All is Dark Around Surip

By Bunga Pujangga

The judge's house is about a kilometer from a bus stop. Those who have been there say you have to pass through a Chinese temple compound to reach it. Two blocks away is a house with a dark- tiled roof, red palm tree in the compound and a jeep in the garage.

Surip, a humble villager, must meet the judge to find a solution to his problem. The judge is his last hope.

But it left him uneasy. Sweat streamed in rivulets from his head and he sensed his traditional black cap above it getting warmer and warmer.

The unfamiliar noises of the streets did nothing to calm him.

He never heard such a commotion in his village. At this time of the day, he would be working in the paddy field or repairing the dikes in peace.

The only sounds were of birds in the trees or the shouts of the farmers to their buffaloes to speed the plow.

Today, Surip was up against the most tangled problem of his life and he sees no way out. Another dilemma was that he had never come face to face with any dignitaries, including the judge.

He saw the district head, locally known as Pak Camat, when he inspected his village, but the official was passing by in his car. On that day, Surip was only allowed to bow his head in respect to Pak Camat and smile broadly, just as the village chief had instructed all the people.

That was it. It was not enough to prepare him for meeting the judge, and he was at a loss on how to discuss personal matters with such an important man.

Yes, he had been told by his friends that he should do it in person. And that it would also not be easy.

The more he brooded over the problem, the more groggy he got. He wanted to numb all the people around him into silence. Then nobody would bother him with any questions and he could concentrate on solving his problems.

Narto, the market tax collector, advised him to see the judge if he wanted to win his case. But for that he would definitely need money. He understood that only too well because bribery was what was done.

Surip's troubles came down to his gambling habit. But what was wrong with it since almost everybody in his village enjoyed the pastime? It was like entertainment for them.

Unlike his gambling cohorts, Surip liked to drown his sorrows in tuak, the locally made liquor. He would get drunk to try to escape his shame. He did not care that he frittered even more money away on drink.

Then, on an ill-fated night last year, everything went wrong. A game was organized by Kartomenggolo, a newcomer from the city. He was hosting a house-warming part.

As usual, Surip joined the game. It was a terrible night -- he lost heavily and got drunk. To allow him to continue betting, Kartomenggolo offered him money, and Surip blearily took it.

The village chief whispered to the other gamblers to be careful of the host because he had been on the police's wanted list. But for Surip, the warning was too late.

Now Kartomenggolo was asking Surip to pay his debt in full, with interest. Surip fainted when he saw the amount. For an uneducated villager like him, the burden was unbearable and Kartomenggolo had acted mercilessly.

The village chief and all the neighbors felt for him but they could do nothing. They were too poor to help and, besides, Kartomenggolo had backing of powerful people in the area.

Surip could pay the debt but he had to sell his rice field. It was a cruel necessity, but how would he survive after that? When Kartomenggolo threatened to file suit against Surip, the villager had asked for advice from Narto, the tax collector.

"You should go to see Mr. Judge," Narto said.

Surip was at first doubtful, pointing out that he was only a poor farmer.

"You have to make a sacrifice. You have two buffaloes -- sell one and the money will be enough to pay the judge," Narto said.

"The buffaloes will be useless if you lose your paddy field."

He said half of the proceeds from the sale would be enough to pay the judge, even though buffalo prices had decreased because traders preferred cows.

Surip was so thankful for Narto's advice. Someone, it turned out, still had brains. After all, the tax collector had been a civil servant, which meant his intellect was better than common peasants.

Surip was now about 10 steps from the judge's house. His heart beat faster, and he trembled. How should he speak to the judge, such an important person? Narto warned him that it was not like talking at a village coffee shop or a traditional dinner party. For the sake of politeness, there should be some breaking of the ice with introductions before tackling the main problem.

"When you offer the 'fee', don't speak frankly but use comparison or proverbs. Remember that the language style is not like Javanese poems or traditional music lyrics because the judge is a modern man," Narto had advised.

Yet Surip was still clueless on how to carry it through because he did not have even a vague idea of how to speak to highly educated people.

But he remembered Narto's words well: "You must be brave, self-confident, if you don't want to lose the case."

Surip walked slowly as he remembered this but his heart continued to beat faster and faster. He felt his head swirling with more problems. Sweat streamed from his eyebrows down to his armpits and thighs. The villager tried to walk noiselessly but the sound of his slippers was too loud for his ears.

Surip tried to peep through the window of the judge's house but to no avail. Suddenly a man with a black cap approached him. He looked like a servant.

"Looking for someone?" the man asked.

"I want meet with Mr. Judge. Is he at home?"

"Wait." The man said, leaving Surip standing there.

The villager was happy to be left waiting because he thought he would have time to prepare himself. But before he could do anything, the door opened and a slim, well-dressed gentleman told him to come in.

Surip was so nervous he forgot to give the traditional greetings. He immediately felt guilty, and entered the house humbly.

Inside the house, Surip's feeling of uncertainty swelled. There, sitting at leisure, was Kartomenggolo.

"Please sit down, Mr. Surip," the man welcomed a guest who was no stranger to him.

"You need to know that the judge is my own nephew, Mr. Surip."

The humble villager felt nothing but frustration.

He slowly left the house, but all he heard outside was Kartomenggolo shouting: "I have asked your uncle to buy the buffalo at half price."

Before reaching the fence, Surip looked at the sky. There were only stars. All around him was dark.

Translated by TIS