Bomb

Chairil Gibran Ramadhan

A year ago tonight, a tragic event occurred. A bomb exploded in a crowded shopping center, killing many innocent people and replacing merriment with horror and fear.

That night, my next-door neighbor, Rosdarminto -- Ros -- had just arrived at the terrace of our home, bringing with him a plateful of cakes that his wife had made.

"Today is Sekar's birthday," he told my wife, Laila.

On the screen, a private television station presented a breaking-news live report of the bomb explosion. I switched to other television stations and found only information about the bomb explosion, with little mention of the plight of the victims.

I was disgusted. The TV people were concerned only with the cold hard facts. The pictures vividly showed how a shopping center had been destroyed, people gathering to ogle at the spectacle. Reporters were busy taking pictures of the explosion and its aftermath. An old lady sat on the ground, holding her umbrella. Someone's leg was found lying in front of a building.

"Luckily, your child is unwell," I said, handing over the plate from Ros to Laila. "Otherwise, you would have taken her to the shopping center, right? It is really a blessing."

"That's why I always thank God for whatever happens to me," Ros said as he stood in front of my television. "He knows what is best for us, that's what I always believe."

"I agree."

"The perpetrators are really wicked," said Laila.

"Obviously, this was the work of a well-organized group," I said. "It was well planned."

Sadness appeared on Ros' face. When he was given back the plate, he left.

For many years this country has been torn apart by sectarian and ethnic conflicts. Thousands lost their lives because of narrow-mindedness. Provocateurs were everywhere, pitting people of different religious persuasions or ethnic groups against one another.

Suspicion was the order of the day. Bloodshed became a common sight. Suddenly, everybody seemed to have changed and become savage. Killings, assaults, shootings, kidnappings and slander were common.

As for me, although I came from the same region as some of those involved in the bloody conflicts, I always remembered the advice from my parents and my former teachers. "Never feel that you undergo greater oppression than other people. Better stand united than being alone."

I could hear Happy Birthday coming from Ros' house. The night sky was clear. I would prefer a cloudy sky. Our country needed heavy rain to quell our angry hearts.

Five days after the bombing, I passed the site of the bomb explosion on my way to the only public park in our town. I took Laila with me on my old motorcycle. As we were still childless, we would spend our Saturday night sitting somewhere in the park.

"The perpetrators must have carried out the bombing for money," I told her.

"Or they may work for some politicians," I added.

My wife nodded in agreement.

*****

A year has passed since that bombing. Ros has just brought us a plateful of cakes again. Sekar is a year older today.

"There are bomb threats again today," Laila said, offering me the cake from Ros.

"Only rumors, La," I said to calm her.

"We must remain alert, mustn't we?"

"Yes."

"The police say they have arrested the perpetrators."

"Maybe they have arrested the wrong people."

"Be careful. They say our neighbor across the road, Taslim, works for the intelligence agency."

I simply smiled.

On the screen of our television, a private television station broadcast the commemoration of last year's bomb incident. Footage of the gutted building and dead and dying returned to our screen.

Eating a piece of cake, I hugged Laila, now in the fifth month of her pregnancy.

"The bombers are heartless fools," I said.

Laila nodded, still in my embrace.

We could hear the singing of Happy Birthday from Ros' house.

The night sky was clear. There was no sign of rain. I prayed to God peace would not leave my hope. I hoped that the bombers, whoever they may be, will never think that their suffering greater than those the rest of us. I hope they realize that other people are also oppressed and live in misery.

Translated by Lie Hua