Kemarung

Kemarung

By Kuswahyo SS Raharjo

Kemarung was lost in thought. He had heard rumors, from his
friends and from the media, that Rirendhet had been appointed an
assistant to a minister.

But they -- Rirendhet's friends -- were all utterly
disappointed because Rirendhet, now reportedly influenced by
Jakarta's urban culture, had become a very different person. You
could never get in to see him unless you had a good reason. A
prior appointment was needed. Even his wife knew next to nothing
about his whereabouts whenever she received an inquiry about her
husband.

Joining the country's elite, Rirendhet found himself inside an
ivory tower. He rarely got out with his family anymore because
his wife and his children were in good hands.

While still a university student, Rirendhet was one of the
seven so-called Gligen Boys. They weren't really bad eggs. They
may have gotten up to some hijinks, but they never crossed the
line into crime and violence.

They would never steal. Instead, when they were short of cash,
they would put on their Sunday best and go to a department store
and slap on some free cologne. Then they headed to a wedding
party, pretending to be distant relatives of either the bride or
the groom. They would eat to their heart's content. They called
these wedding parties their nutritional parks.

Kemarung sighed. The Gligen gang was disbanded a long time
ago. All of its members had returned to their respective
hometowns, each following their own destiny, for example, as a
pedicab owner, a civil servant, a transportation company owner or
a small-scale contractor.

Of the seven Gligen Boys, Kemarung and Rirendhet were the
luckiest. Both were employed right after graduation. But today?
Kemarung lost his job because he kept his head in the clouds. For
some time he had abandoned his family because he could not resist
the temptations of a lithe young woman. So irresistible was this
young woman that even before he landed in jail, he spent all of
the proceeds of his corruption on her.

Kemarung was happy to be a free man again. He thought it would
be all right to ask his friends for some help, just once. Poor
Kemarung. Neither his family nor his neighbors wanted him back.
He thanked God he could afford to stay in a small, barely
furnished room. What gave him hope was that his close friend,
Rirendhet, had now become an assistant to a minister. Crazy, man!
The naughtiest of all the Gligen Boys was now the most
successful, moving in the elite circles.

Kemarung lost his temper again. His short message to Rirendhet
was again unanswered. When he phoned, he would be asked to leave
a message. When he contacted Rirendhet's wife, he never got a
firm reply.

"But this is his mobile phone number, right?

"Yes. It's one of them."

"How many cell phones has he got?"

"More than one!"

"Crazy!"

"Yes?"

"No, no. I just wanted to know if his fax number was also
correct."

"Yes, one of them .... "

Crazy! Kemarung remembered this telephone conversation with
Rirendhet's wife. One thing he could never forget was that
Rirendhet would not let him come to his house.

***

Kemarung was very disappointed. As a property broker, he was
dismayed. A prospective buyer had canceled plans to see a house
for sale. Kemarung thought the seller no longer trusted him. He
earned money acting as a property broker. If prospective buyers
kept canceling plans to see his houses, the house owners would
surely find other brokers.

Kemarung felt life was squeezing him, because very shortly he
had to renew the lease on his room. Life's like a play, he often
mumbled to himself. You only have one role in a performance. He
was a bureau chief in a government office before and money was no
problem. Now he had to be content with his poor and solitary
life.

He closed his eyes tightly and suddenly he could see clearly
the angry face of the house owner.

"You've failed to keep your word. I waited for hours, you
know. Then you simply said the prospective buyer had to go
somewhere else. When will he look at the house?" Kemarung could
not answer.

Kemarung's eyes were still shut. He only had Rp 20,000 in his
wallet. Do I have to sell my cell phone? he asked himself. He was
hesitant about contacting Rirendhet again.

Suddenly, a bleep from the cell phone. An SMS.

"Where are you? I'm in Yogya. Meet me at Dream Restaurant."

He couldn't believe his eyes. The sender was Rirendhet!

In Yogya? Here? He wants to see me?

He hurried out of his room. Then he stopped, thinking. Dream
Restaurant? Which one? The one selling noodles, or fried chicken
or gudeg? Which one?

Before leaving his alley, Kemarung sent a message to his
friend. "Which Dream Restaurant? We used to give this name to
every expensive restaurant."

A replay came a while later. "Of course, the restaurant
selling gudeg. Come here, quick."

"The one to the north of the ditch? There are many now."

"Of course. The one that used to be a dream for us! Quick."

"Fine."

Kemarung asked a fellow boarder to give him a lift to the
gudeg restaurant.

On the way, his heart beat faster than usual. When they
arrived, he jumped off the back of the motorcycle and began
scanning the parking lot. There were no cars with a B police
license plate. How did he get here?

***

Then he heard someone calling him. The voice was familiar. He
turned around and examined the gentleman closely. He embraced him
tightly.

"Wow, look at you."

"Calm down. I've been like this for quite some time. Come on,
order what you want .... "

Kemarung leaned back in his chair. His eyes looked over his
friend.

"You came here alone?" he asked.

Rirendhet nodded. "I came here specially to see you. How can I
help you?"

"You know the answer. But why am I not allowed to visit your
house? All our friends say you are arrogant because you have been
influenced by the Jakarta culture."

"No, no. I'm dealing with the state now. I cannot serve
people individually, one by one. I've got no time! You must
know .... "

"But as an assistant to the minister .... "

"My superior leaves everything to me. He only talks about it
in public. I must hurry here and there, preparing one thing or
another. Really tiring!"

"But you've got a lot of money, right?"

"Come on, don't jump to conclusions. I didn't want you to come
to my house because it is practically a shack. You've got to go
along a narrow alley before you get to my place. Like you, I've
got nothing. You see, I did not come here by car. My parents'
house nearly collapsed and it is still in this condition even
though I'm an assistant to a minister. I just talked to my
mother. She was curious why I still lived in a small house. I
told her that when I was appointed an assistant to a minister, I
took it as a commitment. If I use my position for my own
advantage, I'll be a hypocrite and I'll have committed a sin. Am
I right, then?"

The other guests in the restaurant looked at Rirendhet and
Kemarung.

"Let them be. I'm not ashamed. Yes, I'm an assistant to a
minister but I'm just as I am. My idealism remains despite my
position!"

Kemarung lowered his head, looking at the dishes on the table.

"Let's eat now. Well, everybody must eat, right. Come on."

They started eating.

"I'm still looking down. I'm not looking right or left or even
up."

"Keeping your idealism?"

"Right! Absolutely right!"

"How long will you be here?

"Just one night. I'd like to sleep in your house. Sorry, in
your room .... "

"Really?"

"Then you can hear the minister call me. Okay?"

The two of them nodded their heads. The way the guests in the
restaurant looked at Rirendhet showed that they did not believe
that this man -- wearing worn-out shoes and faded jeans -- was
really an assistant to a minister, even though they could hear
him as he asked his secretary to prepare this or that over his
cell phone.

Note:
Gudeg: Special dish from Yogyakarta consisting of young jackfruit
cooked in coconut milk mixed with spices

Translated by Lie Hua