Shoes with lights

By Sartono Kusumaningrat

The economy-class evening train Supar boarded really served its function to the letter. All the cars were packed with passengers. There was not even any empty space between the seats. These people sat mindlessly, packed like sardines, on the floor of the car, covering the space they sat on with only a piece of newspaper.

It was too difficult for people to cross their legs unless they made extra room by moving the legs of other passengers. The shelves above the passengers' heads were filled with personal effects in bags, cardboard boxes and even sacks.

There was more to it than this. Even the toilet, supposedly a sanctuary of relief, was crowded with passengers.

Supar found this situation grim, especially considering that he had just received a letter stating that he had been laid off. The economic crisis meant new job opportunities both in Jakarta and elsewhere would be more and more difficult to come by.

Moreover, Supar believed that there were not many yarn- spinning mills left operating. In fact, putting together broken yarn or untangling tangled yarn was Supar's only skill. For him, being laid off was as serious as being beheaded. He, however, still had to support a wife and child in his village. It really was a grim situation.

Suddenly, he felt like urinating. After imploring the passengers crowding the car to make way for him and half forcing his way through them, he tried to get to the toilet.

"Why don't you just hold it a little longer, Mas? Look, it is crowded in here."

"True. Why don't you wait until the train stops at a station?"

Supar closely examined one of the two people outside the tiny room making these comments. From the top of his head to his shoes.

The moment he caught sight of the person's relatively smart shoes he was reminded of his promise to Bedor, his child. Before leaving for Jakarta, Supar had promised his child that he would buy him a pair of shoes with lights. The lights would come on when the shoes touched the ground.

"I can't hold it any longer. I feel like relieving myself right here and right now. Urrgh ... it's coming out now, I think!"

"Shit. It's difficult to move my legs. It's crowded, can't you see, Mas!" the man wearing the smart shoes said without moving his feet so much as an inch. It seemed as if he was just showing off his shoes. Supar got annoyed.

"Well, I'm real sorry. I can't hold it any longer!"

Obviously, he did not offer his sincere apology because he felt exasperated at seeing how the man wearing the smart shoes was so reluctant to move his feet. He got the impression the man was particularly arrogant.

He also felt annoyed with other passengers as they too did not want to make way for him to go to the toilet. Well, he would have made the same comment himself if another passenger happened to ask him to make room in a crowded place.

"Oh, sorry, Mas. Let me in. I want to piss," said Supar when he finally got to the door of the toilet.

"Real sorry, Mas. I am occupying it now."

"Well, that's against the regulations, you know. Don't sit in the toilet."

"I can't help it. There are no more empty spaces to sit in, Mas. Surely you know this is economy class, right? If you want to feel comfortable, take first class."

"The first class of your grandma, damn it!" Supar had an outburst of anger.

"Cool it, Mas. What else can you do, then? Just have your piss out of the car door, over there!"

He angrily went to the open door beside the toilet. He hurriedly unzipped his jeans. And, pheeew ... his urine was carried all over the place because of the strong current of air produced by the speeding train. The urine wetted part of his own jeans.

On returning to his seat on the floor of the car. he had to experience the same invective as when he tried to get to the toilet.

Again, the man wearing the smart shoes made the most complaints. Supar was tight-lipped. He was too tired, physically and mentally. His spirit was being eroded by the increasing weight of the burden of life, made even heavier by being laid off.

"Paak...

Bapak?

These were the only words Ngaini and Bedor, his wife and his son, uttered the moment they saw Supar return. They did not know how else to welcome him home. Ngaini could feel what was raging inside her husband's heart. Seeing how disheveled and unsmiling Supar was, she knew full well that her husband was in great agony.

"Just be patient, okay, Ni."

Ngaini only nodded. Her eyes welled up.

"You know, Ni. I have lost all hope. Looking for a job at this time is like trying to find a grain of rice in a desert. I don't know what else I can do."

"You did buy me the shoes with the lights, Pak? You promised me you would, right?" Bedor remembered the promise his father made three months back, prior to his departure to Jakarta.

"Bedor, you also must have a feeling of deep concern. Our lives are difficult now. The country is also in trouble. I have no money. Just to be able to have a meal every day is difficult, Dor. Forgive me, Dor."

"Well? And then?"

" No more then. Stop."

"But my only shoes, that I wear to school, are broken now. If I put them on, my big to middle toes pop out. I am ashamed. You promised me, Pak"

"Poor people must throw away such a feeling of shame. You must understand the situation we are in. If we have nothing, what can we do?"

Bedor had wanted to hug his father but instead turned back and hugged the legs of his mother. He broke down and began crying.

"Maak..." he shouted while crying, hiding his face in the belly of his mother, who, standing, was too confused to do anything.

"Come on, Dor. Just be patient, okay. You are happy that your father is back now, aren't you?"

He nodded while still sobbing. Seeing all this, Supar felt as if his heart had been cut to pieces. Why the layoff? Why the crisis? Why the promise to Bedor? Why the broken shoes of his son? Why weren't the shoes more durable? Why can't he overcome the situation? Why? Why must there be questions with why?

Supar felt he had sinned against his wife and son. Of course, Bedor should not continue wearing his broken shoes. Better for him to go barefoot. But he was still in kindergarten and Supar did not have the heart to let his son go to school barefoot while his friends were wearing shoes. Bedor was too small. Poor child.

That night Supar did not come home. Ngaini and Bedor did not know where to look for him. The next day Pak RT and Pak Kadus (the head of the neighborhood community and the head of the hamlet) tried to contact the local police station about Supar's disappearance.

The report was passed on to a higher level police station. In the afternoon of the next day after Supar failed to return home, Pak Kadus and another person, who Ngaini did not know, came to her house. The stranger had a bundle of newspapers with him.

"Is it true that your husband is Suparno and that he has the tattoo of a rose on his back? The police found the body of such a man in the neighboring hamlet. He was well-built with straight hair, wearing a red shirt. The face was almost unrecognizable. It is assumed he was murdered. Maybe by a mob. This is the picture."

The stranger showed her the papers. There was a picture of a male corpse lying face up by a river bank, holding a child's shoes with lights.

"Bapaak ... Bapaaaak!!!" Bedor, who had been listening, screamed out loud when he saw the picture.

Ngaini was puzzled by the picture in the newspaper. She hoped it was not the body of her husband. But why was he holding the shoes? Why? If it was Supar, where did he get the money to buy the new shoes with lights. Hopefully it was not Supar's body. Just hopefully.

"Bedor, my child, hold back your tears. Who knows whether this is the picture of your father," she said, trying to convince herself that she would not have been left to such a terrible fate.

"Bapaaak... Bapaak...!!"

That was Bedor's only reaction it shook Ngaini's conviction and strength.

Glossary:

Mas: older male, brother and term of general respect

Pak, Bapak: father, or general term of respect for elderly male

Mak: mother

The writer is a member of the Foundation for Cultural Studies in Yogyakarta.