Pubdate: Sun, 23 Jan 2005
Source: Jakarta Post (Indonesia)
Copyright: The Jakarta Post
Contact:  http://www.thejakartapost.com
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/645
Author: Laine Berman

Part 2 Of 2

AS DARKNESS FALLS

I couldn't stomach watching my own sweet husband destroy his life, his 
brilliant mind, his talents, his reputation, his business, his marriage. I 
just didn't want to know any more. I felt sick, as if all my insides were 
turning to lead. My legs now felt as empty as my arms had earlier and I sat 
down next to Anton, held his hand in mine, but couldn't look him in the 
eyes. I begged the police not to torture him -- but to scare the crap out 
of him was fine by me. Now what?

They found ganja seeds and a bong (tool to smoke putaw). Oh shit. Now 
they'll think I'm also involved and that I knew all about this. I had told 
them that he never smoked in the house, and now this was proven false. Sure 
he did. Each night he'd come home late with friends after I'd gone to bed 
and smoke in the back yard. Each morning after he'd wake up, he'd bathe, 
fill his bong and smoke in the back -- before ever coming to see me in my 
office. It disgusted me. He stank from the stuff and I'd always tell him 
with revulsion how disgusting the smell was. Brush your teeth, get rid of 
that stench before you leave. He never did.

Because of his stupid ganja, I spent almost no time with him. He preferred 
the company of drugs to me. He preferred the company of drug dealers and 
users to his old artist and activist friends.

OK. His choice. I stayed busy with my own life, my own work. He had no 
interest in my life and my concerns and I no longer had any interest in 
his. What kind of life is this I kept asking myself? It was all so 
embarrassing. Where was the great guy I fell in love with, married, shared 
my life with, dragged overseas, sacrificed so much for? This guy surely was 
not my sweet Anton. He was just some stupid, mindless, druggie who never 
paid attention to me, who never did anymore art work, who rejected every 
suggestion I ever gave him, who never helped me with anything, who wouldn't 
even change a light bulb when I asked him to. This man living with me (when 
he deigned to come home) was just some drug-smelly jerk who I hated. What 
did I have to do to get my Anton back?

Part of me, I must admit, was relieved that he was finally arrested. I knew 
it was coming. That was inevitable. His cockiness was just so overwhelming 
that there was no way he'd get away with this for long. Now what? Do I hold 
good on my threats?

"Anton, remember I warned you not to count on me for anything", I said 
still avoiding his gaze. "I'll call your father and ask him to take care of 
this."

He squeezed my hand and whispered, "I'm so sorry. I wish I'd listened to 
you." I looked up into that familiar, sweet face and saw the fear in his 
eyes. Oh god. I can't do this Anton, I thought to myself.

"Call papa, and call Gus."

"Of course I will." You make this huge mess, and I'll obediently clean it 
all up for you.

I held on to him as if he were my life vest in a sinking boat. I was 
drowning in the tears that would not flow.

"Remember when we first contracted this house and I said, what on earth 
will I do in such a huge place all alone when you get arrested, and you 
responded, don't talk like that? I'm pretty clever eh? You should know 
better than to ignore my words by now."

"You're right Len. I am really sorry."

"Sorry because you got caught or sorry because you have destroyed your life 
and mine?" He gazed at me in silence.

The police finally took him away at about 9 pm. I was all alone. Now what? 
Do I hold to my promise to let him rot, or do I move? Move. Or at least 
start. First I called papa. "Pa, I have some bad news. Anton has been 
arrested for drugs."

Papa is no dope. He has also warned Anton. But what made things worse was 
the sound of this calm elderly man wheezing and gasping for each asthmatic 
breath. "Laine, I can't come and help you. My asthma is far too bad. I 
can't do anything now but struggle for breath. I'm sorry. You'll have to do 
what you can. Please don't let my child rot in prison. Do whatever you can 
to get him out of this." "Sure papa. I'll do what I can." I started to cry. 
There went my first option -- leave it to papa like I'd threatened for 
ages. Papa tried to calm me. "We'll send mama tomorrow morning." "Thanks pa."

OK, next. SMS Gus. Gus, Anton was just arrested on drugs charges. Can you 
help? SEND. Gus telephoned right away. "Tell me what happened." I told him. 
Thank god Anton has powerful friends.

"OK, leave it to me. I'll find out who is connected to the arresting 
division." Thank you Gus! Now what?

It was late, I was alone. I was shaking. Now what? My HP buzzed with an SMS 
from Adi, Anton's studio partner. Today was his day off and luckily he was 
not there when the bust came. Adi had no part in Anton's stupidity and I 
was so relieved to hear he was safe. His SMS read, just back at the studio 
-- it's a mess, no contact with Anton, what's going on? I called him and 
told him. "We'll be right over."

Adi and Yeni were at the door in no time, ready to stay with me and relieve 
whatever they could of the emptiness. I related all I could and we just 
talked till the wee hours. Finally, Adi suggested we go to bed and see 
Anton in the morning to see what will come of it. My cell phone was buzzing 
with calls and SMS's all night from Gus' connections. Things were 
definitely rolling. Only I had no idea or hand in the plans.

For the next three days I spent every moment I could with Anton, visiting 
him in prison, being friendly with the police so they wouldn't beat him, 
and cleaning up the mess Anton left behind. I negotiated with the village 
head, neighbors, and owners for the shop to reopen for business, and called 
a meeting of all tattooists in Yogya to discuss the issues and come up with 
a response.

We needed to be sure that the rest did not catch flak for my husband's 
stupidity. We negotiated a plan of response, but if anything has been done 
about it, I certainly do not know. For these three days, I never ate one 
bite of food and had absolutely no sleep. No time, no need, no desire.

Efficiently and systematically I took care of everyone's needs but my own. 
Everyone called to ask about Anton, but no one asked about me. No one 
seemed to care that I helped the other people arrested with my husband, 
supplying them with toothbrushes, paste, soap, clothes when their own 
families did not. No one thanked me for calling their parents to inform 
them where their sons where when none of their other friends had the 
courage to do so.

Anton and all his friends were fine because I took care of everything. No 
one asked about the police calling me constantly to pay for this and that 
or my husband would be beaten. No one seemed to think it was rude to ask me 
to pay their son's fines so they can come home when my own husband could 
not. No one asked me about the strange men riding slowly past my house at 
all times, watching.

No one took seriously my worries about being attacked, a single, foreign 
woman, all alone now. None of Anton's friends stopped by to just be here 
with me. The Javanese are afraid of 'setress', others would explain in 
their defense. Of course I was setress (stress). Isn't that why they should 
come?

After 12 years living in Java, the gulf between me and them has widened. My 
eyes have been opened so far and so wide that the ache seems permanent. Yet 
I already know that if and when this is all over, I will receive them in my 
home again, face them civilly, as if nothing ever happened.

Yogyakarta, June 14 2004