The Candidate

Heny Setyowati

His new political party made Ahmapo a celebrity, with regular TV appearances and his profile in newspapers and magazines.

Ahmapo was originally a nickname used to tease him. I had first called him by that name, and then all our friends followed suit. An acronym for Ahli masalah politik (political expert), it was given in place of Sogol, his real name.

As students of economics in the New Order's heyday, we used to address him as Ahmapo because he loved to talk about politics, waxing on for hours about the problems besetting the country.

At the peak of Soeharto's New Order, he would earnestly predict a post-Soeharto political constellation marked by the emergence of hundreds of political parties claiming to be reformists. In fact, their founders would be ex-officials or figures who had once collaborated with the New Order regime.

"Later, as the era of political reform arrives, I'll set up real reformist political party," Ahmapo declared during one of our debates.

After graduation, I never saw him again. I got married to a medical doctor almost straightaway. My husband earned a fair income and asked me to stay at home for the family.

But as I was doing my household chores, I would reminisce about my intimate moments with Ahmapo during our college years. He was so romantic. We would walk home from campus but take a roundabout route so we did not reach our lodgings too soon. And when dusk came, he would ask me to study with him.

"When I become president and you are still single, we can get married," said Ahmapo as we sat on the terrace of my boardinghouse.

"Are you sure you won's get married until you are elected president?" I had asked, only once of many times.

Even as a member of the political elite, Ahmapo remained a bachelor, as revealed in his biodata carried in the newspapers. He was, they said, an eligible bachelor. As for me, so afraid of being a spinster, I had a family with two lovely kids.

But I still longed to see him. Many times I would imagine his sudden arrival in my house because he, too, missed me.

And then the dream became a reality. Ahmapo did come one day to my home. He arrived in the latest, most expensive luxurious saloon, in well-tailored suit and carrying a briefcase.

"Welcome, Mr. President!" I called out with a broad smile.

Ahmapo blushed with embarrassment.

"Oh, don't call me that. I'm only a presidential candidate," he said quickly, shaking my hand firmly.

"I thought you forgot me, now that you're a VIP. I've often seen you on TV and in newspapers," I said as we sat down in the living room.

"How can I forget the one I love. But, unfortunately, I've been duped, right?" he said, still bashfully.

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you now a housewife?"

I nodded, telling him that I was scared of ending up without a husband and I had accepted the proposal of the first good man who offered. I also said sorry for not inviting him to my wedding.

"After graduation, I guessed you would go abroad for further study and soon forget me," I said.

Ahmapo looked unhappy.

"I did study abroad and failed to let you know. Please understand, I had to brush up on my English by following private courses till late evening," he said in a tone of regret.

"But now you've got a girlfriend, haven't you?" I asked, hoping for a positive answer.

"I wouldn't be here if I had one".

I was deeply moved. This dashing, handsome man, now a presidential candidate, lived alone, waiting for me.

Ahmapo spoke in a husky, embarrassed voice.

"I've come here to find out if you're really married."

"That's what I'm now. I stay at home, looking after the family, as my qualifications won't help me now," I responded, my eyes glazing over with tears.

Ahmapo sighed deeply, glancing around the sitting room, to the terrace and the flowers growing outside.

"You should thank God. With your beautiful two-story house, I'm sure you're completely prosperous and happy. Trust me, you're the most successful of us all."

I blushed.

"But you must be a lot wealthier. I imagine that you live in a grand house."

Ahmapo was beaming with pleasure.

"If you say I'm wealthy, well, it's the truth, yes. Now I've got three houses, in Jakarta, Bandung and Denpasar. At the moment I usually stay in Jakarta. I leave the other two vacant. I still have three other cars, but they are Japanese makes. I have to look appropriate as a presidential nominee."

The brief account of his riches set off a slight pang of regret in me, and, besides, he was more attractive than my husband. Once my boyfriend, he was now a presidential candidate.

How lucky would be the woman who became his wife if he eventually became president. If only it could be me.

After a long chat in the room, I invited Ahmapo to have lunch. My husband had called to inform me he would not be back home for lunch because he was busy at the hospital.

Ahmapo asked for my cell phone number after lunch and left his. Before he went away, he handed his briefcase to me.

"What's inside?" I was confused.

Ahmapo smiled and opened it on the table.

"Look, they're just gold pieces, weighing 10 kilograms in total. You can sell or keep them. Sell them all to buy a new car, for instance. It's up to you," he said while closing the case.

My heart pounded and I trembled all over at the sight of the gold bars.

"Pray for me that I'll be elected president, though you may not be my wife as you have a family of your own," he said, kissing my lips and stepping away.

I nodded, overwhelmed by the mixed sensation of joy and bewilderment.

Translated by Aris Prawira