Murti's Tale

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