Fragile

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.