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he said, in a fatherly tone. ‘Angela Dau can be overly aggressive, but I have a special interest in seeing that she comes to no harm while away from home.’

      Campbell waited for the professor to continue, accustomed to the man’s frequent pauses for effect.

      ‘Her father placed her in my care while she completes her studies.’ The Dean then looked up into the American’s eyes. ‘Jonathan Dau and I flew MiGs together during Soekarno’s time.’ He observed the moment of puzzlement sweep Campbell’s suntanned features. ‘Jonathan is her father. He is also a highly respected Dayak chief.’

      Campbell was taken aback, impressed. ‘And you flew, together?’ he asked, a new respect creeping into his voice for the balding academic.

      ‘Yes,’ the Dean confirmed, ‘and there’s more.’

      The men stood in the shade, a few hundred meters from where Campbell’s driver remained faithfully alongside the Mercedes, the professor revealing that Jonathan Dau was also a revered dukun. Campbell expressed surprise, the professor agreeing that it was unusual, but then he went on to explain that, within some indigenous Dayak communities, it was not uncommon to find a hereditary chief who also carried the mantel of village shaman. ‘Angela is an only child, Stewart, and, as such, will carry considerable influence within the Dayak communities when she returns.’

      Again, Campbell was surprised. ‘She intends returning to the isolation and primitive conditions. Why?’

      It was the professor’s turn to show surprise. ‘To help her people, of course!’ Then he grinned, mischievously. ‘That’s what anyone would expect of a Dayak chief.’

      Campbell peered into the other man’s wrinkled features, unsure of the professor’s statement. ‘A woman – as chief?’

      ‘Yes, certainly, with her people’s support,’ the professor explained. ‘There are matriarchal, indigenous groups throughout Indonesia.The Bataks in Sumatra are an example.And then there are the matriarchal tribes of Borneo where the women practise polyandry.’

      ‘What was the name of Angela’s ethnic group she mentioned back there?’ Campbell asked. The professor then briefly explained the origins of the Penehing Dayaks, Campbell arriving at the conclusion that if Angela Dau’s high-spiritedness was common amongst the Upper-Mahakam women, he should make a point of visiting when the opportunity arose. Although he had frequented Kalimantan on numerous occasions, Campbell had yet to venture further upstream along the Mahakam River than the rapids.

      On the drive back to Jakarta, he could not get Angela out of his mind, the story of her family so intriguing Stewart Campbell fell asleep that night, with her name still fresh on his lips.

      ****

      ‘Come on, Nani!’Angela scolded,‘We’ll be late again!’

      Aduh!’ Nani wailed, ‘They’ll wait,‘Gela. Slow down,you’re making me giddy.’

      The pair hurried across the square and, as they approached the group of boys Nani pulled Angela back. ‘Don’t run,’ she whispered, hoarsely, ‘they’ll think we’re too anxious.’

      Angela came to an abrupt halt, the sharp look sufficient exchange for Nani to realize she had already said too much. ‘What exactly did you tell the boys?’ she was keen to know.

      Her friend cupped one hand and whispered conspiratorially, as if the waiting group of students could hear. ‘I didn’t tell them anything,’ she embellished, ‘just that you agreed to go on the picnic.’

      Angela looked directly into Nani’s eyes, the distinct feeling that she was lying causing her to hesitate. ‘If you think I am going to go with Didi,’ she insisted, referring to the tall, Menadonese lad who had often made it clear regarding how he felt, ‘then you are going to be disappointed!’ With this, Angela stood her ground refusing to advance further. ‘So, what have you said to them, really?’ she pressed, arms crossed over her breasts.

      ‘Look, ‘Gela,’ Nani persisted, ‘they aren’t expecting anything. Promise! It’s just that they are going up to Tangkaban Perahu on their bikes and I thought it would be fun to go for a ride.’ The prospect of revisiting those surrounds did not particularly appeal. Angela had been there a dozen times already, the active site shouldering the surrounding hills of Bandung, a constant reminder that this island of Java hosted most of the world’s active volcanoes. Her last visit had resulted in near disaster when the volcano’s crater had burst into increased activity, the sulphur-laden air catching her group by surprise as the deadly cloud rose heavily into the air. Angela was not in a hurry to repeat that experience.

      Nani then took a stab at Angela’s pride – and her Achilles Heel.

      ‘Are you scared of the road?’ she tried, referring to the dangerous curved track that led up to the summit overlooking the volcano’s crater. Angela unfolded her arms and placed these defiantly on hips.

      ‘Let’s go,’ she snapped, now in a hurry to prove that she was not, sauntering ahead of Nani to join the group of youngsters waiting in the large shadow cast by the beringin tree.

      This one hundred-year-old banyan was a recognized gathering point for the Year Three students – and young lovers. It was said that the founding president, when still a student studying engineering, first fell in love with Inggit Garnasih under this very tree. The male students used this fable to ingratiate themselves with their prey, the number of young women who had lost their virginity within sight of this seemingly perpetual marker over the years, uncountable. Angela waved nonchalantly as she approached the underpowered group of Yamaha, Kawasaki and Suzuki motorbikes, observing that the majority of these already boasted pillion passengers. A moment of concern passed when she spotted an unpopular boy sitting astride his bike, and made a beeline directly to his side.

      ‘Hi, Joko,’ she pretended, climbing behind the surprised youth, ‘thanks for waiting for us.’ She glanced across at Didi, struggling to contain his anger and disappointment, so stung by what she had done he gunned the inadequate Suzuki which spluttered, then died, adding to his embarrassment.

      ‘Hi, Didi,’ Nani took advantage of the situation and climbed on, wrapping her arms around his waist as the T-125 Stinger coughed back into life. Didi attempted to throw dust at those in close proximity as he drove away but failed at this as well.

      Angela patted her companion of choice firmly on the back. ‘Don’t get any ideas. Okay?’ she demanded, Joko eagerly nodding agreement as he too kicked the bike into gear and followed the others. He had seen her throw opponents around, twice her weight as if they were dolls, and had no misconceptions as to why Angela had selected him for her ride.

      ****

      Didi had made it quite clear to others that Angela was his; the major difficulty with this was that he had failed to convince the independent Dayak student that this should be so. They had never dated, Angela constantly sending reminders that she was not interested. Angrily, he tore down through Bandung’s streets, narrowly missing pedestrians, mobile-roadside stalls and the occasional beggar being led across the narrow streets.

      ‘Slow down, Didi!’ Nani screamed; her pleas ignored by Didi as his mind remained clouded with Angela’s humiliating putdown. Within minutes, they had left the others well behind, Nani hanging on for dear life as they tore through the City of Universities’ outer suburbia, climbing quickly through the winding road which twisted its way up to the Tangkaban Perahu lookout. Nani clung tighter and tighter, wishing now that she had not misled Didi about the date. Nani knew that Angela would not go with Didi and had banked on this, hoping to manipulate the event so that she could take Angela’s place. Now, Nani regretted her decision, terrified that Didi’s anger would be the end of them both.

      ****

      ‘Can’t

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