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