Prapti off to Malaysia

Prapti off to Malaysia

By Yon Bayu Wahyono

The ship swerved to the left, then, a little later, it
suddenly veered to the right. All the passengers, by then sound
asleep, were thrown out of their seats. They rolled over the deck
of the ship when the vessel pitched hard.

Prapti's hands were groping here and there trying to find
something to hold on to. Luckily, she got hold of a support beam.
She embraced the beam tightly, while at the same time praising
the greatness of God. Death seemed to be close at hand. Some
passengers screamed hysterically. The voices of people asking for
God's forgiveness and the sound of passengers vomiting were heard
even when the ship righted itself and sailed on smoothly again.

After regaining her composure, Prapti wobbled to her seat and
collapsed into it. She began to feel dizzy. Perhaps she hit her
head against the floor. She groped about and found a small lump
close to her forehead. She slowly took a deep breath and then
exhaled very carefully.

Two people sitting on her right were still vomiting. The sight
turned Prapti's stomach. She turned her head a little to the left
toward a bare window. Far above in the sky a star or two twinkled
and their pale light fell on the surface of the sea.

Prapti's gave her imagination free rein. Suddenly she went
into shock. Her chest felt heavy and painful. A feeling of
longing flowed softly through every part of her chest. She
remembered her village, her mother, Fitri.

Well, what is the girl doing now? Wetting the bed, perhaps,
she thought to herself. Or perhaps she is crying for her mother's
breasts. Absent-mindedly, she squeezed the blanket. Tears began
to stream down her cheeks. The longer she fantasize, the more she
cried. Her body shook. She bit her lips, resisting a scream which
had formed on the tip of her tongue.

Her mind was filled with a picture of Mas Warno, her husband.
He used to be her senior in secondary school and had been her
husband for three years. Husband? She complained in her heart.
Perhaps he was a real husband in the first year of their
marriage. But in the second and third years, Prapti was only a
person to whom her husband always vented his anger.

Mas Warno's character totally changed after he was fired from
his job. He was dismissed because he helped mastermind a workers
strike demanding higher wages. Then he spent his days daydreaming
and smoking. Every time Prapti reminded her husband of the need
to find a job, she would receive only angry, bitter words in
return.

"Not that I don't want to find employment. I just do not want
to be treated like a milch cow any more!"

"But Fitri must eat, Mas! I'm ashamed as I have to sponge off
Mother every day. She does not have enough money for her own
food," said Prapti when they again fell out for the umpteenth
time.

"So, why didn't you find a rich husband in the first place,
eh? A man with a good position and a high salary!"

"Come on, stick to our problem, Mas. I simply want you to work
to feed our daughter!"

"I have tried."

"By daydreaming every day?"

Twang! Warno's right hand landed on Prapti's cheek. "If you
are fed up with this kind of living, why don't you find work
yourself?"

The slap was perhaps not that hard, but it was enough to send
Prapti packing and she took her daughter away from the house,
which had been built in stages. She took her daughter to her
mother's house. She had never dreamed she'd ever do such a thing
when she accepted Mas Warno's proposal of marriage. This bitter
experience left a deep scar on her heart.

It was slowly getting bright when the ship Prapti was on
docked at Tanjungpinang harbor. Sulis, one of her mates from
Flores, asked her to go ashore. The ship had only called into
port twice since leaving Tanjung Priok two days earlier. They'd
docked at Tanjungpandan and at Pangkalan Balan. It was really a
long and tiring voyage.

"We'll go on to Batam and then change ship," said Ningsih, a
woman with a melancholic face. Her voice was barely audible.

She must be struck by a memory of her child, Prapti thought.
In this group only Prapti and Ningsih came from Cilacap. The rest
of the group came from Nusa Tenggara, Ciamis, Blitar, Purwakarta,
Banyuwangi and Gunung Kidul. All of them were women.

They were all taken to Jakarta for a week before being
dispatched to a place they had never heard of. Prapti and the
others had no knowledge of where they would be taken. Bu Ina, who
escorted them, always had a tense and taut face, making them
afraid to even address her.

The labor broker who came to her house did say that she would
be employed as a shop assistant in Malaysia. She made up her mind
to leave for Malaysia. And the money to pay the broker? She sold
some goods and got a loan from her friends.

Prapti had often heard about the risks involved in being an
illegal worker. However, because to become a legal worker
involved a complicated procedure, took a long time and cost a lot
of money, she was ready to take the risk of being an illegal
worker. Her needs could not wait.

Yet when she was in Jakarta, she was taken over by a similar
"company". Then her hope of success in Malaysia disintegrated. It
was clearly impossible to back out. Her residential identity
card, diplomas, marriage certificate and traveling cost had been
handed over to the broker in Cilacap.

"Where will we actually be taken, Ning?"

"Malaysia."

"Are you sure?" Prapti insisted.

Ningsih did not reply. Yet, she could not hide the shadow of
doubt on her face. Ningsih got up and then got into a speedboat
which had just turned up. Prapti followed suit. Her eyes met with
Ibu Ina's.

"You are not coming with us, Bu Ina?" Prapti, unaware, asked.
Her heart missed a beat when she noticed Bu Ina's cold eyes.

"My job is only to accompany you all here. There will be two
other people to escort you to Malaysia."

Ibu Ina hurriedly hugged Prapti's shoulders, then she, again
hurriedly, went up to the pier and disappeared behind a row of
houses on stilts.

The house was too small for 39 people. There were only two
doorless rooms. The rest of the house was open space with worn-
out foam rubber mattresses scattered all over the floor. The
front and rear doors were locked from the outside. Before
leaving, the two men replacing Ibu Ina said that they would take
a rest while waiting for the ship to take them to Malaysia.

Prapti lay down in one corner, close to the staircase leading
to the second floor. She tried to sleep. Yet her eyes refused to
stay shut. She felt very hungry and realized she had not eaten
anything since morning.

After a one-hour journey from Tanjungpinang harbor to Punggur
harbor, everything was done in a hurry. They were taken to this
place in chartered taxis. From a number of road signs Prapti knew
that she was in Batam. In Batu Merah village to be exact.

Prapti looked around at her mates. She could not see any
enthusiasm. Only droopy and silent faces, all worried with
uncertainty. They seemed to be resigned because they were
powerless.

Slowly Prapti got up and walked to the back of the house to
find a rest room. After passing a messy kitchen -- dirty plates
and glasses scattered freely on the floor -- she found one.

A pungent, obnoxious smell greeted her when she opened the
door. There was not even a drop of water. The tap did not work.
It was too much for Prapti. She vomited and then fainted.

"I... I've been raped!" Ningsih said haltingly. Her body
shook. Her eyes were swollen. She had been sobbing since the
night before.

Prapti could only hug her and tried to calm her down even
though she herself was worried and apprehensive. They had been
locked up in this house for three days. They encountered
merciless events that took place one after another.

Ningsih sobbingly tried to recount what had happened. The
night before, around midnight, she was called upstairs. There was
a minor administrative matter to discuss, she was told. She went
upstairs, unsuspecting. There the two men replacing Ibu Ina asked
her to pay for her sea fare to Malaysia.

Ningsih rejected the request, arguing that she had paid
everything while in Cilacap. Unable to accept her reasoning, the
two men immediately threw Ningsih onto the bed. Then, in a
beastly manner, they took turns raping her.

Prapti was quiet, her mind busy working. Her hair stood on
end. She realized that what had happened to Ningsih could also
happen to her. She racked her brains trying to figure out a way
to escape. Yet, she had to give up this idea. Even if she could
get away, where would she go? She did not have enough money to
get home.

It was perhaps thanks to her earnest prayer that the ship to
take them to Malaysia arrived. Prapti enthusiasm returned. She
kept thanking God that, although she had to walk down the coast
in the wee hours of the dark night, she did not have to undergo
what happened to Ningsih and, perhaps, to some of their mates. A
fisherman's boat, shadeless and seatless, was waiting. Prapti
went on board and sat down on the floor of the boat.

"Come on..." Don't sit that way. All of you, lie down!"

Lie down? Prapti thought her ears missed something. How could
she lie down on a wet, bare floor. But when she heard the
instruction again, she could not refuse. Unfortunately, they were
all taken in one trip. They were virtually fish packed into a
basket. They lay on top each other and a tarpaulin sheet covered
all of them!

"According to a report from Malaysia, last night the coastal
guards apprehended a fisherman's boat carrying 39 Indonesian
women planning to enter Malaysia for employment. Two men thought
to be labor brokers smuggling them to Malaysia were also
captured."

A woman newsreader of a private TV station, her hair cut
prettily short, was heard fleetingly one morning. A jingle
advertising a food brand echoed loudly while a chili plantation
was shown in the background, symbolizing prosperity. God knows
where this picture was taken. Certainly not here!

Glossary:

1. Mas = Lit. brother, used by a Javanese wife when speaking
to her husband.

2. Ibu/Bu = Mother, Mrs, Madam

Born in Jakarta on May 4, 1971, the writer is a reporter at
Sudirman Pos daily and chairman of Biru Pena (Blue of the Pen)
Foundation in Cilacap. His stories have been published in Suara
Merdeka and Kedaulatan Rakyat dailies and in NOVA tabloid, among
other publications.

-- Translated by Lie Hua