Sorry, Prisoners Don’t Need Delicious Food!
Umi Salamah
Translated into English by Aditya Ramadhan
Illustration by Annisa Rizkiana (Nicacomica).
When visiting her son, Angga, at the Class IIB prison in Kebumen, where they lived, Heny was astounded to see her son eating so voraciously. The chicken dish was the first thing that Angga devoured. He looked like someone who had never eaten chicken in his entire life, even though Heny always sent food to Angga once a week, and she never forgot to put honey-roasted chicken in the food container.
“Angga, dear,” Heny told her son. “Don’t eat too quickly.”
“How can I not, mom? I really missed your honey-roasted chicken,” said Angga in the middle of his feast.
“Wait, how come? Every week I bring you food, and I never forget to include your favorite dish,” exclaimed Heny.
Angga looked at her, unconvinced. He swallowed the hunk of chicken still inside his mouth. “No, you must be lying! I only ever got tempeh and tofu in the food you sent.”
“I never lie. It’s true that I also put tempeh and tofu inside the container. But I’m sure I always included honey-roasted chicken.” Heny’s answer was earnest.
Angga thought about how odd this was. Angga and his mother couldn’t both be right. The best way to find out the truth was to ask the prison officers directly. Heny always sent Angga food through them.
Unfortunately, Heny couldn’t find the officer whom she usually asked to deliver food to Angga, so she had to ask someone else.
“Excuse me, officer. May I ask you something?” asked Heny.
Inside the visitor-center office, there were five prison officers. They were each occupied with their own tasks, checking food containers, searching visitors’ possessions, and filling out visitor registration forms. One of them approached Heny.
“Yes, ma’am. How can I help you?” said the officer, giving her a faint smile.
Heny read the name on the patch stitched on the pocket of the officer’s uniform: Rian Diantoro. “Um, here’s the thing, Officer Rian,” asked Heny carefully. “Every week, I send food to my son and I’ve just discovered that there has been food missing each week. Perhaps you know something about this?”
The smile disappeared from Rian’s face. His gaze turned blank.
“Officer Rian!” called Heny.
“I’m very sorry, ma’am. Regarding this matter, I don’t think I have the answer. Whenever I deliver food, I always give it as it is, untouched.”
“Ah, I see,” murmured Heny.
The sorrow on Rian’s face was undeniable when he heard the murmur of disappointment from Heny’s lips. The feeling lingered even after Heny had left the prison. Perhaps it would haunt his heart for the rest of his life.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be lying to you, ma’am. I had to do it for the sake of preserving the good name of the police.” Rian whispered this to himself, guilt piling up inside his chest.
Rian had been so happy that day—it was his first official day as a policeman, a highly respected profession. Even though he’d only been assigned to be a prison officer at the visitor center, he was quite happy. His job was relatively easy. His main responsibility was to fill out the visitor register. His additional responsibility was to deliver food and other items sent by visitors.
As a new officer, he’d been told to focus on his main duty so that he would quickly become used to it. He wasn’t the only officer, though. There were four others who also worked at the visitor center.
“Excuse me, sir. I’d like to pass you these food and clothes for my son,” said a man who’d just come to visit.
Rian put on a smile. “Please show me your ID, sir. I’ll write your information in the register.”
The man took his wallet out and gave Rian his ID card. Rian registered the man.
“Now, if you excuse me, sir, I have to check the items that you brought,” said Rian, handing the card back.
The man gave Rian all the items he’d brought. There were two paper bags. One contained food and the other contained clothes.
“Who are these items for?” asked Rian.
“For my son. His name is Arjoyanto.”
“All right, I’ll give them to him,” said Rian.
Just as his colleagues had taught him, Rian checked every item that was to be delivered to the prisoners. Each item had to be examined carefully and nothing could be overlooked. Prison officers paid more attention to items brought by visitors than anything else. Anything could happen. It was possible that a visitor might send something prohibited or dangerous.
Earlier that morning, Rian’s colleagues had told him a story. Long ago, there’d been a visitor who sent food to a prisoner every week. Besides rice, side dishes, and vegetables, there would always be one box of wafer biscuits—the kind that was usually eaten during Eid celebrations. The officers didn’t suspect anything and thought it was normal. The convict had been thrown into prison during the month of Ramadan. They assumed that he’d badly wanted the wafers he couldn’t enjoy eating with his family at home. However, after some time, a suspicion arose in the long run. Then, one day Rian’s colleague dissected the wafers in the box. It turned out that crystal meth had been smuggled inside the box.
Rian didn’t want to be careless and think too little of even a morsel or the smallest of items. First, he inspected the bag that contained clothes. One by one he lifted them out. He also waved every piece of clothing. Then, he moved to checking the food bag, taking out all the containers inside. He opened each one, not wanting to miss anything. He eyed and smelled the food. It crossed his mind to taste the food, for the smell of the fried fish was so tempting, but he immediately banished the thought.
All clear—both the food and clothes. After that, Rian went to deliver them to the prisoner’s cell. He walked—past the administration room and warden’s office, and also the offices of the head of the security unit subdivision, the head of the inmate services subdivision, and the head of the management subdivision. The main hall looked sparkling clean. There were no chairs, flower pots as decoration, or even signs. Every hall was designed that way intentionally, in anticipation of riots between convicted and non-convicted inmates. Imagine if a fight broke out. Such items would be used as weapons to attack and harm the officers.
Rian really loved the cleanliness of the hallway floor. It still smelled like green apples. He praised convicts who’d worked hard on mopping the floor during their shift. They hadn’t worked hard only when being supervised, but also when they had been on their own. But of course, they would be rewarded. Any convicts who worked hard during their shifts would be given money.
At the end of the hallway—outside the police officers’ room to be precise—Rian turned left. He walked the length of the cells belonging to the male adult convicts. Right when he stopped at cell number 6, the convicts inside surged toward him. They scrambled for space to stick their heads through the bars. As a matter of fact, the cell door was only one meter wide, though there were 14 convicts inside.
“Food?! It’s definitely for me.”
“No. That must be for me. My wife promised she would send me some.”
The commotion drew attention from other convicts in other cells. They also stuck their heads through the bars, claiming that the food and clothes were sent for them. Hearing all the racket, a guard carrying a rifle approached. He took a baton from his right hip, then banged it against the iron bars. The convicts suddenly went silent.
“You cry for food every day. If you keep behaving like this, we will stop you from getting any food deliveries!” the officer threatened.
The convicts slowly moved away from the bars, trying to go back to what they’d been doing before. Some were sitting in a circle, talking about their families. Some were sitting in rows, giving massages to each other. Some were lying about lazily. But their eyes were still stealing glances outside the cells.
“Hey, new kid, if they make any more noise, just eat the food in front of them,” said the prison guard.
“What? They’ll be furious!”
“They’re only bluffing,” said the officer, smirking. “You see, I can shut their mouths just by banging a stick against the bars.”
Rian understood why the officer used that strategy to calm the convicts down. Inside the prison, there were 96 non-convicted inmates and 99 convicts in total, when its capacity was in fact only 113 prisoners. At the same time, there were only 70 prison officers. With cells that were so tightly packed, triggering the anger of the prisoners was very risky. They could go wild just over some food. Luckily, the convicted and non-convicted inmates believed that it was possible for the guards to restrict the food sent to them.
“Arjoyanto, you have a package from your father,” Rian called him.
Arjoyanto stood up and approached Rian. His laughter was full of joy. Behind him, his cellmates looked at him in envy.
“Wow, my father brought me fried fish. Look at this, folks!” shouted Arjoyanto.
His cellmates gathered around him at once. They begged Arjoyanto to let them have a taste of the fried fish. Some of them started to massage his shoulders, arms, and feet hoping for a taste of the delicious fish in return. Some even hurried off to wash his clothes.
Rian didn’t understand why Arjoyanto and the other convicts were so happy at getting a fried fish. It was just a fried fish, not a bar of gold or a diamond. Rian’s confusion turned into distaste. They ate the fried fish together with delight in a messy cell. Sarongs that hadn’t been folded lay on the carpet that they used for sleeping. On the table were dirty plates and glasses, unwashed. Even the bars of the cell were being used to hang lots of clothes.
Throughout the cell, a musty smell prevailed. Rian despised the odor of male convict cells. Almost all of them were untidy and stank. They threw clothes and other things anywhere they liked. It reminded Rian of the time when he’d lived in a dormitory while he was still at school. He loved neatness, but unfortunately his roommate was on the other side of the spectrum, so his discomfort at the untidiness ended up causing him to clean the room every day.
On the other hand, female inmate and convict cells were different. Their cells smelled so good, and were clean and well-organized. Rian didn’t know what to do. Should he scold the prisoners who were currently enjoying their meal? He didn’t want to spoil their happiness. However, the cleanliness of the cell was very important for their health. If their filthy behavior kept being overlooked, their health might be affected.
“Rian, why are you still here?” asked the guard.
“I’ll get back to my station, sir,” answered Rian, emerging from his wandering thoughts. He took a glance inside the cell before leaving. Scolding inmates and convicts was not his responsibility. He would report the situation later to his superior instead. Let them do what was supposed to be done.
Rian entered the visitor center office. He found his colleagues inspecting food that had been sent to the prisoners. They seemed busy, and Rian wanted to help.
“Don’t bother. Why don’t you deal with the register?” said his colleagues, refusing.
Rian wasn’t offended by the rejection. He went on sitting and observing his colleagues inspecting the food. He had nothing to do at the moment, for there were no visitors coming in to deliver items.
Rian blinked in confusion upon seeing one of his colleagues snatch some beef from a food container meant for an inmate. He came over quickly.
“What’s wrong with the beef? Is it poisoned?” asked Rian, sounding a bit panicked.
At Rian’s question, his colleague burst into laughter. The other colleagues joined in. Rian just stood there in silence, a ton of questions weighing on his mind.
“Am I wrong?” asked Rian.
“No, new kid, you’re not wrong,” answered the colleague who had taken the beef from the container.
“Then why were you laughing?”
“Come on. What a silly question,” the colleague answered with a snort.
“Silly? It was a serious question as far as I’m concerned.”
Rusdi, the one who took the beef, led Rian back to his chair. “There is one specific rule here, kid. Every time a visitor delivers containers with meat or fish inside, we have to secure them.”
“Wait, what for?” Rian blurted.
“For us to eat, of course.” His colleagues started laughing again.
“Are you guys stealing?”
They stopped laughing. The most senior officer approached Rian and rapped him on the head. “We’re not stealing! Those inmates and convicts don’t need delicious food. If they eat meat or fish, they’ll get flabby.”
“But it’s their right.”
“You’re still new here. It’s better to just obey the rules. Now, you eat this,” said the most senior officer, handing him the beef Rusdi had taken.
“Sorry, I can’t eat it.”
The most senior officer let out a mocking laugh. Then, he, along with Rusdi and the other officers, stuffed the beef into Rian’s mouth by force.
For the first time in his life, a soft and delicious piece of beef tasted like a dead animal, sliding into his gut.
© Umi Salamah
English translation © Aditya Ramadhan
MAAF, NARAPIDANA TIDAK BUTUH MAKAN ENAK!
Umi Salamah
Ilustrasi oleh Annisa Rizkiana (Nicacomica).
Saat mengunjungi putranya, Angga, di rutan golongan IIB di Kebumen, tempat mereka tinggal, Ibu Heny tercengang melihat putranya makan dengan sangat lahap. Daging ayam adalah hidangan pertama yang Angga habiskan. Angga seperti sudah sangat lama tidak makan daging ayam. Padahal, seminggu sekali Ibu Heny menitipkan makanan untuk Angga dan tidak pernah absen memasakkan ayam bakar madu.
“Angga, ampun kesusu,” nasihat Ibu Heny. “Makannya jangan terburu-buru.”
“Kados pripun malih? Angga sangat merindukan ayam bakar madu buatan Ibu,” ucap Angga, di sela-sela makannya.
“Loh? Bagaimana bisa? Setiap minggu Ibu selalu membawakan bekal makanan untukmu. Tidak pernah Ibu lupa memasakkan ayam bakar madu kesukaanmu,” sergah Ibu Heny.
Angga menatap ibunya tidak percaya. Dia menelan kasar daging ayam bakar madu yang masih ada di mulutnya. “Ibu ngapusi! Aku selalu menerima bekal dari Ibu hanya berlauk tempe dan tahu.”
“Ibu mboten ngapusi. Memang benar, Ibu juga memasukkan tempe dan tahu ke dalam bekalmu. Tapi Ibu yakin, selalu memasukkan ayam bakar madu,” jawab Ibu Heny sungguh-sungguh.
Angga memikirkan kejadian aneh ini. Baik Angga dan Ibu Heny tidak mampu menemukan jawaban yang tepat dan pasti. Cara terbaik untuk menemukan jawabannya adalah bertanya langsung kepada petugas polisi pelayanan kunjungan. Ibu Heny selalu menitipkan makanan untuk Angga lewat mereka.
Ibu Heny tidak menemukan petugas polisi yang biasa dia beri amanah untuk memberikan bekal makanan kepada Angga. Terpaksa dia menanyakannya kepada petugas yang ada.
“Ngapunten, Pak Polisi, saya ingin bertanya sesuatu,” pinta Ibu Heny.
Di ruangan pelayanan kunjungan, ada lima petugas polisi di sana. Mereka sibuk dengan pekerjaan masing-masing. Ada yang tengah memeriksa bekal makanan, menggeledah barang bawaan pengunjung, dan mendata pengunjung. Salah satu di antara mereka menghampiri Ibu Heny.
“Nggih, Ibu ingin bertanya apa?” tanyanya sambil menyunggingkan senyum tipis.
Ibu Heny membaca nama yang tertera di saku baju petugas itu: Rian Diantoro. “Kados niki, Pak Rian. Setiap minggu saya selalu menitipkan makanan untuk anak saya. Saya baru mengetahui, kalau setiap saya mengantarkan makanan, ada makanan yang hilang. Pak Rian mengetahuinya?” tanya Ibu Heny hati-hati.
Senyuman Rian memudar. Tatapannya menerawang jauh entah pada apa.
“Pak Rian!” panggil Ibu Heny.
“Ngapunten, Bu. Mengenai hal itu, saya tidak tahu jawabannya. Setiap saya mengantarkan makanan, saya selalu memberikannya secara utuh.”
“Niku nggih,” gumam Ibu Heny.
Tatapan Rian tak bisa menampik bahwa ia sedih saat mendengar gumaman penuh kekecewaan dari mulut Ibu Heny. Perasaan itu tetap membekas setelah kepergian Ibu Heny. Barangkali perasaan itu selamanya mengendap di hatinya.
“Maafkan saya. Saya seharusnya tidak berbohong kepada Ibu. Saya terpaksa melakukannya demi nama baik kepolisian,” bisik Rian, penuh rasa bersalah.
Rian sangat berbahagia hari ini—hari pertama ia resmi bekerja sebagai seorang polisi, profesi yang sangat dihormati. Walaupun dia hanya ditempatkan sebagai petugas polisi pelayanan kunjungan tahanan, dia cukup senang dengan posisinya. Pekerjaannya terbilang mudah. Tugas utamanya mencatat pengunjung yang datang. Tugas tambahannya yaitu mengantarkan makanan dan barang lain yang dititipkan oleh pengunjung untuk para tahanan.
Sebagai anak baru, ia diperintahkan untuk berfokus pada tugas utamanya agar cepat mahir. Dia tidak sendirian, ada empat rekan yang sama-sama bertugas sebagai petugas pelayanan kunjungan.
“Permisi Pak. Saya ingin menitipkan makanan dan baju untuk anak saya,” ucap seorang laki-laki yang baru saja datang.
Rian memasang senyum. “Tolong serahkan KTP Bapak. Saya akan mencatat identitas Bapak.”
Laki-laki itu mengeluarkan dompet dan memberikan KTP-nya kepada Rian. Rian mencatat identitas laki-laki itu.
“Sekarang saya mesti memeriksa barang yang dibawa,” ucap Rian sambil menyerahkan kembali KTP itu.
Laki-laki itu menyerahkan semua barang yang dibawa. Ada dua kantong kertas. Satu berisi makanan dan satunya berisi pakaian.
“Untuk siapa titipan ini?” tanya Rian.
“Untuk anak saya. Namanya Arjoyanto.”
“Baiklah. Saya akan menyerahkan titipan ini kepada anak Bapak,” kata Rian.
Seperti yang diajarkan oleh rekan-rekannya, Rian diharuskan mengecek semua barang titipan. Harus dicek dengan teliti dan tidak boleh dianggap remeh. Barang titipan menjadi salah satu sorotan penting. Semua kemungkinan bisa saja terjadi. Bisa saja ada pengunjung yang menitipkan barang terlarang atau berbahaya.
Tadi pagi Rian mendapatkan sebuah cerita dari rekannya. Dulu pernah ada pengunjung yang setiap minggu rutin memberikan makanan kepada narapidana. Selain nasi, lauk-pauk, dan sayuran, selalu ada sekotak wafer khas lebaran. Awalnya petugas polisi pelayanan pengunjung menganggap wajar. Narapidana penerima makanan itu masuk ke dalam lapas pada bulan puasa. Barangkali dia begitu menginginkan wafer khas lebaran yang tak mungkin dinikmati bersama keluarga di rumah. Lama kelamaan terbit rasa curiga. Maka suatu hari, rekannya itu membedah isi wafer. Terungkap di dalam wafer diselundupkan sabu-sabu.
Rian tak ingin teledor dengan meremehkan makanan atau barang sekecil apa pun. Pertama-tama, dia mengecek kantong yang berisi pakaian. Satu per satu dia angkat baju yang ada. Tidak lupa dia mengibas-ngibaskan helai demi helai pakaian itu. Kemudian dia melanjutkan mengecek kantong yang berisi makanan. Dia mengeluarkan semua kotak yang ada di dalam kantong itu. Tidak luput dia membuka kotak-kotak itu. Menatap dan mencium makanan itu. Selintas dia tergoda juga saat mencium bau harum ikan goreng. Segera dia singkirkan godaan yang muncul.
Semua makanan dan pakaian itu aman. Rian menuju sel narapidana pemilik makanan dan pakaian itu. Dia berjalan melewati ruang tata usaha, kepala rutan, kepala subsie kesatuan pengamanan, kepala subsie pelayanan tahanan, dan kepala subsie pengelola. Lorong utama ini sangat bersih. Tak ada bangku, pot bunga sebagai penghias, maupun papan petunjuk atau lainnya. Semua lorong memang sengaja diatur demikian sebagai antisipasi andai terjadi kerusuhan antara tahanan dan narapidana. Bayangkan saat terjadi kerusuhan, benda-benda itu bisa dijadikan senjata untuk menyerang dan melukai para petugas polisi.
Rian begitu menyukai kebersihan lantai lorong. Lantainya masih menguarkan wangi buah apel hijau. Ia memuji para narapidana yang rajin piket. Mereka sungguh-sungguh mengepel lantai. Tak hanya rajin saat diawasi, tetapi mereka seperti sudah menjadi kesadaran untuk rajin piket. Walaupun memang ada imbalannya. Siapa pun narapidana yang rajin piket, akan diberi imbalan uang.
Di bagian ujung lorong—tepatnya ruang petugas polisi, Rian berbelok ke kiri. Dia menyusuri sel narapidana dewasa laki-laki. Tepat berhenti di sel nomor 6, dia diserbu oleh para narapidana yang ada di dalam. Mereka saling berebut ruang kosong untuk kepala masing-masing. Padahal pintu sel lebarnya hanya satu meter. Sedangkan mereka ada empat belas narapidana.
“Makanan?! Itu untukku.”
“Bukan. Itu pasti untukku. Istriku berjanji akan membawakan makanan.”
Suara gaduh mereka menimbulkan perhatian dari sel kamar yang lain. Mereka juga melongokkan kepala di jeruji sel, ikut mengklaim makanan dan pakaian itu untuk mereka. Petugas jaga keamanan bersenjata laras panjang datang. Dia mengambil tongkat di pinggang kanannya, kemudian memukulkannya pada jeruji besi. Lantas semua narapidana terdiam.
“Setiap hari ribut soal makanan. Kalau terus seperti ini, kami akan melarang kalian mendapatkan kiriman makanan!” ancam petugas itu.
Para narapidana mengerut mundur dari jeruji sel, kembali ke aktivitas mereka sebelumnya. Ada yang duduk melingkar membicarakan keluarga, berbaris memijat, dan tidur-tiduran. Tapi tetap mata mereka diam-diam mencuri pandang ke luar jeruji sel.
“Anak baru, jika mereka kembali membuat kegaduhan, makan saja kiriman makanan di depan mereka,” kata petugas jaga keamanan.
“Apa? Mereka pasti marah.”
“Hanya gertakan saja. Lihat, diancam begitu saja mereka diam,” katanya sembari tersenyum geli.
Rian memaklumi strategi menenangkan narapidana itu. Di seluruh rutan itu ada 96 tahanan dan 99 narapidana, padahal kapasitas rutan hanya memadai untuk 113 orang. Sedangkan di rutan ini hanya ada 70 petugas polisi. Dengan sel kamar yang begitu padat, memancing kemarahan tahanan dan narapidana sangat berisiko. Mereka bisa menjadi buas karena makanan. Untung saja para tahanan dan narapidana percaya dengan gertakan larangan mendapatkan kiriman makanan.
“Arjoyanto, kau mendapatkan titipan dari ayahmu,” panggil Rian.
Arjoyanto bangkit dan menghampiri Rian. Dia tertawa sumringah. Di belakangnya, teman-temannya menatap iri.
“Wah, ayahku membawakan ikan goreng. Lihatlah, teman-teman!” sorak Arjoyanto.
Teman-teman satu selnya langsung mengerubunginya. Mereka memelas minta mencicipi ikan goreng. Ada yang memijat pundak, lengan, dan kaki sebagai imbalannya. Bahkan ada yang buru-buru mencucikan pakaiannya.
Rian heran kenapa Arjoyanto dan narapidana yang lain sangat girang mendapatkan kiriman makanan berupa ikan goreng. Itu hanya ikan goreng. Bukan emas atau berlian. Rasa heran Rian berganti dengan rasa tidak suka. Mereka dengan riang menyantap ikan goreng di tengah sel kamar yang berantakan. Karpet tempat mereka tidur penuh sarung yang belum dilipat. Di atas meja, piring dan gelas kotor belum dicuci. Di jeruji sel ini saja, penuh sampiran pakaian.
Bau apak mendominasi. Rian amat tak suka bau sel kamar narapidana laki-laki. Hampir semua sel kamar tahanan dan narapidana laki-laki tidak rapi dan berbau busuk. Mereka serampangan menaruh pakaian dan benda-benda lain. Hal itu mengingatkan Rian pada masa ia tinggal di asrama saat masih bersekolah. Ia menyukai kebersihan, tetapi sialnya mendapatkan teman kamar yang berbanding terbalik dengan dirinya. Alhasil, ia yang tak tahan melihat kamar berantakan, setiap hari membersihkan kamar.
Berbeda dengan sel kamar tahanan dan narapidana perempuan. Sel kamar mereka wangi, bersih, dan tertata rapi. Rian bingung ingin menegur para narapidana yang tengah makan. Ia tidak mau merusak kesenangan mereka. Di sisi lain, kebersihan sel kamar amat penting bagi kesehatan mereka. Jika mereka terus dibiarkan jorok seperti itu, kesehatan mereka bisa terganggu.
“Rian, kenapa masih di sini?” tegur petugas jaga keamanan.
“Saya segera kembali ke pos,” jawab Rian setelah tersadar dari pikirannya yang berkecamuk. Ia menatap sekilas ke dalam sel tadi sebelum pergi. Menegur tahanan dan narapidana bukan bagian dari tugasnya. Nanti ia akan melaporkannya kepada atasan. Biar atasan yang menindaklanjuti.
Rian masuk ke dalam ruang pelayanan kunjungan. Ia menemukan rekan-rekannya tengah mengecek makanan titipan. Melihat mereka sibuk, Rian ingin membantu.
“Tidak usah. Kau tulis saja daftar pengunjung yang menitipkan barang,” tolak rekannya.
Rian tidak tersinggung dengan penolakan itu. Dia kembali duduk dan memperhatikan rekan-rekannya yang tengah mengecek titipan makanan. Tidak ada pekerjaan untuknya karena saat itu tidak ada pengunjung yang datang untuk menitipkan barang.
Rian berkedip bingung tatkala melihat salah satu rekannya mengambil daging sapi yang berasal dari titipan makanan untuk tahanan. Spontan ia menghampiri rekannya.
“Ada apa dengan daging itu? Apakah beracun?” tanya Rian, sedikit panik.
Rekannya itu tertawa terbahak-bahak mendengar pertanyaan Rian. Rekan-rekan lainnya juga ikut tertawa. Hanya Rian yang diam membisu dengan segudang tanda tanya.
“Apa saya salah?” tanya Rian.
“Tidak, anak baru. Kau tidak salah,” jawab rekan yang mengambil daging itu.
“Lalu, kenapa kalian tertawa?”
“Pertanyaanmu itu sungguh menggelikan,” jawabnya ringan.
“Menggelikan? Saya bertanya sungguh-sungguh.”
“Rusdi, tolong jelaskan kepada anak baru ini. Dia pasti belum mengetahui peraturan pribadi kita,” ucap rekannya yang paling senior.
Rusdi, rekan Rian yang mengambil daging sapi itu, membimbing Rian untuk duduk kembali. “Ada satu peraturan khusus di sini. Setiap ada pengunjung yang menitipkan makanan yang di dalamnya ada daging atau ikan, kita akan mengambilnya.”
“Hah? Untuk apa?” tanya Rian spontan.
“Tentu saja untuk kita makan.” Rekan-rekannya kembali tertawa.
“Kalian mencuri?”
Mereka berhenti tertawa. Rekan yang paling senior tadi menghampiri Rian dan menjitak kepalanya. “Kita tidak mencuri! Para tahanan dan narapidana tidak butuh makan makanan yang enak. Jika mereka makan daging dan ikan, tubuh mereka akan menjadi tidak berguna.”
“Tapi itu hak mereka.”
“Kau masih baru di sini. Lebih baik kau patuhi saja. Sekarang, kau makan daging sapi ini,” ucap rekannya yang paling senior itu sambil menyorongkan daging sapi yang diambil oleh Rusdi.
“Maaf, saya tidak bisa memakannya.”
Rekan senior itu tertawa mengejek. Dia bersama Rusdi dan rekan-rekan yang lain mencekokkan daging sapi itu ke mulut Rian.
Untuk kali pertama dalam hidupnya, daging sapi yang lembut dan nikmat itu terasa seperti bongkahan bangkai yang meluncur ke perutnya.
© Umi Salamah
UMI SALAMAH was born in Kebumen in 1996. She writes novels, short stories, poems, book reviews, and articles. Her works can be found in various short-story and poetry anthologies, in book form, and in print media. Her short stories have been published in Jawa Pos, Koran Tempo, Media Indonesia, Suara Merdeka, Majas, Detik, Tribun Jabar, Padang Ekspres, Kedaulatan Rakyat, Nova, and other media. Her newest book is a contemporary teen-lit novel titled Because You Are My Star (2017).
ADITYA RAMADHAN’s accidental encounters with words have caused him to write some poems and short stories. His works, among others, are “Jean Evans,” published online in Detik, and “Myung-Hee,” published in a short story anthology together with other Kelas Menulis Cerpen Kompas 2018 alumni. He also writes songs, SEO articles, and sometimes translates journal articles. His album debut, entitled, “It’s Mayn,” was put together with his former band. You can find him on Instagram @adityasrgr or contact him at adityasrgr@gmail.com.
ANNISA RIZKIANA was born in 1992. She’s a visual artist and writer, and also likes to make comics under the name Nicacomica.