Oppressed

Manggar Maulana Mahabana

It was only natural for Tugimin to dream of having educated children. For he himself was unschooled, his parents lacking the funds to put him through school.

"The father may be uneducated, but not the children," he would say to his fellow pedicab drivers.

"My kids must be office workers, or even company directors. As a bank director, they would be rich. I will be on easy street if my kids are wealthy!" he would say, his eyes bright, as they waited at the market for their next rides.

Tugimin's favorite customer was Mrs. Neli, the wife of a local bank office chief. She looked beautiful and clean, her body fragrant with perfume. She lived in a mansion, but every day she took his pedicab instead of her family's sedan.

"It is nicer taking a pedicab as I can feel the fresh morning air," she would say to him.

She was kind, often giving him her used dresses for his wife or the old pants of her husband Pak (Mr.) Gunadi. He was a very busy man, leaving early in the morning and returning home late at night.

When Tugimin and his wife donned the used clothes, they felt like they were the village chief and his wife ready to go out to visit their neighbors.

And when he looked at the example of Mrs. Neli and her husband, Tugimin became more determined to give his three kids the best education possible. He worked hard to put them through school, and would see that they went to university.

Tugimin also had a calf. Before he came home in the late afternoon, he would find grass to feed the calf. When it was old enough, he would take it to market so he would have more money to pay for his children's education.

His wife, Wagiman, also sold boiled corn from their house to supplement their income.

"We have to save a lot of money and live frugally, but once our kids finish their education and get good jobs, we will have a much better life!" he would always say to himself.

***

As usual, Tugimin went to Mrs. Neli's house to take her to the market. He was surprised to find that the house was quiet, and the doors and windows were still shut.

Mrs. Neli was nowhere to be found.

One of the neighbors came close to him. "They are all in a mental hospital," she said conspiratorially to him.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Pak Gunadi!"

The day before, the woman said, right after Pak Gunadi returned home from the office, he had suddenly acted irrationally. He beat his wife and destroyed everything he could lay his hands on. The police were called, and he was taken away.

Tugimin was dumbfounded; why would such a kind, generous man have done such a thing?

"The bank where he works has gone bankrupt, he is out of a job," the woman said in answering his unspoken question.

Tugimin left, his mind spinning with thoughts about what had happened.

"You are early, Pak?" Wagimah asked.

"I feel dizzy!" Tugimin said curtly as he went into his bedroom.

"You must need a coin treatment, Pak," said Wagimah, following him into the room.

Tugimin was quiet, curled up on the bed.

"Need a coin treatment?" Wagiman said again.

"Or perhaps you need some medicine?"

"I feel dizzy because there is too much on my mind," Tugimin finally answered.

Wagimah chuckled. "What are you thinking about, Pak? Stop thinking about politics, will you. We are just the little people. We just follow what our leaders say! Several general elections will not change our destiny, Pak."

"Keep your mouth shut, will you!" Tugimin shouted.

Wagiman was still chuckling. "Come on, Pak. What is it you have been thinking about?"

Tugimin slowly told his wife about Pak Gunadi's breakdown. Wagimah listened quietly, her eyes telling her feelings of sympathy and sorrow.

"I know now that having a respectable job carries serious risks. If you lose it, you may end up in a mental hospital!" Tugimin said.

"Of course, Pak. The higher you climb, the harder the fall."

"That's why I have begun to feel worried about our kids."

"Why?"

"I'm afraid that if our kids fail to earn a university degree or don't get good jobs after graduating from university, they will go crazy from despair and frustration."

"Let's just hope that this will not happen to our kids."

"We are poor people. I can see that our kids cannot compete with the children of rich people."

"So, what had we better do, Pak?" Wagiman asked, her voice heavy with a sense of burden.

"I think our eldest son should not go to the university after finishing senior high. Let him take care of our calf. Then he can always join the army ..."

"No, Pak. You have to spend a lot of money to join the army. Look at Yanto, Pak Somad's son. He was rejected by the army and has ended up emotionally traumatized. Do you want to see our eldest like that, laughing to himself night and day?"

Tugimin did not say anything, for he knew it was true.

"Well, the son of a pedicab driver must also be a pedicab driver," Wagiman said.

"But I have always encouraged our kids to study hard and earn a university degree!" Tugimin said.

"That is just your aspiration, Pak. But you must accept the reality of our lives."

Tugimin sighed, long and deep.

"Come on, Pak. Don't think too much or you will get sick."

Tugimin felt sure his kids would never want to be a pedicab driver like him. They would roam the streets in the city, taking their diplomas and application letters, seeking jobs from one company to another.

But they would never succeed, beaten out by children of affluent fathers who could pay their way.

It was close to midday and Wagimah was busy in the kitchen. Tugiman was still lying in bed, deep in thought.

After midday, his children returned home. His eldest told them he needed some money for the diploma and a farewell party at school. His second eldest also needed money for a study tour during the school holiday.

"We have to make a donation for the construction of a new school building," his wife said when their youngest son came in the door.

Tugimin's mind spun into a dizzying swirl of confused thoughts. He walked slowly into the bedroom, took a mirror in his hands and slammed it to the ground. He was only getting started.

Translated by Lie Hua