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.