The sun began to rise, stinging my exposed skin. Sweat poured down my face, my arms felt sore from continuing to hoe. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling of tiredness that was starting to set in. Suddenly, my eyes caught a familiar figure at the end of the field. A new prisoner, who has just finished her second week of penalization period—a period of introduction to the environment for new prisoners.
The figure, a middle-aged woman with a chubby body, pale face, and empty gaze, became clearer as she stepped closer. "Who's that?" I blinked, trying to confirm what I was seeing. My heart was beating wildly. She's... the mother of my ex-boyfriend, Madam Judge, "It's true, Doni's mother!"
The closer I got, the clearer the figure in front of me became. His once black hair was now white, her skin was starting to wrinkle, and her steps seemed heavy. I was stunned, my heart was beating fast. There was no mistaking it… there she was, my ex-boyfriend's mother. The woman who ruined my life, years ago. "Damn, I can't believe what I see," I muttered softly, almost unable to believe what I saw before me, before my eyes.
Her appearance triggered bitter memories that I've been trying to erase for years. The bad memories came flooding back, a trauma from 12 years ago that I always tried to bury deeply. But now, the mother I once saw in her glory days as a judge, is now standing here, wearing the same prison uniform as me.
Without me knowing, her presence would change my life afterwards.
Next to me, Dina whispered with a sarcastic smile, watching the mother who was now trying to hoe the ground. "Sis, look at the fat woman there, New inmate, Is she a former judge ?" she whispered softly, holding back laughter at the sight of the mother who looked awkward and stiff, clearly not used to having a hoe in her hand.
I shook my head, still stunned. "What the hell, why is she here? What did she do? I muttered softly. The question filled my mind, creating a mixture of anger and curiosity that I couldn't control yet.
My heart pounded as fear began to creep through my body. Painful memories of the past suddenly surfaced, bringing back the feeling of helplessness I once felt in the courtroom. However, amidst the growing trepidation, I didn't have the courage to approach her. There was a huge gap that separated us—a gap between a victim's mother, a former judge whose job it was to hand down the verdict and me, a prisoner who received the sentence.
That day, the first day she was employed in the rice fields, her face, which once looked calm and controlled, now showed fatigue and fear. His hands, which were once so skilled at holding a pen and signing legal decisions, were now blistered and painful from having to hoe in the sticky mud, which never knew mercy. sweat dripped down the clothes she was wearing, her obese body made the difficulty of moving in the mud a torture in itself.
"Sis, why does her face look worried, scared ?" Dina whispered to me while stealing a glance. Her gaze shifted around, alert, as if searching for someone.
"Yes, why can she get lost here, honorable ma'am like her usually relax in the office, now same like us, working on the farm," I said flatly. "Look at her clothes, they're all stained, soaked in sweat." Dina continued.
No one knows for sure how many enemies she made during her career, but the worry was clearly visible on her face every time she tried hard to complete her duties in the rice fields. When her body was weak and her hands were sore, the fear of revenge made her worse off. He knows that nothing is eternal, including the power and protection she once received in the outside world. In this place, everything has changed. He is no longer a respected judge, but a prisoner like the others—entangled in an endless cycle of regret.
I still don't dare to approach her, fear, doubt and doubt surround me. From a distance, I noticed how some of the other inmates started trying to talk to her, maybe to get to know her better, maybe to just loosen up the strange feeling between them.
Seeing the former judge looking hesitant and awkward, a senior inmate—an old woman who had lived on this island for years—stepped up to her. The old mother had a face full of the lines of age, and her expression exuded harsh life experiences. She approached with calm steps, looking at the former judge with a look full of understanding, no intention of revenge, but a calmness that was not easy to explain.
"Hey, ma'am," she said softly, her voice low and calming, as if to drive the anxiety out of the former judge's heart. "Welcome to the Valley of Hope Women's Prison. Don't worry, OK! Did you ever imagine that you would end up here?" she said, then sat beside her without too much distance. "Just come here, ma'am. There's no need to be afraid. Here, we're all the same now... we're all equally convicted. No one will act stupidly or act in a dangerous way, ma'am, but as long as you remain polite to us, follow our instructions."
The former judge looked shocked and relieved to hear the old lady's words. With a slightly calmer face, she slowly smiled, realizing that maybe here she would find a side of humanity that she had often forgotten.
The former judge lowered her head, her eyes filled with tears. She realized that here there was no longer any power or status that differentiated them. All are humans who have fallen into the same abyss. However, despite this, the fear of the past remains strong, and redemption for the sins that have been committed still seems very far out of reach.
In this place, there is no more power, no more social status. All prisoners, without exception, live in equality full of sadness and regret. It was the voice of her past fears, but there was no poison, no desire for revenge. Just resignation. Slowly, she realizes that they were all destroyed by the system, now trapped in the same heartless cycle. He had feared their anger, but instead found mutual regret, even in the faces of the people whose lives she had ruined.
"Hey, tired, huh?" asked another inmate sitting next to her. "Very," answered the judge, wiping the sweat from her face. "That's natural, ma'am. After a while you get used to it," she continued with a smile.
"I'm sorry, but that doesn't change anything." said the former judge in a weak voice. "Regret is a good start, ma'am. But that's it, just enjoy life here, especially if you live a long life." said the senior inmates, as they took a break from tiring work that afternoon.
The former judge smiled slightly. "Oh, thanks sis, it's been entertaining... it turns out it's also difficult, it's much more difficult than I imagined."
"Well, you get used to it after a while, ma'am," she replied, then blinked. "Besides, working here makes you skinny, Ma'am! Then you can be slim in at least three months."
The middle-aged woman—a once respected former judge—felt offended, but not too deeply. She knew that in this muddy field, under the sharp gaze of the supervisor and the unfriendly sky, she was just a prisoner, no different from the other prisoners. Sweating and bent over, she swung her hoe across the sticky earth that felt so heavy, as if it didn't matter who she was. Every time her hoe touched the ground, she felt as if she was digging deeper into her own past—into all the sins and mistakes she once considered trivial.
Drops of sweat rolled down her temples, falling to the ground, mixing with the sticky mud on her feet. Every movement felt slow, every breath was filled with physical fatigue, but also a mental pain that constantly haunted her. Behind the shadow of her hunched body, amidst the blazing sunlight, there was another, darker shadow—the shadow of her past.
He remembered the decisions she had handed down in the courtroom, with the gavel she knocked full of confidence, as if she had never been wrong. Now, with every blow of the hoe she threw, she felt like she was punishing herself, trying to erode the regret that was festering deep in her heart. She held her breath several times, holding back the feeling of shortness of breath, but there was nothing that could ward off the reality. Maybe what people say is true—in the face of time, all humans are equal, regardless of rank or title.
He realized that it wasn't just her body that was carrying this burden. His soul is also burdened by a feeling of guilt that never goes away, haunting every step she takes in this field. Maybe, as the young woman had said, she could change herself—become someone stronger, who more sincerely accepted this punishment as a way to erase the stains of her past. But can she?
Afternoon Freshness
As the sun slowly disappeared behind the hill, leaving the sky burning with orange and pink, we female prisoners walked barefoot together along the rocky path towards a small stream not too far away at the end of the field. The sound of our slow footsteps sounded rhythmic, indicating the fatigue but also the hope that we carried together. Sweat and dust stuck to our faces and our worn clothes, but the steps were now lighter, as if the river waiting ahead provided some solace from the hard days.
Arriving at the river bank, we began to take off our dirty uniforms, stripping away all the burdens that had stuck to us throughout the day. No more care about privacy, no more shame or embarrassment; only the familiarity that exists because of the long days we spent together in this place. Our skin, sunburnt brown, showed traces of hard work, with calloused palms and feet. Some of them chuckled, commenting on their increasingly rough skin or increasingly dull looking faces, trying to temporarily forget the harsh reality of life in this place.
"Oh, my hands don't look like girls' hands anymore," said one of the young women jokingly. She raised her rough palms, then chuckled.
Another person next to her chimed in, "Same, everything here is the same. Beautiful, handsome, white, items, everything doesn't matter anymore." we laughed together, laughter that released the tension for a moment.
The cool river water greeted them as they began to soak, soothing their tired muscles. We let the water wash away the dust, fatigue, and all the burdens that have accumulated. The atmosphere became lighter; the sound of laughter and jokes filled the air. Some of them started splashing water, splashing each other, like children playing freely without caring about the time.
"Eh, don't wet my hair, please!" shouted one of them, laughing heartily as the others splashed water at her.
"Well, why? Our hair is like a broom of palm fiber like this. A little wet is good, as well as the condition," replied another, teasingly.
There are no factory-made shampoos and soaps on this island, we use natural ingredients such as betel leaves, turmeric and lerak fruit (Sapindus rarak DC) as plants that can be used as ingredients for making environmentally friendly soap. Klerak fruit contains saponin which can function as a natural surfactant. The mechanism of action of klerak fruit saponin is the same as surfactants, namely it can reduce the surface tension of water.
Their laughter filled the twilight which was slowly starting to darken. For a moment, in the cold river water and the warm laughter of their friends, everything that was heavy felt lighter. We all knew that this freedom was only temporary, but it was enough. For a moment in the river, we felt like we were not prisoners, not humans haunted by the past; we are just girls who can laugh, unwind, and enjoy being together.
"You think you can feel freedom, freshness like this every day out there?" asked one inmate while splashing water on her friend.
"Every day we can take a fresh bath like this directly from a natural water source," "if I could survive here forever," answered another. "Yes, we are here, we are life convicts," said another with a faint smile on her face.
However, not everyone laughed. a new prisoner stood quietly on the river bank, letting the current caress her calloused feet, her eyes staring blankly at the mountains towering in the distance. He didn't need to say a word; her gaze was enough to describe the longing for true freedom that seemed so far out of reach. I still try to harbor vague memories about that mother.
After about fifteen minutes, one by one the inmates began to emerge from the water, drying themselves with worn towels and putting back on their shabby uniforms. Even though their clothes were back to restricting their bodies, their spirits felt a little lighter. An unspoken bond exists between them, a friendship built from shared pain and hardship.
As we walked back to the prison barracks, we took with us not only the physical relief of that afternoon's shower, but also a bit of escape from the harsh realities of life. Even though it was only for a moment, being together on the river gave us a breath of relief, freshness—something that cold and stiff prison walls could not provide.
"You know," one of us whispered as we walked hand in hand back to the prison complex, "as simple as this is, that water... it feels like the only freedom we can still have here."
"Yes," answered her friend, looking up at the darkening sky, "at least they haven't been able to lock up the stars and this river."
As dusk began to arrive and the sky slowly turned dark, the officer reminded us to immediately return to the barracks. "Come on, let's go soak, quickly put on your clothes, it's getting dark." We rushed up from the river with a new sense of freshness and relief. Dressed again, we walked slowly back to the barracks, carefree, at least for the moment.