Strong Candidate

By Harris Effendi Thahar

Bik Encim had not shown up for two days and a mound of dirty laundry had piled up. She usually comes every two days to do the washing, arriving at 3 p.m. or later. My wife fixed this schedule because our house is empty from morning to late afternoon. My wife is a schoolteacher and all the other members of the family have their own activities in the afternoon.

She usually has a funny story to tell to my wife when she is tardy. My children and I sometimes listen to her story, though only in passing. Besides doing the washing at several homes, this elderly washerwoman likes to gossip at Mely's house, which is now a beauty parlor. Her stories often have their origins in Mely's; it is as though Bik Encim uses the tall tales to placate my wife.

She had a new story to tell this time.

"Mely's husband, Jali, has been doing many strange things since he was kicked out of his job."

"Whatever is he doing this time?"

"Ma'am, you and your husband must have read in the paper about the death of the governor's wife, right?"

"Yes, everybody knows about it," my wife said curtly.

"Well, Jali is one of the committee members."

"What committee?"

The old woman grinned broadly to reveal gaps where teeth used to be. She did not answer right away, milking the moment for suspense.

"Well, Jali is now a member of the committee formed for selecting the right candidate for the governor's new wife. The criterion is a widow without any children, like me. But, well, this is only an example. Who can tell the future?"

My children and I had no choice but to smile on hearing the gossip. My daughter even squatted near the old woman, who kept on talking while doing the washing.

"So you are in the running, eh?' asked my daughter, a first year student at senior high school.

"Obviously. One must strive in one's life, Mely will say. No pain, no gain, so the saying goes. I have sent my photograph. I am waiting for the announcement in the paper. It will come out soon. If I am chosen? Well, I won't have to work hard washing clothes from house to house. Am I right, Ma'am?"

My wife did not smile this time. She tried to bring the woman to her senses.

"That's the problem, Bik Encim. You are easily taken in by Mely. This has made you daydream so much so that you have forgotten to come here."

"Don't speak like that, Ma'am. Mely is a good person. Smart and gifted in hairdressing. She has arranged my gray hair in a bun to look like that of the late wife of the governor. She dyed the hair evenly. And it is all on credit."

She continued: "She lent me sunglasses, which I used when my photograph was taken, a breast support and a kebaya. In short, she has lent me all the dresses and their accessories which I used when my photograph for the committee was taken. I did not have to pay a cent. She charged me just for doing my hair, which was only Rp 23, 500. Mely also lent me Rp 4,000 so I could go to Chandra photo studio around the corner to have my photograph taken in color.

"See, this is a serious business, Ma'am. Yesterday morning I was even invited to watch a hot French film on a video disc. She gave me cake and cigarettes. She is kind, isn't she?"

My wife only shook her head. My daughter found it funny and tried to make her continue with her story.

"So you have sent your photograph, Bik Encim? By mail?"

"Certainly not. Better directly to the committee. Jali is a committee member, right? The governor has even assigned him a large project now. Constructing es-es houses *) on a contract basis."

"Es-es? What kind of house is it?"

"A very small house, for the badly off. Don't you understand? Well, well, well, a high school student knows nothing about es-es houses."

"Come on. Don't disturb Bik Encim anymore, or else the washing will not be clean," my wife said to cut the conversation.

Bik Encim, who once said that she used to be the wife of a subdistrict head (although only briefly and even then a second wife ) has done the washing at our house for quite some time. She once admitted that her greatest enjoyment was working in our home.

She always left debts when she finished working at other home. She would tell all to my wife. She could find a thousand reasons why she had to stop washing in a particular house. One reason was the owner was tight-fisted when she requested a loan. Or how stingy and fussy the lady of the house was.

"As if I were garbage, or a water buffalo. Look, after washing a mountain-high pile of clothes, I could not have even a cup of tea. If I asked for something to drink, I was told to get it myself.

As soon as I got hold of a glass, it was 'Don't take that glass, it's daddy's'. I took another one, only to be told it was Andi's. 'Take that one instead, the ugly one.' Don't you think I was insulted? I may be ugly but, remember, I used to be the wife of a subdistrict head.

Or she would tell me 'Don't take too much sugar, or you will get diabetes.' Diabetes, my word! Her husband is down with diabetes," Bik Encim would spout as she mimicked her former employer who lived nearby.

Bik Encim is important to us. She works hard and does a good job. As soon as she finishes her washing, a glass of sweet tea and some cake are waiting for her. Sometimes I give her a cigarette as I know that she smokes. If she asks for a loan, I tell my wife just to give the money to her. When she leaves our house, she may take some meat and rice for her evening meal. Indeed, she has never done anything dishonest to us like steal. She likes to help my wife grind chilies.

This time she sat longer, sipping her tea while smoking and watching TV along with my daughter. I pretended to read a newspaper in my rocking chair near the window looking out onto the backyard, My wife had finished cooking. Evening would come down soon although the rays of dusk were still bright. It was rather hot inside as the walls reflected the heat left by the hot day.

"You haven't left yet? Want to take some rice for your meal?" my daughter asked.

"No. I am going to a wedding party tonight. By the way, where is your mother? Call her, please. I have something to talk to her about."

My wife appeared from the bedroom. She had put on her make up after a bath. She must have guessed what Bik Encim wanted.

"Ma'am, may I borrow Rp 10,000?"

"What for? If you borrow that much, you won't have any left for your salary at the end of the month. There is still Rp 5,000 left from the previous loan."

"Well, hmm, Ma'am. I don't feel like passing Mely's house. She will ask me to repay my debt."

"How much do you owe her? Rp 7,500, right?

"Actually, Rp 10,000, plus the interest, if the debt is paid back this month. After another month it will be Rp 15,000."

"My God, you told me that Mely is a kind person. That is a loan shark. That is sinful!"

"What can I do. She said that her salon is empty of visitors now. In fact she has to pay the tax every month, Ma'am," Bik Encim said earnestly. "Where else can I go except to you, Ma'am. You have been my mistress all this time."

"It is not that I do not want to give you the loan. The problem is why did you let yourself be taken in so easily by Mely? To my knowledge, few people come to her salon. Her husband is jobless. I see him offering rides to people on his motorbike. Now, it is clear that you have fallen victim, right?"

"Don't say that, Ma'am. It's not good. It is true that few people come to her salon, but her husband has got a project. Now look for yourself, is there still ojek **) driver by the name of Jali? As for the competition for the governor's prospective wife, that's my own business.

Who can tell one's fortune? If I am chosen as the new wife of the governor, you will be losing a washerwoman. If you buy a washing machine, just the cost of the electricity will be higher than my wage. Isn't that right, sir?" she said looking at me.

With a wink I signaled to my wife to grant her request. My wife went inside the room, her face in a pout.

There was no sign of Bik Encim for the next few days. Grumbling and complaining, my wife took the smaller and washed them. On Friday afternoon, she showed up.

She was all smiles. You could still see traces of her makeup. Her breasts were full, propped up, and her wrinkled skin was visibly clearer. My wife cut her dead. But she started to speak.

"Good news, Ma'am," she said as she carried the laundry basket to the back.

"What"

"My photograph reached the governor's desk. I seem to be a strong candidate."

"Who said?"

"Jali told Mely, and Mely told me."

My wife smiled back. This silly news apparently gave her some comfort. But that was the last time she came to our house to wash our clothes.

A week passed, and then two. Still she did not turn up. My wife insisted that I buy a washing machine. We did not immediately buy the machine because our original intention had been to help poor people like Bik Encim.

Yesterday my wife told me that she had met Ibu Endah -- someone else who employed Bik Encim as a washerwoman -- in the market. Endah said Bik Encim borrowed money for an umbrella and then disappeared for good.

"An umbrella? What did she say it was for?"

"No idea. But she said she needed it to go to the governor's office."

Before this, Ibu Anti had told my wife that Bik Encim borrowed some money to buy a new pair of sandals and then stopped coming to her house.

But now we know that, if you pass in front of the governor's office on Jl. Sudirman, you will be sure to see Bik Encim walking back and forth after 10 a.m. She always carries her umbrella and is dressed in a red kebaya, her face covered with white powder and a pair of sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

Rumors have it that a security guard on duty stopped her once when she was about to make her way into the five-story office building. She gave a tight smile and said knowingly: "If the governor knew about this he would definitely get angry at you."

Translated by Lie Hua

Glossary:

Bik: literally aunt, but a common term of address for older women in West Java.

es-es houses: SS stands for sangat sederhana (very simple) in reference to extremely low-cost houses.

ojek: motorbike or bicycle taxi

kebaya: traditional Javanese blouse

The writer was born in Tembilahan, Riau, in 1950. He now teaches Indonesian language and literature at state-owned Padang Teachers' Training Institute. An editorial staffer at Canang Sunday newspaper, he has been writing short stories and poems since 1971. In the 1995 academic year, he was guest lecturer at the University of Tasmania in Indonesian language and literature. His short story Calon Kuat (Strong Candidate) appears in Anjing- anjing Menyerbu Kuburan: Cerpen Pilihan Kompas 1997 (The Dogs Storm the Grave). It is printed here courtesy of Kompas.