The house with a concrete wall

By Wildan Em Asrori

At first I hesitated to accept Mas Herman's offer, conveyed to me through Bargo. I thought Bargo was only joking because, as far as I am concerned, Mas Herman was extremely careful in hiring people. He only hired two men from this village to help him build a new house a few months ago just because he took pity on them. He employed most of the workers from the city because they were considered more reliable. After a few days, Herman told Bargo to see me again, asking me to build a brick wall around his newly completed home.

The offer did give me a pleasant surprise. I was really delighted as I had been jobless for the last three weeks. And during this time, I had been busy offering my services to anyone who was building a house or anyone who simply wished to have his house renovated. However, the odds were against me: Of the many people I had seen, none was interested in my offer. At home I had to try to pacify my wife who kept on pestering me to buy her a bracelet and necklace just like the ones the next door neighbor had.

***

Like most people in the village, Mas Herman is by no means a rich man. He has no permanent job. You can say he is merely a middleman engaged in various businesses ranging from buying and selling used motorbikes, cars and land. At times he sells birds at the district market, making him a popular man who has many acquaintances in the city.

He also entrusted friends from the city with building a luxury house he had been aspiring to since he was young. Six months ago, the 38-year-old Herman married his next door neighbor, Asih. With his hair turning gray and pimples on his face, Herman is considered lucky to have married a charming, graceful and easygoing girl half his age, who is suited better to be his daughter rather than wife.

On the first day I worked there Mas Herman told me about the importance of having a wall for a new house. He then elaborated about the philosophy of a wall which I found weird. "Apart from protecting the house from thieves, the wall will keep the new house intact forever," he said. Though I could not comprehend him, I just nodded. The most important point for me was to get a job and to get it done as soon as possible and get paid.

Making a wall was not a big deal, especially building one as Mas Herman had ordered me to. He had asked me to build a two-and- a-half-meter high brick wall around his house with a gate in the front and a small door at the rear. In point of fact, it was quite easy. He had already built the foundations for it. I might have had difficulty, if he had asked me to build fences like the ones for big houses in the city. When I asked him whether he intended to have a beautiful fence around the house, he only snapped: It's not the beauty that matters. The wall is meant for security reasons and therefore you must stud the top of the wall with sharp pieces of broken glass." Again, I nodded.

***

During the time I worked there, I only met Mas Herman twice in the house as he left home very early, perhaps after the dawn prayer, for the bird market some 20 kilometers away from the village. He did not come home until late in the afternoon. We only greeted each other twice when we met on our way home. Since then I never saw him any more. Later, I learned that he, more often than not, spent most of the week staying at his friend's house in the city.

During his absence, it was Asih, Mas Herman's wife, who always kept me company at the house. Every morning she would serve a cup of hot tea and cakes which she put on the veranda. At noon she would come to me with some lunch, giving me more encouragement to work. At times, I was so absorbed in my work that I forgot to take a rest. Asih then rushed to me, asking me to rest for a while, but as I did not feel hungry, often I ignored her request and went on working.

Asih repeatedly asserted to me that the meal that she had specially prepared for me was delicious and asked me to partake of it. Asih was indeed a real teaser capable of making me obey her words. Often, her gaze and patience to wait for me to finish my lunch made me feel awkward and uncomfortable. I even felt embarrassed when passersby caught us chatting together. Though I had grown used to the suspicious eyes of passersby, the completion of the front wall was another relief to me because it could shield us from curious eyes. Strangely enough, I felt something missing when Asih was not at my side. Every time I enjoyed my lunch, Asih usually blabbered about how to cook a meal she had served and during this time I could see something hidden in her eyes.

One morning, unusually, Asih put a cup of tea and some cakes inside the house, not on the veranda. I did not want to touch my breakfast because I was anxious to get the job done and get paid. At home my wife had started acting up. She had opted to sleep with the children for six days and kept on pestering me to buy her a bracelet and necklace. Unable to contain my lust, I half- forced my wife to make love, promising to give her some money in a week, but she refused. I felt indignant, then a quarrel erupted.

Asih came approaching when I was mixing cement, repeatedly advising me to eat her self-proclaimed delicious cakes and to drink the tea before I started working. I declined the offer. To my surprise, Asih grabbed the trowel from my hand. Her soft hand grasped my arm tightly, dragging me into the house. I struggled to free myself from her grip, telling her that I would eat the cakes, but she would not let me go. Her soft and tender hands were still holding my coarse, sun-burnt hands when I suddenly remembered the many quarrels I had had with my wife. It was then I started to hate my wife bitterly. I felt my steps were so light and that I was walking above the ground. My vision began to blur. I was not aware where Asih was leading me to. She should have taken me to the dining room. I only felt something soft -- like a mattress under my backside. Only after everything had happened did I realize that I was in her room.

***

Mas Herman was happy because I managed to complete the two-and-a- half-meter wall around his house on time. Satisfied, he walked around the house, praising my work. "Well done." he commented. I only nodded. Fortunately, Mas Herman did not carefully inspect the wall. With his naked palm, he only touched some parts of it, but stopped short when a piece of broken glass pierced his palm. I was indeed relieved. If he had been meticulous in checking out the wall, he would have spotted a smooth part of the wall free of pieces of broken glass. That section served as a secret "gate" never thought of by others as a gateway but is familiar only to Mas Herman's wife and me.

-- Translated by Faldy Rasyidie