The War

By Sori Siregar

My car came to a halt and the driver, Apin, turned off the engine. I got out and walked carefully along the muddy alley so that I would not slip.

Three boys were chasing each other toward my direction. Water splashed my pants when the boys run past me. They did not care and kept on chasing one another. A woman craned her neck from a window and shouted to the boys to stop running when someone is walking along the narrow street.

I only smiled reminiscing about my childhood days. I walked slowly. I kept on walking. The alley I passed through cut across a first, second and third alley. All alleys were similar in size. They were crowded with dilapidated houses and shanties made of sacks. Used tires and bricks were clearly visible on the roofs of several houses to prevent the roofs from being blown away by strong winds.

When the alley I was walking along cut across the fourth alley turned slightly to the left, I began to get confused. The map Idris showed to me in the office was different from the actual streets. In my confusion someone addressed me. A young man covering the lower part of his body with a towel on his way home from bathing in the river looked at me in a friendly way.

After I told him where I was heading for he pointed in the direction I was supposed to take. I went back to the third alley I had just cut across. From the intersection of the third alley I only needed to walk about fifty meters.

It was there, under a mango tree, I saw the young woman teaching a number of children. It was the "school" Idris frequently told us about in the office. Idris had campaigned that we should show our social solidarity by helping such activities.

"There are still a lot of people around us needing help" he said. Sometimes his words were cutting." What we have in our hands should not only be spent for ourselves. There is a portion in it for others".

In order to witness more clearly how the children were learning in the "school," I took a seat in a small coffee shop about fifteen meters away. While sipping hot coffee and smoking a cigarette, I tried to listen to the lesson being taught by the young woman.

It was a reading lesson. The bigger children seemed to know how to read, that was the reason why the teacher only repeated her lesson to the smaller children. Once in a while the teacher reprimanded the bigger children because they were busy talking to each other while she taught the smaller children.

Three guys enjoying their coffee in the coffee house paid no attention at all to the "school" which was a stone throw away from where they were seated. They talked to one another enthusiastically, laughed and teased each other using vulgar language. I guessed that they were inhabitants of this slum. Idris's information may be right. In this slum lived many kinds of people; drivers, pickpockets, pedicab drivers, street vendors, prostitutes and those who earned a living by scraping trash heaps to find something that could be sold.

Fed up with their increasingly indecent useless chatter, I left the coffee shop after paying my bill. After a few steps I stopped and looked back at the children from the "school" studying under the mango tree. Then I continued walking. I did not go back to my car straightaway. For half an hour I walked through the alleys there. When I got back to my car I did not feel anything in particular.

***

I was having my lunch when Idris came and sat down next to me. He told me many stories. After carrying-out his duty in a clinic a young doctor served poor people for free. In addition, the young doctor also opened his rented house to a number of homeless children and paid their school fees.

Then another unique story followed. A rich businessman sent his son to an orphanage to give him the opportunity to understand what a modest life was like without the guidance of his parents. Furthermore, the businessman collected leftover bread and other unused food-stuffs from various hotels for the orphanage and other childrens' homes. His kindness also extended to almost every needy family in town.

I liked listening to his stories. Almost everyday he told me interesting stories. His subjects were always poor people and the powerless, oppressed, neglected, forgotten, the victims of unfair treatment and those deprived of their rights.

An eloquent story teller, Idris had tirelessly described it all to me as if he were asking me to write them in a thick best- selling book. I was an interested listener. When Idris told the same stories to my colleagues in the office they also listened intently with interest. Sometimes in his enthusiasm about his stories, Idris showed his partisanship. Therefore, he did not deny it when Desmal said that he was campaigning about social solidarity to us. He even nodded.

When all of us burst into laughter, Idris joined us, in his impassioned excitement.

***

Idris who was negotiating with a representative of Elmer Company from Germany in Mandarin Hotel had not yet showed up. The negotiation perhaps had been difficult, or Idris was trapped in a traffic jam.

I was talking to a visitor when the telephone rang. Enthusiastically Idris made his report. Not about his negotiation with the representative of the Elmer Company but about a group of people who came to the House of Representatives.

Their land had been bulldozed without proper compensation. At the time Idris called me, the group were still waiting to see the House speaker. Idris said he would wait there until the group talked to the speaker.

Without commenting I hung up because my visitor needed my attention. Furthermore, it was in the interests of the company. I paid no attention when the phone rang again. I was certain it must be from Idris.

I never imagined that what I had done had been wrongly interpreted by him. One hour after the call Idris appeared in my room. He looked upset. I thought he would tell me first the result of his talk with the representative of the German company before making his report to the director. I was waiting.

He was still standing in front of me, something he had never done before when he came to see me.

"How was it ?"

He said nothing and kept staring at me. Failure, I thought. As a negotiator he had failed in his negotiation with the German company.

"Negative?" I asked him.

"Yes, negative," he answered sharply. "A working colleague, a school mate who used to be in poverty and suffered, has now turned out to be a person who has no heart or feelings".

I was startled. He was no longer teasing but making an accusation. I never expected such a response. I fell silent.

"Hendar" he continued." I am tired of trying to raise your awareness. You are untouched by my words. Actually you bear a grudge against poverty and others' suffering. For you, all of that is just a normal thing and there is no need to pay attention to it".

I stared at him coldly. I was not moved to react.

"When you knew Parmin's son died because the company had cut his medical allowance, you said nothing. You kept on debating with Agus about the acquisition of a number of businesses. Even, when I said Parmin fainted because of his son's death, you and Agus seemed to turn a deaf ear".

I kept on staring at Idris.

"So many times I talked to you about the environment that needs our attention. But not politics and the business environment. And you always looked upon them as entertaining stories. As a matter of fact you have walked too far from your past. Then, just now when you hung up, I really felt that you are a complete stranger, a stranger I have never known. I was seriously disappointed. There is no longer any space in your heart to see and be sympathetic to others or to do something for another's world beyond your own world".

I kept silent. Realizing that I was struck dumb by what he had said, Idris turned and left my room. I shook my head after pondering for a while. Was it right what Idris had said? No. I did not believe it. Idris had dramatized everything. It was he who was the odd person, not me. He had no right to challenge my stance. After receiving that lecture from Idris I still did not feel anything. How weird.

After a long silence I came to the conclusion Idris might be right. Only a terrible internal war inside myself could sharpen my dull conscience. But such a war never broke out. And, it was not my fault.