Fragile

By Sartono Kusumaningrat

At 6:30 in the evening, Mbolo and Sayem were busy counting Rp 100 coins, money they both earned from their hard work as, respectively, a parking man and a traveling vendor of jamu.

"How much did you get, Yem?"

"I have Rp 3,000, Mas. And you?"

"I've got Rp 3,200. I spent some on some rice and tofu and two cigarettes. I have Rp 1,700 left. Here you are, Yem!"

Mbolo gave the money to Sayem, his wife.

"How much do we earn on average every day, Yem?"

"Well... about Rp 6,000. Which means that in a month, we earn Rp 180,000."

"Is it enough for our family?"

"Why ask? See for yourself how much we are in debt. Is that amount enough to buy food for the four of us? Not to mention the electricity bill, the children's school fees, soap, toothpaste, transportation fares, pocket money, our neighborhood arisan (monthly lottery savings group), books. Oh, in short, far from enough, Mas!"

"When can we get out of this poverty mess, Yem?"

"Don't dream, Mas. What are we? Who are we? It's just sheer luck that we can survive!"

"Man must keep trying, Yem. As long as he breathes, man must continue trying to fulfill all his needs in life."

"We have done so, Mas."

"We must work harder and try better."

Sayem did not say a word. She knew that her husband was right but she also thought she was right because she had done virtually anything, including walking every inch of the town's road selling her jamu, just to earn some money for her family. She thought she had done her best. Nevertheless, she frequently felt disappointed because what she got from her extremely hard work was always short of her expectations. What money she earned was always far from enough to fulfill the needs of the whole family.

Then one day, Sayem came home earlier than usual. The bottles in her basket were all empty. That day she sold out all her jamu. She wore a sweet smile. And her two children welcomed her home with a hopeful look in their faces.

"Sold out, right, Mak?" inquired her elder child, Doblang, a first-year junior high school student.

"Yes. Out of the ordinary this time, Blang."

When Mbolo returned from his parking job, he could not believe his eyes: his wife was already home and neatly dressed, she apparently had taken an afternoon bath. Then he saw a glass of tea and two pieces of cassava cake on the table. This was a pleasant surprise indeed to Mbolo.

"Your jamu was sold out, right, Yem?"

"Yes, Mas."

"Thank God. I'm happy. If only you could sell out your jamu every day, we could get rich!"

"Don't dream too much, Mas."

"Who knows, Yem. Fortune can't be foretold. We live in poverty and owe a lot, but who knows, in the future we can have a big fortune, right?"

"Let's hope so."

Day after day afterward, fortune did shine on the pair. Sayem always sold out of her jamu. She always arrived home with empty bottles. She took home not just the usual small change, but bank notes worth thousands or even tens of thousands of rupiah. Mbolo was definitely happy because his wife's good fortune meant the family's welfare improved.

Very soon, every time Mbolo returned home from his parking job, he no longer found just a glass of tea and a piece or two of cassava cake. A glass of coffee, sometimes mixed with milk, and a piece or two of bread or cake made of rice or wheat flour or even glutinous rice were ready on the table for him instead.

That the welfare of the Mbolos had been raised was evident not only from an improvement in the quantity and quality of their food but also from the fact that much of their furniture had been replaced with brand new pieces. The bamboo set in the sitting room was gone now and in its place was a set of Ligna (brand name) wooden furniture with padded seats. And, a 14-inch television set now stood in the sitting room.

One night, however, unlike other nights, Sayem was unusually restless in the embrace of her husband. At first Mbolo did not care but when he saw his wife's restlessness strongly expressed in her face and eyes, Mbolo took an interest.

"You are restless, Yem. Why?"

"I'm in a difficult position, Mas. Difficult indeed."

"What's the trouble, then? Trouble has always been part of our life. What kind of trouble this time, Yem?"

"Mas, I want to be honest to you, but I'm afraid, Mas."

Suddenly tears welled up in her eyes.

"What's wrong, Yem?" Now Mbolo was very worried when he saw a mist of sorrow covering her face.

"Mas, someone has been tempting me,Mas!"

Now Sayem broke into tears. She buried her fresh and young face in her husband's chest. Upon hearing Sayem's words, Mbolo himself became very much disturbed.

"Who, Yem?" said Mbolo, bracing himself to ask this question.

"He used to buy my jamu, Mas. Everything we have had lately has come from this man, Mas."

"Who, Yem?"

"Pak Gumblis, the widower who runs a building material business at Jl. Sutomo, Mas," she replied, wiping her tears several times.

For a few moments Mbolo was speechless. The feeling within him was a combination of rage, a deep sense of being offended and a strong feeling of resentment. Yet he did not want to have an emotional explosion. He tried to keep his head cool, so that he could think clearly and maintained his patience.

"Do you love him, Yem?"

"I don't know, Mas. I really don't know but he is obviously very kind to me. He has helped pay the school fees of Doblang and Brindil. He has supported us financially and helped settle some of our debts, Mas," she said, her tears flowing freely.

"So what do you want, then?"

"Divorce me, Mas. Let Doblang and Brindil live with me."

"You want to marry Pak Gumblis?"

"What else can I do, Mas."

Doblang and Brindil were told of their parents' divorce plan. Brindil, a 9-year-old girl, did not give any reaction but Doblang did.

"Emak may leave Bapak, but I will live with Bapak. Let me live a poor life with Bapak. Emak may take back everything that Emak has given me. I cannot love another father, except Bapak, Pak Mbolo!"

"Brindil is also afraid to live with a new father," Brindil finally chimed in.

"You have heard for yourself your children's reaction, Yem! I also will no longer touch anything that has come from you. You may have all these things. I'll be in debt to you for all that I have got from you and used. I'll pay back the debts and the interest!"

"No, not that. Don't be like that, Mas!"

She sobbed hysterically.

From that time on, Sayem stopped making the rounds with her jamu. She confined herself to home, lost in thought. Sometimes she burst into tears. At other times she let out a hysterical cry. At still other times she smiled to herself.

"Emak is sick, isn't she, Pak?" Brindil asked her father.

"Yes." Mbolo gave a terse answer. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"Is she mad, Pak? Brindil asked.

"Perhaps."

Brindil could not hold back her tears. She wailed.

"Emaaaak ...... Emaaaak ....."

Brindil hugged her mother. In her daughter's embrace, Sayem was unmoved, her eyes staring vacantly. There, in Sayem's eyes, it was evident that her soul had broken into pieces!

Glossary:

Jamu: traditional herbal medicine drinks

Mas: term of respect for an adult male, in general usage

Mak/Emak: mother, or term of respect for an older female, in general usade

Pak/Bapak: father, or term of respect for an older male, in general usage

Translated by LH

The author began writing in 1984. His works have been published in media both regionally and in the capital. He works at the Foundation for Cultural Studies in Yogyakarta.