The Market<\/p>\n
By Ahmad Faishal<\/p>\n
Who would have expected they would ever become friends. Then
\nagain, anything can happen when people are brought together in a
\nmarket. They easily become close to each other to pass the time
\nduring the long wait for customers.<\/p>\n
With her lips daubed with a stab of garish lipstick and her
\nface carelessly powdered, the chubby butcher, her bracelets and
\nnecklaces the size of her fingers, is not an inviting sight. She
\noften growls at buyers who bargain too low for her liking.<\/p>\n
\"Go slaughter it yourself, then,\" is her common retort.<\/p>\n
Once she picked a quarrel with a buyer when the latter asked
\nfor a little more meat as a bonus. The butcher, knowing every
\ndetail of her profit or loss, flatly refused.<\/p>\n
The buyer continued to gripe and pretended to cancel the
\ntransaction unless she got the bonus. With a sarcastic smile on
\nher face, she said, \"Come on, you make a big profit, anyway,
\nright?\"<\/p>\n
God knows what possessed the butcher because, in a split
\nsecond, a half-kilo of meat was hurled at the buyer, who spared
\nno time in throwing stones back at her face.<\/p>\n
Both eventually fainted and had to be taken to the hospital.
\nFor the next four days, the butcher did not turn up at her kiosk.<\/p>\n
Her best friend in the market is a fishmonger. She dresses in
\nthe simple clothes of the other market vendors, but she can spin
\nfantastic stories. The friendship between the two vendors became
\nstronger because both shared this love of telling stories during
\nthe long days at the market.<\/p>\n
They are from different places, the butcher from the rural
\nhinterland while the fishmonger hails from a coastal area. Every
\nday they spend their time chatting and giggling, and there are
\nalways things of interest for them to talk about.<\/p>\n
The two agreed one day that the smell of the soil at the
\nbeginning of the rainy season portended the coming of an
\nepidemic. For six or seven months, the body and the soul are
\nexposed to heat and for the next six or five months rain-induced
\ncoldness prevails. Two mutually enervating seasons, dry and wet.<\/p>\n
You had a headache yesterday, fever blisters the next and sore
\neyes the following day, they said, dissolving into laughter at
\ntheir \"wisdom\".<\/p>\n
\"Our fishermen are loath to go to sea now,\" commented the
\nfishmonger one day.<\/p>\n
\"Why?\" the butcher inquired, eager to know the reason.<\/p>\n
\"It's the rainy season, you see. But worse still, the sea is
\nnow partitioned. You have boundaries and you must not cross them
\nwhen you fish. So, our fishermen only sail around nearby islands.
\nLook, they catch the same fish all the time, only tuna and
\nmilkfish.\"<\/p>\n
\"Who the hell has put up these boundaries?\"<\/p>\n
\"Well, it's an agreement, I don't know for sure. It was only
\nafter the bloody conflicts that people became reluctant to go out
\nto sea. Huh, this is the result. Our earnings are down,\" the
\nfishmonger griped, the words spilling out of her mouth as one of
\nher hands, holding a handkerchief, was busy swatting at a nagging
\nswarm of flies.<\/p>\n
\"Bloody conflicts! What do you mean?\" the butcher said, moving
\ncloser to her friend.<\/p>\n
\"They're killing one another, tossing bombs at each other,\"
\nshe said in a louder voice, nodding her head knowingly.<\/p>\n
\"Any dead?\"<\/p>\n
\"Six of my neighbors have died and three others have gone
\nmissing. Well, one whole family was killed. I cannot imagine how
\nthese people could kill one another while they speak the same
\nlanguage, are the same religion and have the same habits.\"<\/p>\n
She lowered her voice slightly and brought her mouth closer to
\nthe butcher, almost touching her ear.<\/p>\n
\"But, for a week at a stretch I didn't have to cook rice. My
\nhusband and my children joined the tahlilan (the repeated
\nrecitation of the confession of faith). I myself dropped in at a
\nvictim's house. You see, for a few days I could save up on rice
\nat home.<\/p>\n
\"Well, they have themselves to blame for these bloody
\nconflicts.\"<\/p>\n
The two of them began laughing again, their guffaws growing
\ninto a roar. Others stared at them with great curiosity,
\nwhispering to each other, wondering how these two women could be
\nso cheerful. Then, sneering at them, they moved on.<\/p>\n
\"And then?\"<\/p>\n
\"The conflicts weren't any good for me, you see. For almost a
\nmonth, nobody wanted to buy fish,\" the fisherwoman said, slowly
\ncounting her money but not looking at her friend.<\/p>\n
\"Ten baskets of fish simply rotted at home. Well, at least the
\nstray cats got fatter. We didn't have space to dry our clothes. I
\ncouldn't give the fish to my neighbors as they were in the same
\nboat. Even the bedroom was filled with fish. At that time, fish
\nwas abundant.\"<\/p>\n
\"How come?\"<\/p>\n
\"Well, some people like to spread nonsense. Come on now, use
\nyour common sense. How could it be that the fish ate the victims
\nof the conflict? Huh, how can they allow themselves to be fooled?
\nIndeed, people today are easily influenced. They should not have
\nbelieved the story of fish eating the bodies of victims. A
\nsensational report must not be just taken for granted, right?\"<\/p>\n
\"Yes, but there'd be no problem with meat. People wouldn't
\nbelieve a cow would eat a human being,\" the butcher said
\nteasingly, breaking into laughter.<\/p>\n
The butcher's comment and laughter suddenly made the
\nfishmonger suspicious. Perhaps, it was all her doing, she
\nthought, and now she is having a chuckle about it, taking
\npleasure from the pain she had caused.<\/p>\n
If so, she would get her own back.<\/p>\n
She thought that she would secretly tell people that the
\nbutcher was not actually selling beef, but water buffalo meat, or
\nhorse carcass, or even rotten cow flesh.<\/p>\n
She stared at the butcher, who continued giggling. The
\nfishmonger tried to control her emotions. She inhaled deeply.
\nThen she laughed, although it was decidedly forced.<\/p>\n
They chatted again, just like usual, but the fishmonger's
\nfeeling remained. She was not the like the butcher, who struck
\nout like a wild animal when she was angry, but she would wait for
\nthe right time for her revenge.<\/p>\n
\"Have you sold all your fish?\"<\/p>\n
\"There's some salted fish, and the rest is fermented fish
\ncondiment.\"<\/p>\n
\"Oh, yes, how's your husband doing? Is his rheumatism still
\ntroubling him?\"<\/p>\n
\"It's a little better but he quickly tires now.\"<\/p>\n
\"So he must take a lot of rest!\" the butcher said, again
\nteasing, her eyes staring sharply and her lips forming a downward
\narc.<\/p>\n
\"Hush! Once he didn't come home for three days. I was really
\nworried and I even slept on the beach. I prayed to God that he
\nhadn't fallen victim to the bloody conflict. I'm not ready
\nphysically and mentally.<\/p>\n
\"Know what my neighbors did? They laughed at me, saying: 'Love
\nis love. OK, love your husband dearly but keep hold of your
\nsenses!' Others said, 'Today fishermen have more risks. They may
\nbe killed or their boat capsized or keep a mistress in another
\nport.'\"<\/p>\n
\"Was your husband involved in the bloody conflict?\" the
\nbutcher asked seriously.<\/p>\n
\"I don't know. But, when I was anxiously waiting for him and
\nthen dozed off, I was suddenly surprised to feel his moustache on
\nmy face. Laughing loudly, he said, 'I don't have a big catch.'
\nAfter what other people had told me, I had a growing suspicion
\nabout him. Who knows that he keeps a mistress, just like the
\nvillagers showing off their riches by having several wives. You
\nknow I always pray that I won't be too rich nor too poor. Both
\nare risky, you know.\"<\/p>\n
\"If I could be really wealthy, I would buy more earrings,
\nnecklaces, bracelets and you could lend me the money.\"<\/p>\n
\"How much is this fish?\" someone asked.<\/p>\n
\"Uh, Rp 3,000 for the bigger one and Rp 1,500 for the smaller
\none. The milkfish is Rp 1,000 per three fish. If you want to buy
\na lot, the price is lower. Look, fresh fish, it came here only
\nlast night. Not too salty. You can bring it back tomorrow if it's
\nnot fresh any more. I'll give you twice as many.\"<\/p>\n
\"Anything else?\"<\/p>\n
\"This is the rainy season. The fishermen consider themselves
\nlucky to come home alive.\"<\/p>\n
\"I'm actually looking for pomfret. Thanks.\"<\/p>\n
Surabaya 2002<\/p>\n
Translated by Ismiarti.<\/p>", "url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/the-market-1447899208", "image": "" }, "sponsor": "Okusi Associates", "sponsor_url": "https:\/\/okusiassociates.com" }