan smacked his little brother, Ketut, upside the head with the palm of his hand and yelled, Hurry up, idiot! It will be dark soon! If he was saddled with the responsibility of minding his brother, he would not miss this opportunity to abuse him.

They’re not even here, Ketut protested. Be mad at your friends, not me.

Wayan motioned to hit him again and Ketut flinched. His little brother was right, but Putu and Kadek were his friends and he depended on them so he could not rebuke them. Ketut, though he had already grown as tall as his brother, his arms were still skinny and his chest had not filled out so he would have to suffer and learn his place. Establishing the hierarchy was performative, but that was the lesson.

Putu’s truck came sputtering through the alley. It’s getting dark! Let’s go! He cried out from the driver’s seat.

Ketut had sat in the back of the truck next to Kadek’s prized bebean many times, but today was the day he was to be the one to raise it into the sky. He bent down with his back to the cab of the pickup determined to hold his reserve and stay quiet and not hold up the group. He could not allow them any reason to rob him of this rite of passage. His first responsibility was to hold the kite down so that it would not fly away on the journey to the rice field. Ketut had always taken this responsibility seriously, but never more than today as he gripped the cross spar of the colossal five-meter-long kite and bore his weight down to the centre of the truck with steely-eyed resolve.

Putu hit the accelerator pitching Ketut forward. Knowing that Ketut’s stumble was coming, Wayan thrust out his arm to catch him. Idiot, Wayan whispered behind a look of disgust.

Beginning in June, winds sweep across the Indonesian archipelago during the equatorial dry season and linger until the end of August. For generations, Indonesian fathers have passed to their sons centuries of sacred kite-flying traditions. Every day for three months, the Balinese quit their work early and set aside the last hours before sunset to fly their kites above the rice farms scattered across the island. Fronts of air travel from off the sea and down from the volcanoes into these terraced bowls before they sweep up through the palms and back into the sky. As the sun begins to descend below the horizon, kites of every kind speckle the sky like flocks of birds. As the sky turns from crystal blue to indigo, some have travelled as high as one kilometre into the air as they hover like satellites above the Earth.

It was a new world and there were no rice fields for Wayan and Ketut to tend and their father had not been home for six years. Whether he was dead or had found a new family they did not know but neither mother nor the village was offering information on the topic. Wayan still remembered the last flight he had taken with his father and knew that the responsibility for Ketut had passed to him.

Kadek stretched an arm through the back window of the cab and passed Wayan his cigarette. Wayan took a long drag and gave Ketut a coy smile as plumes of smoke billowed around his head. Wayan offered the cigarette to his brother. Ketut’s eyes widened with surprise. He gleefully took the cigarette, held it between his fingers, and sucked in a lungful of smoke that caused him to cough violently. Adding insult to injury, Wayan smacked him again, this time hard and right across the face. Two hands on the bedean, always! You idiot! Wayan shrieked. Ketut held back tears as he dropped the cigarette. Scrambling to find it from between his legs, Wayan shook his head with disappointment and muttered to himself but loud enough to be sure Ketut could hear: Useless, bitch. Wayan promised himself he would replicate every stage of Ketut’s bedean-flying baptism in the precise manner as it had been for him years earlier, right down to the humiliation.

Putu’s truck skidded into the end of the lane by the 50-acre rice paddy bordered on all sides by compounds of luxury villas. The boys descended from the truck with their cigarettes dangling from their lips and leaving Ketut to carry the kite on his own. Hey stupid! Hurry up! They yelled as they hopped over troughs and irrigation canals to the grass field up on the high ground overlooking the farm. Ketut reflected on the countless occasions that the boys had promised him the chance to fly the bedean and then fabricated an excuse to renege on their deal. He would not offer them any such opportunity today.

Ketut ambled clumsily up the knoll with the kite hoisted above him paying particular attention not to let any part of it drag along the ground lest the sails should be damaged. Wayan, Putu, and Kadek stood in an open patch of grass along the path laughing and smoking and when Ketut joined up with them he placed the bedean gently onto the grass at their feet. Ketut looked up at the older boys for guidance but they ignored him. After discussing which of the teenage girls of the village were most likely to have sex with one of them, Wayan looked down at the kite resting in the grass by his feet and then over to his brother. Hey! Sweaty nut-sack, what are you waiting for? he yelled throwing the spool at his little brother.

Ketut had flown his own smaller kites many times and, though many of the principles remained the same with the bedean, the sheer scale of the kite flustered him and made his hands shake. Ketut breathed deeply, but in so doing remembered the heat of Kadek’s cigarette filling his lungs followed by Wayan’s blow to the face and it made it difficult to tie knots. Ketut focused on his fingernails and the flecks of the soil underneath them allowing his mind to escape and helping him to rely on his muscle memory.

Hey asshole! Putu yelled, maybe we should just pack it up and go home if you’re going to take forever. It’s a fucking traffic jam up there at this point anyway.

By now several groups of Bali boys had staked their claim by the rice paddy on the ground and in the sky. Ketut fastened the last of his strings and checked each of the knots one last time to make sure that they were secure and even so that the bedean would fly right. At the same time, Ketut took this moment to consider a major problem. Until now, the older boys had abused the situation and refused to help him. Launching a kite of this size was at minimum a two-man job – he had never seen anyone, even expert fliers, launch a colossal bedean completely alone – it could not be done. He would require their help. He could not ask Wayan lest he should strike him again and the privilege be ripped away. Putu was the oldest and their leader and to call on him for help was too great a jump in ranks. Kadek owned the kite and had as much of an interest in seeing it take flight regardless of who held the spool and string. Mustering his confidence, Ketut rose from the ground and pointed at Kadek.

You, Ketut said pointing at Kadek and refusing to use his name in order to gain authority. Grab the bedean and stand over there. Kadek grinned at his friends and complied.

Grabbing the kite, Kadek looked back at the other two and motioned with a nod that they should help him and they came over each grabbing a corner of the kite and hoisting it in the air. In an instant, they could feel the breeze begin to catch the sails as Ketut began to slacken some string from the spool.

Not too much, Kadek commanded. Tight on the string, loose on the spool.

A moment of silence descended upon them as Ketut gazed at the three older boys waiting for the signal. We wait for you, Wayan said staring straight back at his little brother.

Ketut took a deep breath and then, with the spool in his left hand and slackened string in his right dashed off down the path. With less than 20 metres to work with, he needed to make those steps count. His strides needed to be swift and in step with loosening the slackened string in his right hand. Within a few seconds, Ketut had run out of room and was upon another group of fliers. He stopped suddenly and looked back to his brother and his friends for a moment and then noticed that his right hand was empty of string and his kite had taken the wind and risen twenty metres into the air. Pull! The older boys yelled as the kite hit a trailing wind and began to pitch downward. Ketut pulled on the taut string sharply tightening the slack and adjusting the angle of the sails to gather the wind and create lift. The first few moments of flight were the most crucial.

Ketut took small purposeful strides back towards the group and away from other fliers to establish his space. The boys next to him had raised a janggan with a twenty-metre long tail that was now soaring hundreds of meters into the sky. One wrong move and Ketut’s enormous bedean could collide with their string bringing both back to the ground – a novice’s embarrassment that he would not be able to endure. With one eye on his brother and his friends and one on the kite, he kept a steady rhythm of loosening the spool in his left and pulling taut the string in his right. With each slackening loop of the spool, the bedean would rise a little higher into the sky. Occasionally, the kite would hit a pocket of dead air and alter its course downward forcing Ketut to shift his weight down and against the direction of the wind allowing it to capture air directly beneath it.

When Ketut sidled up next to the older boys their kite had risen to almost 50 metres and now had a well-established place in the evening sky. Well, well, well, Putu said, maybe the kid isn’t totally useless after all. Ketut grinned but never took his eyes off the bedean. Steady, his brother instinctively instructed.

He had done it. After the kite had risen to one hundred metres, its span commanded the sky dwarfing the droves of amateur kites. It was smooth sailing now and Ketut’s heart swelled with confidence. He stopped unravelling the spool to let the kite hover so that he could just enjoy this moment. He lingered on the thought that there had been a time, his whole life to this point, before he had flown such a kite and now everything had changed. From this moment, if asked whether he had flown a colossal, five-meter, bedean, he could answer confidently that yes, he had. The sun splashed her palette of every glorious shade from crimson to violet and the speckled white and red threads of the kite reflected every last drop of shimmering light still rising from beyond the horizon. Streaks of tangerine and dandelion shot forth from off the sea like fire tickling the underbelly of billowing clouds stretching and separating in the twilight.

Look at him, Kadek said smacking Ketut on the shoulder and interrupting the moment, he looks high.

Ketut steadied himself while the boys laughed at him and then stuck out his tongue and laughed with them which made them laugh even more.

You have more slack, Wayan reminded him. See how high you can take her.

The kite continued to rise into the sky until it became almost invisible and enveloped by the darkness that was descending upon the island. Ketut barely noticed that most of the other fliers had already gone. It was now just him and the bedean sensing the winds and flying on instinct.

Kadek grabbed Ketut gently by the shoulder and held out his hand to take the spool and the string. That’s enough, he said and Ketut yielded control of the kite to him. You did good but let me bring her in.

With the bedean safely on the ground, the older boys took control of dismantling it and loading it into the truck. Hop in the cab, little buddy, Putu said to Ketut. Wayan intervened with an authoritative nod. Let the little guy ride up front, Wayan, Putu insisted. It’s a big day for him. Be a boss and help Kadek hold the kite down.

Don’t suck it down, Putu instructed Ketut on the ride back to the village. Watch me. You see, just hold it to your lips and breathe normally. Pull the cigarette away and just breathe in like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Ketut studied Putu closely and then took the cigarette and repeated the process but could not refrain from coughing. Don’t worry. You get used to it, Putu laughed with encouragement.

The smell of boiled fish came wafting from the kitchen when Wayan and Ketut entered through the door of their modest little home. Plates of steamed rice were already waiting on the table as they sat down and their mother ladled broth into their bowls. So, did Ketut get to fly the bedean? she asked Wayan.

He did, Wayan replied.

And how’d he do?

He didn’t completely fuck it up.

Be kind to your brother, she said smacking Wayan across the face with his own medicine. He’s the only one you have left.

For Wayan, being struck by his mother made him smile and feel like a grown-up. He recalled the many times she struck his father in just the same manner and it gave him the sense of being the man of the house and he delighted in provoking her with such derogatory comments directed at his brother. This was the role of the oldest male of the household. But his mother still ruled the roost and so he collected her various reprimands and never retaliated. After all, all of the men would eventually leave – that was the pattern.

Light glowed from the television as Ketut played his video games. Pass me the controller, Wayan ordered him. I want a turn.

Aren’t you going out with your friends? Ketut responded scowling and frustrated.

Yes, but I want to play a little before I leave.

Emboldened by his maiden flight earlier, Ketut rebuked his older brother. Why don’t you just go now, I’ve barely played at all.

After I leave, you can play all you want.

You only want to play because I am playing.

Maybe. But all the same, I want to play. Now pass the controller before I take the controller. 

Ketut ignored him. Within seconds Wayan threw himself on top of his little brother determined to snatch away the controller. The brothers writhed in a heap on the floor upturning tables and scattering old audio cassettes. Ketut could feel himself digging into the floor, keeping his body between his brother and the controller. Wayan dug his knuckles into Ketut’s ribs. Ketut lashed out his arms to push Wayan away. Normally, within a few swift motions, Wayan would have taken whatever he wanted, but Ketut was noticing that, for the first time, it seemed like a fair fight. Eventually, Wayan stood up, controller in hand and body heaving and out of breath, but the disputed hierarchy was restored.

Wayan looked down at his little brother and knew that one day Ketut would defeat him and he loved him for that. Wayan looked down at the controller in his hand. You did good today, he said handing the controller back to his brother. It’s a special day for you so I’ll let you enjoy it. Wayan bent down on his haunches hovering over his brother and wagging a finger in his face. You’re my little brother and I love you. But remember, even if you aren’t little you will always be my little brother.

Ketut lifted himself slowly off the ground as he watched his brother leave the room. The insults and the abuse always seemed cruel in the moment, but he was beginning to understand their purpose. With every small shift in the dynamic of their relationship, Ketut felt more like the gap between him and his brother was diminishing and he felt more like a man because of it. He understood that it was not his brother but the world that was cruel. The growl of Wayan’s motorcycle echoed into the night and through the windows. Ketut was becoming a man and he too would have to leave soon. These were his early lessons before he too could soar above Bali. He would become a great man someday. He would command the respect of everyone in the village. If he could withstand and grow from the abuses of those closest to him, then no other adversary could touch him. Wayan’s own show of strength made Ketut’s mental muscles that much stronger and he knew that he would be better for it. By becoming stronger, every future challenge to the authority would force that authority to also become a more capable incarnation of itself. By closing the gap between himself and his older brother, by flying the bedean, Ketut and Wayan were shaping the world.