Twilight in Djakarta (10 page)

‘The party exists for the workers, the peasants, the whole people. But the party can only do something for the people if the party is in power. In order to attain power, the party must be big and strong. That’s why this phase is one of building up the party. And shouldn’t we expect everyone to join forces to build up the party, the working class included?’

‘Ah, nice words, but is it true? When the party gets into power, won’t the workers just become its tools?’

‘Brother Hermanto!’ Achmad banged the table. ‘These are treasonable words! How can you talk this way? I propose that we stop this argument. Come on, let’s discuss the report on the workers’ demands sent to the party!’

Hermanto, still standing, said,

‘I’m not participating. I don’t want to go on misleading the workers!’

He walked out of the room. Udin half rose, intending to detain him, but Achmad gave him a sign to let Hermanto go. Hermanto slammed the door and through the window they could see him walking hurriedly towards the highway.

Achmad took a handkerchief out of his trouser pocket, wiped his face and then said,

‘He’s gone astray! Has no dedication!’

‘Better be careful with him,’ said Bambang. ‘His influence among the dockworkers is strong.’

‘Both of you, brothers, watch his activities carefully,’ said Achmad. ‘If necessary we will take special steps to break Hermanto. Nah, let’s now return to the workers’ complaints. Once more the party orders you to stress firmly that a strike at this time is something much desired by the reactionaries, as well as by the capitalists and the imperialists. We must not be misled and trapped by them. The workers must be persuaded that whoever goes on strike or is in favour of striking before the party has given its assent, will be lending support to the enemies of the Indonesian people, that is the cliques of the reactionaries, of the capitalists and of the imperialists. Get this done, brothers.’

Achmad stood up, took from his pocket two envelopes and gave one each to Udin and Bambang.

‘As deserving activists of the party, you both are again entitled to the party’s support. You will find inside two hundred rupiah for each of you, brothers.’

Udin and Bambang expressed their thanks and promised to
execute the party’s orders to the best of their ability.

‘And watch that Hermanto!’ said Achmad, when he was at the door ready to leave the room.

Raden Kaslan, Husin Limbara and Suryono sat at a table in the corner of the Capitol Restaurant.

A waiter came to their table with beer. Raden Kaslan glanced at his wristwatch and then turned to Suryono.

‘Does Halim know we’re all meeting here at twelve noon?’

‘He knows, Father!’ replied Suryono. ‘I telephoned him myself. He is certain to come.’

Husin Limbara raised his head and said, smiling,

‘Ah, here comes one of them.’

Sugeng appeared, approached their table and Husin Limbara, remaining seated, introduced him to Raden Kaslan and Suryono.

‘This is brother Sugeng of the Ministry of Economic Affairs,’ said Husin Limbara. ‘He has joined our party and is actively participating in our programme.’

When Sugeng was seated, Raden Kaslan asked him,

‘What would you like to drink, brother? Beer, whisky-soda?’

‘A whisky-soda will be fine, thank you!’ answered Sugeng. For some time he had been growing accustomed to strong drink, and had even come to like it. At home he now had a refrigerator, a present from one of the importers, and he always had a supply of whisky, cognac, ready-mixed martinis, etc. At first Hasnah objected – why take up the habit of drinking strong drinks, she said – but Sugeng had only laughed and said it was necessary for entertaining visitors. By now he was used to it, and he enjoyed a whisky-and-soda.

A few minutes later Halim arrived, greeted them and immediately sat down.

‘This is brother Sugeng of the Ministry of Economic Affairs,’ Raden Kaslan said, introducing Sugeng to Halim.

Sugeng shook hands with Halim, and as he looked at him contempt rose in his heart. So he was the man who daily denounced in his newspaper corruption and actions detrimental to the people and the state. And here he was playing the same game! As for himself, he didn’t feel too guilty of having harmed his country. What he had done was only to fulfil Hasnah’s wishes, and in his view her wishes were just. Especially for his baby. For a baby every man has the full right to do whatever is necessary, he thought. But here was Halim. A newspaper man. He couldn’t grasp it. Husin Limbara was another matter, he was a politician. Didn’t people always say that politics was a dirty game? What they were doing here was only a part of that dirty politics. The party needed ample funds for the general elections. But Halim, the newspaper man, who day in, day out exhorted people to uphold honesty in their work …!

He could also understand Raden Kaslan. Also his son, Suryono. All they were out for was the money. One cannot blame people whose only aim is wealth so they can do what they like. And he himself? Ah, he was not after money, nor did he seek power. All he wanted was to safeguard the well-being of his family.

Husin Limbara cleared his throat, coughed a little and said,

‘Brothers. We have gathered here to discuss the implementation of our programme. As you know, we have been busy for some time collecting funds for the general elections. Thanks to the assistance of brother Raden Kaslan and also of his son Suryono, and of brother Halim as well, much has been achieved already. But now the party has decided to work even more efficiently. Brother Sugeng, who works in the Ministry of Economic Affairs, has been promoted by our minister to head the division that issues import licences. Brother Sugeng has also joined our party ….’

Ah, I joined only for protection, Sugeng said to himself at Husin Limbara’s words.

‘Our main problem at the moment is that we must work fast.
The opposition groups have already launched attacks against the issuance of special licences. Several of the government parties are beginning to feel that they’re not getting their fair share. That’s why whatever needs to be achieved must be done before it is too late, Brother Halim’s job is to counter all attacks directed against us. We need closer co-ordination. Some time ago one of our applications was delayed for over a month because they didn’t realise that this application had come from us. Such occurrences must be prevented. The minister himself will protect Sugeng should anything come up. Yet, everything we do must follow the legal procedures and remain strictly within the law.’

‘We have no difficulties at our end,’ said Raden Kaslan. ‘Our organisations are all established and running smoothly. I’d only like to know whether perhaps there aren’t some people in brother Sugeng’s division who could obstruct our programme. Also I would like us to be notified immediately if there are any government orders, so we’re not late in submitting our bids.’

‘As for the government orders, I can arrange that easily,’ responded Husin Limbara. ‘But on the first question, may I ask brother Sugeng to answer?’

Sugeng smiled inwardly. His regard for political leaders such as Husin Limbara had now collapsed completely. So they’re thieves, too, he thought. In what way are they my betters, then? I am really not wrong in doing what I am doing. He looked at Husin Limbara and smiled.

‘No one will make any trouble. Provided we “grease”,’ he said.

‘Ah, fine, fine,’ said Husin Limbara. ‘That’s a small matter. We’ll leave the greasing to you. Money will soon be easy!’

‘Nah, now back to our programme,’ said Husin Limbara after his remark. ‘There is a large-scale order which we must get ….’

Idris, Dahlia’s husband, had been awaiting Dahlia for over two hours now. He had just returned from his inspection tour in
Sumatra and upon arrival didn’t find her at home. There was only the babu guarding the house. The place felt rather desolate. The children of the family next door, which had taken Sugeng’s place, and who usually filled the place with commotion in the afternoon, were away. The babu told him that her mistress had gone to Pasar Baru. Idris looked at his watch. It was already two o’clock. She takes a long time to shop, he thought, and where does she get the money from? For a moment the thought of this money produced a gnawing feeling in his heart. For a long time he had wanted to ask Dahlia how she got the money to buy such good kains and lovely new jackets. He could no longer believe that Dahlia was so clever at saving money from his salary that she could buy all this. But he quailed before asking her. He was afraid that Dahlia would get angry and accuse him of distrusting her. During their six years of marriage he had never been angry with Dahlia. And when she was angry he just kept quiet.

Idris rubbed his forehead. For some time he had been feeling weak, and he tired easily. Just sitting up in the plane on the less than two-hour flight from Palembang to Djakarta had already strained his back. He got up to get cigarettes from Dahlia’s dressing-table. A portrait of Dahlia stood on the table. Idris contemplated the portrait and it made him feel proud to see how very beautiful his wife was. Then, as if something were pulling his face, he looked up into the mirror. Idris saw the face of a
middle-aged
man, with rather hollow cheeks, eyes bleary with weariness. He kneaded his cheeks and thought, I am old already. Much older than Dahlia.

Their wedding six years ago then came to his mind. It was just after the Dutch had recognised the R.I.S.
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He had come to Djakarta from Jogja as a partisan of the Republic. Met Dahlia in her office. She worked with N.I.C.A.
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So did her father. He was
immediately attracted to Dahlia. And when he proposed to her Dahlia accepted at once. Her parents, too, were pleased to have him as son-in-law.

During the first years he was happy with Dahlia. It was only in these last months that a distance and a sort of emptiness seemed to have come between them. He had known for a long time that his salary could not cover their living expenses. At first he thought that Dahlia was often cool because of her dissatisfaction with their lack of money. On top of all that came his frequent absence, connected with his work. He hadn’t really stopped to think about all this clearly. But now he felt depressed. He had sent Dahlia a telegram from Palembang informing her of his arrival. Usually, if Dahlia did not meet him at the airport, she waited for him at home. But now, for the first time, Dahlia had not been there to greet him. His anxiety grew. He was much disturbed. Then, being a kind man, he began to blame himself. It’s hard on Dahlia, he thought, not to have any children. And it’s my fault. Three years ago they had gone to be examined by a doctor, and according to the doctor it was he who was infertile. Their initial disappointment was later dispelled as Dahlia seemed to have accepted this state of affairs. For a time Dahlia was even more tender and closer to him, until he too was reconciled to the idea of never having children. But now he felt perturbed and depressed and an intense desire came over him to share in the happiness of having a child.

Idris kept kneading his cheek, gazing into the mirror and saying to himself, I’m older than my real age. I’m only forty-two, but my face is that of an old man of fifty. While Dahlia is only thirty-two, but looks like a young woman of twenty-five. He drew in a deep, long breath and sighed as though accepting a situation that can neither be rejected nor changed. He kept asking himself, what more could he offer Dahlia? And at the same time the answer persistently recurred – he had nothing to offer which could give delight to a young woman like Dahlia.

Ah, let it be, if only she stays with me and we’re together always – that’s enough. And then he was utterly overcome with a longing for Dahlia to be home. He longed to see her body, her face, hear her voice.

Tired of looking at himself in the mirror Idris rose, taking with him Dahlia’s photograph, and lay down on the bed. From the pillow emanated a perfume, a perfume unknown to him, intensifying his desire for Dahlia to return. Without knowing, Idris then dozed off, his right hand still clutching Dahlia’s photograph.

When Dahlia returned after a while she found Idris in this position, asleep. She smiled to herself, tiptoed to the bed and kissed him on the temple.

Idris woke up, opened his eyes, smiled to see Dahlia, embraced his wife and she kissed him, whispering,

‘Aduh, forgive me. I had a prior appointment with a friend, and that’s why I could not wait for you at home. Don’t be angry, yes?’

Idris could say nothing since his mouth was covered by Dahlia’s mouth; the great happiness that now filled his heart spread through his whole body, and he embraced her fervently. Dahlia’s handbag slipped from her hand, fell open as it hit the floor, with a five-hundred-rupiah note half protruding from it. Dahlia, abandoning Idris’ mouth, glanced at her handbag on the floor, sat up quickly and said to Idris,

‘Hush, wait a minute, I’ll change my clothes!’

As she got up she stooped, picked up her handbag, pushed the note back into the bag and hurriedly started to take off her kain and kebaya,
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Idris watching her with growing desire.

‘Nah, you’re beginning to get it,’ said Driver Miun to Saimun. ‘But now there’ll be trouble getting the permit. Y’have to know how to read. Better Saimun now learn to read. There’re “courses for
combatting illiteracy” in the kampung.’
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Saimun had been learning to drive the truck for several months now. He was overjoyed at Driver Miun’s words. He turned to Itam who was busy washing a wheel of the truck.

‘Hear this, ’Tam,’ he said, ‘and when I get my permit, I teach you to steer.’

‘We go together to learn read and write. I also want to learn,’ answered Itam.

‘But number one, truck must be washed!’ said Driver Miun.

Saimun and Itam laughed, and readily followed Driver Miun’s order. They felt very happy, the future was full of promise.

While wiping a tyre Saimun told Itam,

‘When I get permit ’lready, I sure become oplet driver. They say one can get thirty, up to fifty, rupiah one day. Just think!’