Trauma

Trauma

Umadah

"Mother's found another woman for me. Imah, let's just separate
peacefully or you must let me have a second wife."

"Mas Handoyo, are you joking?" Rohimah retorted.

"What for? I'm serious. So is my mother. She can't wait any
longer for a grandchild."

"Is a child an absolute for a marriage?" asked Rohimah again,
cynically.

Handoyo shook his head many times in his confusion. He was
still unable to fathom what was in her heart even after almost
four years of marriage. He felt a damned fool as a stranger to
his own wife. She was a mystery to him.

"Obviously it is, Imah!" Handoyo said firmly. "What else does
a married couple expect? Is it wealth? Affluence means nothing a
family without offspring. Children have greater value, more than
anything else in the world, and no substitution is possible."

"Is a baby so valuable to you, mas?"

"What are you talking about, Imah? What are you after in this
family? As a woman you should long to have a baby. I don't know
why every time we talk about a child, you look as if you are
facing a monster."

"A child may also invite disaster," responded Rohimah
flippantly.

"Goodness," Handoyo exclaimed, even more puzzled.

"Lots of kids grow up only to be drug addicts, robbers and
prostitutes."

"They're children who lack parental care and love," argued
Handoyo. "What is the problem with you, Imah?"

"So we go ahead tonight?" she asked, trying to change the
subject, giving a tempting smile. "But I still must take this
pill first."

"Please don't, Imah. The time when we did it just for the fun
of it is past. There's now a loftier pursuit. We must have a
baby" said Handoyo in a high tone.

"Mas..."

In the early days of their marriage, Handoyo was fairly
tolerant of his wife taking the pill before they made love.
Having no house of their own was her excuse. They had shared the
same house with Handoyo's parents since their wedding. Rohimah
didn't want to have a child for fear of disturbing her
parents-in-law.

Handoyo began saving from his small wage as a clerk in a
private company. It had seemed a dream for him, but prudent use
of funds enabled him to save enough to buy the house.

After moving to their small but comfortable home, Rohimah had
stayed on the pill. Now, there were other expenses --
neighborhood celebrations, obligations -- which became her excuse
to avoid getting pregnant.

As a diligent, honest and responsible worker, Handoyo
gradually gained a promotion. After his appointment as the
warehouse chief, he was transferred to the marketing department.
With much field experience and good performance, the firm placed
him back in the office and named him marketing head.

Now there would be no more excuses.

"Imah, if you persist in refusing to get pregnant, you just
choose, either we separate amiably or I will marry another
woman."

"So you're serious?" asked Rohimah in disbelief.

"Yes!"

"If I'm pregnant and the baby is born, will it be safe in my
hands? I, I...," she said haltingly.

Suddenly she raised her hands high.

"Mas Han, look at my hands. Why are they like this?!" Both her
hands were trembling. Handoyo immediately approached his wife,
holding and gripping her hands now bathed in a cold sweat.

Handoyo knew something was wrong. His wife would refuse to see
friends who had given birth to their babies. She would do it only
if she had no choice, such as visiting nearby neighbors, her
husband's close colleagues and relatives, during which she would
glimpse the infants from a distance without getting near.

Once she made quite a stir when she saw Ita, Handoyo's younger
sister, after delivery. Ita needed to go to the toilet, but the
baby had to be held for it would cry if placed on the mattress.
Only Rohimah and Handoyo were left in her room, and she was given
the baby. But her hands started shaking, and she fell into wide-
eyed convulsions.

"What's wrong, Imah?" Handoyo cried out.

"Help, help me hold this baby." The newborn nearly slipped out
of her hands. Fortunately, Handoyo caught hold of it quickly.

Rohimah sat limply on the floor, her body soaked in sweat.

"You should be honest, Imah. Tell me everything you have ever
experienced. I will help solve all your problem," asked Handoyo
patiently.

And so she told him.

It occurred when she was still seven. One night, the sky was
obscured by brooding clouds, with strong winds, heavy rain and
rumbling thunder. Rohimah's mother took her and her newborn
brother outside, walking half crouching to a nearby bridge in the
rain.

Her mother covered the baby's mouth with tape, and then slowly
strangled it until it fell limp in her hands. She then threw it
into the river, the swell of the river quickly carrying it far
away.

As she came of age, Rohimah began to figure out who the father
of the baby was. He must have been the strange man with the
searching eyes who would arrive late at night, only to leave
several hours later.

It was not Rohimah's father, who worked as a seaman and was
sometimes gone for two years at a time.

"I saw the whole terrible thing myself. I witnessed how the
innocent infant was killed by its own natural mother, my own. And
since that time, even seeing a baby has been my greatest dread."

Her body convulsed, her eyes staring straight ahead, cold
perspiration all over her. Handoyo brought some warm water. He
gave her a massage and told her to drink the water.

One night, in a quiet and relaxed atmosphere, Rohimah asked
the same question: "So we shall go ahead now?"

"You keep taking it?" asked Handoyo sadly, seeing the pill in
the palm of her hand.

"Yes."

"Imah, I love you so much. I don't want to leave you. But if
you insist, I have to follow my mother's advice. I will accept
the woman she's proposed."

"Mas Han, will my baby be safe after it's born?"

"Forget all the bitter past. And I will accompany you under
whatever conditions. Yes, I will always protect you from your
nightmare. Let's keep praying to God so we can be delivered from
evil."

"Mas Han, stay beside me always. I'm scared, very frightened."

And she dropped the pill from her hand. That night their room
was filled with the air of fragrant and sacred love.

Translated by Aris Prawira

Note:
Mas : Javanese term of address for a man or husband.