The Barber

By Bakdi Soemanto

Plakotham is now an old man. His wife said next month, he would turn 98. He has married eight times. His last marriage took place eight years ago when he celebrated his 90th birthday. The bride was a dark, sweet country girl who ran a small lotek (traditional food made of vegetables with dressing) eating house and was living in the house next door.

One month prior to the celebration, Plakotham, who was at that time a widower, ordered a banana-leaf packed lotek to take away. He wanted to eat it with rice at home.

"Make it pungent," he ordered.

"How many chilies do you want?" Ijah asked.

"Just three. But they must be small red ones," was his answer.

"Red?" she asked. "Why not yellow? These are also pungent," she added smilingly.

"It does not make any difference, since both are chilies."

"But the quality is different, Pak!" she insisted.

"All right. Give me green ones."

"Green? Why?"

"Why? The green is the purer and the innocent one, like a child. But to make the lotek as hot as I wish, you've to put in at least 10 chilies," he said.

"I'm sorry, Pak. I don't have as many chilies as you would like. Yellow ones are more easily available, rather than green."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about chilies." she said again, smilingly.

"You're cute. I like that."

They both burst into laughter.

"I think you'd better go home. I'll bring this to your house as soon as I finish setting it out," she remarked.

"Are you sure?"

The young woman nodded convincingly.

He walked back to his home. One hour later, Ijah came to his house with the lotek. She had changed into a green blouse, tidied her bun up, reddened her lips with lipstick, and perfumed her underarms with deodorant.

"Do you already have the rice?" she asked, as she put the pack on the table.

"Oh, yes. I have it already. I cooked it this morning. Thank you," Plakotham said. He smelled the perfume as she passed by and opened the cupboard, taking a plate for the lotek.

"Shall I open it?"

"No ... hmmm. Okay ... yes, please!" Plakotham stared at Ijah, who was seemingly so charming. She then provided a spoon and a glass of water in addition to a small basket of rice.

"I am so happy today," Plakotham's voice softened a bit.

"Me too."

"Would you like to join me? I think this lotek is too much for me."

"No. Thank you. My mother is waiting for me. There are some people eating in the warung (small restaurant). I have to help her prepare the mixture," she said, as she requested permission to leave for home.

"Wait!" suddenly Plakotham cried out when Ijah was at the doorstep. She turned back and found his mouth was full of rice and vegetables. "How much?"

"No. That's for free." She stepped out of the house and waved her hand. When she raised her right arm, a conspicuous stain revealed her right armpit was soaked. The darker color of the wet part was round and surprisingly attracted him. It reminded him of a small pond with clear water he visited in his home village last year. Plakotham saw thirsty herds drinking the water there because of parchedness. He now found himself to be one of the craving animals. As he watched, Ijah's right "lake" seemed to be miles away, though it was really close at hand.

"What if she were the pond," he was thinking, while swallowing the meal. The lotek was much more delicious than he had ever tasted before.

Ijah usually visited Plakotham anytime he ordered a pack of lotek, but it happened to be very special to him that she appeared so beautiful that the whole house was ringing with music. From that day on, his mind was preoccupied with Ijah, but he kept away from her so no one would found out he was in love.

He realized Ijah was much too young for him, since he was 76. "What would the whole world say if people knew I was crazy about her, a girl young enough to be my granddaughter?" he contemplated. The same was seemingly true about Ijah when she thought of him from time to time. In fact, she had a different reason, based on which she had been planning to marry the old man.

When she was 18, someone told her that Plakotham was actually a wealthy person. While she was lining up to get a form for an identification card in the kalurahan (the subdistrict office), she heard people talking about Plakotham. They said that the old man hid an iron box in which he kept kilos of gold and gems of all sorts. Those things might be worth millions of rupiah. Some of them were from high-ranking officials who gave such precious things because they were satisfied with the way Plakotham cut their hair. They not only believed they had new hairstyles, but that their lives had been reshaped. Sugareng, for example, got reelected director of a computer school after he got his hair cut by Plakotham. Pak Munju was assigned to travel to Africa, as he wished for years, to negotiate with traders to have ivory exported to Indonesia just two weeks after Plakotham cut his hair. At the meeting, Buleneng was appointed director of the biggest kecap (soy sauce) factory in Southeast Asia, just three days after his moustache was trimmed by the barber.

"But what happened to his wives?" one of them asked.

"None of them were happy living with the old man?" the other added.

"Yes. It's true. The first one suffered from a strange illness. Three days later, she died. The second was hit on her head by a falling coconut. The third got killed by a falling durian. The fourth drowned and was washed away in a river. The fifth eloped with a public bus driver when Plakotham was busy with the heads of the VIPs. The sixth committed suicide by drinking pesticide. The seventh sneaked away from the house at dawn and never came back," the other said.

"It's strange, very strange," they said.

"He's a mysterious old man," someone added.

"But he's very rich, pretending to be poor."

"Why? What's wrong with being a wealthy person?"

After hearing the rumors, Ijah repeated all the stories to her mother, who had already heard more about him than she did. The old woman got excited anyway and even wondered if her daughter was interested enough to seriously consider him.

"You must marry him as soon as possible," the mother said late at night. "Within a month, he'll die of old age diseases," she added.

The first thing Ijah thought she should do was to visit Plakotham as often as possible to help him wash dishes, cook rice, sweep the floor, etc. When she first did what she was told, Plakotham just said "thank you" and gave her money. But she refused it. Later, he enjoyed being visited by Ijah, because she had a beautiful way of arranging furniture in order. It took a year to convince Plakotham that Ijah was really ready to take care of him.

"When he works hard, he'll be in danger because of the threat of a heart attack. But you should stimulate him to do so ..."

"To that end, you should keep yourself beautifully attired," she instructed sternly. "Especially at night," she added. Then she dictated a manual of conduct that she had to follow rigidly.

Now they had been living together for eight years, but there was no sign that the old man was in poor health, let alone dying. He seemed to be still going strong in the daytime as well as at night. Moreover, they often overslept and were caught by daylight. As Ijah had not yet found the mysterious box, she and her mother became more and more anxious. In addition to that, like the former wives, there were no signs that Ijah was pregnant. Her mother began to worry about her happiness, welfare and safety. Once in awhile, she visited her mother just to complain bitterly that Plakotham's customers had left him. Most of them preferred to go to salons. One morning, Ijah went home to borrow money from her mother. The old woman did not understand what Plakotham was planning to do with his wealth.

"The old man is not wealthy at all, I'm afraid," the daughter said, almost crying. But he mother insisted that he was.

"You should have been more patient and kept waiting ..." she added. "You know he's a penny pincher."

Ijah did what she was told until finally, the old man revealed his secret.

"I have no money. Not even a rupiah to buy rice for tomorrow," the old barber said one night after dinner was over. Ijah did not say a word and just put her head down.

"But don't worry about that. I still have something that might be worth millions of rupiah," he said.

"What?" she stared wide-eyed.

"Just wait here, I'll be right back," he said and walked into the bedroom. He stood up on a chair, reached up and opened a small panel in the ceiling. He took down a box which did not seem to be heavy and brought it out of the room.

"That's it!" Ijah said, but she saw that the box was not made of iron. It was just a cardboard box.

"I'll show you something, but you've got to keep this a secret. Do you understand?" he said. Ijah just nodded. Her heart leaped up as both of her underarms became soaked with sweat.

Plakotham opened the box slowly and carefully.

"This is the most precious wealth that man could ever have," he said. He put his hand into the box and took out something from it.

"This is the hair of the VIPs that I have collected for years. I'll bring it to the museum tomorrow and we'll be the wealthiest couple in the world," he said convincingly.

Hearing that, Ijah suddenly saw stars as if she were a boxer hit on the head. She suddenly fell forward on the table and fainted. The old barber felt her pulse to check whether she was still alive.

Bakdi Soemanto is a staff member of the Center for Studies of Culture and Social Change at Gadjah Mada University in Yogyakarta.