Roots<\/p>\n
By Dewi Anggraeni<\/p>\n
Rusdi reluctantly climbed into the back seat of the car
\nbefore Sadli, his driver, closed the door. He waited while Sadli
\nturned on the ignition and started the engine, then asked, \"Did
\nyou pick up Ibu Sepuh, then?\" referring to his mother-in-law, who
\nhad come visiting from Palembang.<\/p>\n
\"Yes, Pak. I drove Ibu Sepuh to your home safely.\"<\/p>\n
Rusdi did not enquire further. He was not in the habit of
\ndiscussing family affairs with his driver, though he swore that
\nSadli knew every detail anyway. He and the domestic staff would
\nhave traded gossip, putting each other in the complete picture.<\/p>\n
Rusdi and Rifa provided better entertainment to their staff
\nthan the nightly soapies on TV.<\/p>\n
The peak-hour traffic was heavy as usual, but this time it did
\nnot bother Rusdi. In fact, he welcomed the slow trip home,
\ndelaying his face-to-face confrontation with his mother-in-law.<\/p>\n
He knew what to expect. His mother-in-law was dead against his
\nidea of psychiatric treatment for Rifa.<\/p>\n
\"I shall never allow it. Never!\" she had said emphatically
\nover the phone.<\/p>\n
\"But mother, the doctor says she is clinically depressed!
\nShe'll never get better unless she gets treatment...\"<\/p>\n
\"How long has this been going on? Why haven't you or Rifa told
\nme she wasn't well?\" Rusdi had cleared his throat. And before he
\nhad had time to think of an answer, his mother-in-law had laid
\ndown the law, \"You are not to do anything to Rifa until I have
\nseen her. And I am getting on the first flight tomorrow. Do
\narrange for your driver to pick me up!\"<\/p>\n
Rusdi stepped into the house from the garage through the back
\ndoor, past the kitchen. Sadli had handed his briefcase to Titi,
\nthe maid.<\/p>\n
Beyond the kitchen the house was quiet. \"Where are Ibu and
\nIbu Sepuh?\" he asked Titi.<\/p>\n
\"They went out not long after Ibu Sepuh arrived, Pak,\" replied
\nTiti, her face totally impassive.<\/p>\n
Rusdi checked a frown and walked on to his bedroom then
\nclosed the door behind him. Alone, he lowered himself on to the
\nbed and dropped his head in his hands.<\/p>\n
It seemed to ease his pain so he did not move for some time.
\nSuddenly he heard the front door open and his wife's voice
\ntalking to Titi. He had not heard Rifa uttering so many words for
\nweeks. Maybe she did speak when he was not home.<\/p>\n
He waited and waited, but Rifa did not come in. So he heaved
\nhimself up and stepped out of the bedroom.<\/p>\n
He found them sitting in the courtyard sipping iced tea. Rifa
\nturned to him and barely smiled. Rusdi rushed to his mother-in-
\nlaw and kissed her hand. In front of her, Rusdi, a Melbourne
\nUniversity educated executive in a prestigious architecture firm,
\nresumed his traditional self, to a certain degree.<\/p>\n
After muttering a greeting to Rifa, he sat down in another
\nchair, vaguely facing his wife and her mother. He felt his neck
\ntense up for the battle to come.<\/p>\n
After a brief moment of meaningless small talk, his mother-in-
\nlaw began the offensive, \"Rus, I took Rifa to a dukun.\"<\/p>\n
Rusdi's eyes nearly popped. \"You did what? Oh, pardon me.
\nMother, why on earth did you do that?\"<\/p>\n
\"Rus, I'm Rifa's mother. I know my daughter. She's not the
\nhistrionic type. Not the depressive type. I was sure something
\nhad been done to her, and I was right. The dukun said there was
\nguna-guna, a spell...\"<\/p>\n
\"Oh he would say that, wouldn't he? What kind of guna-guna, if
\nI may ask?\"<\/p>\n
His mother-in-law slowly got up, went to the kitchen, and
\ncame back with a knife. Rusdi involuntarily brought his legs
\ntogether and placed his hands in the middle of his lap. His eyes
\ndid not leave his mother-in-law's hand for a second.<\/p>\n
\"Follow me, both of you,\" she said calmly.<\/p>\n
Rusdi watched on, incredulous, when Rifa turned and followed
\nher mother, to their bedroom. Bursting with curiosity, and
\nassured now that the knife was not meant for any part of him, he
\nrose and followed too.<\/p>\n
But for the fact that one of the soapies had started, he would
\nhave been sure that the maid and the cook would have been peering
\nfrom behind the kitchen door.<\/p>\n
Rusdi stood hesitantly near the door and watched, as his
\nmother-in-law stepped towards the bed then turned to him and
\nasked, \"Which side do you sleep on?\"<\/p>\n
\"That side,\" replied Rusdi, feeling inexplicably yet
\ndefinitely trapped.<\/p>\n
\"So you sleep on this side, Rif?\"she now asked her daughter.<\/p>\n
Rifa nodded.<\/p>\n
\"Rus, there is guna-guna planted in this mattress under Rifa's
\npillow.\"<\/p>\n
Rusdi was speechless, momentarily paralyzed by a combination
\nof anger and powerlessness. His wife had been diagnosed as
\nclinically depressed.<\/p>\n
What was this nonsense about guna-guna? Couldn't her mother
\naccept the fact that her daughter needed psychiatric treatment?
\nDid she have to shift the shame to an ephemeral source?<\/p>\n
\"Is that what the dukun told you?\" he asked, smirking.<\/p>\n
Instead of answering, his mother-in-law handed him the knife.
\n\"If you don't believe it, why don't you open it up and find out
\nfor yourself?\"<\/p>\n
Rusdi could no longer restrain himself. \"What? I am not going
\nto destroy a perfectly good mattress just because a mad
\ntroglodyte or a clever con man who calls himself a dukun told you
\nthere was guna-guna in it!<\/p>\n
\"For God's sake, mother, this is the twenty-first century!\"
\n His mother-in-law didn't flinch. \"Calm down Rus, I went to
\nschool also, remember? But I've never forgotten my roots! Now
\nstop arguing and open the mattress! This side.<\/p>\n
He took the knife, and before he moved in the direction of
\nhis mother-in-law's throat, Rusdi dashed towards the bed, pulled
\nthe sheet back and slashed the mattress at the nominated spot.<\/p>\n
Then, still following her instructions, he pushed his hand
\ninto the hole he had made, probing.<\/p>\n
Suddenly, the \"I hope no-one ever finds out about this\"
\nexpression disappeared from his face. Rusdi pulled his hand out,
\nand in it, was a small bag made of white cloth. As soon as he was
\nable to, he dropped it on the floor.<\/p>\n
His face was colorless. He stood motionless for some thirty
\nseconds, then began to examine the mattress. There was no way the
\nbag had been manually put in, unless it had been there when they
\nhad bought the mattress.<\/p>\n
When he bent down to pick up the bag, his mother-in-law
\nspoke, \"Don't!\"<\/p>\n
She then took a bottle from her handbag, presumably from the
\ndukun, opened it and poured the liquid contents onto the bag,
\nwhich for a moment seemed to come alive and began hissing. It
\nthen fell open by itself.<\/p>\n
A handful of nails and pieces of broken glass, and other spiky
\nitems scattered on the floor.<\/p>\n
They would have stood there for a few more minutes, stunned,
\nif Rifa hadn't passed out.<\/p>\n
The following day in the office, Rusdi could not see Korina,
\nthe new interior decorator they had recruited three months ago.<\/p>\n
Alone in his glassed office, he rang her home. Her maid
\nanswered the phone and said that her mistress was sick and unable
\nto come to the phone.<\/p>\n
That afternoon he casually asked Ita, one of his senior
\narchitects, about Korina's whereabouts. Ita looked at him,
\nmeaningfully it seemed, and smiled ever so slightly. \"Korina? I
\nhear she's gone to her dukun for some urgent matters,\" Ita said.<\/p>\n
Rusdi was dumbfounded. \"Korina went to a dukun? God! How
\nlittle we know those whom we think are our...\", he mused. Then it
\noccurred to him, did everyone in the office know about him and
\nKorina?<\/p>\n
\"What have people been saying about me and Korina?\" he finally
\nfound his voice.<\/p>\n
Ita now looked at him with a combination of pity and
\nincredulity.<\/p>\n
\"Rusdi, you are not invisible,\" she said<\/p>\n
Rusdi was alarmed. \"Do you think, er, my wife knows?\"<\/p>\n
Ita's smile disappeared. \"Rusdi, everyone knows. Why do you
\nthink she's been depressed?\"<\/p>\n
Back at home, Rifa was sitting up in bed recovering,
\nfortified by a thick broth, from a chicken prepared by the dukun,
\nher mother sitting on the edge of the bed.<\/p>\n
\"Everything will be okay now, Rif,\" said her
\nmother.<\/p>",
"url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/roots-1447899208",
"image": ""
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