Beauty Is a Wound by Eka Kurniawan, Annie Tucker Page B

of the yard, including Dewi Ayu and Ola, even after the second culling, they both were still in the middle of the yard, powerless pawns in the Japanese soldiers’ ridiculous game. They were called one by one to face an official, who examined them much more minutely with small squinting eyes. That final selection left only twenty girls in the center of the yard clutching one another, but no one dared look at anyone else. These chosen girls—young, pretty, healthy, and strong—were ordered to pack all of their belongings immediately and gather in the camp office. The truck was already waiting to take them away.
    “I have to bring Gerda,” said Ola.
    “No,” said Dewi Ayu. “If we die, at least she will survive.”
    “Or the other way around?”
    “Or the other way around.”
    They entrusted Gerda to a family that Dewi Ayu had known for a long time. But even so, Ola couldn’t accept the situation and the sisters sat in a corner embracing for very a long time. Dewi Ayu packed their things and helped sort out what would be left behind for Gerda.
    Then Dewi Ayu said to Gerda, “Ok, that’s enough, after two years of this boring life, we are leaving for a while to go on a trip. I’ll bring you back some souvenirs.”
    “Don’t forget a guidebook,” said Gerda.
    “You’re funny, kid,” said Dewi Ayu.
    The twenty women swarmed next to the gate, and from the look of it Dewi Ayu was the only one acting as though it would be a pleasant outing. The other young girls stood in confusion and fear, looking back at those they were leaving behind. The officers had gone on ahead, and the women were herded to the ferryboat by a number of soldiers, who pushed and shoved them forcefully. Once boarded, they could still see the prison gates and deep inside people crowded around watching their departure. There were some handkerchiefs waving, reminding everyone of when the Japanese had first taken them from their homes. Now another journey was waiting. But once the ferry began to move, the gate and the view inside vanished. That was when the girls began to wail, drowning out the ferry engine and the barks of the soldiers who were getting annoyed at their whining.
    Then they were lifted onto a truck that was waiting across the river. Everyone crouched along the sides except Dewi Ayu, who stood leaning against the wall of the truck taking in the view along the familiar journey to Halimunda, next to two armed guards. After two years in the camps, almost all of the young women already knew each other well, but no one seemed to want to talk, and they were amazed by Dewi Ayu’s calm demeanor. Even Ola didn’t know what she was thinking, and presumptuously decided that Dewi Ayu didn’t have anyone left to worry about—she wasn’t leaving anyone behind.
    “Where are we being taken, Sir?” Dewi Ayu asked a soldier, even though she knew that the truck was headed to the western edge of the city, or maybe beyond. The guards apparently had been given orders not to speak to the women, so he ignored Dewi Ayu’s question, and instead kept talking to the others in Japanese.
    The women were brought to a big house with a sweeping yard full of trees and bushes, a big banyan tree in the center, and alternating palm trees and Chinese coconut trees lining the fence. When the truck entered the grounds, Dewi Ayu guessed that there were more than twenty rooms in the two-storey house. The girls got down from the truck dumbfounded: from a vile and gloomy prison camp they had come all of a sudden to a comfortable and even luxurious mansion. It was so strange—the orders must have gotten mixed up or something.
    In addition to the two guards, there were more soldiers patrolling the expansive grounds or sitting playing cards. A middle-aged native woman appeared from inside the house, wearing her hair in a bun and a loose-fitting gown with the belt untied at her waist. She smiled at the women standing in the yard like peasants too nervous to approach the