In a village by Lake Tempe in South Sulawesi, as the
lake runs low, thirteen-year-old Nur’s heart is broken.
Three years after his mother vanished in a storm, all he
wants is to be seen by his father, Rahim, a warm-hearted
fisherman who is frozen in his relationship to his son.
During a communal wedding preparation, the bustling
kitchen becomes the first place Nur feels useful.
Puang Matoa, the Bissu elder, notices his careful
hands and slips a small token into his palm – a silent
acknowledgement. Ashamed by what he witnesses, Rahim
sends Nur to Pesantren, an all-boys boarding school.
Nur queues to bathe, drills in lines, and sleeps shoulder-
to-shoulder among boys who don’t fully accept him.
For the first time, he hears “son” – not from his father,
but from a young teacher. When the token is seized and
branded a charm, suspicion spreads, and Nur chooses to
run. On the road, he finds the Bissu dancing over cracked
earth, blessing a changing season. From their tenderness,
he gathers himself. When the storm returns, he goes
home. At the edge of rising water, Nur and Rahim meet in
silence: shame, fragility, and love that has no words.
They work side by side against the flood. Nur no longer
seeks recognition, whether seen or not; he stands.