A Woman Who Walks at Night

A Woman Who Walks at Night

By Surtiningsih W.T.

I have to write it all down in my diary. It was 10 o'clock
when I left the house last night. The soft swing and click of the
door sounded jarring to me, as if telling me to go, just go, and
never come back.

I trudged along, feeling the burden of my six-month pregnancy.
I don't really have a bulge in my belly. Wearing a traditional
kain-kebaya, I could easily pass as a nonpregnant woman, more so
if I put on makeup. People -- men actually -- tended to look at
my face, my whole appearance, and would not realize that I was
expecting.

The man I met last night was like that.

I had not planned to go far. I was just going to show my
husband that I had dignity and that I refused to take his
treatment of me just like that. I've been his wife for seven
years. Last night was the first time that I felt so humiliated:
Because he said he did not trust me.

Had I been mistaken in being honest and telling him
everything? I told him about my experience at the doctor's
office. After examining me, the doctor had suddenly stroked my
cheek and pulled me into his arms. He reluctantly saw me to the
door, staring at me with eyes that spoke volume of his need.

My husband thought that I was to blame, that I opened the
opportunity for such a thing to happen. I did not think I had
done anything wrong. After all, I came for a consultation because
my heart often pounded rapidly and I had often been feeling weak.

"Yeah, well, but you always spend hours putting on your makeup
every time you're going to visit the doctor," my husband
retorted.

I was really enraged by what he said. I cried, I beat my
chest, I felt so low. No one believed me, not even my husband.

But he was just sitting there, silent like a stone.

With tears streaming down my face, I rushed out of the house.
The street was deserted already.

I had been planning to only sit under the tree, hoping my
husband would soon come out and take me home.

Minutes passed and still he did not appear. I did not want to
leave the house, where my four small children were asleep. But my
pride told me to leave there and then. So I left. I dried my
tears.

What's going to happen? A woman in full makeup walking on the
streets of Jakarta at night, alone.

I kept on walking. I reached the bus stop and waited there. A
bus appeared from the direction of the Kebayoran area. It was
empty. I got in, and later learned that it was heading toward the
Harmoni area, not Jl. Diponegoro, where I wanted to go because my
elder sister lived on nearby Jl. Sawo.

The bus stopped in the Dukuh Atas area and I got off to wait
for the next bus. It's Saturday night. Buses might operate until
even later, I consoled myself. Or at least minibuses.

The long line of satay stalls along Jl. Blora was packed with
night-lifers. People talking and laughing amid the aroma of
roasted meat and the stale smell of beer.

I was alone at that bus stop and began to feel scared. But I
was still too proud and resolved not to return since my husband
had not sought for me to ask me to come home. Besides, I felt
that my being pregnant would protect me, that God would watch
over me because I was carrying His creation within me.

"Going somewhere Zus?"

A man suddenly appeared. I was startled. But I recovered
quickly. I just needed to dismiss him by treating him politely.

"To Jl. Sawo."

"Alone? May I take you there? Is it urgent?"

"No, thank you. My sister is sick."

"It's late, there are no more buses. I have this old car with
me," he said, pointing at a small Opel.

"Thank you, but no," I refused, still politely.

A small bus halted. The driver gestured to the right
direction. "Surapati Park."

I got in. The bus sped on and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I thought I would just spend the night at my sister's. I
didn't care what she would say.

Jl. Diponegoro was dark. So was Surapati Park when I alighted
from the minibus. I felt scared again when it sped away, leaving
me alone. And I almost jumped out of my skin when suddenly I felt
a hand grabbing my right arm.

"Let me take you, Zus. It's not good for a woman to walk alone
at night."

That man again. I became paralyzed. It's like I had lost my
will to say no to him. Besides, this simmering anger that I felt
for my husband had reduced my wish to refuse.

"Where's your sister's house Zus?"

The car sped on the empty street.

"What's her illness?"

I thought it was no use for me to lie anymore.

"She is not ill. I just had a fight with my husband and I want
to sleep over at my sister's tonight."

His demeanor changed. He looked cheerful. And he turned the
car to the other direction.

"My sister's house is on Jl. Sawo, Dik," I called him "younger
brother" despite the fact that he appeared to be much older than
I was.

"Let's have some fun together first. We can have a good time."

"I am happy with my life, thank you. I have four children,
almost five with the one I am now carrying."

"Ah, come on Zus, let's have a drink and talk," he said,
stopping the car in front of a restaurant.

I stayed put. I began to realize that I was now in danger and
that it could not be averted even if I yelled for help. I had to
think of something.

"Please, Dik, take me to Jl. Sawo and I will thank you very
much. You are still so young and many young girls would be happy
to be with you," I said.

Sullenly, he started the engine again. Again, the car did not
go in the direction that I wanted. He took me to the Senen area
in Central Jakarta, and there asked me if I wanted to eat. I
still said no. I began to realize that now I should go home to my
children. I had gone too far in my anger.

The car was now heading toward Jl. Saleh and suddenly came to
a stop in a dark area. He leaned over and embraced me. "You drive
me insane, Zus."

I turned to stone. Then I mustered all the strength that I
still had left, to say to him, "You are still young. You are good
looking, Dik. Don't waste your time with me. You can't force me.
Even if I have to die. Please take me home."

"Zus, please. I have met a lot of women, but I have never been
attracted to them as I am to you now."

"That's a line. Maybe you have said that to many women, Dik.
Please, I have children. I am a mother. An expecting mother."

"Ah, Zus, I'm sad to see you this unhappy. Please, will you
come to my poor home?"

I just realized that his eyes were red. Hungry eyes. I felt I
was on the brink of a disaster. I had to think of something to
make him stop, but his car kept turning onto streets I did not
know.

"I can go on like this all night."

"Please take me to Jl. Sawo, just like you promised me."

He extended his left arm, pulling me over to him. I did not
dare resist.

"Why did you walk alone? You know men are wolves."

"I never think like that. I have been married for seven years
to my husband. I know he is not a bad man. He is the father of my
children."

I could feel him becoming angry. But my fear had gone -- even
of death, if necessary.

"Please take me home, then."

"The night is still young. How far along are you?"

"Seven months. Why?" I lied. I knew what the red-eyed man was
thinking.

"Until when can a man sleep with his pregnant wife?"

I was stunned. "Six months if the husband is that ruthless."

"Ah, Zus..." he smiled, and started to caress my back. "You
are such a confident woman. I live on Jl. Waringin. I am a good
person. I live alone. Would you please come and look at the place
where I live?"

He still tried!

"Please, Dik, you are wasting your energy."

I tried so hard to convince him that I was older than he was.
That way, I could feel like I had greater leverage.

"I see. So I have to surrender to your wish. But please, Zus,
have pity..."

Slowly, I felt even stronger. The car was now on Jl. Thamrin.

"Okay. Where do you want me to take you, Zus? Jl. Sawo or
home?"

"Home, please."

"Where?"

"Pejompongan. Block C."

The car slowed near Bendungan Hilir. I asked him to stop and
let me get out there.

"May I take you to your home?"

"No, please. Here. I'll take a becak. It would not be good if
the neighbors see me with you."

"Where exactly do you live, Zus?"

"Block C III," I lied again. There was nothing I could do. I
did not want him to ever come. I did not want to ever see him
again.

I felt like the sky was opening up when I was finally able to
get out of the car. I ran as fast as I could, crossing the street
while both hands were holding my belly. I took a becak, passing
the bad road, and arrived home.

Home.

My husband was already asleep. I knew for sure that he had,
indeed, gone out to search for me. I saw some small change and
coins on the table. He must have taken a bus or a becak to look
for me.

My sister-in-law was asleep. My husband must have told her to
care for the children while he was out.

I will leave my diary in a place where my husband can see it.
I wanted him to read and know that I have never lied to him --
including about what happened to me last night.

Translated by SWE

Glossary:

Zus: little sister (Dutch)

Dik: little brother (Indonesian)

becak: three-wheeled pedicab