Toy Gun

By Moh. Muhith

Two years ago, when Kasiman was preparing to leave for Jakarta, he had a talk with Asadi, his one and only son, who was then in kindergarten.

"What do you want me to bring you when I return from Jakarta?"

"I only want a toy gun. My friends say there are lots of great toy guns in Jakarta!" Asadi replied firmly.

Kasiman was proud to hear Asadi's answer. He had imagined that his son would someday become a brave soldier like the former famous heroes of Aceh. But then he hesitated. It was hard for him to realize that Aceh was a part of Indonesia and there were no more Dutch rulers to be fought against heroically.

"Dad, you have to promise that you will buy me a toy gun from Jakarta!" Asadi shouted as if the strength of his voice would make his father buy him a toy gun from the city.

Kasiman smiled.

"Okay, I promise, I'll buy you a toy gun. Not only one but two guns, so that you can play a game of war with your friend. Both of you can have a gun. That's fair, isn't it?" he said to Asadi, kissing his cheek.

That was two years ago. Kasiman now stood gazing at his wares neatly arranged at the roadside near a shopping mall. He looked bewildered. Recalling the conversation with his son reminded him of his promise. He had been in Jakarta for two years selling perfume and Muslim rosaries. Suddenly, he had a sudden urge to go home to Aceh to see his son. He was eager to see his son hopping about excitedly to welcome him and his toy guns.

"How much is the biggest rosary?" a lady with a white scarf asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Kasiman was startled, but quickly flashed a smile.

"Which one, ma'am?"

"That one, the biggest one," answered the old woman pointing to the biggest dark brown rosary on display.

"That is Rp 30,000, ma'am".

"Would you let me have it for Rp 20,000?"

Kasiman nodded, taking the rosary. "Do you want me to wrap it up?"

"You don't have to."

Kasiman was feeling light as he had made Rp 50,000 in profit that morning. He then bought two toy guns, each costing Rp 10,000.

"Who are these two toy guns for?" asked Bardi, a fellow vendor next to him.

"For my son back home."

"Are you going back to your hometown?"

Kasiman nodded.

"It would be better for you not to give him toy guns."

"Why?"

"It's dangerous!"

Kasiman burst out laughing.

"Don't be ridiculous. How is it dangerous? They are only toy guns, aren't they?"

"You could be shot dead if the police in your area know that you are carrying guns. How would they know you weren't carrying real ones? The Indonesian police chief has given them orders to shoot on sight."

Kasiman was thinking that the vendor was only joking, so he dismissed his remarks with a grin. He had made up his mind to go home to bring his son the two toy guns.

He was sure his son would be excited. And he was positive his son would ask him to play a game of war at home. Asadi would cock the gun, shouting, "bang, bang, bang," and Mariah, his wife would complain about the noise.

Before the noon prayer time, Kasiman began to pack up his wares and rushed to the station to buy a bus ticket. He was really anxious to get home to see his son and wife in Aceh. All of a sudden, he began to worry about their safety. He had just learned from Bardi that many Acehnese were fleeing their homes to seek refuge in a safe area. He started imagining that his wife and son were also doing the same and desperately looking for shelter somewhere.

Despite his anxiety, Kasiman hoped his wife and son would stay at home, where it was safe and sound, together with their other neighbors. He believed that since the Military Operation Zone policy had been implemented in Aceh, his village, located near a military post, had become a relatively safe place to live in.

"You'd better go home but don't bring the toy guns. I hope your wife and kid are all right there. Send my best regards to them, won't you," said Bardi, when Kasiman was about to leave for the bus station.

Kasiman sat anxiously on the bus as it sped toward Medan. From Medan he would change to another bus that would take him onward to Aceh. He had on his lap his bag with his valuables inside: the two guns, two pieces of clothing, a pair of pants and a towel.

A notice over the window read "Passengers are to keep an eye on their belongings". This had prompted him to put the bag on his lap rather than putting it on the luggage rack overhead. He did not want to lose it.

Upon arrival in Medan the next morning, Kasiman got on an Aceh-bound bus right away. Anxious to get to his village quickly, he skipped having a rest or drink at the food stalls at the bus station. To keep his empty stomach from grumbling, he drank some water and ate some bread he brought from Jakarta before the bus arrived in Medan.

"Are you going to Aceh, sir?" asked a sturdy man with a thick mustache sitting next to him.

"Not going, but returning to Aceh because my home is there," Kasiman answered, smiling.

"Where have you been?"

"Jakarta."

The man then glanced at the bag on his lap.

"You are a merchant, aren't you?"

Kasiman grinned.

"I am only a sidewalk vendor selling perfume and rosaries."

The man yawned then closed his eyes.

Feeling thirsty, Kasiman opened his bag to get some water. The man next to him opened his eyes and caught sight of the two toy guns in the bag. He seemed a little startled but pretended to stay calm. Moments after Kasiman had sipped some water, the man suddenly got out of his seat and said he wanted to get off the bus.

"Pull over," he yelled.

Suddenly Kasiman became suspicious of the man.

"Perhaps he is a spy," he thought.

Although he tried to forget about the man, Kasiman remembered Bardi's words of advice against bringing home toy guns for his son.

"What if the man is really a spy who suspects that I am carrying real guns?"

Kasiman began to worry. Horrifying thoughts flashed through his mind. He imagined himself being ambushed by an army of soldiers as soon as the bus got into Aceh. He also imagined himself being shot as soon as he got off the bus at the last terminal.

Cold sweat drenched his body. The air-conditioned bus felt musty and hot. He imagined himself being shot dead and his body taken to the address stated on his ID card in his pocket.

"Should I get rid of these two toy guns?" Kasiman wondered to himself.

But he decided not to throw away the toy guns, which would make his son happy. He tried to be strong by consoling himself that no police officer or soldier would shoot anybody suspected of carrying guns.

"If the man is really a spy, he should be able to tell the difference between a real gun and a toy," he thought.

The bus pulled into the last terminal. All the passengers got off the bus with their baggage, including Kasiman. All of a sudden a single shot was heard.

Kasiman staggered and fell to the ground. Only God knows who it was that shot him.

-- Translated by Faldy Rasyidie