Livora Gracely

Three tourists had entered an Indonesian Independence Day competition.
They had been told the prize was at the top.

Nobody had mentioned the pole.

Or the grease.

Or the fact that gravity had apparently joined the organizing committee.

Daniel looked upward.

A small bicycle hung from the prize ring.

Beside it were boxes, a fan, several mysterious packages, and a teddy bear wearing the peaceful expression of someone with absolutely nothing to climb.

“I want the bicycle,” Daniel announced.

“You’re forty-two,” said Mark.

“For my nephew.”

“You don’t have a nephew.”

Daniel looked up again.

“I can get one.”

The crowd laughed.

Beside the three foreigners stood Budi, a small Indonesian man who barely reached Mark’s shoulder.

He studied the pole.

Then the three large men.

Then the pole again.

“Team?” he asked.

The tourists nodded enthusiastically.

This was their first mistake.

They assumed team meant four people climbing.

Budi meant three people becoming furniture.

Mark went first.

He wrapped both arms around the pole and immediately slid downward.

Peter pushed from below.

Daniel pushed Peter.

For several seconds, the arrangement resembled a badly assembled human bookshelf.

Budi watched.

“Again.”

The crowd began chanting.

MERDEKA!

They tried again.

Mark became the base.

Peter climbed onto him.

Daniel climbed onto Peter.

The tower rose.

Then leaned.

Then reconsidered its architectural ambitions.

Four men descended together.

The audience applauded.

Not because they had succeeded.

Because the landing had been excellent.

On the third attempt, Budi changed the order.

He put the biggest man at the bottom.

The next biggest above him.

Then Daniel.

Then Budi climbed last.

Suddenly the small man whom everyone had assumed would contribute the least was above all of them.

“Go, Budi!”

He climbed over shoulders, backs, and one head that had not formally agreed to participate.

The prizes were close.

The crowd roared.

Budi stretched.

His fingers touched the ring.

“Bicycle!” Daniel shouted.

Budi reached higher.

He grabbed—

the teddy bear.

Daniel stared upward.

“The bicycle!”

Budi looked down.

From several meters above the ground, he hugged the bear.

“My daughter!”

The crowd erupted.

Daniel stopped shouting.

Peter grinned.

Mark, currently supporting most of Europe on his shoulders, attempted to grin too.

A few moments later, they were all back on the ground: muddy, exhausted, laughing, and considerably less interested in bicycles.

Budi brushed dirt from the teddy bear.

Daniel looked at him.

“Worth it?”

Budi smiled.

“Very.”

Daniel nodded.

Then he looked back at the pole.

The bicycle was still hanging there.

He pointed upward.

“Again?”

The three foreigners groaned.

Budi handed the teddy bear to his wife.

Then he rolled his shoulders.

“Team?”

This time, everyone understood what he meant.