Predawn Execution

By Hawa Arofah

Galabu was eating when suddenly, like a wounded bull, he sniffed and winced as a sharp pain shot through his tooth.

A piece of grit had made him cry in pain. He spat out the rice onto his plate at once. He flew into a fury as he looked at the piece of grit atop the food he spat out.

"Lasmi" he cried, banging the table.

Hurriedly, his wife came out of the laundry room, asking in a surprised tone, "What's up, mas?"

"You deliberately put this grit into the rice, didn't you?, damn you, stupid woman!", he snapped, staring at her.

Lasmi shivered with fear. "I'm terribly sorry, mas. I was not careful!".

He gave her a hard slap across the face, and Lasmi burst into tears, infuriating Galabu even more. Again, he slapped her across the cheek.

"Why don't you just kill me, mas! Lasmi pleaded, sobbing uncontrollably.

Galabu's face turned red like a burning ember. He kicked her hard in the belly, sending her crashing against the wall.

Grimacing and feeling shooting pains, Lasmi tried to get back on her feet.

"Just finish me off, mas!" she cried.

Galabu spat in her face, and stormed out of the house.

Rubbing her belly, Lasmi moaned in pain, weeping bitter tears. Her belly ached terribly from the kick, and she could not finish the washing. Feebly, she staggered into her bedroom, and slowly lay down on the bed.

There she lay, too weak to move until noon. But fearing something worse would happen to her, she tried her best to stand on her feet. She could not walk as the pain was killing her. She also imagined terrible things.

"Perhaps, he would be more furious if he found me lying in bed or perhaps he would beat me again more brutally."

She could not explain why Galabu had become hot-tempered and why he had often hurt her recently. All she could do was guess. She was perplexed by the questions that always flashed into her mind: "Does he still love me or does he have another woman and is thinking of divorcing me?.

All these years, Lasmi had been the homely type of wife who never minded about her husband's business.

At a house across town, Galabu was relaxing, lying in bed at Ningsih's house. Smiling and powdering her face, Ningsih asked:

"Do you think that by torturing your wife you can find enough reasons to divorce her, mas?"

Galabu sighed deeply.

"I think so! But this morning I was out of control and it was a little too much, I was so cruel. I kicked her belly so hard, sending her crashing against the wall. She's probably in pain now."

Ningsih seemed aghast at his remarks.

"You shouldn't have been that rough, mas! You shouldn't have kicked her. Frequent slaps on her face should give her enough punishment."

"I really lost my temper this morning. I almost killed her." Galabu added.

Ningsih smiled and walked toward the bed. She kissed his cheek.

"If you kill your wife, you'll surely go to jail, and we won't be able to get married soon, mas."

Galabu grabbed her by the shoulders and hugged her. Tenderly, he kissed her lips.

"I would have killed her if I hadn't come here straight away."

Ningsih pinched his pot-belly lightly.

"You'll never be able to finish off your wife, mas, because, you are actually a tender boy."

Galabu laughed heartily. "Precisely, I don't think I have the heart to kill her. But I wouldn't have the heart to torture her if I didn't love you and want to marry you."

Ningsih flashed a sweet smile.

Lasmi was already fast asleep when Galabu came home. He went straight into the dining room as usual. Dinner had been served. Seeing a plate of rice on the dining table, again he put a pinch of sand into it, then scooped it with a spoon.

"Lasmi!" he yelled.

Hurriedly, Lasmi limped out of the bedroom. "What's up, mas?" she asked in fear. She saw his face blazing with fury.

"You put grit in the rice on purpose, didn't you? Take a close look at it," Galabu said, thrusting the plate into her hands.

Petrified, Lasmi stared at it.

"Damn you, wicked wife," Galabu cried, smashing the plate into pieces. He swiftly slapped her across the face.

Lasmi winced in pain, fighting back tears. She had vowed not to cry even if she had bruises all over. She knew that her husband was finding excuses to hurt her.

She thought if she cried and asked for a divorce, her husband would be a happy man. No, she would never do that.

"If you are tired of me, don't feed me sand!" snapped Galabu, slapping her face repeatedly.

Lasmi clammed up. She shed no tears nor uttered a moan though the pain in the belly and stinging ache on her face were unbearable.

Galabu was about to lift his leg again, ready to kick her again. Suddenly conscience-stricken, he felt deeply sorry for her. He rushed into the bedroom and threw himself onto the bed. Panting, he felt his brain boiling but deep inside he was overwhelmed with a feeling of sin.

His heart sank when he saw Lasmi lying spread-eagled on the floor.

He realized how love and lust had totally made him blind through his promises to marry Ningsih after divorcing Lasmi. He was perplexed.

The next day, after office hours, Galabu went straight to Ningsih's home to ask her to see Lasmi and talk openly with her about their marriage plan. Besides, he wanted the two women to talk it over amicably.

"I don't want to see her, mas! I am ashamed!" Ningsih said.

"Please, Ningsih! If you come over to my house and talk it over with Lasmi in a friendly way, I am sure she will be kind to you. Trust me. Lasmi is a wise woman."

Reluctantly, Ningsih finally gave in. Eager to get away from her life as a prostitute, Ningsih was even ready to meet Lasmi or become Galabu's second wife.

Just as expected, when they arrived, Lasmi gave them a very warm welcome, smiling as if she had no concerns in the world. They spent the evening noisily chatting in the living room before they had an amiable dinner together. Then, the three slept in the same bed.

The next day before dawn, Ningsih woke up. She cried in horror when she looked at Galabu beside her, with blood still oozing from a gaping wound in his neck. He was dead.

Lasmi was nowhere to be found.

* Note: mas: a Javanese polite form of address for an older brother, or male of same age or slightly older.

Translated by Faldy Rasyidie