Although the sun had just peeked over the hill, the area around the Village Hall was already bustling. Rows of wooden and green plastic chairs were arranged facing a small stage adorned with a banner reading "First Meeting of the Durian Guardians: United for Our Homeland." The scent of hot coffee and fried banana fritters brought by the organizing mothers filled the air, inviting anyone passing by to stop for a moment.
I, Agung Rokhman, arrived just as the bell rang. In my hand I carried a stack of documents: attendance sheets, the cooperative proposal, and bullet points for the meeting agenda. My face was a little tense, but my spirit burned brightly. The past five days had been filled with intense discussions involving villagers, NGO coordinators, and the students on our digital team. Today was the Durian Guardians' most important test: the first official meeting, where we would map out our collective strategy to defend the durian orchards and ensure the future of our beloved village.
On the stage, Chandra—my childhood friend and the Informatics teacher—was checking the sound system and projector screen. He straightened the back of his shirt and gave me a thumbs-up. I nodded in return, then took my seat in the front row, between our traditional leader, Pak Mulyono, and the Village Head, Pak Suyono.
Pak Suyono's expression was serious, but his eyes hinted at curiosity. Although we had "clashed" over the palm oil issue behind closed doors, today he was present without a hint of provocation. It was our collective decision to hold an open dialogue, inviting both durian supporters and pro–palm oil villagers to come together and find a middle path.
About fifty villagers were seated in orderly rows: old farmers, village mothers dressed in traditional makeup, middle school youth, and curious elementary children. The low murmur of conversation gradually quieted as I stood to take the microphone.
"Good morning, everyone." My voice echoed clearly. "Thank you for arriving on time for the Durian Guardians' First Meeting. Today's goal is to unite our vision and mission, form our organizational structure, and set our initial work programs—all for the sake of the durian orchards' future and the well-being of our beloved Durian Village."
Light applause greeted my opening remarks. I glanced at Chandra, who motioned "continue." I took a deep breath.
"Our first agenda item is forming the leadership structure. We need a chairperson, a vice-chair, a secretary, and a treasurer. I, Agung Rokhman, offer myself as Field Coordinator to serve as the communication bridge between teams."
A man in batik stared at me with questioning eyes. "What about the Chair? Will the Village Head lead?"
I turned to Pak Suyono. He stood, bowed respectfully, and raised his hand. "I am ready to serve as the Chair of our Supervisory Panel. However, the decision is entirely up to this meeting. If the villagers prefer someone else as the main Chair, I have no objection to serving in a facilitator role."
A small commotion arose, with voices suggesting that the Chair should come from among senior farmers, to maintain villagers' sovereignty. From the back row, Bu Siti—the village's trusted seamstress—spoke up loudly, "We need a leader who is close to grassroots issues! Ideally, the Chair should be a local villager, not an official!"
A chorus of agreement bubbled up. I was grateful that Pak Suyono remained calm, then nodded in understanding.
"All right," I continued, "we will hold a democratic vote. Who nominates Pak Mulyono, our traditional leader, as the Main Chair?"
Fifteen hands shot up immediately. "Good—one," I counted quickly with help from nearby villagers. "Twenty, thirty… more than half." I raised my voice. "Second nomination?"
A young man in a blue shirt—Mahfud—raised his hand and proposed Chandra. "He has worked tirelessly from the start, and he has a digital network for campaigning."
Again, dozens of hands were raised. Voices overlapped: "Chandra would make an excellent Vice-Chair."
The nominations narrowed as follows:
Main Chair: Pak Mulyono (Traditional Leader)
Vice-Chair: Chandra
Secretary: Bu Siti
Treasurer: Pak Ahmad (the coffee vendor and a trusted member of the community)
With that, the official leadership was established. Thunderous applause filled the hall as villagers stood to show their respect. I stepped forward to congratulate them, then remembered the next item on the agenda.
"The next major task is forming six working divisions," I announced. "The Documentation and Data Division will be led by Pak Warjo. The Community Outreach Division by Bu Siti. The Digital Communications Division by Riyu and Lia. The Advocacy and Legal Division by Chandra. The Logistics Division by Pak Ahmad and Pak Sutikno. And the Education and Awareness Division by myself and other teachers."
One by one, each division leader stood to give a brief presentation of their work plans. I signaled Pak Warjo to begin, and he approached confidently.
"Thank you," Pak Warjo began in his hoarse but authoritative voice. "We will map every durian orchard's area, tree age, and overall condition. We will also conduct in-depth interviews with ten senior farmers to record their historical stories. This data is crucial as economic proof and as a record of our cultural heritage." He displayed a village map peppered with red dots marking orchard locations.
Next, Bu Siti took the stage. "The village mothers and retired elders will campaign door-to-door. We plan to distribute brochures, physical petitions, and hold special religious gatherings under the theme 'Our Durian Heritage.' Each neighborhood association (RT) will make at least two visits per week."
Riyu and Lia came forward together, showing mockups of the village's Instagram feed featuring the hashtag #DurianHeart and outlining a video series titled "Farmers Speak," with each episode running one to two minutes. "Our goal is 5,000 views within a week," Lia said enthusiastically.
Chandra explained, "We already have both electronic and physical petition drafts ready. We've also contacted pro bono lawyers from the environmental NGO for legal consultations. Our target is 1,000 signatures within two weeks."
Pak Ahmad arranged several woven banana-leaf boxes labeled "Information Pack," containing brochures, stickers, and membership cards. "Each pack covers five households," he said. "We'll distribute them through my mobile coffee stall."
I stepped forward with a few teachers from the elementary and middle schools to present our educational modules on agroforestry for students. "We will hold a writing contest called 'Durian Stories' at the schools, and paint a mural on the elementary school wall illustrating the durian life cycle."
Once all divisions had finished their presentations, the meeting moved to the third agenda: determining initial work programs. The villagers proposed four main programs:
1. First Orchard Tour
A group visit with the Agroforestry Manager to three model orchards to observe best practices.
2. Mini Durian Festival
Featuring the first harvest events, a durian-eating contest, and an exhibition of durian-based products.
3. Agroforestry & Marketing Training
A one-day workshop in collaboration with an NGO and a university.
4. Establishment of "Village Durian Day"
Each harvest season, June 1 will be declared "Durian Day," celebrated with traditional ceremonies and a bazaar.
Each program was adopted by majority vote. The villagers enthusiastically discussed festival details—who to invite, budget allocations, and media sponsors. I jotted down critical points: securing permission to use the village field, arranging medical personnel for the durian-eating contest, and ensuring supporters would keep pro–durian messages from being disrupted by pro–palm oil opponents.
When the clock reached noon, we moved to the final agenda item: setting the schedule for future meetings and coordination mechanisms. I announced:
"We will hold a general meeting every two weeks, and divisional coordination meetings every Wednesday at 5:00 p.m. Communication will happen swiftly via our WhatsApp group, and every division must report progress at least once a week."
The villagers accepted this proposal without much objection. The meeting was officially closed with a prayer led by the village imam, followed by a rousing rendition of "Ampar-Ampar Pisang," arranged with modified lyrics about durian. Laughter, applause, and low-voiced plans filled the Village Hall as people streamed out.
At the exit, Chandra and I stood side by side, exchanging relieved smiles. "We did it, Gung," Chandra said softly. "The structure is in place, and the work programs are clear. Now it's time to execute."
I nodded. "Yes, this is a great beginning. If we remain united, no monoculture force can shake us."
Chandra patted my back. "Let's celebrate a little. Coffee and banana fritters at Mbak Nina's stall—my treat."
I chuckled lightly. "Deal! Then we have a small division meeting for Education at my school."
We walked across the Village Hall courtyard, now filled with villagers' smiles. A fresh durian scent drifted on the breeze, as though joining in the celebration.
At the end of the path, a circle of children laughed and teased each other. "One day, we'll harvest our own durians!" "Yes, then we'll be durian heroes!" Their joyful shouts reflected unburdened hope—free from political turmoil.
I looked at them with pride. This was the new face of our village, where youth and elders, teachers and farmers, children and traditional leaders stood united, laying the first steps to keep the "Durian Heart" beating strong.