Ballad Inmates
Ballad Inmates (Part 6)

By Dalem Tehang

I smoked a cigarette while diving into Joko's words. This guy my age looks so much fun. Also has above average intelligence in interpreting life with simple languages.

“If you may know, what case do you have?” my many. 

While exhaling his cigarette smoke, the plontos-headed man looked at me. Sardonic. As if wanting to open my heart through the look of my eyes. 

“According to you, what case am I stuck?” abugn. Back asking. I just shrugged my shoulders. 

Joko laughs. Meanless. Ogre. Suddenly his face changed. Which is usually shaded, becomes tightened. Strenuous. The expression of a suddenly ignited soul.

“I got a tire case, Mario. I'm a truck driver for a freight company. Because I can not bear the weight of the burden of work, plus the needs of life that must be met, finally I can not control myself,” said Joko later.    

“Terus, what are you selling?” my many. Half of them don't believe. Joko who seemed educated and mature in controlling the situation, turned out to work as a truck driver.

“That time, I got the task of delivering goods to Jakarta. I'm a contact friend who wants to buy tires with the same rim at once. Coincidentally just changed all my truck tires. The friend wants to tell him. We met at one of the rest areas in Cirebon. Apparently, when I got there, he didn't show up. Hp is also no longer active,” Joko continues the story.

“Continue kayaking where?” as if. Interested in the continuation of his story.

“I bargained the same rim to another truck driver, who again breaks at the rest area as well. Let me have Rp 8 million. I got on the bus. Go home to Sragen,”.

“Where are you stuck?” i said again. 

“After two days in Sragen found his wife and son who again returned home, I intend to find a job in Surabaya. The bus that I was riding entered Nganjuk Terminal and nurunin passengers, six people appeared. Apparently police. Sangkep me. Yes, I resigned. I'm finally here, meet you,” he said again. A smile on his thick lips. 

“Kok can be so serious your engineer apparatus? Is it just a mretelin tire with a rim? Not selling the truck?!” my spoken.

“The boss where I work is making money, Mario. The great expeditionary businessman. Many of his friends were high-ranking officials. No wonder who is macem-macem with his business affairs, will certainly be finished off,” said Joko. 

“Which name is Mario where?” suddenly a voice surprised us. 

A guard officer stood outside the cell, his burly hand holding an iron trellis. Gripping.

Spontaneous I stand. The officer looked at me. Head nodded. 

“Someone wants to meet,” he continued while opening the cell door lock.

“Sana, cepet out,” says Joko. Tells me to move fast.

I see my wife. Sitting alone in a long, rickety wooden chair. Seeing me coming, he rushed closer. I hugged my wife from behind the iron bars. Kuyu's eyes. Almost without light. 

“Pak, can I chat with my wife in this room?” I asked the guard who picked me up. While pointing at the guard post.

“Can't, sir. Yeah, quite like this. Today is not a bad time. Tuesday and Jum’at besukannya time. But, because pak Mario just entered, we give tolerance,” said the officer.

“O yes, sir. Thank you,” I said while bowing my face. Appreciate the tolerance that is given.

From behind the iron bars that became the separator, my wife's hand patted my shoulder. 

“Yo wes, the patient. Nerimo aja yo!” said it. 

A smile he showed. A smile full of sincerity wrapped in pain.     

“Bunda bring breakfast, nasi uduk. Cigarettes too. Only two packs can be brought in. The other two, you love the officer,” my wife said. 

I'm nodding. Slowly. Almost without power. I held his hand. Chilly. 

“Can sleep semalem?” ask her. I'm shaking. She smiles.

“How many people are in dad's cell? How are they, okay?” ask him again.

“There are 12 people. Thank God, everyone welcomed me well. Dad was a prayer priest at dawn,” I said.

“Oh yes? Dad became a dawn prayer priest? Thank God,” said my wife. 

Face changed. Springy. His hands are rubbing my back. There was a sense of pride and happiness in his touch.          

My wife opened her bag. He brought out a small book. The surah yasin. He gave it to me. 

“Often-often read yes. God is the one who rules everything. We follow the story of this life,” my wife said while looking at me with a shady look.

“Later in the afternoon, inshaallah come home from work mother here again. This is in a hurry, must be an apple in the office, so can not be long,” continued my wife.

I'm nodding. He kissed my forehead. I kissed her forehead. He kissed my hand. Warm. There was a tear in my hand.    

My wife says goodbye to the guard. Their response was good too. Showing a respectful attitude. 

Distant when dealing with prisoners. Maybe, because at that time my wife was wearing her office clothes (connected).