Going Home<\/p>\n
By Budi Wahyono<\/p>\n
Sitting on a bamboo bench in his shabby hut under the overhang of
\na building, Komar found himself again staring in bewilderment.
\nThe sun was shining down on him, urging him to hurry to work.<\/p>\n
But what work? The question struck him abruptly.<\/p>\n
He had been jobless for almost a year, ever since his
\ndismissal for being caught stealing 10 liters of oil.<\/p>\n
He lived like a squirrel, hopping from one job to another,
\nwilling to do anything, anywhere.<\/p>\n
"So I'm not completely unemployed, in fact," whispered Komar,
\nas if talking to one side of his heart. But the other side
\nretorted: "I'm running out of money, ain't I?"<\/p>\n
Such queries stabbed at him like a knife, inevitably giving
\nhim a headache. A multitude of domestic troubles promptly crammed
\ninto Komar's head.<\/p>\n
As the post-fasting Lebaran holiday was nearing, didn't his
\nwife and two children badly need new clothes, even shoes, if
\npossible?<\/p>\n
But weren't all these together worth about a million rupiah?<\/p>\n
Not to mention the traditional cooking, opor and ketupat,
\nmeaning more money.<\/p>\n
Komar became ever more dazed.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
"Come on! Hurry up! Semarang, Solo, Yogya, Purwokerto!"<\/p>\n
Ticket scalpers were shouting noisily at a bus terminal under
\nthe scorching sun of Jakarta, laying the pressure thick on Komar.<\/p>\n
The clamor soon felt like bullets whizzing past, even growing
\ninto hammers pounding away at him, as was frighteningly
\nillustrated in headache drug ads.<\/p>\n
The situation, unsurprisingly, triggered Komar's dominant male
\ninstinct to act amid the hardship -- after all he was family
\nhead.<\/p>\n
"Wake up, buddy! Be a real man. By any and all means, retain
\nyour dignity as a father! Never go home empty-handed. Your family
\nlives in distress while they have to face your neighbors'
\naffluence!" the devil's persuasion sneaked into Komar's thoughts
\nall at once. His mind was dragged further and further into
\ncontemplating evil designs.<\/p>\n
The sun was now soaring higher in the sky, and to Komar, the
\nday felt burning hot. The throngs of people leaving the market
\nwith various goods prompted him to quicken his step.<\/p>\n
The devil again slipped into him, making him unable to escape.<\/p>\n
It's impossible for him to work decently and honestly in order
\nto please his family.<\/p>\n
"You must work as a robber!" The imp, with its terrifying
\nface, kept talking him into it.<\/p>\n
A robber? Wasn't it too ambitious for a petty thief like
\nhimself? Komar doubted.<\/p>\n
He imagined a gang of thugs of a bygone time. It's organized
\ncrime, he thought, and hesitated again.<\/p>\n
Komar had no guts to rob a house. He preferred the simpler
\nmethod of bag-snatching, something he found too tempting to
\nresist.<\/p>\n
"In the market now?" his idea popped out.<\/p>\n
"No! The woman may scream as you're snatching her things, and
\nyou'll get beaten up black and blue by the market crowd!" his
\nconscience objected.<\/p>\n
Komar became increasingly uncertain. He racked his brain for
\nsome alternatives.<\/p>\n
After a short while, he wiped his forehead with his palm.
\nAnother idea had sprung up.<\/p>\n
"Why go to so much trouble? Take a plastic bottle of mineral
\nwater and drop in a sleeping pill. Have a chat with a passenger
\non the bus 'till the drink makes them sleep, and then act. Strip
\nthe victim of all her valuables and money!"<\/p>\n
Komar smiled. It's a bright scheme, he thought.<\/p>\n
Without further consideration, he was determined to carry out
\nthe plan. Full of confidence, Komar wanted to put it into action
\nright away.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
In the afternoon, with some change in his pocket, Komar went
\nstraight to the Pulogadung bus terminal. There, he kept an eye
\nout for easy prey, particularly among the female crowds.<\/p>\n
Then a plump woman emerged, one of the heavy-sleeper type. She
\nlooked like a rich lady. Her dress, handbag and accessories all
\ngave away her wealth.<\/p>\n
But would she be willing to sit beside him? Komar was unsure.<\/p>\n
"Ah, there's no choice in such conditions. It's lucky if I can
\nget on a bus at all," he made up his mind.<\/p>\n
Trying to make good on the opportunity, he followed the
\nwealthy-looking woman, who appeared to be taking a Yogya-bound
\nbus. Komar was no less agile as she waded into a swarm of
\ntravelers.<\/p>\n
Unexpectedly, he found himself sitting down haughtily into the
\nseat next to hers. He was acting, pretending to be drowsy.<\/p>\n
"Are you heading to Yogya?" the words came from her beautiful
\nlips. She was friendly and gullible, Komar believed.<\/p>\n
"Yes, bu. We're lucky we could get on the bus," he said, as a
\npolite reply.<\/p>\n
The woman started chatting endlessly, with Komar responding
\nonly now and again. She offered a drink, which he accepted so as
\nnot to offend her.<\/p>\n
Right on schedule, the bus left the terminal. It moved very
\nslowly, like a caterpillar creeping along green leaves as it
\npassed through Jakarta's busy streets.<\/p>\n
Komar and the woman watched countless people on the roads,
\nwalking in rows like ants. These throngs all had the same
\npurpose: back, back to their hometowns.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
Dark was descending, and the small towns were teeming with
\nbuses.<\/p>\n
The trendy lady yawned many times, displaying her sleepiness
\nin an obvious fashion.<\/p>\n
"Don't sleep too early...," Komar warned.<\/p>\n
She took it as a sympathetic reminder. "But I'm too sleepy to
\nstay awake, pak," she replied.<\/p>\n
Komar smiled, thinking, it's funny, she broke the ice again.<\/p>\n
The bus kept speeding along.<\/p>\n
Komar recalled his own wife as he stole glances at the
\nclothing and jewelry on the sturdy woman. When his children
\ncrossed his mind, his greed nearly grew out of control.<\/p>\n
He was waiting for the right moment to act.<\/p>\n
"Oh, it's very hot, I'm thirsty," complained the woman.<\/p>\n
Komar smiled again, remembering the sedative-laced drink he
\nhad prepared in his hut at noon.<\/p>\n
"I've only got this bottle of mineral water. Please drink it,
\nif you like," Komar opened his bag and offered the water.<\/p>\n
She grasped the half-liter bottle of water, unscrewed its cap
\nand gulped it all down to satisfy her thirst.<\/p>\n
Komar didn't care.<\/p>\n
"You'll be asleep in half an hour! You'll be a victim of your
\nvicious impulse!"<\/p>\n
Komar's hidden urge leapt in anticipation.<\/p>\n
The bus conductor came by to examine passengers' tickets. With
\nthis obligation met, some of them went to sleep.<\/p>\n
Komar took a peek at the woman, who was nodding. In half an
\nhour, she would be in a deep sleep. When Komar pressed his arm
\nagainst hers, she didn't react. She had apparently succumbed to
\nthe drug.<\/p>\n
"This is the time! Strip the woman of her jewels, grab her
\nhandbag and order the bus driver's assistant to let me off. I
\nwant to get away!" Komar's inner voice was resolute.<\/p>\n
Again, he saw flashes of his family.<\/p>\n
It was too dim in the bus. In his own way, Komar pulled off
\nher gold necklace. Perhaps it weighed five to seven grams. Her
\nhandbag, containing a camera-cell phone, was worth over a million
\nrupiah. Or so he estimated. Silently, the bag, too, changed
\nhands.<\/p>\n
He glanced to his left and to his right. With a number of the
\npassengers asleep, it was a good time for him to make a move and
\ntell the bus crew to let him off.<\/p>\n
Komar stood up. His heart was pounding. He left his seat and
\nhurriedly moved to the rear of the bus.<\/p>\n
"I'm getting off here, mas!" Komar approached a crew member, a
\nfierce look on his face.<\/p>\n
The driver's assistant became instantly suspicious. Nobody had
\nasked to be dropped off in a village near Cirebon, so why was
\nthis man suddenly insisting in such a great hurry?<\/p>\n
"I don't care where I stop, I just want to get on another
\nbus!" thought Komar.<\/p>\n
The driver's assistant stared at him more warily.<\/p>\n
"Halt! A passenger's getting off!" the assistant's booming
\nvoice awakened the passengers from their sound sleep. Some were
\nso alarmed that they simultaneously groped for their belongings.<\/p>\n
As did the fashionable lady.<\/p>\n
"Stop, stop!" a shout arose.<\/p>\n
Komar was puzzled. Many people were trying to find their
\npossessions in a panic.<\/p>\n
"Mas, there's a thief! My things are gone!!" screamed the
\nwoman in the seat next to Komar's.<\/p>\n
A man promptly rose without a single hint of fear, blocking
\nKomar's way. Komar was taken by surprise and without resistance,
\njust as lights were turned on and the bus was brought to a halt.<\/p>\n
"What's wrong, bu?" asked another woman sitting nearby.<\/p>\n
"My bag, my necklace, it's all gone! Where was the guy who sat
\nbeside me?!" she looked around, searching faces.<\/p>\n
"Here you are, bu. Is this your bag?" the brawny man holding
\nKomar snatched it from him.<\/p>\n
Komar was befuddled. By now, several passengers were gripping
\nhim tightly.<\/p>\n
"Yes, yes, that's mine! Why was it stolen?!" she cried.<\/p>\n
Some of her fellow travelers punched Komar in the face without
\nmercy. Blood oozing from his nose, Komar groaned.<\/p>\n
The driver deftly turned his bus toward a police station.
\nKomar was dragged down the steps. His case was handled fast.<\/p>\n
Still moaning in pain, Komar had sudden visions of his wife
\nand children in a dreary gloom. He imagined a dark, stuffy cell.<\/p>\n
Komar was going home, to the cell that now awaited him.<\/p>\n
-- Translated by Aris Prawira<\/p>\n
* opor: a kind of stewed chicken curry<\/p>\n
* ketupat: rice cake cooked in coconut milk<\/p>\n
* ibu\/bu: term of address for mother\/older woman<\/p>\n
* bapak\/pak: term of address for father\/older man<\/p>\n
* mas: Javanese term for an older male<\/p>", "url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/going-home-1447899208", "image": "" }, "sponsor": "Okusi Associates", "sponsor_url": "https:\/\/okusiassociates.com" }