by Di Morrissey
‘I don’t think we’ll ever know. He isn’t in good health, so I doubt he’s writing his memoirs. Maybe his wives will tell stories about him one day.’
‘Hmm. Now that could be interesting.’
We were alone, walking through a grove of giant bamboo, when Jimmy leaned over to kiss me. We paused, holding each other, and I was feeling a little overwhelmed by a rush of emotion, when there was a horrible screech and something flung itself towards us from behind the bamboo.
I screamed and clutched Jimmy. Both of us leaped back. I initially had no idea what had launched itself at us, but as Jimmy held me, I saw that it was a woman. Her skin was very dark and her long tangled black hair streamed over her scrawny shoulders. Her clothes were tattered, but it was her wild eyes, flailing arms and her shrieking mouth that unnerved me.
She advanced, stabbing a finger towards Jimmy and jabbering at him. He took a step forward, trying to speak calmly in the face of this tirade as I shrank back. I couldn’t understand what she was saying. It made no sense, but it seemed almost evil. Then the woman fell down, writhing and twitching on the ground.
‘Jimmy, don’t touch her!’ I shouted as Jimmy bent over her. I felt gripped by some unfathomable fear.
Just then a gardener holding a bamboo rake came running along the pathway, followed by several curious locals. He began shaking the rake at the woman as if to protect himself from a rabid dog.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ I asked, and started to cry.
The woman lifted her head and for a moment her eyes focused on Jimmy and she howled at him again before collapsing, her eyes rolling back in her head. By now there were more people and a security guard had arrived. He gathered up the woman as though she was weightless and carried her away.
The gardener looked at us and tapped his head. ‘Bad spirits. You need to see the dukun.’
I was shocked. The dukun were the traditional medicine men, the men whose authority came from their ability to use magic. The villagers had told me about witchcraft and they all accepted without question the power of those who had this special knowledge.
The gardener was telling us that the poor woman had said something to us that was so potent that it could only be removed by a dukun. Here in the beautiful Botanic Gardens of Bogor, on a bright sunny day, I was being confronted by witchcraft. It seemed completely bizarre.
‘What was she saying?’ I asked Jimmy, bewildered.
‘It was nonsense. I couldn’t understand it.’
The gardener, however, reiterated his opinion that we should see a dukun.
‘That was so scary. Why would she attack us like that?’ I asked, still shaking.
‘Forget it, Susan. Don’t let it trouble you. These things happen.’ He thanked the gardener and gave him some money and we walked away, but I could tell Jimmy was unnerved.
That night, we were all able to meet for dinner at a small restaurant down the road from the comfortable hostel where Evan and Norma lived and where I would be bunking in with Norma for the night. The accommodation was clean and spacious, if bare, but I was beginning to like the simplicity of the furniture in Indonesia and I didn’t at all mind sitting on mats on the floor, or even sharing the big wooden platform that served as a bed. Outside the door, an elderly lady, bent over her short-handled whisk broom, always wished us ‘Selamat jalan’ as we set out.
At the restaurant, smiling, barefoot boys in crisp white drill suits and black caps served us an array of local dishes with a cheerful chorus of ‘Selamat makan’. We had a view of the river and somewhere behind the rain clouds Mount Salak towered over the town.
I shared the story of the wild woman and her curse with the others over dinner.
‘That’s so creepy,’ said Norma. ‘Do you believe in that magic stuff? I certainly don’t.’
‘It seems the more you learn, the more real it appears. I’ve seen people brought in to hospital convinced they will die because someone has performed magic on them,’ said Evan.
‘And do they die?’ asked David.
Evan nodded. ‘Sometimes, although one could put the death down to any number of health issues besides superstitious beliefs.’
Norma agreed. ‘The health problems here are endless; no wonder their life expectancy is so short.’
‘We do what we can to change things, and can do little more,’ said Mark pragmatically. ‘How’s your bridge coming, Alan?’
‘I think it will be a long time coming. The access road is creating problems. Korupsi, corruption, has reared its head. It’s Rafferty’s rules around here.’
‘Maybe the Chinese should be allowed to run things,’ said Mark lightly. ‘They seem to have a much better head for business. Certainly that’s true of the ones I’ve come in contact with.’
Alan shrugged. ‘You have to be joking, Mark. In my opinion they are the root of all that is wrong with this country. Communists, every last one of them, all working for the Reds in China. As far as I’m concerned, mate, this country will never progress while there are still Chinese in it.’
Mark looked at Alan and replied, quite calmly, ‘Yes, I appreciate that your view about the evil Red Chinese is shared by a lot of other Australians, but all I can say is that when you get to know individual Chinese, like the Tans, then you know that not all the Chinese in Indonesia have communist sympathies.’
After we’d eaten, Jimmy asked me if I’d like to see a puppet show that he had heard was performing on the other side of town. He asked if any of the others wanted to come along, but they all politely declined.
I quite enjoyed the performance of the puppet show, but after a couple of hours we decided that we’d had enough and decided to return to our respective beds for the night. It was late when we headed back towards Norma’s hostel, and we were surprised to see a lot of people still about on the streets. When we asked the betjak driver what was going on, he muttered something about it being a festival.
Jimmy, who was staying with Mark at the Tans’ place as usual, kissed me good night at the entrance to the hostel and left. Norma was asleep when I tiptoed into her room, so I quietly changed into my sarong and climbed under the mosquito net beside her.
I was awakened some hours later by a cacophony of noise that sounded like shouting, banging and even gunshots.
Norma quickly rolled onto the floor beside the bed and put her hands over her head.
‘Get down!’ she cried.
But I wanted to know what was happening. ‘I’m going to see what’s going on!’ I said, crouching down and making my way towards the door.
‘Are you mad? Just get down,’ she said, tugging at my arm.
I heard the voices of other hostel residents, and I snuck out to see if they had any idea what was happening. A few people were milling in the corridor whispering to each other.
‘It’s a riot. Students again,’ said another resident.
‘What’s brought this on?’ I asked, peering out a window. The hostel had been built on a rise and we could see the streets below us. I was worried by the number of people out there, especially as some were brandishing what looked to be guns.
‘I heard that something is going to happen at daybreak,’ said a Swiss pharmacist we knew who was working temporarily at the hospital.
‘There are always rumours. But there seem to be so many people running around; where are they going?’
I caught sight of Evan rounding the corner of the corridor. He hurried towards me and even in the darkened space I could see his face was pale. ‘One of my orderlies has told me that he heard that Sukarno is being released from the palace. That’s what’s causing the riot,’ he said when he reached me.
‘What does this mean?’ I said.
‘I think that if he’s released there will be a lot of bloodshed,’ replied Evan. ‘Too many people don’t want to give him any chance of returning to power.’
Suddenly the night sky was lit up by a flash of fire.
‘They’re throwing fire bombs, torching cars or even houses,’ said Evan, standing back from the window.
‘We should stay here inside where it’s safe. These mobs can get out of control quickly,’ said the Swiss pharmacist.
‘We have friends down there in the town. I hope they’re okay,’ I said anxiously.
‘They should be, just as long as they’re not on the streets. I’m going back to my room,’ said the pharmacist.
Evan and I waited in the darkness a little time longer, and as the sound of the mob disappeared into the distance we headed to our rooms.
Norma was now lying back on the bed. I climbed in under the mozzie net, but couldn’t settle. I kept thinking about the stories the ambassador’s wife had told us about the coup little more than two years before, and how the riots had gone on for weeks. I was fairly convinced that this was an isolated event, but it was unnerving to say the least, so I found it impossible to sleep.
I don’t know how much time passed while I was just lying in the dark, but suddenly there was a commotion and I heard Mark’s voice. He was shouting frantically for me and Evan. I leaped out of bed and ran down the short hallway as Evan, half asleep, stumbled to the entrance of the hostel, with me close behind.
Mark, looking dishevelled and dirty, rushed to Evan. When I got closer, I could see that Mark’s clothes were soaked in blood.
‘Quick, Evan, Susan. You have to go to the hospital’s emergency ward!’ he cried.
‘What’s happened? Are you all right? You’re covered in blood,’ exclaimed Evan.
‘I’m fine. It’s Jimmy. I’ve just left him at the hospital, he’s in a bad way. Susan, you have to go to him. He’s been stabbed!’
My head spun and I felt weak at the knees. I groped for something to hold on to and Mark supported me as I slumped to the floor. He glanced at Evan.
‘Susan, I’m going to go to help Jimmy, okay?’ Evan said. ‘There’s a short cut through to the back of the hospital. I’ll go ahead and you follow.’
I nodded, dumbly, and then Evan, bare-chested and in cotton shorts, took off around the side of the hostel and into the hospital grounds.
My head was swimming, but I needed to know what was happening.
‘What happened to Jimmy?’ I asked Mark, my voice cracking. ‘Will he be all right?’
Mark took a deep breath, steadied himself, and held my hand tight. ‘It’s pretty bad, Susan.’
I burst into tears. ‘What happened, Mark?’ I sobbed.
He took another breath. ‘You heard the mob, didn’t you? Well, a few rioters came down our street but they didn’t stop. The Tans told us not to put a light on and stay still and quiet. A bit later, there was shouting and banging on the door and threatening voices, shouting that unless the door was opened up, they’d burn down the house.’
He paused and I stared at him in shock. ‘The Tans’ house? Why?’
Ignoring my comment, Mark continued in a voice which suggested that he couldn’t really believe what had happened.
‘Mr Tan opened the door a crack and told them to go away, but they pushed the door open and knocked him down and started kicking him and shouting. I think there were three of them. Jimmy and I rushed forward to try to make them stop.’ Mark was speaking in a rush, the words tumbling over each other. I just listened, tears rolling down my face, but my body was taut with apprehension.
‘They kept saying they wanted the gold they knew he was hiding, but Mr Tan kept insisting that he had none. It was in the bank. They were kicking him in the head, so Jimmy lunged at one of the men and tried to stop him. There was sudden confusion . . .’ Mark squeezed his eyes shut as though to block out what he had witnessed.
‘Mark . . . what happened?’ I felt cold, my voice choking, and everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.
Mark looked at me as if he was in terrible pain. ‘Then one of the men, not much more than a kid, lunged at Jimmy with a knife, yelling wildly. Jimmy fell. It was as though everything froze. Then one of the other men shouted, “Orang kulit putih”, white man. They had attacked a white man, and they knew this would cause big trouble, so they ran.’ He drew breath. ‘Mr Tan quickly found a betjak and we put Jimmy in it and came straight to the hospital. He’ll be all right, Susan. He’ll be all right.’ But the way Mark said this, it seemed it was himself he was trying to convince, not me.
I felt my strength come back to me and Mark helped me to my feet.
‘I have to go to him,’ I said. I got dressed and Mark, Norma and I took the short cut to the hospital.
There we sat and waited. Norma was able to find out that they were operating on Jimmy.
I sat, stony-faced, holding Mark’s hand while Norma brought us some horrible coffee. She fidgeted, occasionally patting my arm and muttering comforting phrases. As I looked around, I realised that the emergency waiting room was full of injured people. The night’s disturbances had left their mark.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. Pictures of Jimmy ran across my mind like a slide show; Jimmy sitting beside me in a betjak, his warm leg pressed against mine; leaping from bed in Lake Toba to open the shutters, the golden streaks of sunshine striping his lean naked body; laughing as I tried my first frog’s leg; his intense expression as he studied the carvings at Borobudur; looking across the table at me with an amused quizzical smile as I poured out my dreams and silly childhood reminiscences; holding hands as we strolled through the streets of Bogor; comforting me after the incident of the peeping tom and when the mad woman attacked us in the Botanic Gardens. Suddenly I thought, is the crone’s curse coming true? It was all too much. I buried my face in my hands and I cried and cried.
I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and Evan stood before me in a faded hospital gown. My eyes went to the blood stains on it. I lifted my face to his.
His blue eyes were dull, as though the sun had gone behind a cloud. I looked at his lips as he tried to frame words. Then his fingers tightened on my shoulder and he slowly shook his head.
Norma gasped and her hand flew to her mouth as tears flooded her eyes. Mark’s head dropped, and his hands covered his face as he choked.
I simply stared at Evan in disbelief, waiting for him to say, ‘It’s all right. Jimmy is fine.’
But no words came. Then Mark leaped to his feet and slammed his fist into the wall.
‘Bastards!’
I stood up and gripped Evan’s hand. I couldn’t think of a thing to say. This was all happening to someone else, not to me.
‘I’m so sorry. By the time he got to the hospital he had lost so much blood . . . Do you want to see him?’ Evan asked gently. I really didn’t. I wanted to remember handsome smiling Jimmy as I knew him. But then I thought of what a coward I was. I had to tell him goodbye. I nodded.
‘I’ll come with you if you like,’ offered Norma. Mark and Evan asked if they could come as well.
‘Yes. Thanks,’ I muttered.
He was lying under a green cotton sheet. His eyes were closed and his hands were neatly clasped over the top of the sheet. He looked young, innocent and strangely peaceful. I touched his hand. It was smooth and cool.
I had no words to say. Mark put his arm around my shoulders and led me away. When I got back to Norma’s room, I couldn’t stop crying. I simply could not take in the fact that Jimmy, my Jimmy, was dead. It was as though I was in a terrible dream, just waiting for someone to wake me up. But no one did.
*
I was glad I’d had that short time in the hospital saying goodbye to Jimmy. After that, officialdom swung into action and I had no part to play. The American Embassy in Singapore arranged for his body to be taken back to the States, as his family wanted him buried there. The six of us could do little more than light candles in the beautiful old Bogor Cathedral. I
wrote a letter to Jimmy’s family, explaining how Jimmy had died and just how special he was to me. His mother wrote back, thanking me for my letter, but after that there was nothing to say.
I spoke to Mr Robinson on a scratchy phone line and he was full of sympathy, asking me what I wanted to do.
I chose to return to my kampong to try and find some solace in the calm routine of a simple life. There I tried to cope with the fact that I’d lost the man I’d secretly allowed myself to think might love me all my life. The villagers gave me the space to be alone and I was grateful for this healing time.
But when a letter arrived from my mother full of trivial, happy news, unaware of what had happened, I suddenly desperately wanted to go home, to my family and the familiar safety of my Australia, where violence didn’t come in the middle of the night.
Mr Robinson was understanding and agreed that I could leave the programme early.
My friends and I had a quiet last dinner together. Evan, David, Mark, Alan and Norma. They all said that they were disturbed by the events, but they all wanted to stay on in Indonesia, even Norma, and they did.
After they finished their term they received individual letters of thanks and glowing references. But although Australians continued to work as volunteers in Indonesia, funding for this particular programme was withdrawn. We were its only participants.
Of course, Sukarno was never released; it had just been another of those rumours that continually swirled around Indonesia. He died three years later, still under house arrest.
Jimmy’s murderers were never caught. Mark told me that he was pretty sure that one of the men involved had also been part of that unpleasant incident in the markets all those weeks before. He said he thought they’d used the riots as a cover to try to extort money from Mr Tan. It seemed to me that Jimmy had paid a very high price for their greed. I still couldn’t believe he was gone.
*
Susan stopped talking and there was silence in the room.
