Love In War
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After praying magrib congregation imitated by grandmother. Gegas, we also headed to the kitchen to help the woman we already consider her own grandmother prepare dinner. Then, return to struggling with a stack of tasks.

I stopped the write-up as the bell wall clock ticked at the number seven, the twenty minute. Isya prayer time.

"Guys, I pray first, huh?"

The three people who were on their stomach while writing the research report nodded.

Taking one lamp, bringing it to light my steps towards the kitchen.

Dark once. From between the bamboo walls I could peek at the rising bushes, the sound of frogs and crickets could be heard.

There is no electricity in this village. There is only a glimmer of lamp light that every day emits its light in the dark.

Today the moonlight seemed to be smiling sumringah, shining radiant light, the grass also swayed by the breeze that blows slowly, entering through the cracks of the walls are hollow.

Urung, my hands reach for the dipper, I rub

my eyes with both hands made sure that what I saw was not wrong. But, the moment I opened my eyes the black shadow was gone. Once again, I tried to sharpen my eyes, but all I saw was a towering palm tree trunk.

"Arya!"

"Astaghfirullahalazim, Grandma."

Granny Base smiled. "You're wudhu, huh?"

"Yes, Grandma. Grandma's going to get some ablution water too?"

"Yes. You just take the water first."

I nodded my head while rushing to get water in the big barrel and wudhu.

"God, we pray together again, huh?"

Grandma Base nodded her head.

After the prayer, I continued my previous activities. Write reports.

"My hands are pegel, " complained Faridah as he stretched his hands forward.

"Yes already. Replace, let me again who wrote, " said Aisyah.

"When, yeah, does this village have electricity? Let's not be tired of writing manual reports like this anymore."

"Do'ain, yes, hopefully electricity will soon enter this village."

"Aamiin," we said simultaneously.

"Oh Yes, Ra. You already told me, Mr. Rohman for his willingness to interview us tomorrow, didn't you?" ask Sintia.

"Here, he said he would wait for us in the river, when he had returned from taking seaweed seeds."

Twelve o'clock at night.

All three of my friends have fallen asleep, living me who is still struggling with the research reports. I yawned a few times. Drowsiness but my eyes still don't want to shut.

I stopped my pen scratches when I heard a strange sound from under the house.

Is there a thief? The sound of someone's footsteps could be heard climbing one by one the stairs of the house.

"Aisha, Sintia, Farida, Inayah."

The four women just muttered. No one opened their eyes.

With a little courage. I'm approaching the door. Take the wooden stick that is behind the door.

I gulped my spit rough. My heart's pounding. My hand trembled as I held the doorknob.

"By!"

Fleeved in shock reflexes turned. "Astaghfirullahaladhim's chat. You ngagetin, aja."

"Lo what?" ask Sintia.

"There is a thief outside, "I replied in a low voice.

"The thief?" tanyanya.

We throw one another's eyes when we both hear someone's footsteps.

"Let's wake up another one."

Not long after, the three women joined. Carrying weapons in the form of pans and frying pans they took from the kitchen.

Both throw views.

"On the count of three, we both open this door."

"One. Two. Three."

Door opened. The position is already in the pose of wanting to thump people. But outside there's nobody.

"There is no one, " murmured Faridah.

"Are you sure there was someone?" ask Aisyah.

Sintia and I both nodded their heads.

"Obviously we heard someone's leg" Sintia explained.

"Maybe you heard wrong. Who knows, it's just the sound of a cat's or another animal's foot. Yeah, come in, yuk. I'm very sleepy," said Inayah as she walked into the house. Followed by Aisha, Faridah and Sintia.

My feet are off to step in. Turned. I sharpened my eyes when I realized that there was a figure hiding behind a coconut tree that stood upright a few meters from the house.

"R. Lo, why, "aisyah grumbled as she pulled my wrist into the house.

Morning greet.

I recorded every word per word that came out of the mouth of Mr. Rohman, one of the seaweed fishermen in this village.

He explained every detail of his work. One of them, is how mabettang (knot seaweed) which is the source of livelihood of the people here.

Almost every day the mothers and daughters go mabettang (knot of seaweed). Starting from morning until late afternoon.

Usually the work is done under the house or in houses that have been provided.

Mr. Rohman took me to one of the bamboo stalls on the side of the river.

Seemed a group of mothers sitting around seaweed seeds stored in the middle of their circle. Then tie it using nylon rope.

"This binding process becomes the main work, before the bottom back to the sea and in the harvest. Seagrass seeds that are about the size of the palms of adults are tied lengthwise one by one on a nylon rope, until they reach a length of approximately 2 meters," he said while lifting and showing the brownish-colored gelatin.

"For how much pay, sir?"

"For wages we give two thousand per rope."

After conducting a series of interviews and joining the pulpit with the mothers binding the seaweed, we went to leave, not forgetting to thank them for their time and willingness to help us conduct research observations.

"Ra, what is it?" asked my three friends when they saw some women who used bodo clothes in the middle of the street in line.

"That's the name of bodo clothes, which they carry it's called erang eranga."

"What's that errang?"

"The errang erang is a handover handed over by the groom to the woman."

I also explained the customary marriage process of the Bugis Tribe.

In the Bugis tribe session there is a complete jewelry that is used as a dowry while other items that are also brought are daily necessities.

What is different in this bugis tribal procession is that it takes him not parents but girls.

The number can reach 12 or 15 people according to the number of types. The more girls who bring it, the higher the social status of the groom. In the bugis tribe 'erang-erang' means the gift of the bridegroom to the bride.

The three women I gave explanations to were only oh-ria.

"Ra, look out." Aisyah pulled my hand to move aside. Give those people a way.

Until without being prevented my eyes cross with the eyeball of elderly father who was flanking the arm of the bridegroom.

The elderly eyes were rounded with a pias face as they looked at me.

What's wrong with her?