Day job<\/p>\n
Santo Dharma<\/p>\n
When Yon came through the door, there was only Lingga in the
\nfront room, curled up on the floor studiously watching a cartoon
\non the TV.<\/p>\n
\"What's up?\" Yon said, putting his bags down and ruffling his
\nnephew's hair.<\/p>\n
The boy looked up slowly, smiling shyly and glancing toward
\nthe kitchen, before turning back to the hazy, flickering image on
\nthe screen.<\/p>\n
Yon strode to the back, past the table which had seen better
\ndays, bearing the chips and stains left by eight children, plus
\ntheir children, now deposited here as their parents looked for
\nwork in Jakarta.<\/p>\n
His mother was in the back, huddled down on the floor sifting
\nthrough vegetables. He stood in the doorway for a moment; with
\nher lips pursed, her skin leathery and blotchy with age, she
\nlooked much older since his father died a year ago.<\/p>\n
\"Ma,\" he said slowly, so as not to startle her.<\/p>\n
She turned and got up slowly, touching his arm and nuzzling
\nhim slightly.<\/p>\n
\"You're back, finally,\" she said. \"You should have called Mrs.
\nSri next door to let me know, I would have made your favorites.\"<\/p>\n
\"I didn't have the time, I could only get off work now,\" he
\nsaid quickly, leading her by the arm to the front room, where his
\nbags lay.<\/p>\n
They sat down and, like a magician pulling out an ever more
\nstartling array of surprises, Yon revealed the contents of the
\nbags.<\/p>\n
There were candies and toy cars for Lingga and Heri, another
\none of his nephews; a dress with a flowered pattern for Ratih,
\nhis oldest brother's daughter who stayed in the house; and some
\nbody lotion in a pretty bottle for Retno, his sister, the only
\none still at home.<\/p>\n
Last of all, carefully wrapped in a black plastic bag, was a
\nprayer shawl. It was a pure, creamy white, decorated with frilly
\nembroidery around the edges.<\/p>\n
His mother stroked the shawl, surveying the spoils of her
\nson's return. Slowly, a frown formed on her face.<\/p>\n
\"It's so much, Yon. Where did you get it all?\" she said
\nslowly, her voice bearing a tone of concern and apprehension.<\/p>\n
\"I've been working, ma. I told you. And don't worry, it's all
\nabove board.\"<\/p>\n
\"But where? Why can't we call you at work? Your brother, Agus,
\nlet's us call him at the factory.\"<\/p>\n
Yon gave a short sigh.<\/p>\n
\"I can't do that, ma, I told you why. In sales, you have to
\nmove around to new offices every day. I'll give you my number
\nwhen I get one.\"<\/p>\n
She was quiet for a moment.<\/p>\n
\"As long as you're doing OK and everything you're doing is
\nhalal, then I'm happy,\" she said, getting up.<\/p>\n
Yon stayed silent, his eyes turning to Lingga setting up a car
\nrace on the floor, his mouth bulging with candy.<\/p>\n
He glanced out the window, and there was his mother, proudly
\nshowing Mrs. Sri her new clothes.<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
When Yon alighted the bus in a driving downpour at the bus
\nstation all those months ago, he had Rp 150,000 to his name, a
\nbag of clothing and the address of his father's younger brother.<\/p>\n
All the rest of his siblings, except for Retno, were here amid
\nthe glittering skyscrapers, the city of wide streets where they
\nhad come to make their fortune.<\/p>\n
Eventually, all of them had become satpam (security guards),
\nfor none was a high school graduate and it was about all they
\ncould do.<\/p>\n
Yon's father had tried to get each of them into the army, like
\ntheir cousins, beginning with Agus, then Budi, Iskak, Johny and
\nBroto, selling off another parcel of land every year in order to
\npay the fee to secure them a place.<\/p>\n
But each time they failed, each rejection letter crushing
\ntheir father a bit more. And then there was no more land to sell.<\/p>\n
Yon had been the good one out of the boys, staying in school
\nand earning his diploma.<\/p>\n
\"You can do something with this,\" his father had declared as
\nhe held the document. \"Uncle Tantowi will get you a place in the
\narmy, you see.\"<\/p>\n
So he had come all this way, a small piece of paper with Uncle
\nTantowi's address clutched in his hand, the ink blurred and
\nforming a jagged inscription in the palm of his hand.<\/p>\n
When he had arrived at the modest but neat home in the
\nmilitary complex in South Jakarta, it was already late in the
\nevening.<\/p>\n
A woman cautiously opened the door.<\/p>\n
\"He's not here tonight,\" she said to his enquiry. \"He's on
\nassignment in the provinces. Let me get his wife.\"<\/p>\n
She closed the door behind her, and it was a good 10 minutes
\nbefore it reopened. This time, peering from behind the servant,
\nwas a fleshy older woman, her hair tied up in a turban.<\/p>\n
She looked him up and down from the safety of the doorway, and
\nthen said, \"Your uncle isn't here, he won't be back for another
\nweek\".<\/p>\n
Yon was confused; his father had told him he had sent a letter
\ninforming his brother that he would be coming.<\/p>\n
\"I just wanted to talk to him about getting entry to the
\narmy,\" Yon said, stammering slightly from discomfort.<\/p>\n
The woman came forward, gesturing for him to take a seat in
\none of the two rattan chairs on the porch. Nobody in his family
\nhad ever met his uncle's wife (the second one, after his
\ndivorce), for they never returned to the village now, too busy to
\nmake the journey home.<\/p>\n
He realized that she was scrutinizing him once again, a sneer
\nforming on her face.<\/p>\n
\"We get so many people coming here asking for your uncle's
\nhelp,\" she said, in a patronizing tone. \"We have a full house
\nright now, sorry to say. But you can stay in the garage, if you
\nwish.\"<\/p>\n
He could tell that she, really, did not wish it. Yon stood up,
\nsaid thank you but no, he would rather stay with his brother than
\nbe an imposition on her.<\/p>\n
And he took his bag and headed out into the night.<\/p>\n
* * * *<\/p>\n
He knew that he could not go to his brothers, for it would be
\ntoo embarrassing to show up on their doorsteps, wet and
\nbedraggled, having been turned away by their famous uncle.<\/p>\n
He stood on the street for a while, wondering where to go
\nnext, until a taxi slowed down and stopped a few meters from him.<\/p>\n
\"Where do you wanna go?\" the driver asked, peering out of the
\nfront passenger window.<\/p>\n
Yon thought for a moment.<\/p>\n
\"Senayan,\" he answered, remembering the famous stadium.<\/p>\n
\"OK, let's go then.\"<\/p>\n
Yon got in, sitting back comfortably as the driver talked a
\nblue streak. He, too, was from Tegal, and as they talked Yon
\ntemporarily forgot his disappointment and the hunger gnawing at
\nhis stomach.<\/p>\n
\"Here it is,\" the driver said, turning back to him and
\npointing to the taxi meter, shining out the digits \"Rp 82,500\".<\/p>\n
He could not believe it was so much.<\/p>\n
\"How come ...?\"<\/p>\n
\"Hey, don't start making trouble with me,\" the driver said,
\nhis tone suddenly angry and insistent.<\/p>\n
Yon could do nothing but pay, getting out of the vehicle as
\nthe driver shouted \"country bumpkin\" after him.<\/p>\n
He wandered around the sprawling complex, ghostly quiet at
\nnight. Near the road there was a clump of trees, and he entered,
\nfinding a spot where he put down his bag and lay on the ground,
\nfalling asleep.<\/p>\n
When he awakened, he realized that he was not alone. Sleeping
\nin hammocks between the trees were men like him, with nothing but
\nthe clothes on their backs.<\/p>\n
\"What you doing here, son?\" a man said, coming out from behind
\na tree.<\/p>\n
Yon looked down at the ground, strewn with sachets of
\nantimosquito ointment.<\/p>\n
\"You need work, like the rest of them, don't you?\" the man
\nsaid gently.<\/p>\n
Yon nodded.<\/p>\n
\"Well, I can help you out there.\"<\/p>\n
* * * *<\/p>\n
Each morning, Yon got ready for work. He ran a comb through
\nhis hair, put on his clean shirt from the branch above him and,
\nas the darkness sprinted away, he gingerly made his way out of
\nthe clump of trees.<\/p>\n
He walked the few hundred meters to the main road, taking up
\nhis position on the street.<\/p>\n
A car pulled up, the driver leaning over and gesturing for Yon
\nto get in.<\/p>\n
He sat in the front seat, and the car sped away.<\/p>\n
Yon glance in the side mirror at the bespectacled man in the
\nback; the man caught his gaze, shifting uneasily in his seat and
\ntugging his briefcase a bit closer to him.<\/p>\n
\"Here,\" the driver said, stopping the car and shoving a Rp
\n5,000 note into his hand.<\/p>\n
Yon got out of the car, and stood on the street, waiting for
\nhis next ride to come by. Out of his pant pocket, he pulled out a
\ngleaming gold watch. It was another day's work done.<\/p>",
"url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/day-job-1447899208",
"image": ""
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"sponsor": "Okusi Associates",
"sponsor_url": "https:\/\/okusiassociates.com"
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