Political Prayers

Maria Magdalena Bhoernomo

As the leading religious figure in the village, Pak Anwar was the man to call when you needed a prayer.

He was accustomed to the usual round of invitations to lead prayers at various ceremonies, from circumcisions, weddings, thanksgiving to the commemoration of a death in the family.

Pak Anwar knew exactly what to say on every occasion, tailoring his prayers to his hosts' needs.

When the village head invited him to a mass prayer service at the village hall, he quickly accepted the offer although he found himself bewildered.

"Which prayer should I say?" he wondered an hour before leaving for the hall. He had never been invited to such a ceremony before, a prayer for the victory of the village head's favorite political party in the next general election.

These had been commonplace during the years before reformasi (reform), and those people who dared to miss the ceremonies, for whatever reason, would be regarded with lasting suspicion.

Now things were different, and no government institutions, not even neighborhood associations, were supposed to show a bias to a particular party.

"Should I refuse to go?" Pak Anwar thought, his mind racing at the difficulty of the decision.

He knew it would be hard to come up with the right prayer for Pak Kades, as the village head was popularly called, for this occasion. But if he did not go, he would feel guilty at refusing the invitation.

"Should I fake illness to make Pak Kades accept my absence at the function?"

But he was suddenly afraid lest he actually fall ill, and, besides, he had prided himself on being honest, always making sure to never break a promise.

Of course, if he put his mind to it, he could compose the prayer for the victory, but the problem was he had never done it before. Other religious figures might consider it all in a day's work, but it was not the case for him, believing that prayers should serve a common interest.

If he said a prayer for one party, wouldn't it disappoint or hurt others?

He was lost in thought, and the time ticked away.

"Pak, you should be at the village hall for the prayer by now," said Bu Anwar, who appeared unexpectedly in the sitting room from the kitchen.

Startled, he looked at the clock. He should have been at the hall already, in front of the assembled guests, including the subdistrict head, leading them in prayer.

"Are you sick, pak? Dizzy?"

"I'm in a muddle."

"How come, pak?"

"I have no idea which prayer suits the taste of Pak Kades."

"What does he want anyway?"

"He wants another absolute victory for his favorite party in the coming elections."

Bu Anwar laughed loudly. "Well, why should you be confused, pak? If that's his wish, you just pray. For instance, may God grant Pak Kades' plea. May his party win an absolute victory -- that's it."

Pak Anwar gave her a sour smile. He knew his wife as a woman of simple thinking, solving all her problems with that layperson's approach, an attitude of don't worry, be happy.

"You're the oldest religious leader here, pak. Don't you ever disappoint Pak Kades. Go there quickly. Pak Kades and his guests must be waiting," urged Bu Anwar. Then she returned to the kitchen to the smell of charred tempeh.

But he sat there without budging. Suddenly, Pak Kadus, the local hamlet chief, arrived to meet him.

"Let's go, Pak Anwar. The subdistrict chief and all the guests have gathered at the hall. The ceremony is starting soon," he said.

Like a robot, Pak Anwar got up and left with him. But he was confused when he got there, his shirt drenched in a cold sweat.

They were all waiting for him, and the ceremony began immediately. After the speeches, it was his time to lead the prayer. He went to the front of the hall, all of the eyes upon him.

As his shirt clung to his body, he spoke eloquently and solemnly, uttering words for the safety and welfare of the village -- and then closing with the special blessing for pak Kades.

As soon as it was over, he felt giddy, his body weak and without energy. He stumbled forward and keeled over.

***

Pak Anwar came to, wondering how he had got to his bedroom. Bu Anwar sat beside him, sobbing.

"Don't worry too much, pak," Bu Anwar said. "You'll fall ill if you do."

Pak Anwar kept silent.

"Here's an envelope from Pak Kades. I've opened it. You got ten thousand rupiah," she said, showing it to him.

Pak Anwar remained silent, consumed by a feeling of having betrayed his conscience and principles.

The next morning, Pak Anwar felt fresh again. He had a visitor, Pak Harun, his old friend, who asked him to conduct a prayer gathering two days later.

"What ceremony, Pak Harun?" queried Pak Anwar.

Smiling, Pak Harun explained: "I'm now branch chairman of a political party. So I hope you'll lead the prayer for the success of my party in the coming elections."

Befuddled and suddenly dizzy once again, Pak Anwar didn't have the guts to refuse his good friend's invitation. But if he fulfilled it, what would be the comments of Pak Kades and all the others at the hall the day before?

Pak Harun's party was not the favorite of the village head. Wouldn't he be condemned as a broker of political prayers?

Pak Harun left, without awaiting Pak Anwar's response to his request. "The day after tomorrow one of my party members will pick you up here," he said as he left.

"Oh my God, how can things go like this?" Pak Anwar said, rubbing his forehead and wanting to cry out from frustration.

He feared he really was becoming the broker of political prayers, with parties lining up at his door for his special blessing.

There was another knock at the door.

"Hello, let me introduce myself," the neatly dressed man said as he came into the sitting room. "We need your prayer for our political party ..."

The words trailed off, and he stopped listening. He could not say no.

When the man had left, Pak Anwar sat alone in the living room. All was quiet, but an agonizing headache overwhelmed him. He imagined himself in a cavernous hall, standing in front of an audience, each of its members from a different political party.

"Why are you sleeping here in this chair," asked Bu Anwar when she returned from the market.

But he did not stir. His nightmare was over.

Translated by Aris Prawira

Notes:

Pak -- Polite term of address for an older man/husband Bu -- Polite term of address for an older woman/wife