A week passed since that tension-filled sharing session. Everything seemed to be back to normal, but I knew that, beneath the calm surface, there was a lot of unfinished business. I still didn't dare to approach Madam Hera, and it seemed like she was holding back the urge to stay away from me. We went through a daily routine in prison with the same pattern—monotonous mornings, hot afternoons, lonely nights. However, between us, the atmosphere remained full of tension, as if there was an unhealed wound, something hanging in the air, ready to explode at any moment.
Every time we met, Madam Hera's gaze was so cold, sometimes even fiery. I felt like she was harboring anger that would never be quenched, and her hatred towards me was becoming more and more obvious. Behind her calm face, I could feel how deep the resentment and anger were embedded. And inside myself, I couldn't get rid of the feeling of annoyance that was gnawing more and more every day. There was a feeling of unease rising, a feeling that we were both blaming each other, trapped in an endless cycle of prejudice.
Daily activities, which I usually go through without much thought, now feel heavy. I found myself wary, even anxious, whenever I had to be around Madam Hera. Everyone in the prison seemed to be able to feel this tense atmosphere, although no one dared to comment directly on it. In fact, they actually kept their distance even more whenever I was around Madam Hera, as if they were worried that I would be part of a storm that was ready to explode.
One day, while cleaning the cell, Madam Hera passed by. I could feel her sharp gaze boring into my back, and for a moment I felt like a child who had been caught doing something wrong. But I tried not to react, looking down while continuing my work.
Suddenly, Madam Hera's voice sounded cold behind me, "You think all the problems are solved just because we're being quiet like this?"
I froze, taken aback by the directness of her question. There was a rush of anxiety, but I held it back, mustering the courage to turn my head and look at her face. Madam Hera's face didn't show a friendly expression, but it wasn't completely hateful either; only tension and stiffness are depicted there.
"I… don't know, Ma'am," I answered slowly, trying to find the right words. "I was just thinking... maybe this will subside on its own if we both restrain ourselves. Besides, I'm not going to run away from here."
Shesmiled faintly, a smile that felt bitter. "Problems like this will never subside by themselves, let alone by remaining silent. You know, right, feelings are like small fires? The longer you leave them, the bigger they burn."
I swallowed hard, unable to deny the truth of her words. "I just don't want to make things worse, Ma'am. I don't want to… make you even more angry."
Madam Hera snorted, looking at me sharply. "Angry? Angry is not enough to describe what I feel. You don't know what I've been through all this time, right?"
I felt cornered, but also wanted to hear more, wanted to understand. "I… I know, Ma'am. I never intended to make you feel hurt or offended," I said quietly.
Madam Hera's face softened, even if only a little. "If you really understand, you will know that all of this is more than just anger or hatred. There are wounds that can't just disappear. I'm here not only because of a mistake... but also because of loss, a feeling that you can't understand unless You feel it yourself."
Silence hung between us, and for the first time, I could feel the helplessness behind Madam Hera's anger. There was an invisible sadness, a long story that she had never told. Maybe, all this time, I have been too quick to judge without understanding what she brought to her life. Maybe behind her cold gaze, there is someone who is so hurt, who just wants to be heard, understood.
"Sorry, Ma'am… I don't know what you've been through," I said, my voice full of regret. "But if you want, I… I'm ready to listen. Maybe at least that could help?"
Madam Hera's gaze softened for a moment, although she seemed hesitant to open herself. "Maybe," she said finally, in a barely audible tone. "But don't think that this will change anything. Long-held hatred isn't something that can just disappear."
I nodded slowly, understanding that there was no easy way to restore this relationship. But, at least for the first time, I felt like the storm was no longer hanging alone in the air.
Lice
On Sunday morning, during a 'holiday' free moment for the prisoners on this island, Dina, my best friend here, noticed my change. "Sis. why are you silent? Are you confused, what are you thinking? I never seen you look like this before" asked Dina as we cleaned each other's hair from lice and dandruff, which was really annoying. I was still silent and didn't return Dina's attention.
The humidity of this prison island is a loyal friend that always accompanies it, surrounded by ocean and tropical forests, making this island in a warm and humid embrace. One of the consequences of this condition is the appearance of dandruff and head lice.
The inmates who have lived on this prison island for a long time are all too familiar with the problem, their hair, which is usually thick and healthy, often becomes a playground for the tiny parasitic insects. The incessant itching drives them almost crazy. "Damn it, my head is very itchy," complained Dina, "I feel like I want to shave my hair bald." while still scratching her head "i have tried everything, but it failed, didn't work."
The old woman, an elderly inmate who was taking care of the kitchen and groceries, approached and looked at Dina's head, then nodded slowly. "What's happened to your head, don't always complain, Ah, head lice," muttered Si Mbah, smiling calmly. "This is common here, don't worry I have a solution."
Dina observed Si Mbah with unconcealed curiosity.
Si Mbah, The old woman has lived behind the walls of this prison for more than fifty years. Not only alone, there are thirteen other elderly convicts who still survive on this island—they are all silent witnesses to a grim history. They were central figures in political coups led by radical leftists in the 1960s. Initially, they were sentenced to death for their involvement in a failed coup de eta that caused rebelion civil war that claimed thousands of lives. However, fate brought them to life imprisonment.
Today, Si Mbah and her friends remain the oldest prisoners on the island, working in the kitchen every day, preparing food for the entire prison community, a relatively light task that they can still handle.
For more than half a century, they have been locked away for so long that the outside world feels like a hazy old memory. Most of them may have been forgotten by their families, or their own families are gone, forgotten by society. There is no more news about them, there is no hope of returning, even the dream of freedom has long been abandoned.
Si Mbah, her body thin but her face bright and full of calm, handed me a bunch of dry neem leaves which are easy to find on this island. "Boil these leaves, then use the water for washing and rinse your head, I'm sure lice will die, gone ," a simple instruction came from Si Mbah's lips.
Dina accepted the leaves with amazement. "Yes Mbah, I'm going to boil all the water and put those leaves until it boils." Dina couldn't hold back the curiosity that tickled her chest. While boiling the leaves, with hesitation, finally she asked, "Mbah, may I ask something?" Si Mbah replied, "what you wanna ask?" Dina continued " Mbah, what is your secret to having a long life here?"
Grandma laughed a little, then went back to stirring the potion in the pot casually. "If I'm still living here, it's because I don't think about it, I don't stress, I just relax and do whatever it is, in the world, life just stops by. Young people are grumpy, they want to be fast, they get sick easily. In the end, it's not the number of years in your life that counts, only life is what you do."
Si Mbah's words flowed softly, but in Dina's heart it felt like a slap that woke her up from a long daydream. Sheremembered how her life used to be full of fast-paced dreams and the desire to immediately achieve everything. Now, in the silence of prison, she feels that Si Mbah has found peace that she never imagined existed in a place like this.
Dina looked at the old face—the wrinkles were a witness to time, but the eyes were still alive. "Mbah, did you still wanna leave this place, this prison ?" Dina asked quietly.
Grandma just smiled, her gaze far away. "Always a wish, but that was in the past. In the past, the first years... the feeling of wanting to get out of prison here was very strong, wanting to see my family, friends. But now I realize and accept the situation, this world It's not like it used to be. It's been a long time since I've been there, the children have forgotten. Now I can just give up, because this prison is like my last home, I'll die here nothing."
For Dina, that statement was painful and opened her eyes to the reality she had been trying to avoid. The old women no longer see this prison as confinement, but as a home—a place where their lives will end in peace. "I have to live my life, accept it, live it. You have to train your heart, whatever can happen, do it. Here, life doesn't replace your dreams with your wishes, but replaces what God says for you."
Finally, the neem leaf potion is ready. "Try it, girl. You don't have to think about it, whether it's right or wrong, the important thing is to try it."
Dina looked at the liquid from boiling neem leaves which looked simple but was full of meaning. Shesmiled a little, skeptical but hopeful, and nodded. In her heart, Mbah's words continued to ring, teaching him the true meaning of life, not in freedom or success, but in the acceptance and calm that comes with sincerity.
To her surprise, the herbal rinse worked well. The itching subsided, and the lice seemed to disappear. I was so impressed that I tried the same concoction and got the same results.
"Grandma, thank you, you must be a great herbal healer," she joked, laughing. "Try to open a practice in the city, it must sell!"
Since then, herbal rinses have become part of their hair care routine. They no longer have to worry about annoying head lice, and can live on a prison island without the constant itching.
The conversation between myself and Dina continued. "Sis, Who was the madam that was angry with you last time, did you recognize her?" she asked, squinting her eyes, showing her passionate curiosity. "It's been a week, why don't you talk to her, counter her?"
I stared at her, wondering whether I should tell her or just stay silent. Then, in as calm a voice as possible, I answered, "it's okay, Dina. No need to be curious, it's my business, I will solve it."
Dina shrugged, nodding as if she understood, although the look on her face showed she was still curious. Dina, my good friend, is still a young, 28 years old lifer inmate, and has been living in prison for 8 years, for the case of her boyfriend's murder.
With small talk to divert the conversation, I asked Dina back, "What's about your relationship with Mas Agung?" Dina, always able to spread warmth in the midst of this gloomy place. "Well, how do you know about Mas Agung?" Shepretended to smile while looking away, but the tense expression on her face gave other clues. "That's enough. There's no need to discuss this, it's dangerous," she tried to stop the conversation, "But Din, don't be shy, I saw within this month, you are more close with Mas Agung." I tried to catch up, "I don't want to discuss, it's bothering me," she said again, her voice low as if she was afraid of being heard. Dina also avoided talking about her illicit relationship with a handsome warden here.
I chuckled at her attempt to dodge, but I decided not to push him any further. I know, in a place like this, even a friend keeps secrets to survive.
But my story is not an easy story to share with others. And maybe I'm not ready to share further myself.
Still not sure
Days passed in silence that hung heavy between us. Madam Hera and I just filled our time with our routine, exchanging cold glances without a word. It was as if silence itself was a new language we were using—torturous, full of hidden hatred, but no one dared to break it.
Actually, there was so much I wanted to tell him. The words stuck in my throat, heavy and torturous. Maybe you just want to ask, or just talk. But why does it feel so difficult? With every second that passes, there's the urge to blurt out a sentence—to say that I'm sorry too, or to reveal that I'm not the monster I'm made out to be. However, that courage always disappears along the way, drowning in anger and regret.
How could this happen? I thought, restraining myself from sighing out loud. My fingers clenched tightly, holding back the increasingly boiling emotions. He—he was the one who sent me here. And now, in the midst of all this suffering, she was in the same cell, sleeping just a few meters from me. Was this a coincidence, or additional punishment for both of us?
Every day, the burden of the past becomes heavier for me to bear. For twelve years I have tried to make peace with reality, rebuilding myself from the fragments of wounds that still throb. But, being here, in the same place as the person responsible for my destruction, felt like a cruel bad joke. I was accused, convicted, locked up, of a crime I never committed. But who will believe me? In their eyes, I was a murderer.
The few times we looked into each other's eyes, my heart was pounding, as if there was a truth I wanted to convey. However, the words remained trapped, as if locked by an invisible wall that I built myself. Does she know exactly who I am? Does she realize that I'm not the monster she thought I was?
Force to speak up
Until finally, something changed. Cell exchanges, which are routinely, weekly, carried out to reduce ties between prisoners, actually brought us closer together. It's shocked me, may also shocked her, Now I have to share a small cell, dark room with Madam Hera, a former judge who changed my life, the mother of the man I once loved and who also haunts my dreams.
On those first night, we still not spoke, only when absolutely necessary—just a quick hello or reminder when we had to share facilities. There was a thick tension in the air, like a time bomb ready to explode at any moment. However, over time, I realized that we could no longer avoid each other. We're trapped here, forced to share a moment of uncomfortable silence, holding each other in almost unbearable silence.
When will this end? I thought. Staring at the cold cell walls, I knew this couldn't go on forever. One of us had to open her mouth, breaking the hanging silence. But who will start?
The silent night felt colder than usual. I stared at the gloomy ceiling of the cell, my mind spinning in silence. Unspoken questions continued to swirl in my mind, adding weight to the burden on my chest. When will this be over? Every day passed in painful silence, a silence that was never broken between me and Madam Hera. Two people trapped in the same room, bound by a dark past but unable to speak.
I remember the moments that kept rolling by. Time passes, eroding hope, but at the same time honing resilience. Seconds passed by seconds. Minutes went by. Days passed, turning into months. I'm sure, one day this will all end. But when? And how?
This mind is still struggling with feelings of bitterness. I'm innocent—I've always known that. But seeing Madam Hera's face every day, I am reminded of an invisible feeling of guilt, something that perhaps only she and I can understand. Like a time bomb that could explode at any moment, our silence deepened.
Just say it as it is, just say it Sarah, you can do it I thought. One part of me wanted to start, to open up, to speak honestly about what was really happening. But another part is afraid. What if Madam Hera can't accept the truth I want to convey? What if this only makes things worse?
However, when I glanced at him—his figure looking fragile in the dark of night, her gaze directed somewhere far away—I saw something different. I began to realize that maybe she also carried the same wounds, similar feelings of brokenness, and truths that she had kept to himself.
"Good night Ma'am, I want everything to be over," I muttered softly, a low voice that seemed only to be heard by the night.
Hearing the whisper, Madam Hera turned her head slowly, her eyes looking at me with a sharp look that somehow also looked tired. There was a look of curiosity, but also doubt. We stared at each other, in a silence that felt deeper than before.
"End?" Shefinally spoke, as if responding to my deepest thoughts. "How do you do that, Sarah? With everything that has happened between us?"
I took a deep breath. "By telling the truth, ma'am. Maybe, if we talk… we can understand each other. I also want to resolve this completely."
She fell silent, her gaze turning soft for a moment before returning to hardness. "Honestly? You think that can change what happened?"
"At least," I answered, strengthening myself, "at least we no longer have to live with this silence. At least we can find meaning in everything we go through, even though we never really get the justice we hope for."
Madam Hera looked down, silent, contemplating. In that new silence, I felt something change. Maybe not trust, but there is a hint of understanding, a small step towards understanding. I know, tonight may not be the end of all the complications that haunt us. But perhaps, for the first time, there is a glimmer of hope that this silence can finally end.