Going to school

By Lucia Esti Elihami

"Not very much," Yani said weakly as she handed over a tattered cotton bag containing a few coins to her father. He took the bag without removing his gaze from the paper cup he was holding in the other hand. But he frowned when he saw what was inside.

Yani wiped the sweat off her face and lay down on the dirt floor that was covered with old newspapers. She put her wooden box with its rubber strings -- the instrument which always accompanied her when she begged -- under her head as a pillow. As she slurped cold tea from a plastic bag, she let her mind wander to the hot and dusty streets that were her daily workplace.

That morning, Yani had seen a woman in a luxury car straightening up the school uniform of her daughter. From the happiness on the girl's face, the new school outfit and book bag, she knew the long school holiday was over and the new school year was beginning. Yani had stared sadly at the happy faces of children her age going to school.

Four years ago, Yani, together with her mother and father, had lived in a small village on the outskirts of Kebumen in Central Java. Her parents worked as tenant farmers for Wak Haji Idris, who owned most of the land in their village. Yani had been in the fifth grade at the local elementary school. Despite their small income, the family lived very happily.

Fate changes very fast. The land in their village, including that belonging to Wak Haji, was bought by a dignitary for use in the construction of a factory. Yani's family lost its livelihood.

Not long after, uniformed personnel came and informed them that their house and small lot were needed for public use. Having no courage and means to resist, they accepted the scanty compensation offered, which was just enough for the move to Jakarta.

Most of their evicted neighbors also moved to the capital. It was their city of hope, one which promised work and prosperity. Yani's parents did find work there: her father as a street sweeper and her mother as a helper in a Chinese restaurant.

The need to cook the meals and do the other household chores prevented Yani from going to school. There usually was not enough money to pay for the school fees. After two years of constant moving from one slum area to the other, Yani's mother died of grief and deprivation. The girl had then been forced to earn money alongside her father.

"Dad, if you're hungry, get something from the bucket," Yani said to her father, who had just returned from the public bathhouse in the market.

Darkness slowly entered their shabby cardboard shack. Yani got up to light the candle while her father ate in silence. Not long after, he fixed himself up in front of a broken mirror set atop a small cupboard, the only furniture they had.

"I'm going," he said without looking at her.

Frightening solitude soon descended after he left. It was hard even to close her eyes. Twice, Yani had found herself awake in the hands of men she did not know in the middle of the night. Fortunately, she could still scream for help, and the uninvited guests fled in fear of being lynched by infuriated neighbors.

When she told this to her father, he only sneered and said tersely, "It doesn't matter. You'll get used, too!"

Since her mother died, Yani felt her father had changed. In the mornings, he wandered around aimlessly or stayed at home daydreaming. In the afternoons, he always went away in his best suit, explaining that he preferred to work at night. But Yani never saw the fruit of his work. Even the money she got from begging was kept by him, "for the money you'll need to go to school again", he once said.

Going to school again was a thought that never vanished from her mind. It troubled her day and night. Yani met Saleh, an old school friend from Kebumen. Saleh's parents had met similar fate with Yani's. They were more fortunate in that they had more land, and they were able to buy a small lot in the suburb of Jakarta, where they ran a modest food stall. Saleh was able to continue his studies.

When she met Saleh on a bus that afternoon, Yani really did not know what to do. She wore a faded T-shirt and ragged jeans, with her old wooden music box hanging in front of her body. Saleh was in his bright junior high school uniform, proudly carrying his schoolbag over his shoulder. At first Yani tried to pretend not to see him, but it was too late, Saleh had already spotted her from afar.

Yani and Saleh had been close friends. They often followed the small stream that ran along the periphery of the village, looking for crabs and fish. They chased the yellow butterflies, whose arrival signified the coming of the monsoon. Yani still had some friends. But they were chasing after cars and city buses that stopped at intersections, and it was certainly no fun.

It was nearly 2 a.m. when Yani's father came home. She still had not been able to sleep.

"You aren't asleep?"

"No," she answered with a yawn.

They were silent for a long time.

"Dad, how about my savings, is it enough now to pay for the school fee? I'm tired of working around. I want to go to school!"

"Why! You asked at the right time," the man said lightly.

"This afternoon, I met Pak Agus. He said he might be able to spare a seat at a school for you. How about if tomorrow we go and meet him?"

Yani raised her eyebrows in surprise. Her father had always been angry when she asked about school. Now he was so excited. That night Yani had a very beautiful dream.

In the morning Yani did not go to the street as usual. Instead, she went with her father to Tanah Abang market, to buy some cheap dresses. Later in the afternoon, he brought her to Pak Agus.

The middle-aged man looked kind. He gave something in an envelope to Yani's father and then brought her to his friend's house. Agus said he was going to have Yani stay in a boardinghouse so she could study without distractions.

They arrived at the boardinghouse in the middle of the afternoon. A plump woman met them, smiling incessantly as if to convince them she was someone respectable.

"So, you are the new student, am I right?" the woman asked as she looked over Yani from head to toe.

Yani nodded awkwardly.

At the boardinghouse, Yani saw many young girls. Most of them were just a bit older than herself.

"Just come to Jakarta, haven't you?" asked one of the girls jokingly.

"No," Yani answered shortly.

The girl gave a blank-eyed smile.

"Yani, here's your uniform. Go take a bath and get dressed. And be quick! At 6:30 p.m. you'll start your schooling," the plump lady said.

"But the uniform is for a senior high school student! I haven't finished elementary school," Yani said in confusion.

"It doesn't matter, dear. You will study under a private teacher. We usually call it a private lesson."

Yani did not dare ask further, and she did not want to be regarded as a fool. She only obeyed when the plump lady ordered her to take a pill which would help boost her intelligence.

At around 6 p.m. Yani and the girls, all wearing senior high school uniforms, were picked up by several cars. Yani was surprised to find that not a single girl from the boardinghouse studied at the same school.

They were dropped off at buildings which did not look like schools. A surge of panic began, but Yani's desire to study was stronger.

"Maybe this is what they mean by a private lesson. Ah, I don't care," she thought. She was not able to think clearly because her head had begun to throb.

Yani was also dropped at a building which did not resemble a school. A caretaker ushered her to a room, and she was dizzier now. Her male teacher led her to a bed.

She mind was still clouded when she woke up the next morning, but now there was an indescribable pain between her legs. She stared blankly at the emptiness in front of her and bit her lips until they bled.

The author is a kindergarten teacher in Tangerang, West Java. Her works have also been published in Suara Pembaruan afternoon daily.