Don't Ever Come Back, Juli!<\/p>\n
By Martin Aleida<\/p>\n
We lived in the most sordid part of Jakarta, where the water
\nfor cooking, drinking and washing had to be carried from the
\nreservoirs of water selling stations. In this area, however deep
\nyou dug you would only find salt water. Even the ground we trod
\non was salty. Only the pohon api-api (avicennia) plants and a
\ncertain kind of grass could grow in the salty water. This was the
\narea called Ancol, a desert in the capital. Unfortunate fate
\nbrought us here.<\/p>\n
After our marriage, my husband and I left my mother, who lived
\nin a small village in Central Java. The name of the village is of
\nno importance in this story. How I met my husband, a man from
\nanother island, how bitter it was to bury the feeling of longing
\nwhen in love, things which could only be written on the pages of
\na letter because we were separated hundreds of kilometers from
\neach other, how simple our marriage ceremony was, those are
\nthings which do not need to be recounted here. I only wish to
\nexpress one side of my life as a wife who was pregnant.<\/p>\n
Sanur, as my husband was called, was a young man from Sumatra
\nwho had lived a long time in Jakarta and had somehow managed to
\nmeet a very good friend. Just imagine. We did not have any money
\nor valuables to sell to hire even the cheapest room. My husband's
\nfriend, a bachelor from Madura who had been away from his
\nbirthplace for many years, gave us a place to stay without
\nexpecting anything in return. He put up a plaited bamboo
\npartition in the middle of the house and thus divided his house
\ninto two parts: One for himself, the other for us.<\/p>\n
\"I can only give this to you. It's not to make you indebted to
\nme. It is genuine help among the living, an obligation of life,\"
\nhe said.<\/p>\n
His words had until now -- when I was eight months pregnant --
\nresounded in my heart and ears, like eternal echoes keeping us
\nawake.<\/p>\n
He also gave us a wooden bed and an old mattress.<\/p>\n
\"Although living in a house as ugly as this, a married couple
\nshould sleep on a soft mattress. Use this one. I still have
\nanother one,\" said the Madurese, my husband's friend, my new
\nfriend, casting us a smile.<\/p>\n
I did not hear what my husband said to his friend because I
\nwas moved by the man's sincerity. My heart missed a few beats, my
\neyes were filled with warm tears of joy and I was too numb to say
\nwords of thanks.<\/p>\n
\"We will use your gift as well as possible. We consider it as
\na gift from a relative.\" That was how my husband expressed his
\nthanks. I could only bow my head and look at the hardened and
\ncracked clay floor.<\/p>\n
Sanur bought a barrel to store fresh water. Because of our
\nbitter life, we had not been able to equip the room with suitable
\nfurniture. Sanur made a table from an old door. It was only as
\nhigh as the span of a hand. There were no chairs. Sitting with
\nlegs crossed on a mat we usually ate and wrote at this table.<\/p>\n
Sanur's daily routine consisted of assisting a friend selling
\ngasoline along the roadside. He earned not more than one liter of
\nrice and Rp 20 for a side dish. Actually, he was a talented
\nbusinessman. During the last Lebaran and New Year, he earned Rp
\n5,000 selling firecrackers with a capital of only Rp 700. After
\nthat, he stopped helping his friend and became an independent
\nhawker. He sold plastic trays on the sidewalk of Pasar Baru.<\/p>\n
Life as a hawker at Pasar Baru, he said, was like guerrilla
\nwarfare. At any time, any hour, you must be ready to run from the
\npolice. When the chase was on, he and his fellow hawkers would
\nhide in the alleyways throughout the area. When the coast was
\nclear, they would return to their usual place on the sidewalk and
\nstart selling once again. If the police caught them red-handed,
\ntheir merchandise would be confiscated and they could be beaten
\nup.<\/p>\n
When the rains came, Sanur got a brilliant idea. He bought
\nused plastic bags which he cut into sheets and sewed together. He
\nthen attached bamboo to the plastic, thereby producing a very
\nneat cover for pedicabs. It was useful, cheap and sold well.<\/p>\n
Since then, no, actually since he sold firecrackers during
\nLebaran and the New Year, I had felt very lonely at home. He left
\nat dawn and returned at 9 p.m. at the earliest. Ancol would
\nalready be shrouded in darkness. I had no friend to talk to. Our
\nMadurese friend tended his fishpond the whole day, sometimes
\nuntil late at night. He also went to the city on business. Even
\nwhen he was home, he would never start up a conversation. In the
\nevening, when he did not hear Sanur's voice, he would ask from
\nhis room: \"Is Nur already home?\" Just that. Those were his only
\nwords. He kept very much to himself and did not like to chat.<\/p>\n
\"Not yet, Mas,\" I would reply.<\/p>\n
Damn. He would then immediately leave his room for the cottage
\nat the fishpond about 100 meters from the house. He had built the
\ncottage a few weeks after we had come. He said that fish thieves
\nalways operated at night. Therefore, he built the small cottage
\nas a guardhouse, so he said.<\/p>\n
I was alone, surrounded by the silence of the night. It was
\nlike that every night. He would return to his room after Sanur
\nhad already come home.<\/p>\n
I was surprised as to why our friend behaved like that toward
\nme. Did he not understand that I needed a friend while waiting
\nfor Sanur every night? Did he think that my husband was jealous
\nso he was afraid to keep me company? I don't know. Would he get
\nmad if I asked him about it? I never expressed such thoughts to
\nSanur. I knew afterwards that he had failed in love -- he was
\nbroken-hearted because the girl he desired had left him. Since
\nthen he had never trusted women. He was now about 37.<\/p>\n
I once said to Sanur, \"Tell Mas Har not to leave his room at
\nnight. I am afraid to be left alone here. Especially now in the
\nrainy season. The wind blows so hard. I'm afraid.\"<\/p>\n
Sanur rejected my suggestion and said: \"We should not ask too
\nmuch from him. He has already given so much. And he certainly
\nknows that you need a friend before I come home.\"<\/p>\n
But in reality, our friend never kept me company in the
\nevening. He went to the cottage and returned only after Sanur had
\ncome home.<\/p>\n
When night fell and Sanur had not yet come home, the only
\nfriend I had was Juli, a white bitch. Our friend named her after
\nthe month she was born the preceding year.<\/p>\n
I would bring her into the room and let her lay under the bed
\nwhile I rubbed her head with its silk-like coat. She often wagged
\nher tail and would utter small sounds in gratitude.<\/p>\n
\"Juli, stay here until Sanur comes. Keep me company,\" I would
\nsay, trying to make conversation with the dog. But she would only
\ncontinue to wag her tail furiously.<\/p>\n
At such moments, I felt Juli was the only one to help chase my
\nloneliness away. If I went to the riverside to relieve myself,
\nshe would come along. Juli would know first when Sanur came home.
\nShe would bark in a high pitch when sensing his arrival.<\/p>\n
I could not do anything to make Sanur come home any earlier.
\nIt seemed to be his responsibility to meet our daily needs,
\nespecially since we needed to prepare ourselves to welcome our
\nfirst baby. I never blamed him for being late.<\/p>\n
\"It's a sign of my loyalty,\" Sanur said to me when I once
\nasked him why he came home late.<\/p>\n
\"I want to work as hard as I can. I want to give my child the
\nbest. I want you and our child to be healthy. Health can only be
\nbuilt with adequate food. Because we are poor, we can only get
\nadequate food by working very hard, both afternoons and
\nevenings.\"<\/p>\n
Since then, I never troubled him with such questions again. I
\ndid not want to stand in the way of his good intentions.<\/p>\n
Without any apparent reason, Juli became fierce and unfriendly
\nafter a while. She would bark at every passerby and would chase
\nafter them. I would call her repeatedly, but she wouldn't stop.
\nInstead, she would continue her pursuit with a passion. Juli
\nwould only retreat when the person being chased would bend down
\nas if taking some object from the ground. We learned after a
\nwhile that it was pointless to try to call her back.<\/p>\n
One day, she bit a passerby. The victim, who had to be
\nhospitalized, complained to the neighborhood chief who then
\ncalled our friend. Mas Har paid the hospital bill. The
\nneighborhood chief, on the insistence of many people, suggested
\nthat we dispose of Juli.<\/p>\n
I told Sanur about it, but he did not say anything.<\/p>\n
The next week, Juli chased a young man who had just moved into
\nthe area. He was carrying rice in a bag, which he dropped after
\nJuli startled him. The rice spilled all over the ground.<\/p>\n
\"Juli!\" I cried out unintentionally. As usual, the bitch did
\nnot stop. Instead, she chased the man frantically. The man ran as
\nfast as he could and finally jumped into the fishpond. He was
\ndrenched.<\/p>\n
Half an hour later, the young man came back with a dozen
\nfriends. They were carrying wooden sticks and thorny clubs.<\/p>\n
\"Where is the dog?\" they asked in a rough tone.<\/p>\n
\"I don't know,\" I said coldly. One of them then saw Juli
\nwalking along the side of the fishpond.<\/p>\n
\"There it is!\" he shouted. They all rushed to kill Juli. She
\nsaw the danger and ran for refuge in Mas Har's cottage.<\/p>\n
\"Yes, Juli,\" I said to myself. \"You're right. Run away quick.
\nThey want to kill you.\"<\/p>\n
\"Run Juli!\" I wasn't conscious of shouting her name. Shaking,
\nI placed my clenched fists to my chest. I couldn't breathe. My
\nheartbeat quickened. I tried to remain calm but could not. I
\nturned pale. I was about to face a great loss. If I lost Juli, I
\nwould lose the loyal friend of my evenings. Gone would be the
\nconsolation for my loneliness. Only deathly silence would be my
\ncompanion every evening before Sanur came home.<\/p>\n
Having passed the small bamboo bridge, Juli reached the
\ncottage yard. One of the hot-headed chasers, without any
\npermission, entered the yard to pursue Juli. The dog rushed
\naround the cottage with great agility. Now all her enemies
\napproached the yard. From inside the cottage Mas Har's voice
\ncould be heard: \"Don't kill her here. Do it outside. Everybody
\nout!\"<\/p>\n
The hunters retreated. They waited outside with their sticks
\nand thorny clubs. One of them continued the chase, driving out
\nthe dog.<\/p>\n
Suddenly, Juli stopped in her tracks. She barked shrilly from
\nthe bridge. The men waiting outside trembled with fear, withdrew
\none step and prepared to strike. I closed my eyes. I couldn't
\nbear to see my friend beaten to death.<\/p>\n
\"Juli,\" I said shakily.<\/p>\n
I lost all energy. I heard her yelp. Then I opened my eyes as
\nshe slipped past her besiegers and ran away. The would-be killers
\nwere left behind uttering insults. Juli was on the border of Mas
\nHar's fishpond. She kept running as fast as a deer. Her smooth
\nand long tail waved back and forth like that of a white horse.
\nShe crossed an empty plot and vanished.<\/p>\n
I entered the room. My whole body went limp. I lay down.<\/p>\n
\"Are you hurt?\" I silently asked Juli in her hideout.<\/p>\n
\"Thank God, you're alive. If you were killed, who would be my
\nfriend? But is it possible for you to come home? Oh, no, Juli,
\nno. They would kill you.\"<\/p>\n
I felt the baby in my womb turning to the side. I moved to a
\nmore comfortable position. My eyes were fixed on the window.
\nDarkness fell. I buried my face in the pillow. Loneliness crept
\ninto my heart and I realized I was sobbing in the lonely silence
\nof the night. That was the first night I was alone waiting for my
\nhusband, without Juli, without anybody.<\/p>\n
When Sanur came home, I told him all that had happened during
\nthe afternoon. \"Juli is a loyal dog. She will return home to her
\nmaster. You just wait.\"<\/p>\n
He was right. Toward dawn (we deliberately kept awake), we
\nsuddenly heard irregular breathing. First I thought it was Mas
\nHar.<\/p>\n
\"Maybe it's Juli,\" I said.<\/p>\n
We got up and opened the door. Yes, it was Juli. Breathing
\nwith difficulty, she was wagging her tail and kissed our feet.
\nHer stomach looked flat. Feeling worried and joyful, I took her
\ninto the room and gave her the remainder of our food.<\/p>\n
For half a month, Juli did not leave the room. We laid a
\ngunnysack under the bed. There she slept and passed the days,
\nparticularly with me.<\/p>\n
When we thought the anger of the people who had wanted to kill
\nher had abated, we freed Juli. We also considered that we would
\nalways have to feed her if we kept her inside. Outside, she again
\nbecame ferocious, barking and chasing passersby.<\/p>\n
After two days, the neighborhood chief and one of the young
\nmen who wanted to kill Juli came to see Mas Har. The chief asked
\nthat the dog be given to the young men to be disposed of. Mas Har
\ndid not object.<\/p>\n
Mas Har came to see me and said that he was compelled to hand
\nover Juli to those people. Apparently, from my cool reaction, he
\nknew that I disapproved.<\/p>\n
\"Let's give the dog to them. We'll get a better dog to take
\nher place.\"<\/p>\n
Scores of people watched as Juli was called by Mas Har. She
\napproached quietly and, wagging her velvet-like tail, kissed her
\nmaster's feet. He had no trouble placing her in the sack. Filled
\nwith disgust and hatred, I looked at the people who wanted to
\ndispose of the dog. I entered the room, slamming the door
\nforcibly behind me in protest.<\/p>\n
After five seconds, I came out again and saw a young man
\nroughly dragging the bag away. My heart was not filled with
\nsadness, but rage. My blood surged and I felt hot in the face. My
\neyes were wide open.<\/p>\n
\"Juli! Juli!\" I was screaming fiercely. The dog was howling in
\nthe sack. She was struggling with all her might to get free.
\nConsciously, I called out my friend's name again. I was not
\nresigned to let her be taken away. I didn't want her to be killed
\nin front of my eyes.<\/p>\n
\"Juli! Juli!\" The dog was struggling savagely. The young man
\nholding the sack panicked, unable to hold down the dog he so
\nwanted to kill. Suddenly, he dropped the sack and Juli jumped
\nout. Like a tigress, she attacked the man's calf. He tried to run
\nbut like lightning she got a hold of the other calf. The young
\nman fell headlong. Like the devil, the dog seized the nape of the
\nyoung man's neck and ripped into it. Her fangs tore the man's
\nartery and blood came spewing out. A frightening cry split the
\nair. Then, silence. All eyes were fixed on the man's body laying
\non the ground. Blood continued to flow, inundating the salty
\nground.<\/p>\n
For a few moments, nobody dared to come near the victim.<\/p>\n
I looked at Mas Har. His face was pale, bloodless. His arms
\nwere limp and trembling. The dog was nowhere to be seen. Some
\npeople approached the body. Mas Har looked at me. Clearly, there
\nwas fear in his face.<\/p>\n
\"Do not be afraid, Mas,\" I said trying to encourage him. \"Juli
\nkilled him after they had seized her from us. We are not guilty.\"<\/p>\n
He bowed his head. Stock-still for some moments. I shifted my
\ngaze to the woods in the direction the dog had disappeared.<\/p>\n
\"Don't come back! Don't ever come back, Juli! They will kill
\nyou here. I will not be able to bear the sight of you lying
\nlifeless in front of my eyes. You had better look for a life far
\nfrom here and die peacefully there. Don't ever come back, Juli!\"<\/p>\n
As soon as the words were released from my heart, my heart
\nsunk, leaving a sense of extreme, painful loss.<\/p>\n
Translated by SH<\/p>\n
Glossary:<\/p>\n
Lebaran: or Idul Fitri: Moslem celebration following the fasting
\nmonth of Ramadhan.<\/p>\n
Mas: term of respect to an adult male.<\/p>\n
This story was taken from the writer's new collection of short
\nstories, Malam Kelabu, Ilyana dan Aku. It is printed here
\ncourtesy of the publisher, the Damar Warga Foundation.<\/p>",
"url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/dont-ever-come-back-juli-1447893297",
"image": ""
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