One morning in Hasnah's life

By Diani Savitri

Hasnah is a simple woman with a seemingly simple life to live. In the morning she goes to work as a wash lady for three households that are comparatively better-off than their mixed- class neighbors. She goes home in the afternoon and does her home chores, cooks a tiny bit of food bought from a nearby traditional market (she never buys it from roaming peddlers as prices are more expensive) and then waits for her husband to come home. She wants to get some more work for more money. It is just that her weak body never allows her to do much physical activity. The activities never vary from day to day - except for some unlikely day, like today.

As usual Hasnah gets up at dawn, boils just enough water for her husband's morning tea. Several chunks of fried cassava she bought last night from a street hawker are steamed for his breakfast. Nothing for her in the morning - as since childhood her stomach has been used to being empty until noon. She washes herself with water drawn from the well last night and filled in the plastic bucket, always caring not to waste an unnecessary amount of water, then carries out her morning prayers.

She prays very quickly and ritualistically, reciting the verses known by heart, the meanings of which are mostly not understood. When she finishes the rite in a sitting position Hasnah rises quickly again. No need for a personal prayer where people usually send their personal wishes to God. Praying is nothing personal for Hasnah. It is something obligatory, if not habitual.

The water boils and Hasnah prepares tea with no sugar. She knows exactly how many tea leaves she should use through her habit of preparing and by taking to heart her husband's yelling and swearing whenever he thinks the tea is too dark or too light.

She prepares a towel for her husband, a well-worn and discolored one. She always takes a bath after her husband, as they only have one towel and she wants it perfectly dry for her husband's use. Unlike herself, who always takes care not to use water excessively, her husband likes to use abundant water and splashes it all around their unadorned outdoor bathroom walled by corrugated iron sheets. His habit leaves her with two consequences: a very wet towel and an empty bucket for her to refill.

Next, Hasnah gets her broom and sweeps the earthen floor. She watches from outside their bedroom, separated only from the other space in the house by a ragged curtain already drawn to one side. Her husband wakes up, first stretching his darkened and well- built body from years as a physical laborer. Lately, he often complains about how their mattress had become so thin it gives him a painful back and how there are too many bed bugs that give him skin rashes. She is very quiet while sweeping the floor, anticipating his increasingly frequent blaspheming of the day. But no, he is also quiet. Hasnah feels uneasiness creep in her heart.

She hands him the towel and this time he does not snatch it with aimless anger as usual, but takes it with obvious ignorance. He walks slowly to the back door as if unwillingly. Hasnah's gaze follows his trail.

When he finishes bathing he does not come back in right away, some moments pass from the second Hasnah hears the bathroom door open to the second he steps in. After putting on his clothes in their bedroom he takes a seat on one of the two wooden chairs facing one another, separated only be the only table in the house in their dining area. From the spot where she stands sweeping Hasnah secretly steals a glance at his face, then immediately turns her back on him. She is mentally judging that unusual disgusted look on his face thrown at the steaming cassava on an old aluminum plate.

"You don't have to go to work today,"

Hasnah freezes upon hearing him. A hot flush crawls down her back.

"You help me pack, you hear me? I move in with her tonight, you're listening?"

She slowly nods, but realizing how recently he never looks at her when speaking to her Hasnah replies softly, "Yes".

"So it's settled then. I'll give you money for this week, on Tuesdays I sleep here and I'll bring you money each time. You don't have to work, you hear me? You're so skinny you make me feel sick just by looking at you. You rest, you understand?"

"For now, I'll work only for Mrs. Situmorang. I promised her to work for her at least until Lebaran, (the Muslim post-fasting holiday). Then I can quit,"

"Whatever else, you go to the hospital again and you get cures for your womb. We'll have enough money."

"Is she with a child?"

Widow Tayem is about ten years older than the 26-year-old Hasnah and is not half as pretty. But Tayem has flirtatious giggles and a voluptuous body. A three-time divorcee with five kids, among whom only the youngest lives with her, she is a well- paid house-to-house masseuse for rich families in an exclusive and detached real estate near their locality. Her personally owned brick-walled and tile-floored house is three-houses away from Hasnah's rented house.

"You'll give me a baby too, you hear me?" His voice gives away a slight quiver.

So Hasnah knows it must have pained him too, this man she is married to for almost ten years now, to yield to this arrangement.

"A slight change, you know? We'll be fine."

Her husband stands up to go outside too hurriedly that he almost makes his chair stumble. Tea and breakfast are untouched. Hasnah rests the broom on the bamboo-cane wall, careful not to let it fall, walks to their bedroom, packs his things, leaves only one shirt and one pair of underwear in the box placed under their bed.

Hasnah smooths one of his shirts, her eyes shed tears she does not intend to hold back. It's going to be all right, she talks to herself in her head. Tomorrow is going to be a new day, with slight changes as her husband said. She will work for one household only. She does not have to prepare tea or breakfast or the towel for her husband. She does not have to wait for him in the evening.

But those are the only changes, she realizes. He is right. Everything else will remain the same. She can live her normal life as usual. And maybe now with more money from Tayem to consult her physical problems with the doctors at the hospital, she will get better and eventually bear him a child whom they have been waiting for almost ten years now. ***