Fragile<\/p>\n
By Sartono Kusumaningrat<\/p>\n
At 6:30 in the evening, Mbolo and Sayem were busy counting
\nRp 100 coins, money they both earned from their hard work as,
\nrespectively, a parking man and a traveling vendor of jamu.<\/p>\n
\"How much did you get, Yem?\"<\/p>\n
\"I have Rp 3,000, Mas. And you?\"<\/p>\n
\"I've got Rp 3,200. I spent some on some rice and tofu and two
\ncigarettes. I have Rp 1,700 left. Here you are, Yem!\"<\/p>\n
Mbolo gave the money to Sayem, his wife.<\/p>\n
\"How much do we earn on average every day, Yem?\"<\/p>\n
\"Well... about Rp 6,000. Which means that in a month, we earn
\nRp 180,000.\"<\/p>\n
\"Is it enough for our family?\"<\/p>\n
\"Why ask? See for yourself how much we are in debt. Is that
\namount enough to buy food for the four of us? Not to mention the
\nelectricity bill, the children's school fees, soap, toothpaste,
\ntransportation fares, pocket money, our neighborhood arisan
\n(monthly lottery savings group), books. Oh, in short, far from
\nenough, Mas!\"<\/p>\n
\"When can we get out of this poverty mess, Yem?\"<\/p>\n
\"Don't dream, Mas. What are we? Who are we? It's just sheer
\nluck that we can survive!\"<\/p>\n
\"Man must keep trying, Yem. As long as he breathes, man must
\ncontinue trying to fulfill all his needs in life.\"<\/p>\n
\"We have done so, Mas.\"<\/p>\n
\"We must work harder and try better.\"<\/p>\n
Sayem did not say a word. She knew that her husband was right
\nbut she also thought she was right because she had done virtually
\nanything, including walking every inch of the town's road selling
\nher jamu, just to earn some money for her family. She thought she
\nhad done her best. Nevertheless, she frequently felt disappointed
\nbecause what she got from her extremely hard work was always
\nshort of her expectations. What money she earned was always far
\nfrom enough to fulfill the needs of the whole family.<\/p>\n
Then one day, Sayem came home earlier than usual. The bottles
\nin her basket were all empty. That day she sold out all her jamu.
\nShe wore a sweet smile. And her two children welcomed her home
\nwith a hopeful look in their faces.<\/p>\n
\"Sold out, right, Mak?\" inquired her elder child, Doblang, a
\nfirst-year junior high school student.<\/p>\n
\"Yes. Out of the ordinary this time, Blang.\"<\/p>\n
When Mbolo returned from his parking job, he could not believe
\nhis eyes: his wife was already home and neatly dressed, she
\napparently had taken an afternoon bath. Then he saw a glass of
\ntea and two pieces of cassava cake on the table. This was a
\npleasant surprise indeed to Mbolo.<\/p>\n
\"Your jamu was sold out, right, Yem?\"<\/p>\n
\"Yes, Mas.\"<\/p>\n
\"Thank God. I'm happy. If only you could sell out your jamu
\nevery day, we could get rich!\"<\/p>\n
\"Don't dream too much, Mas.\"<\/p>\n
\"Who knows, Yem. Fortune can't be foretold. We live in poverty
\nand owe a lot, but who knows, in the future we can have a big
\nfortune, right?\"<\/p>\n
\"Let's hope so.\"<\/p>\n
Day after day afterward, fortune did shine on the pair. Sayem
\nalways sold out of her jamu. She always arrived home with empty
\nbottles. She took home not just the usual small change, but bank
\nnotes worth thousands or even tens of thousands of rupiah. Mbolo
\nwas definitely happy because his wife's good fortune meant the
\nfamily's welfare improved.<\/p>\n
Very soon, every time Mbolo returned home from his parking
\njob, he no longer found just a glass of tea and a piece or two of
\ncassava cake. A glass of coffee, sometimes mixed with milk, and a
\npiece or two of bread or cake made of rice or wheat flour or even
\nglutinous rice were ready on the table for him instead.<\/p>\n
That the welfare of the Mbolos had been raised was evident not
\nonly from an improvement in the quantity and quality of their
\nfood but also from the fact that much of their furniture had been
\nreplaced with brand new pieces. The bamboo set in the sitting
\nroom was gone now and in its place was a set of Ligna (brand
\nname) wooden furniture with padded seats. And, a 14-inch
\ntelevision set now stood in the sitting room.<\/p>\n
One night, however, unlike other nights, Sayem was unusually
\nrestless in the embrace of her husband. At first Mbolo did not
\ncare but when he saw his wife's restlessness strongly expressed
\nin her face and eyes, Mbolo took an interest.<\/p>\n
\"You are restless, Yem. Why?\"<\/p>\n
\"I'm in a difficult position, Mas. Difficult indeed.\"<\/p>\n
\"What's the trouble, then? Trouble has always been part of our
\nlife. What kind of trouble this time, Yem?\"<\/p>\n
\"Mas, I want to be honest to you, but I'm afraid, Mas.\"<\/p>\n
Suddenly tears welled up in her eyes.<\/p>\n
\"What's wrong, Yem?\" Now Mbolo was very worried when he saw a
\nmist of sorrow covering her face.<\/p>\n
\"Mas, someone has been tempting me,Mas!\"<\/p>\n
Now Sayem broke into tears. She buried her fresh and young
\nface in her husband's chest. Upon hearing Sayem's words, Mbolo
\nhimself became very much disturbed.<\/p>\n
\"Who, Yem?\" said Mbolo, bracing himself to ask this question.<\/p>\n
\"He used to buy my jamu, Mas. Everything we have had lately
\nhas come from this man, Mas.\"<\/p>\n
\"Who, Yem?\"<\/p>\n
\"Pak Gumblis, the widower who runs a building material
\nbusiness at Jl. Sutomo, Mas,\" she replied, wiping her tears
\nseveral times.<\/p>\n
For a few moments Mbolo was speechless. The feeling within him
\nwas a combination of rage, a deep sense of being offended and a
\nstrong feeling of resentment. Yet he did not want to have an
\nemotional explosion. He tried to keep his head cool, so that he
\ncould think clearly and maintained his patience.<\/p>\n
\"Do you love him, Yem?\"<\/p>\n
\"I don't know, Mas. I really don't know but he is obviously
\nvery kind to me. He has helped pay the school fees of Doblang and
\nBrindil. He has supported us financially and helped settle some
\nof our debts, Mas,\" she said, her tears flowing freely.<\/p>\n
\"So what do you want, then?\"<\/p>\n
\"Divorce me, Mas. Let Doblang and Brindil live with me.\"<\/p>\n
\"You want to marry Pak Gumblis?\"<\/p>\n
\"What else can I do, Mas.\"<\/p>\n
Doblang and Brindil were told of their parents' divorce plan.
\nBrindil, a 9-year-old girl, did not give any reaction but Doblang
\ndid.<\/p>\n
\"Emak may leave Bapak, but I will live with Bapak. Let me live
\na poor life with Bapak. Emak may take back everything that Emak
\nhas given me. I cannot love another father, except Bapak, Pak
\nMbolo!\"<\/p>\n
\"Brindil is also afraid to live with a new father,\" Brindil
\nfinally chimed in.<\/p>\n
\"You have heard for yourself your children's reaction, Yem! I
\nalso will no longer touch anything that has come from you. You
\nmay have all these things. I'll be in debt to you for all that I
\nhave got from you and used. I'll pay back the debts and the
\ninterest!\"<\/p>\n
\"No, not that. Don't be like that, Mas!\"<\/p>\n
She sobbed hysterically.<\/p>\n
From that time on, Sayem stopped making the rounds with her
\njamu. She confined herself to home, lost in thought. Sometimes
\nshe burst into tears. At other times she let out a hysterical
\ncry. At still other times she smiled to herself.<\/p>\n
\"Emak is sick, isn't she, Pak?\" Brindil asked her father.<\/p>\n
\"Yes.\" Mbolo gave a terse answer. Tears welled up in his eyes.<\/p>\n
\"Is she mad, Pak? Brindil asked.<\/p>\n
\"Perhaps.\"<\/p>\n
Brindil could not hold back her tears. She wailed.<\/p>\n
\"Emaaaak ...... Emaaaak .....\"<\/p>\n
Brindil hugged her mother. In her daughter's embrace, Sayem
\nwas unmoved, her eyes staring vacantly. There, in Sayem's eyes,
\nit was evident that her soul had broken into pieces!<\/p>\n
Glossary:<\/p>\n
Jamu: traditional herbal medicine drinks<\/p>\n
Mas: term of respect for an adult male, in general usage<\/p>\n
Mak\/Emak: mother, or term of respect for an older female, in
\ngeneral usade<\/p>\n
Pak\/Bapak: father, or term of respect for an older male, in
\ngeneral usage<\/p>\n
Translated by LH<\/p>\n
The author began writing in 1984. His works have been
\npublished in media both regionally and in the capital. He works
\nat the Foundation for Cultural Studies in Yogyakarta.<\/p>",
"url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/fragile-1447899208",
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