Murti's Tale

By Teguh Winarsho AS

Murti was disoriented. The words of Ningsih, a friend of hers, kept ringing in her ears: "Don't you have any compassion for your mother who is old and sickly? Care for your younger siblings. They need food."

Ningsih gave Murti a piece of her mind a few days ago. It was not that Murti refused Ningsih's offer to work for her in her food stall. No, not at all. She would consider the offer and ask her mother's opinion. Indeed, since her father left home four years ago, not being heard from since, the family's life was in ruins.

Murti was forced to quit junior high school during her second year. Her mother did not work anymore. Murti had to "take over" all her mothers' responsibilities, including earning money to pay for her younger siblings' school fees.

As the eldest child in the family, Murti did not want to see her brothers and sisters' futures in ruins. She always remembered a message she had seen on a neighbor's TV. The message said, "However hard life may be, children must stay in school!"

Murti was often at a loss how she could send her three younger siblings to school while her mother was not able to work.

Her mother's job required great strength. She husked rice with the traditional mortar and pestle. This job is now gone because modern machinery has taken over. Like Murti's mother, the traditional tools now lay idle. Gone was the sound of the music produced by the striking of the tools.

Murti realized that she had to find some way to make money now that her mother no longer had a job. Moreover the size of the family's rice fields had shrunk. People were forced to sell their land at prices far below its actual value to make way for development projects, such as buildings, factories, tennis courts and luxury houses.

"If you want to earn more money, take my advice," Ningsih's words rang clearly in Murti's ears. Murti was undecided whether to accept or refuse the offer.

Night was approaching and Murti could not sleep. The faces of her mother and siblings wouldn't leave her mind. It was all very painful.

Everybody knew that Ningsih's food stall was located near the town's market, and it was no secret that men hung around there for prostitutes. This fact was becoming increasingly well-known because the number of prostitutes in the area was mysteriously rising. Maybe it was because more legal brothels were being closed down according to the demands of reform-minded people. As a result, prostitutes looked for customers all over town, and it was horrible.

That was another reason why Murti hesitated to ask her mother's permission. She was not sure her mother would let her take the job. Suddenly, Ningsih's words came to mind: "Any kind of job has its consequences. The important thing for us is to be resolute in facing the truth." Ningsih then told her how customers in her stall often dared to touch or pinch her buttocks. She said that all that was part of the risk that had to be confronted.

Murti took a deep breath while leaning back in her chair. She glanced at her mother, who was lying weakly on a wooden bed. The old woman's face was wrinkled and pale. She looked older than her age.

Her mother had been ill over the past three days. She coughed and sometimes vomited blood. Murti was worried that her mother's condition would deteriorate if she did not give her medicine.

"You are not working today, are you Mur?" her mother asked her suddenly.

Murti only shook her head slowly. That day she did not have anything to do. Mrs. Tutik and Mrs. Hermin who used to ask her to do the laundry had not done so for one week now. These women might be doing their laundry themselves. Murti could understand this, because the soaring prices of essential foods made people think twice before spending their money on other needs. This also applied to Mrs. Tutik and Mrs. Hermin, the richest people in the village.

In the past, almost every day somebody asked Murti to do the laundry. She used the money to help her family survive. She could even save some of her income. But now?

"Mother, I want to work in Ningsih's food stall," Murti said breaking the silence.

Her mother looked intently at her for some time. Anger flashed through her mother's face. Murti bowed her head, not daring to look her mother in the eye.

"You have thought it over, Mur?"

"Yes, mother. You should not worry mother. I can take care of myself," Murti replied convincingly.

"What do you think, mother?"

The old woman remained silent for a long time. She gazed blankly.

Then she murmured, "But you must be careful ...." It was all that came from her mouth. But for Murti it was more than enough.

After three evenings at Ningsih's food stall, Murti thought that she could not bear it any longer. Customers' indecent behavior made her sick.

On the first evening, there were people who dared to pinch her buttocks. On the second evening, somebody touched her breasts. The harassment continued.

"That is usual, Mur. Don't be offended," said Ningsih, replying to her complaints.

"After all, they will not go beyond that. The important thing is how to make this stall attract people so that you can earn a lot of money," said Ningsih.

Sadly, Murti accepted this bitter reality, and she tried hard to continue working. She knew that she had to earn money so that her siblings could continue their studies.

One evening, a dim kerosene lamp the only source of light at Ningsih's stall, four men came by. The strong smell of alcohol immediately filled the small food stall.

"Ningsih, I heard there is a newcomer here," said one of the men. "Oh, this one," the man said, grabbing Murti's hand.

Murti was frightened. And she was shocked when she saw the man's face. The old man was equally surprised. The two looked at each other for a long time. Everybody in the food stall was bewildered.

Murti could not stand the revulsion she felt. She swiftly turned away and ran out of the food stall as fast as she could. Less than 50 meters away she stumbled over a stone and fell.

The night was dark. Murti got up and walked slowly. The man's face was still clear in her mind. She would never be able to forget it. It was a familiar face: Her father's!

Translated by SH