Susuk

Susuk

By Dewi Anggraeni

"Absolute nonsense!" Russel blurted out, irritated. "Nothing
more, nothing less. Utter nonsense!"

Russel was offended. Martinus and Ratna, two of his trusted
colleagues, had just slandered the love of his life, Rika Juwita.

"Rika ...," Ratna had said, " ... has a susuk. Haven't you
noticed, Russ, she is actually not pretty. However, no matter
where she goes, she becomes the center of attention. All her
superiors fall under her spell, except Sunarti. And that's
because Sunarti's a devoutly religious person."

Ha! thought Russel, she's jealous. He was intrigued
nonetheless, how a person with such integrity as Ratna would
stoop that low.

Just then, Martinus took over. "We have thought about this,
Russ. Believe me, we're not in the habit of intruding on our
friends' private affairs, that's why we didn't bring this up
until now. However we noticed that you were getting really
serious with Rika. My wife, Korina, finally persuaded me to talk
to you. Ratna happened to agree we should see you about it."

Russel looked incredulously at Martinus. "You too, Martinus?"
asked Russel, his voice turning falsetto from emotion. "You, a
good Christian, believe in susuks?"

Martinus was momentarily thrown off-balance, then quickly
gathered himself. "Russ, you are new to this land of ours.
There's a great deal you've yet to learn, about the people and
the mores. Susuks exist, Russ. Many people have them, men and
women. And as a Christian, I regard them as the craft of the
devil. That's why I'm concerned about you."

Martinus and Ratna finally looked at each other, then meekly
excused themselves. They saw they'd get nowhere, with Russel
standing his ground and refusing to listen to them.

After his friends had left, Russel walked to the bar and
poured himself a glass of whisky. Sipping it slowly he found a
corner on the couch and sat down, thinking.

Martinus was wrong. Of-course he knew a lot about Indonesians
and their mores. Hadn't he read a number of books about Indonesia
before coming here? Hadn't he learnt the language, made
acquaintances with Indonesians who lived in Sydney? Of-course, he
hadn't gone so far as to read Clifford Geertz, or Margaret Mead.
Well, he didn't come here to do anthropological research, did he?
He came as a quality assurance consultant for PT Plasmak!

Huh, fancy Martinus and Ratna giving me advice about women.
What does Martinus know about women? All his life he has never
left the precinct of his church! And Ratna, trouble with that
woman is, she's too intellectual. That's what happens when women
are top-heavy he mused.

The more he thought of the conversation, the angrier he
became. Suddenly, he smirked. Trust women. No matter how
intellectual, they are not beyond petty jealousy. She may be more
senior in position, but Rika is definitely more successful
socially. He sculled the rest of his drink, and rose to get ready
to pick up Rika. He'd arranged for them to have dinner at home,
his home. He had given careful instructions to his cook, Siti, to
cook Rika's favorite dishes.

Russel was a little disappointed when Rika's mother opened the
door. He'd expected to see his love, beautiful and ready.
Suppressing his annoyance, he followed Rika's mother in and
accepted her offer of a cool drink.

"Rika's still in the bathroom," the middle-aged woman
explained, continuing with small talk.

But Russel was unhappy. She told me to come at half past six.
She should have been ready then. Still bathing indeed! he
thought.

Rika's mother, her voice made unsteadily staccato by her
asthma, telling him about the difficulty she had in finding
reliable and hard-working domestic help, only irritated Russel
further. He hardly took notice of what she was saying, and his
eyes didn't shift from the passage that separated the front of
the house from the bedroom area.

Forty minutes later, when Russel was on the point of giving
up, Rika appeared in the passage. She was wearing a white velour,
tight, mini skirt with dark blue borders at the hem, and a pale
blue lace top. Her hair glimmered under the neon light. No doubt
she spent ages on that hair, while I waited here listening to her
mother's waffling passed through his mind.

But his irritation slowly disappeared, and in its place was a
kind of giddiness he experienced whenever his love approached.
The sway of her body, the easy smile on her lips. Oh, so
inebriating. And he felt good about himself, about everything.

"Ready?" asked Rika coquettishly.

"Ready?" Russel asked back. No matter how he tried to show his
annoyance at being made to wait, his voice sounded meek, even
pleased.

Just then, he saw Rika's likeness to her mother, yet there was
no trace of beauty in her mother. He didn't remain mystified for
long, however, Rika tugging at his sleeve, saying goodbye to her
mother.

Russel opened the car door for Rika, then rushed to climb in
himself. He wanted to leave that narrow lane. It made him feel
claustrophobic. When his car entered Jalan Thamrin, he turned to
look at Rika. His love, who was aware of his gaze, raised her
chin slightly, then smiled flirtatiously at him. Russel felt so
stirred he nearly crashed into the car in front.

"You're beautiful. Very beautiful, Rika," he honestly stated.
Suddenly, Russel remembered the glimpses he'd caught at Rika's
house, how much his love looked like her mother. How could she be
so beautiful, when her mother was not? His musings were
interrupted by Rika's voice singing and humming the latest pop
songs.

Udin, his gardener, shot up like lightning to open the gate as
soon as he heard his master's car horn. He then quickly closed
the gate behind them and watched the car enter the garage. When
Rika stepped out, the gardener cast a surreptitious glance at
her, and looked away when the young lady raised her head toward
him. He looked again when she turned to enter the house, with
Russel's hand pushing gently on the small of her back.

Russel prepared a non-alcoholic drink for Rika. His love
didn't drink alcohol. Russel had never asked for any
explanations, being broadminded and accepting of people's various
likes and dislikes. This evening however, he couldn't help
asking, "Won't you try a bit of Bacardi? Just a few drops, for a
lift?"

Rika was uncompromising. "No. I thought you knew consuming
alcohol was against my religion."

"Dancing is not?" teased Russel.

Rika just smiled.

Siti announced that dinner was served. Barbecued chicken,
vegetables in coconut milk, salad and satay.

"Hmm. Smells delicious," Russel lavished Siti with praise as
she was walking back to the kitchen. Siti smiled contentedly,
keeping her head low.

Rika sat on the chair that Russel pulled out for her, without
saying a word.

"What do you think? I told Siti to cook the chicken and
vegetables for you. The satay and salad are my favorites."

Again Rika only smiled. She picked up her cutlery elegantly,
fully aware of Russel's adoring look.

"Russ," she said, picking up a piece of chicken, "What were
the directors' reactions when you announced your plans to contact
the clients, and offer them compensation for the defective
parts?"

Russel didn't reply immediately. He didn't like talking shop
with Rika outside their working environment.

"Most of them disagreed. But Hamid proposed we modify the
approach."

"How?"

"Hamid suggested we contact the clients, but instead of
offering compensation, we should offer them extra parts, free of
charge. He said, since the clients don't know the parts were
defective, let them think we're being generous, instead of
dishonest."

Rika laughed. "You may be an expert in quality assurance, but
Hamid is the true entrepreneur."

Russel wanted to end the conversation quickly. He was
particularly eager to know about Rika this evening.

"The satay is especially delectable tonight, Rika. Won't you
try it ? This is a chicken satay, sweetheart, you like chicken
don't you?"

Rika shook her head.

"No, thank you. Just because I like barbecued chicken it
doesn't mean that I like chicken in any dish. Russ, tell me, who
disagreed with you?"

Russel raised his head and looked at Rika, just when she was
opening her mouth. He was put out because she kept asking about
the directors' meeting. It was, after all, a closed meeting.
Maybe, because of his misgivings, the girl looked momentarily
plain. Her eyes were not entirely symmetrical, her nose looked
too wide for the slim face, and her mouth was too thin.

"I'd rather you didn't persist with those questions, Rika. It
was a closed meeting."

Rika looked shocked. She stopped chewing. Her eyes moistened.
Russel instantaneously regretted what he'd said. He shouldn't
have talked to her in that tone.

He reached for Rika's hand and apologized.

"I want to talk about personal things with you, darling. I'm
at home now, not at work."

Rika squeezed Russel's hand in response.

Now it was her turn to be reluctant in answering his
questions.

"I was born in Sukabumi, and went to school there until Year
9, then I came to Jakarta with my mother. Why do you suddenly
want to know, Russ?"

"I want to know you better," replied Russel. "So, when you
came to Jakarta, where did you live?"

"In Jatinegara," replied Rika curtly.

The evening didn't quite come off. Something had driven a
wedge between them. The following day, Russel attended another
directors' meeting. When they'd finished they went to the
restaurant across the road for lunch. Hamid, who held center
stage at the meeting, maintained his star status at the
restaurant. He was gregarious and always ready with jokes.

"No, sweetheart," he said to the young waitress who brought
him a plate of satay, "I don't eat satays. They don't agree with
my susuk." He then winked to the others.

Everybody laughed, except Russel. The waitress became
flirtatious and asked, "What's the susuk for, Uncle?"

"Oouuch! She called me Uncle! My susuk doesn't work!"

Everyone continued laughing.

Russel flushed, but tried to pretend he was busy having a
drink.

"Hey, Mid! Which dukun gave you the susuk? The one from
Ancol?" asked Surya, the Managing Director of PT Plasmak.

"Arh, of course not!" Hamid answered with a grin, "Mine is a
high caliber dukun, from the South Coast, near Sukabumi!"

Hearing Sukabumi mentioned, Russel nearly choked. He quickly
raised his glass.

On the way home from work that evening, he intentionally took
the front seat, beside the company driver.

He began engaging Mahmud in small talk, about custom and
tradition in Jakarta. Then, with studied nonchalance, he asked,
"Is it true, Mahmud, that a lot of people in Jakarta use susuks?"

Though taken aback, Mahmud answered calmly, "Yes, a lot, Sir."

"How many?" asked Russel.

"Wah, hard to give an exact number, Sir, because they usually
keep it a secret."

"If they keep it a secret, how do other people know?"

"Ooh Sir," Mahmud smiled meaningfully, "People know. These
things show after a while."

"What do you mean, show?"

"Hard to explain Sir, but people here usually can tell."

Russel stopped. He didn't want Mahmud to become suspicious.

When they arrived at his house, Udin opened the gate and
Russel walked in. He wanted to stop, to chastise his gardener for
the way he had looked at Rika last night, but quickly changed his
mind. He was doubting if he had really seen Udin look
lasciviously at Rika. I'm getting touchy about Rika, he thought.

On Saturday night, Russel and Rika were invited for dinner by
Ann and Peter Wood, Russel's friends from Sydney who worked at
the Prambanan Hotel. The Woods had also invited Malik, a diplomat
from Egypt.

All evening, Malik's eyes were focussed on Rika, who openly
enjoyed the attention. If at first Russel was flattered that his
partner was the center of attention, the novelty soon wore thin.
Malik seemed to only talk to Rika, and after every joke he told,
he winked at Rika, responding coquettishly.

Russel couldn't stop drinking. His vision was increasingly
blurred. Sometimes he saw Rika's face as plain and unattractive,
yet when he blinked, the face became radiant once again, with a
very seductive smile. His stomach tightened as he saw the smile
wasn't directed at him.

"Rika, Malik is married with several children," Russel said
coolly as soon as they'd left the Woods' house.

"So?" asked Rika, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Huh," Russel retorted crossly, "You two behaved as if you
were thg only people alive!"

Rika turned angrily at Russel. "I was only making up for your
rudeness. You were sullen, ignoring his stories and his jokes.
Then you sat in the corner drinking yourself silly, your face
dark and sour. So you wanted me to join you there sulking. What
would Ann and Peter have said?"

"I already know what they're saying about you!" he shouted.

Rika left the car in front of her house, slamming the car
door, and Russel planted his foot on the accelerator, roaring
off.

They hadn't spoken for two days, and Russel hadn't been very
chatty with anyone else, either. Finally, Hamid, who along with
their other colleagues had been watching him, came to see him.

"What's going on between you and Rika, Russ?"

Russel looked up from his desk, then answered, "Nothing."

"Let's go across the road for a drink, Russ."

Russel accepted gratefully. He had been dying for a drink, but
had been reluctant to ask anyone, and he never liked drinking
alone.

As soon as they entered the bar, Russel felt better. He saw
other Caucasians inside.

Hamid tried to catch a waitress' attention, in vain.

"Stand-offish little floosy!" Hamid whispered, annoyed.

Russel laughed. "The power of your susuk is waning, eh?"

Hamid turned to him. "Maybe you're right."

Russel finally ordered drinks for them, and when they were
more relaxed, Russel broached the subject again. "You're not
serious about your susuk, are you Hamid?"

Hamid laughed. "If I didn't have a susuk, how could I be so
successful in business?"

"Hey, I'm serious. What is this thing susuk, in fact?"

"Why do you want to know?" asked Hamid, sounding serious.

"Just curious. I'm always interested in things that are
regarded as weird in the West."

"Susuk is actually a piece of jewel, which a particular dukun
implants in your body."

"Whereabouts in your body?"

"Depends on what you want from the susuk. If a man wants his
arm to be strong and powerful for instance, he might have one
implanted in his elbow. Whatever he does with that arm will
always bring him success."

"What about women?"

"A woman usually has a susuk implanted in her face, for
instance the cheek, the chin, the forehead, in order to appear
attractive and be able to influence powerful people. I imagine
there are women with susuks in their breasts, or other places,
who knows?"

Russel looked at him, disbelieving. "If this thing is so hot,
Hamid, why doesn't everyone have one?"

"First, not all susuks have the desired power. Depends on the
dukun. Secondly, the cost is extremely high."

"What do you mean?"

"To be honest with you, I'm not very well versed about the
consequences of susuks. What I know is this. People with susuks
in their bodies would have difficulty dying, no matter how sick
or injured they are. The susuks have to be extracted first, and I
hear only the dukuns who implanted them can extract them."

Russel was fascinated by Hamid's explanation. After taking
another sip from his drink, he asked, "What do you mean, when you
said you don't eat satays because of your susuk?"

"Oh, that!" Hamid laughed, "People with susuks have to stick
to certain conditions. These depend on the type of their susuks
and dukuns. Generally they must abstain from satays."

"And from alcohol?"

"Well, yes. Some from alcohol I'm sure. Maybe other things as
well."

"Is it true that people here can tell someone with a susuk?"

Hamid thought for a while, then nodded slowly. "Yes, generally
we can, though we can never be a hundred percent sure. Because
usually, these people are successful, or charismatic, or simply
downright attractive."

Russel looked ponderously at Hamid's face, then said
teasingly. "Well, who knows, you maybe have a susuk!"

"Of course I do. Haven't I always told you so?"

They were still laughing when they stepped into the office,
turning heads in their wake.

Around three o'clock, Ratna came to see Russel with their
modified designs. As one of the company lawyers, Ratna was
involved in the legal side of all company designs.

They discussed the designs at length, until Russel was
satisfied no aspect of the quality was compromised. Before she
left, Ratna wanted to say something, but hesitated. She studied
Russel's face, sighed, then turned to leave.

Russel waited until she had disappeared behind the door, then
picked up the phone to ask his secretary to bring in a cool
drink. When his secretary walked in with the drink, he was pacing
up and down.

Russel gulped down his drink, then walked out, heading for
Rika's desk. He cleared his throat and Rika raised her head.
After a momentary silence, she smiled a little. Russel longed to
grab her hand, but quickly controlled himself. I don't care, he
thought. To me, she's beautiful.

"Are you..., are you busy tonight?" he asked, his heart beat
racing.

Rika looked down for a second, then raised her head. "No. I'm
not."

Dewi Anggraeni was born in Jakarta. She lives in
Melbourne with her husband and two children. She was the
Australian correspondent for Tempo, and now writes for The
Jakarta Post, Forum Keadilan, and other publications in
Indonesia and Australia. Combining her skills as a journalist and
novelist, her works have been published in both languages, in
Australia and Indonesia. She has three books published in
Australia: two novels, The Root of All Evil (1987) and Parallel
Forces (1988), and the third, a trilogy of novellas, Stories of
Indian Pacific (1993). She has also contributed articles and
short stories to several anthologies.

Note:
dukun = soothsayer/sorcerer