Gina got into fights with neighbors several times.
For nearly a year, Fabi had been bedridden, a thick blanket covering his emaciated frame. His gaze was vacant and sorrowful—a stark contrast to the man he had been just a few years earlier: strong, imposing, and capable of driving Sofia out of the house.
Now, his legs were paralyzed, and he had lost a drastic amount of weight. Medications from the pharmacy proved ineffective against his ailment. Traditional healers cycled in and out of his room almost daily, yet their verdict remained the same: the force afflicting him was too powerful.
Gina wept at the sight of her husband’s condition. The family’s finances were in shambles. Heri, their eldest son—whom she had hoped would be the family’s savior—had instead married young while still in college.
When neither the healers' spells and potions nor the medicines from the community health center brought relief, Gina decided to take Fabi to a hospital in the city.
At the crack of dawn, Heri rose early to book a shared shuttle van. Gina stepped out wearing her best red kebaya and trousers, clutching a red folder containing their family registry, ID cards, health insurance cards, a medical referral letter, and a certificate of financial hardship from the village. Meanwhile, Heri and a few neighbors carefully carried Fabi to the van, which had been waiting in the yard.
"I’ve called an acquaintance in the city. They’ve already secured a queue number for you, so you can head straight to the hospital," instructed Mantri Ori from the health center.
The van moved slowly that morning. Along the way, Fabi coughed and vomited several times; his frail body could not withstand the long journey over the damaged roads. Heri could only wipe away the vomit and offer him water that had been blessed by a traditional healer.
They arrived at the hospital by eight in the morning. Mantri Ori’s acquaintance was already waiting for them. Gina went straight to see him, took a queue number, and hurried to the registration counter. It did not take long for Fabi to be taken into the examination room.
They waited nearly an hour for the test results. Gina sat with a weary look, her head bowed and fingers fidgeting, hoping for good news that day.
A doctor from the radiology department called out to Gina.
“Why was the patient brought to the hospital only now?”
The family’s finances hadn't allowed them to take Fabi to the hospital; they could only afford a traditional healer from a neighboring village. Gina had been forced to sell a plot of their land to pay for that day’s treatment.
The doctor explained the nature of Fabi’s illness, but Gina didn't understand a word of it. She accepted the medication, and the doctor scheduled a follow-up appointment for the following month.
Gina brought Fabi home with a heavy, troubled heart. Before bed, she prayed, hoping for a better tomorrow and for her husband’s recovery. She also made sure to sprinkle holy water—blessed by the parish priest—in every corner of the house.
A month passed; the medication ran out, yet Fabi’s condition remained critical. The scheduled follow-up appointment was just days away, but Gina was frantic; money was scarce, and she didn't know what other land they could possibly sell.
While Gina sat weeping in the kitchen, lamenting her fate, Yoan—Heri’s wife—arrived to tell her that Fabi was asking for food.
Overwhelmed by the stress of her family’s situation, Gina suddenly flew into a furious rage. She felt her daughter-in-law was useless. Words she would normally consider sinful simply poured from her mouth.
“When will you ever help lighten my load? Everything always falls on me—even preparing meals. Can’t you be of some use as a daughter-in-law? We paid a huge bride price just for you to be a bed warmer. When it comes to caring for me—or especially for your sick father-in-law—you always have an excuse!”
Heri witnessed the scene in silence, watching both Yoan and his mother, Gina, in tears. He didn't know whose side to take. He tried to embrace his wife, but she roughly shook his hand off. She wept, while Gina’s anger showed no signs of subsiding.
In their room, Yoan had already packed a bag with her clothes.
“I’m done living here; I’m going back to my own home. You can stay busy looking after your father.” Yoan then left on a motorcycle taxi.
The neighbors' eyes were fixed in front of the house, wanting to know the truth about what happened that afternoon. Maksi, who heard the incident, went to Fabi's house to advise Heri and Gina. As Fabi's younger cousin, he felt the need to step in to solve the problem.
Still emotional, Gina was displeased by Maksi’s arrival.
“Go home; I don’t need your money. How much have you actually contributed to my husband’s care?”
That afternoon, Ibu Gina’s family was consumed by weeping, punctuated only by the occasional sound of Fabi’s coughing.
Fabi’s condition worsened by the day. The plan to return for medical treatment never materialized. With limited resources, Gina could only call upon traditional healers to treat her husband.
The healers she summoned left behind nothing but water over which they had chanted spells. The chickens in the coop were all gone, sacrificed as the healers demanded—ranging from solid-colored birds to those with speckled plumage.
The healers described various individuals suspected of being the source of Fabi’s affliction. His illness was attributed to sorcery cast by someone envious of them; before falling ill, Fabi—a master builder—had managed to complete a fully masonry house, even while their child was still in college. The suspicion of sorcery grew stronger because the medicines Fabi took had no effect on his condition. Strange objects—of unknown origin and buried by unknown hands—were discovered in various corners of the house: white cloth, hair, needles, and even a dog’s skull.
Gina got into several fights with neighbors after accusing them of casting spells on her husband. Consequently, she had to surrender the pigs from her pen as a fine for making baseless accusations.
Gina’s own health was also deteriorating; once stout and healthy, she had become thin and unkempt. They could no longer afford medication, and Fabi was barely clinging to life, sustained only by blessed water.
Gina no longer held out much hope for her husband’s recovery. She had resigned herself to whatever fate might befall him. He has now started working as a day laborer in the fields to support his family, while Heri stays at home looking after his father.
Gina, who had just returned from the neighbor's garden that afternoon, felt a sudden sense of unease upon seeing a visitor sitting with Heri. Her thoughts immediately turned to the rice supply in the kitchen.
“Uncle Tus, have you been here long?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I came to sell towe [traditional woven cloths], but I haven't managed to sell a single piece yet.” Uncle Tus was a distant relative of Fabi’s. Whenever he came to the village to sell his wares, he would always stay at Fabi’s house.
“I didn’t know Fabi was sick.”
Gina then explained the history of her husband’s illness, which had started with complaints of lower back pain. She had taken the initiative to boil certain plant roots believed to be a remedy for back pain; after drinking the concoction, Fabi had felt better. However, a few days later, the pain returned. Seeing this, Gina urged Fabi not to go to the garden.
Heri, seeing his father continue to complain of pain, called for Mantri Ori. After the examination, Mantri Ori asked several questions—ranging from whether Fabi’s garden work was too strenuous to what he had been eating. The conclusion was that Fabi was suffering from exhaustion and was advised to avoid lifting heavy loads for several weeks. He was given an injection. Later that afternoon, Gina was startled when a child arrived with news that Fabi had collapsed near the pigsty; several people had to carry him home.
That night, Mantri Ori returned to examine him. This time, the complaints had worsened; the pain had spread from his lower back down to his calves. His legs were cramping, making it difficult for him to walk. Using the limited equipment available, the medic examined Fabi and diagnosed him with gout. He advised Fabi to avoid eating cassava leaves.
After that incident, Fabi never left the house; he simply lay in bed. Gina and Heri had lost count of how many times they had to buy a pack of Surya cigarettes for Mantri Ori whenever Fabi needed an injection.
From that time on, Fabi gradually became paralyzed. His body wasted away, and the pain in his lower back grew increasingly severe.
“I am not a shaman, but let us try tomorrow. Please prepare a free-range chicken egg.”
The next morning, Heri woke up early to find a free-range chicken egg.
Om Tus was going to perform the nggolang ruha ritual. Every secret held by Gina’s family had to be revealed, continuing until the egg cracked on its own in his hand.
And so, everything Gina’s family considered a sin was confessed, yet the egg remained intact.
Gina wept again, thinking of the effort that seemed to have been in vain. She then recalled all the sins they had committed.
“Asa ali pande manuk miteng latang ise inang ite olo2,” Heri’s voice suddenly startled Om Tus and Gina. Their eyes met. Gina looked at Om Tus and nodded.
“Cala landing le manuk miteng latang anak wina’n kraeng Fabi tara hena beti ho, hau ruha bike eme hitu tu’ung3.”
As Om Tus spoke those words, the egg cracked. Gina wept at the sight; a look of relief washed over her face. Heri embraced her.
“Look, for a recovery to happen, perhaps you should call Enu Sofia and her husband. Hold a hambor ceremony.”
Om Tus suggested that this reconciliation ceremony be handled with care. He knew the siblings had not seen each other for the past ten years; their relationship had been severed since their father’s death. A plot of land inherited by Sofia was seized by Fabi, who believed that women had no right to an inheritance. Sofia tried various ways to appease Fabi—including mediation with traditional elders—but to no avail.
Sofia and her husband dismantled the house they had built themselves. Left without a home, their lives fell into disarray as they moved from place to place with their children.
Now, Uncle Tus was proposing a reconciliation. Yet, from behind the bedroom curtain, Fabi’s voice rang out—soft, but firm.
“I’d rather die than apologize. A woman marries out—anak wina muing ise—and has no right to her father’s land.”