Marsiah Imprisoned
Marliana Kuswanti
Translated into English by Ruby Astari
Illustration by Annisa Rizkiana (Nicacomica).
In court, Marsiah had sworn that when the murder took place, she'd still been shopping at the market. Madam had requested a lot that morning: this dish, that dish—which had extended Marsiah’s already long grocery list. With beef leg soup and roasted pork already being served, why were chicken and fish still needed? Not to mention a variety of vegetable dishes; appetizers and desserts; and also as wide an assortment of fruits as possible, more so than usual.
On normal days, the fruits on the table were barely touched, always wasted, ending up in the trash can—as if there wasn’t a single starving tummy left in existence, pangs puncturing the stomach, cutting off the intestines. Marsiah could already imagine that evening, when the dining table would look like a garden ready for harvest. That morning, Marsiah really felt that Madam was pulling her leg.
Marsiah went on with her story. She mentioned all that she’d had to buy that day, from ingredients to spices, from local to imported fruits, and how she’d felt that the merchant was pulling her leg all over again. This time because she had to wait half an hour at one of the counters due to the merchant’s tardiness. Marsiah was still irritated whenever she recalled that entire morning.
Without waiting for Marsiah’s irritation to subside, the merchant she’d been referring to turned up. He confirmed that he’d been late at the market. His motorcycle tire had blown out twice. He even testified that while he was opening his stall, Marsiah who had been waiting a long time was grumbling nonstop and making the transaction take even longer.
To Marsiah, it was already crystal clear. Her madam’s murderer was clearly someone very ruthless, a repeat offender—and she was no such thing. She had no criminal record at all, not even for the slightest offence. She was not a violent person, and would never strike anyone or anything. She even had to look away from the butcher’s counter whenever the butcher slammed his cleaver down hard enough to crack bones in two.
When she had to carry the red, wet, smelly meat from the market to the house, Marsiah incessantly prayed, so that what she did wouldn’t be part of that human conspiracy, which had been victimizing so many animals since the olden days— as if humans’ bellies, which were smaller than the bellies of the animals they slaughtered, could never be well sated.
Marsiah would also apologize. To the cows, goats, water buffalos, pigs, chickens, ducks, and fish that she had to chop into tiny bits when she reached the kitchen, then cook in boiling water for hours, or fry in hot oil, which made her shriek when a little of it splashed on her own skin. To her, only heartless creatures were capable of doing such things.
Often, Marsiah even had to clean the long intestines of the animals’ excrement before they were cooked and served on her madam’s dining table. Such an excessive and disgusting act! And the chicken’s behinds! It was also Marsiah’s task to make them as delicious as possible, and look less like chicken butts when devoured in public. That would cost her madam’s family their dignity.
Although Marsiah had explained everything in as much detail as possible, and it was a fact that she had no criminal records, the court audience still believed that she was the perpetrator.
Maybe she wasn’t the only murderer. Perhaps the other culprits had escaped through the back door while Marsiah was faking screams to distract other residents. Marsiah may have always looked away whenever she passed a butcher’s counter while the butcher was slamming his cleaver down so hard that the bones cracked in two. But everyone knew, Marsiah loved to bitch.
It felt like everything in the world, to her, was a source of complaint. She griped about the grass in the yard growing faster in the rainy season. She complained about the dust flying around in the dry season. She bitched about the angkot, the public minivans, which might as well have been from ancient times, with no improvements whatsoever, as if those who managed them were brainless. She griped about the electric poles standing right in front of houses and at the street corners, without safety fences around them to prevent people—especially children—from touching them and then electrocuting themselves.
She’d even grumbled about her madam all the time, and she did it in public, where people could hear. Although Marsiah had never bitched about her to anyone, she did so loudly to herself, as if she’d lacked a few ounces of common sense. Yet her constant griping was taken by many as proof that something was wrong with Marsiah. Something off—that didn’t afflict people who were sound of body and mind.
Also hatred. Yes, the people who lived around the house of the dead madam, who’d been reduced to a few body parts lying scattered on that enormous cutting board, were certain that Marsiah hated her madam more than anything on this earth. They had heard the word “motherfucker” in Marsiah’s curses regarding her madam. Her madam had been thought so graceful, so soft-spoken, so flawless in complexion. She was the exact opposite of Marsiah who loved to curse, spitting out filthy words from inside her head without qualm.
Marsiah was also toweringly large, practically as tall as a door. It would be easy for her to finish off her madam. No need to go through the trouble of chopping her up—strangling her madam with one hand would have been enough to kill her on the spot. Oh, how terrifying it must have been to live under the same roof as someone who was obviously much stronger than you.
Marsiah didn’t deny that she had a habit of complaining. To her, the act of bitching was more like a need than an expression of her feelings. If she’d had to recount all that had driven her to complain, Marsiah would’ve been overwhelmed. Griping was like breathing—inhaling and exhaling—to her. If she hadn’t, then she would’ve been dead already. But having complaining as her hobby didn’t make her a murderer. Bitching and killing, especially so cruelly, were two very different matters.
“I bitch with my mouth, not with my hand!” Marsiah shouted as she glared at everyone in the courtroom.
People snorted for the umpteenth time. Marsiah may not have wanted to watch a butcher cracking big bones in two. But it was possible that her mind might have been boiling with curiosity. How would it have felt to do the same thing to her madam? Her madam wasn’t as big as a cow, and would have been a lot easier for a first-timer. In the kitchen and at the cutting board, Marsiah would have been used to working with knives.
Marsiah immediately sprang out of her chair. “You bitches and bastards! If there’s anyone I need to butcher in this world, it’s all of you who deserve to be my practice material!”
People in the courtroom were becoming more convinced that Marsiah had a soul of a killer. Instead of crying and begging for mercy, she was threatening everyone. No doubt about it, Marsiah must have been the perpetrator, they thought.
Especially since it was well-known that Marsiah’s request for a raise hadn’t been granted by her madam.
More than ten times had they heard Marsiah grumble all the way to the market and back, “I’ll poison my cooking. Then you’ll see! It’s important to pay your cook enough. Your stomach is full thanks to them, but you could also die at the hands of the same person! What a stupid bitch!”
Hearing this caused mass goosebumps among the people in the courtroom. The prosecution grew more eager in their accusations of Marsiah. Marsiah immediately pointed in their direction.
“Today, I could just threaten to cut off your balls. But just you wait till tonight—see whether or not I’ll come to you while you’re asleep and pull down your pants with a chainsaw in my hand!”
People were stunned. The man Marsiah had pointed at fell off his chair. He even felt as if the body parts mentioned had disappeared under his trousers. Damn that woman!
The trial went on and on. Day after day, week after week, month after month. Not one piece of evidence surfaced except for Marsiah’s footprints, discovered in the kitchen where the brutal killing had occurred. Marsiah had a curiously strong motive, namely her resentment at her madam rejecting her request for a raise multiple times. There was further support: she’d already been known for griping about her madam and threatening to add some poison to her cooking.
The desire to finish off her madam had always been there. As for when it had suddenly turned into a heinous murder, chances were that Marsiah had finally lost it when her request had been denied yet again. Or she might have thought that any poison found in the food her madam had consumed at home would have automatically pointed to her. And, of course, her towering figure made it possible to commit the slaughter all by herself.
Another factor—Marsiah’s relative freedom at the time—had strengthened the conviction held by the prosecutor, judge, and public that Marsiah had done it. Three days before the slaughter had taken place, Marsiah had been alone with her madam. The madam’s two children had been vacationing at their aunt’s, while the husband had been away for months on a work assignment abroad. And he had only recently returned to the house to attend the cremation of his wife’s remains. The grief-stricken man couldn’t even bear to accept her ashes, and ended up letting his in-laws take care of everything else.
Even during the final seconds of the reading of the verdict, Marsiah still refused to give in. Even when she was being dragged out of the courtroom with her hands cuffed behind her back to her new home, where she would spend the rest of her life, she kicked her legs in the air and at all the officers. Just like her hands, both her feet were finally cuffed. Marsiah felt like a hunted-down pig being carried away, her hands and feet tied, hanging from a bamboo pole.
Marsiah kept on screaming. About her madam who’d been known to be soft-spoken and soft of skin. About something unexpected that must have occurred that day—the day when her madam had asked her for a whole lot more, this dish and that, and had made her grocery list very long. The day when her madam had planned a special feast for a man who had never shown up. Not for dinner, as promised, nor the day her madam had become pieces of meat, engulfed in flames.
The man who was half her master’s age, who had made the madam feel the need to evacuate her chicken-butt-gobbling children to the house of their aunt, who had only eaten bloodless things her entire life. The young man who had made her master unable to accept his wife’s ashes.
The master who had always come and gone with a convoy of sturdy men. The master who was allowed to appear only once in court to simply say, “I don’t know anything. I’m still overwhelmed by grief.”
Marsiah called on all the animals ever to walk on earth. From dinosaurs to camels, from butterflies to pangolins and lizards. And later, in her new home, Marsiah promised to keep apologizing to the cows, the goats, the buffalos, the pigs, the chickens, the ducks, and the fish. Perhaps she shouldn’t have sliced them up and cooked them all in boiling water for hours, or fried them in hot cooking oil which had made her scream when the hot oil splashed her skin. Deeds only heartless creatures would do.
And by the time you read this story, Marsiah has long taken off and flown all the way to heaven. The place where she hoped very much to see her madam in much better form than the last time she saw her decades ago, just so she could ask, “So, who really butchered you, Madam?”
But Marsiah can’t find anybody there. Not her madam in much better shape than the last time she was seen, nor her master, nor the other man half his age, supposing both of them have met the same fate as she has. Marsiah bitches one more time in Heaven, which is actually no more complete than Earth, where evil, good, truth, falsehood, and everything are rolled into one.
© Marliana Kuswanti
English translation © Ruby Astari
MARSIAH DIPENJARA
Marliana Kuswanti
Ilustrasi oleh Annisa Rizkiana (Nicacomica).
Dalam persidangan, Marsiah bersumpah, saat pembunuhan itu terjadi ia masih berbelanja di pasar. Nyonyanya meminta banyak hal pagi itu: masakan ini, masakan itu; membuat daftar belanjaan Marsiah panjang sekali. Sudah ada sup kaki sapi, kenapa masih ditambah babi panggang? Sudah ada sup kaki sapi dan babi panggang, kenapa masih ditambah lagi dengan ayam dan ikan? Belum lagi rupa-rupa masakan berbahan sayur; makanan pembuka dan penutup; juga buah-buahan yang harus tersaji selengkap mungkin, lebih daripada hari-hari biasa.
Padahal pada hari-hari biasa pun buah-buahan di meja nyaris tak pernah tersentuh, selalu ada saja yang berakhir sia-sia di tempat sampah seolah-olah di dunia ini sudah tidak ada lagi satu pun perut yang keroncongan sampai rasa perihnya melubangi lambung, memutuskan usus. Marsiah sudah bisa membayangkan malam nanti meja makan akan tampak seperti kebun siap panen. Pagi itu, Marsiah benar-benar merasa dikerjai nyonyanya.
Marsiah melanjutkan ceritanya. Ia menyebutkan semua yang harus dibelinya, dari bahan-bahan sampai bumbu-bumbu, dari buah lokal sampai impor, dan ia merasa dikerjai sekali lagi. Kali ini oleh keharusan menunggu sampai setengah jam di salah satu lapak karena si pedagang datang terlambat. Marsiah masih jengkel saban mengingat seluruh rangkaian kejadian pagi itu.
Tanpa menunggu kejengkelan Marsiah mereda, pedagang yang disebut-sebut Marsiah pun datang. Ia membenarkan kalau pagi itu ia memang terlambat tiba di pasar. Roda sepeda motornya kempis dua kali. Ia bahkan bersaksi, selagi ia membuka lapak, Marsiah yang telah lama menunggu menggerutu tak henti-henti dan membuat transaksi berlangsung lebih lama lagi.
Bagi Marsiah, ini semua sudah gamblang. Pembunuh nyonyanya jelas seorang yang sangat kejam, penjahat kambuhan, dan itu bukan dirinya. Dirinya tak punya rekam jejak satu pun kejahatan, yang paling ringan sekalipun. Ia bukan orang yang kasar, tak pernah menempeleng orang atau yang seperti itu. Ia bahkan selalu memalingkan wajah ketika di lapak daging si pedagang menghantamkan pisau besarnya kuat-kuat sampai tulang besar patah jadi dua.
Saat harus menenteng daging merah, basah, dan berbau sepanjang perjalanan dari pasar ke rumah, Marsiah tak henti-hentinya berdoa agar yang dilakukannya bukan bagian dari persekongkolan manusia yang mengorbankan begitu banyak binatang sejak zaman dahulu kala—seolah-olah perut mereka yang jauh lebih kecil ketimbang perut binatang-binatang yang dibantai itu tak pernah kenyang.
Marsiah juga meminta maaf. Pada sapi-sapi, kambing-kambing, kerbau-kerbau, babi-babi, ayam-ayam, bebek-bebek, dan ikan-ikan yang harus ia cincang sesampainya di dapur, lalu rebus dalam air mendidih selama berjam-jam atau goreng dalam minyak panas yang membuatnya menjerit ketika kulitnya sendiri terpercik sedikit. Baginya, hal itu hanya dapat dilakukan oleh makhluk yang tak punya hati.
Marsiah bahkan sering kali harus membersihkan usus panjang dari kotoran di dalamnya untuk kemudian ikut dimasak dan dihidangkan di meja makan nyonyanya. Sungguh perbuatan yang rakus dan menjijikkan. Juga bagian pantat ayam. Adalah tugas Marsiah untuk membuatnya selezat mungkin dan tak terlalu tampak seperti pantat ayam saat disantap di depan orang banyak. Nanti jatuh kehormatan keluarga nyonyanya.
Meski Marsiah telah menguraikan segalanya sedemikian rupa dan benar ia tak memiliki catatan kriminal satu pun, orang-orang yang hadir dalam persidangan tetap yakin Marsiahlah pelakunya.
Mungkin bukan pelaku tunggal. Mungkin pelaku lainnya melarikan diri lewat pintu belakang selagi Marsiah berakting menjerit-jerit untuk menarik perhatian warga. Marsiah boleh saja selalu berpaling saat melewati lapak daging yang pedagangnya tengah beraksi menghantamkan pisau besarnya kuat-kuat sampai tulang besar patah jadi dua. Tetapi semua orang juga tahu, Marsiah senang sekali menggerutu.
Rasa-rasanya, segala hal di dunia ini digerutuinya. Ia menggerutu tentang rumput di halaman yang tumbuh lebih cepat pada musim penghujan. Ia menggerutu tentang debu yang beterbangan di musim kemarau. Ia menggerutu tentang angkot yang dari zaman purba begitu-begitu saja, tak ada perbaikan apa pun seakan-akan semua orang yang mengelolanya tak punya otak. Ia menggerutu tentang tiang listrik yang berdiri di depan rumah-rumah, di pinggir-pinggir jalan, tanpa dikelilingi pagar pengaman supaya orang apalagi anak-anak tak bisa sembarangan menyentuhnya lalu tersengat listrik.
Ia bahkan menggerutui nyonyanya setiap waktu, dan ia melakukannya di tempat terbuka sehingga orang-orang mendengarnya. Meski Marsiah tak pernah bergunjing dengan siapa pun, hanya menggerutu sendiri seperti orang yang akal sehatnya kurang beberapa ons, tetap saja gerutu yang terus-menerus itu diyakini orang-orang sebagai bukti adanya kekeliruan dalam diri Marsiah. Kekeliruan yang tak ada dalam diri orang-orang yang sehat jasmani dan rohani.
Juga kebencian. Ya, orang-orang di sekitar rumah nyonya yang tewas dengan beberapa potongan tubuh terserak di atas talenan besar itu yakin Marsiah membenci nyonyanya lebih daripada segala yang ada di muka bumi ini. Telah beberapa kali mereka mendengar kata “keparat” di tengah gerutu Marsiah tentang nyonyanya. Nyonyanya yang dikenal orang-orang begitu anggun, halus ucapannya, halus pula seluruh kulitnya. Sungguh bertolak belakang dengan Marsiah yang senang menggerutu, bahkan tanpa sungkan menggunakan kata-kata kotor yang ia temukan dalam kepala.
Marsiah juga bertubuh tinggi besar, nyaris setinggi pintu. Sungguh mudah baginya jika hendak menghabisi nyonyanya. Tak usah repot-repot memotong-motong, sekali cekik dengan satu tangan pun pasti nyonyanya mampus di tempat. Ah, memang mengerikan hidup satu atap dengan orang yang tampak jauh lebih kuat darimu.
Marsiah tidak menyangkal tentang kesenangannya menggerutu. Bahkan baginya, menggerutu adalah kebutuhan ketimbang sekadar ekspresi perasaan. Jika harus mengingat apa saja yang mendorongnya untuk menggerutu, Marsiah kewalahan. Menggerutu itu tak ubahnya tarikan dan embusan napas. Kalau ia tidak menggerutu, itu artinya ia pasti sudah tamat. Namun, memiliki hobi menggerutu tentu bukan berarti ia seorang pembunuh. Menggerutu dengan membunuh, apalagi sampai sekejam itu, tentu dua hal yang sangat berbeda.
“Aku menggerutu dengan mulutku, bukan dengan tanganku!” begitu kata Marsiah lantang dengan mata memelotot di ruang sidang.
Orang-orang mendengus untuk kesekian kalinya. Marsiah boleh saja tak mau menyaksikan pedagang daging mematahkan tulang-tulang besar. Namun, boleh jadi, dalam benaknya justru menggelegak rasa penasaran. Kira-kira bagaimana ya, kalau melakukan hal yang sama pada tubuh nyonyanya? Nyonyanya jelas tak sebesar sapi, tentu akan jauh lebih mudah untuk seorang pemula. Toh, di dapur dan di atas talenan, Marsiah sudah terbiasa bermain pisau.
Marsiah seketika terlonjak dari kursinya. “Sundal dan bajingan kalian semua! Kalau ada yang perlu kujagal di dunia ini, kalian pantas menjadi bahan latihanku!”
Orang-orang di ruang sidang makin mantap menyimpulkan Marsiah memang berjiwa pembunuh. Bukannya menangis dan memohon-mohon ampunan, ia justru mengancam semua orang. Tak diragukan lagi, Marsiah pasti pelakunya, pikir mereka.
Apalagi banyak orang tahu, permintaan Marsiah tentang kenaikan gaji tak kunjung dipenuhi nyonyanya.
Telah lebih dari sepuluh kali mereka mendengar Marsiah berkata sepanjang perjalanan pergi ke dan pulang dari pasar, “Kumasukkan racun dalam masakanku, baru tahu rasa kau! Memang penting memberi upah yang cukup pada juru masakmu. Kau kenyang karena juru masakmu, tapi kau juga bisa modar oleh orang yang sama! Dasar jalang kedekut!”
Mendengarnya pun seketika membuat bulu kuduk berdiri. Tim penuntut kian bersemangat menuduh Marsiah. Marsiah langsung mengacungkan telunjuknya pada anggota tim penuntut.
“Hari ini aku bisa saja mengancam hendak mencopot pelirmu dari tempatnya. Tapi buktikan saja nanti malam, apakah aku jadi mendatangimu selagi kau tidur dan melepaskan celanamu dengan gergaji di sebelah tangan!”
Orang-orang terperangah. Yang ditunjuk Marsiah sampai terjungkal dari kursinya. Bahkan ia merasa bagian tubuhnya itu telah lenyap dari balik celana. Benar-benar perempuan terkutuk!
Persidangan terus berlangsung. Hari ke hari, minggu ke minggu, bulan ke bulan. Tak ada satu pun bukti selain jejak Marsiah yang ditemukan di dapur tempat pembantaian terjadi. Marsiah memiliki motif yang cukup kuat, yaitu sakit hati sebab permintaan kenaikan gajinya ditolak berkali-kali oleh nyonyanya. Sebagai penguat, riwayatnya yang senang menggerutui nyonyanya dan ucapannya tentang menaruh racun dalam masakannya.
Niat menghabisi nyonyanya sudah ada sedari dahulu kala. Kalau tiba-tiba berubah menjadi pembantaian, bisa saja lantaran Marsiah gelap mata saat permintaannya ditolak lagi untuk kesekian kalinya, atau ia berpikir keberadaan racun dalam makanan yang disantap nyonyanya di rumah akan langsung menunjuk kepada dirinya. Dan, tentu saja, perawakannya yang kukuh memungkinkannya untuk melakukan pembantaian itu seorang diri.
Faktor keleluasaan juga memperkuat keyakinan penuntut, hakim, dan publik bahwa Marsiah pelakunya. Selama tiga hari sebelum pembantaian itu terjadi, di rumah itu hanya ada Marsiah dan nyonyanya. Dua anaknya berlibur ke rumah bibi mereka, suami si nyonya bertugas ke luar negeri sudah berbulan-bulan lamanya, dan baru kembali ke rumah itu saat menghadiri kremasi bagian-bagian tubuh istrinya. Lelaki yang terlalu berduka itu bahkan tak sanggup menerima abunya, dan membiarkan saudara iparnya melakukan keperluan-keperluan berikutnya.
Sampai detik-detik terakhir pembacaan putusan, Marsiah terus melawan. Bahkan saat ia diseret meninggalkan ruang sidang dengan kedua tangan terborgol di balik punggung menuju rumah barunya untuk sepanjang sisa usia, kedua kakinya menendang-nendang semua petugas dan udara. Sama seperti tangan, kedua kaki itu akhirnya diborgol. Marsiah merasa seperti babi buruan yang digotong orang beramai-ramai dengan tangan dan kaki terikat, bergelantungan pada sepotong bambu.
Marsiah terus berteriak. Tentang nyonyanya yang dikenal begitu halus ucapan dan kulitnya. Tentang sesuatu di luar dugaan yang pasti telah terjadi hari itu. Hari ketika nyonyanya meminta jauh lebih banyak darinya, masakan ini dan itu, dan membuat daftar belanjaannya panjang sekali. Hari ketika nyonyanya telah menyusun rencana jamuan istimewa untuk seorang lelaki yang akhirnya tak pernah datang. Baik pada jam makan malam yang dijanjikan maupun pada hari nyonyanya yang telah menjadi potongan-potongan habis dilalap api.
Lelaki separuh umur tuannya yang membuat nyonyanya merasa perlu mengungsikan kedua anaknya yang suka sekali makan pantat ayam ke rumah bibinya yang sepanjang hidupnya hanya memakan segala yang tak dialiri darah. Lelaki muda yang membuat tuannya tak mampu menerima abu istrinya.
Tuan yang selalu datang dan pergi dalam kawalan sejumlah orang bertubuh tegap. Tuan yang dibolehkan hanya hadir sekali dalam persidangan untuk berkata, “Saya tidak tahu apa-apa. Saya masih sangat berduka.”
Marsiah menyebutkan semua binatang yang pernah ada di muka bumi ini. Dari dinosaurus sampai unta, dari kupu-kupu sampai tenggiling dan kadal. Dan di dalam rumah barunya nanti, Marsiah berjanji akan terus meminta maaf pada sapi-sapi, kambing-kambing, kerbau-kerbau, babi-babi, ayam-ayam, bebek-bebek, dan ikan-ikan. Mungkin seharusnya ia tak pernah mencincang dan merebus mereka dalam air mendidih berjam-jam lamanya, atau menggoreng mereka dalam minyak panas yang membuatnya menjerit ketika kulitnya sendiri terpercik sedikit. Hal yang hanya dapat dilakukan oleh makhluk yang tak punya hati.
Dan saat kau membaca cerita ini, Marsiah telah lepas landas, terbang menuju surga. Tempat ia sangat berharap dapat bertemu nyonyanya dalam bentuk yang jauh lebih baik daripada yang terakhir dilihatnya puluhan tahun lalu, hanya untuk menanyakan, “Jadi, siapa yang sebenarnya menjagalmu, Nyonya?”
Tetapi Marsiah tak menemukan siapa pun di sana. Tidak nyonyanya dalam bentuk yang lebih baik daripada yang terakhir dilihatnya, tidak pula tuannya atau lelaki yang berumur separuhnya bila keduanya juga telah bernasib sama dengannya. Marsiah menggerutu sekali lagi dalam surga yang ternyata tak lebih lengkap daripada dunia, tempat kejahatan, kebaikan, kebenaran, kekeliruan, dan segalanya berpilin menjadi satu.
© Marliana Kuswanti
MARLIANA KUSWANTI was born in Purwokerto in 1988. She writes fiction and nonfiction. Her writing can be found in Femina, Kartini, Media Indonesia, Gadis, Detik, Kompas.id, Basabasi, IDN Times, and other media platforms. Her serialized story “Gelas Retak” (“The Cracked Glass”) won first place in Femina’s Serial Fiction Competition for 2013/2014. Her other short stories—“Tak Seperti Kekasihmu yang Lain” (“Unlike Your Other Lover”), “Seorang Penulis Tidak Menerjemahkan Kepedihan Hatinya dengan Cara-cara Murahan” (“A Writer Does Not Translate The Grief of Her Heart Cheaply”)—were among the top ten finalists in Basabasi’s 2018 Experimental Short Fiction Competition. Her books include Rumah Kayu Itu (That Wooden House) and Kedai Nyonya O (Mrs. O’s Diner). Her new novel is a work-in-progress. You can find her on Facebook @MarlianaKuswanti and Instagram @marlianakuswanti.
RUBY ASTARI was born in Jakarta, in November 1981. She writes fiction and non-fiction in addition to translating texts from Indonesian to English and vice-versa. A number of her works have appeared in kaWanku, SPICE!, and Story Magazine, and online in Jendela360.com, Magdalene.co, Lakilakibaru.or.id, Konde.co, Empuan.id, and Voxpop.id. A freelance columnist for Guesehat.com and freelance writer for Kontenesia.com, she has written a YA thriller novel called Reva’s Tale (published by Ice Cube, Gramedia). Her English-language poetry collection, A Phoenix Speaks, is in the process of being published.
ANNISA RIZKIANA was born in 1992. She’s a visual artist and writer, and also likes to make comics under the name Nicacomica.