Twilight in Djakarta (23 page)

‘The result is the people have become listless and don’t care any more. Many become cynical and the rate of disintegration worsens. It is therefore essential to find a new rallying-point for the people. The only new rallying-point which could inspire them with the old spirit is if we could prove that work has really started and efforts are really under way to provide them with a decent standard of living. The steady decline in the value of money could be speedily reversed. All activities must be aimed at raising the level of the people’s welfare, and not merely at enriching a few small cliques of leaders.

‘The ways of thinking we’ve used so far must be discarded.’

Pranoto added, ‘Relating the conditions in the regions as seen by Murhalim, the situation of the new cabinet and the riots that have occurred … and if we’d analyse the present situation—’ Suddenly Pranoto stopped because Iesye, her voice trembling, interrupted him vehemently.

‘Pranoto, I’m ashamed to hear you speak. Murhalim has been killed because he wanted to defend the little man, our country’s in a mess, our leaders are like drunkards without any sense of responsibility, stealing and plundering a people unable to defend itself – and here we gather from evening to evening to analyse what’s wrong with our country. Isn’t there anyone here who realises that the sickness of our country has already been analysed and discussed more than enough? Hasn’t the moment come for all those who’ve any sense of responsibility for their people’s well-being to act?’

‘Aduh, this is precisely what Murhalim had said to me as soon as he got back from Sumatra,’ said Pranoto. ‘Murhalim said that we must have the courage to pledge our whole beings, our physical and spiritual selves, to the fight for the common people.
If we don’t, we’re sure to be defeated. According to Murhalim, the communists promise the people everything under the sun, but they also dedicate themselves completely to their cause. They live and work among the people. Although they pass off lies to the people, they also work themselves to death to build up their influence. Even though the people will realise how badly they’ve been deceived when the communists have won and how they’re being oppressed under a totalitarian communist regime, this awareness will come too late and will be utterly futile.

‘Then Murhalim said that we who have chosen democracy as the way to attain the welfare of the masses and have chosen a society which guarantees justice, the rule of law, the rights and dignity of man, must work ten times as hard as the communists, because we cannot fight with lies, deceit and empty promises as weapons. The communists promise: join us, and if we win you’ll get land, a house and good wages; the property of the rich will be confiscated, and so on. We, however, must spur the people to work harder and to sacrifice more. But the masses are easily taken in by the promises of the communists, because that is human nature.

‘That’s why Murhalim had decided to dedicate himself completely, dedicate his whole being, to the struggle he thus outlined.’

‘And now he is dead!’ said Ies. ‘And we’re still talking and analysing here ….’ Her voice broke. ‘None of you are men … just gossiping women ….’ Ies got up, sobbing, and ran out of the room …. They all sat staring at one another.

Pranoto rose. He looked at his friends. He said,

‘There is truth in what Ies said. Up to now we’ve been pretty pleased with ourselves, thinking we were serving our country and our people by analysing conditions in the peace of this room. Now the time has come for us to get out of the room!’

Pranoto walked out to join Ies.

Ies sat on the wall of the front verandah, crying to herself. Pranoto came up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. Ies took his hand.

‘I was thinking of Murhalim who died, and us still talking … I felt as though we were betraying him,’ said Ies.

‘I understand,’ said Pranoto. ‘Our mistakes are clear to me now. We thought our good intentions would just communicate with the people all by themselves, and they’d follow us automatically. But it seems that actually it isn’t so. The good must also have the courage to fight the evil.’

‘Isn’t it too late?’ said Ies.

‘No,’ said Pranoto. ‘It is never too late to fight in defence of the good against the evil.’

Ies tightened her grip on Pranoto’s hand. And suddenly in the air before him Pranoto saw Connie’s face.

On the night of January 26
^th
security measures were strengthened in Djakarta. Police patrols made the rounds more often. And on the same night, the vice squads took special action and rounded up street prostitutes soliciting customers at the roadside or riding round town in betjas. About fifty women were arrested that night. Neneng was detained while standing with a few companions in front of the Catholic church in Banteng Square.

At sundown Saimun learned from Itam’s friends that Itam was dead, shot in an incident at the rice and kerosene line. He wanted to see Itam’s body but was afraid, and all that night he kept standing in front of the police headquarters’ office, hoping to hear something about Itam. Later, as he sat for hours at the roadside near a vendor of fried bananas, some police trucks came by and turned into the yard. They were full of women picked up in the raids. That night the police station was very busy. Not long afterwards a number of men appeared, as though on orders,
claiming that their wives were among the women arrested by the police and that their wives had not been soliciting but turning down offers when picked up by the police.

Saimun joined the men claiming to be the husbands of the arrested women when they went inside, into the room where the police were conducting their investigations. Suddenly Saimun saw Neneng. He plucked up his courage and approached the group of women. As no one interfered, Saimun went up close to Neneng and said,

‘Neneng, why you!’

It was the first time that Neneng had been arrested by the police and she was frightened, though her companions, who were quite used to it, had said to her,

‘There’s nothing to be afraid of; you’ll be released tomorrow.’

But that night Neneng was badly frightened and she was happy to see Saimun.

‘Aduh, kak,’ she said. ‘Help me. If someone says he’s my husband I can go home now, they say.’

‘Neng, I want to,’ said Saimun. ‘We’ll just get married, we’ll go back to the village. What’s the good living like this in the city with no sense to it? Do you want?’ Saimun was speaking without thinking.

Then Neneng remembered the village, its peaceful life, free of the kind of work she was doing now – a life never free of fear … all sorts of fears … rough men who wanted you to do indecent things … fear of the police … fear of the day and fear of the night … a fear never ending – and Neneng nodded to Saimun.

A great surge of pride welled up in Saimun, and when a policeman shouted at him, telling him to get out,

‘Hai, lu there, why’re you getting so close, is she really your wife?’

Saimun answered bravely,

‘Right, pak, this is my wife,’ and he took Neneng by the hand.

And his fear of the police vanished. He was now ready to fight for a life with Neneng.

The night held the city in tight embrace. The streets were deserted. Later a torrential downpour blown in from the sea by a great storm descended on Djakarta. But all through the night dark shapes crept stealthily about, feeling their way, slipping into the houses of people who were fast asleep, thieves of the night doing their work ….