The Death of a Womanizer

Kang Sarpin was killed in a traffic accident at 6 a.m. He was on his bicycle, a sack containing 100 kilograms of rice stacked on the rack behind him.

Eyewitnesses said he had struggled to control the bike right after he got in the saddle. Sarpin was still wobbling when the truck hit him from behind. He was thrown to the middle of the road, dying instantly from his injuries. He was just another rice vendor killed trying to do his job.

The heavy sack of rice -- and sometimes another small sack of the staple food on the handlebars of their bicycle -- had become fatal burdens for the vendors. But the survivors refused to learn from the experiences of their dead colleagues.

News of Sarpin's death reached me the same day, brought by Dalban, his brother-in-law. When recounting how the tragedy had taken place, Dalban was calm and emotionless. He was also cool- headed and composed. He spoke lightly and smiled sheepishly.

Later in the day I found a lot of well-wishers at Sarpin's house. They gathered near his body, which had been wrapped in the traditional white burial cloth, and placed in a simple bier. But clearly absent was a mood of sorrow.

All the well-wishers did not look like people who were expressing sympathy for a bereaved family. They were relaxed, and the situation was like an ordinary gathering or a dinner party. Some exchanged jokes while others laughed joyfully.

The living room was full of smoke from all the cigarettes. The only sad person in the house was Mrs. Sarpin, whose eyes were swollen from weeping. The contrast left me at a loss for words.

After putting condolence money into a special box, I went to find a seat. I saw the worst place one could get was beside Dalban, the news harbinger. But I took it nevertheless.

The late brother-in-law was busy recounting everything about the deceased, including the dark sides of Sarpin's life. I found the well-wishers spellbound by Dalban's story.

"Now, the blithering idiot is dead," Dalban said in an impassive voice.

"I cannot find another name to give my brother-in-law, who did not hesitate to undress in front of public just for Rp 5,000," Dalban continued.

One day, he said, Sarpin was challenged by his fellow villagers to prove his virility by stripping. Sarpin responded to the challenge and disrobed in front of the crowd. He then went from one spectator to another to collect the promised prize.

Dalban's story made all the people laugh heartily. The more they reacted, the more the storyteller became enthused in continuing his tale.

According to Dalban, all the villagers were disgusted as they viewed Sarpin's nakedness. They also had to admit their loss, and collected Rp 5,000 for him. But the only real protest came from Yu Cablek, a female food vendor, who ran away from the area after the show began, shouting "Sarpin is crazy, Sarpin is crazy".

The people who sat around Sarpin's body exploded into more laughter. I frowned at Dalban's thoughtlessness. He did not have to go that far in venting his dislike, because everybody in this village knew who Sarpin was.

Sarpin was a great womanizer and had never tried to hide his deviant character. He frankly admitted to his fellow villagers about his sexual adventures and how many women he had slept with.

"I just cannot control my sexual impulses," Dalban quoted him as saying.

"But," Dalban added, "Sarpin had a positive side too. Despite his mania, he never slept with a married woman. As for widows or divorcees, Sarpin did not reject them. Age for him was not important."

Sarpin also never disappointed his wife, Dalban added.

Dalban continued his story while the audience became increasingly curious. I myself pondered my last meeting with Sarpin. He had suddenly appeared at my home the nigh before, about 10 hours before his tragic death.

I received him in a dimly-lit room but I could see he had a problem from the way he looked. When I asked what was the purpose of his visit, he needed some time to answer. My question apparently made him uneasy.

"I'm in a confusing situation and I don't see any way out," he said as an opener.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I'm sure you are quite aware of my situation. I'm really a bad person. I've been misbehaving."

Sarpin admitted that he had been womanizing and understood that everybody in the village loved to hate him. "I know that many people do not want me to live here. They consider me the shame of the village."

"Kang, every body knows who you are," I laughed. "But nobody has tried to disturb you, so why you bother your head about it?"

"But I realize that I'm a gadfly. But I don't believe in myself that I won't change. I will stop being a disgrace. This is more important to me now because I'll soon have a grandchild. I've been ashamed by my negative reputation here. I want to be a good man, but how?"

"You don't need to ask me about that. Everything depends on you. If you want to be a good man, be one. If you want to remain the same, is also up to you."

"No, I have decided to be a good man but it seems to be not easy. That is the reason why I came here," he said.

"I looked straight into his eyes. He was serious. But I did not know why I could not help smiling.

"Why isn't it easy? It all depends on you," I said.

"No, it is too difficult for me. It is beyond my capability."

"Is it the problem of capability or intent?" I asked.

"Capability," he said in a pathetic voice.

"Why?"

"You don't know what is struggling inside me. The culprit is the most private part of my body, Sir. I have tried hard to stop fooling around but he always refuses to cooperate. He is extremely stubborn. When he wants a woman, nobody can stop him. I've got fed up with him. So far I can do nothing but obey his nagging orders.

"Now," he continued, "I tell you the truth, I'm willing to do anything and undergo any suffering in order to reach the status of a good man."

Sarpin was serious. He wanted my prompt answer but all I gave him was my smile. And he took it as an offense.

"I think I have to be castrated, Sir," he said.

I was shocked to hear his last words. But his eyes still looked straight into mine.

"I think that is the only way to stop me from fooling around. Please find me a doctor who is willing to do the job on me. I'm serious, Sir. No joke."

Kang Sarpin looked so earnest but all I could do was take a deep breath.

"Your idea sounds very unfamiliar here, I don't know about in other places."

"If there is no doctor who is willing to castrate me I'll consult other people. I've heard that there is a fighting cock breeder who has castrated many roosters in our neighboring village. I'm sure he could castrate me, too. I'll go to see him tomorrow after I sell my rice."

"No, don't do it," I said. "Don't consult the fighting cock breeder. Although no doctor is willing to castrate you, I'm sure they must have an alternative to your problem. Tomorrow, Kang, I'll accompany you see a doctor."

Now Sarpin looked a little relaxed. He sat restfully. I got the impression that he had relieved himself of his sexual stress.

After he asked me to keep my promise the next day, Kang Sarpin left.

The well-wishers at Sarpin's house suddenly got up to give way for a religious leader who had just arrived. Four men carried the coffin to the courtyard for the final ceremony before the burial service. It was now quiet and Dalban had stopped talking.

The man started the ceremony by appealing to everybody present to forgive Kang Sarpin for any wrongdoing. He also said that if Kang Sarpin did have debts to anybody, they should report them to his widow or children.

Before the religious leader said his prayer, he kept with tradition by asking the people to bear testimony about Sarpin's life.

"I ask all of you to answer my question: Was the deceased a good man?"

It was very quiet in all corners. Everybody stared at everybody else. I saw Dalban nudge a man who was standing beside him with his elbow. In the quietness, I could hear him whispering to the person, "Sarpin was a womanizer, should we pronounce him a good man?"

I sensed a strong feeling of aversion among the people. They seemed to have been pushed into a corner by the question.

The religious functionary repeated the question but still there was no answer.

In the quietness, I suddenly felt that I should answer it.

"Yes, yes, Kang Sarpin was a good man," I said.

Everybody was stupefied. They all stared at me. I only smiled.

The bier was carried to the grave followed by the villagers. I was among them. I did not regret my affirmation. To me a person who, at the very end of his life, had vowed to become good was undoubtedly a good man.

But I did not know what was in the minds of the people. Nor did I know God's judgment.

Translated by TIS

The author was born in Banyumas, Central Java, on June 13, 1948. He has worked as staff editor of Merdeka daily, and the magazines Keluarga and Amanah. He has published many short stories, some of which have also been translated into Japanese, Dutch, German, English and Chinese. He is the winner of several local book prizes and the 1995 Southeast Asia Write Award.

This short story appears in Anjing-anjing Menyerbu Kuburan: Cerpen Pilihan Kompas 1997 (Dogs Raiding a Grave: Kompas Selected Short Stories 1997). The Death of a Womanizer is printed here courtesy of Kompas.