Upon Hearing the News of Xu Lizhi’s Suicide Zhou Qizao, a fellow worker at Foxconn

The loss of every life Is the passing of another me Another screw comes loose Another migrant worker brother jumps You die in place of me And I keep writing in place of you While I do so, screwing the screws tighter Today is our nation’s sixty-fi fth birthday We wish the country joyous celebrations

A twenty-four-year-old you stands in the grey picture frame, smiling ever so slightly Autumn winds and autumn rain

A white-haired father, holding the black urn with your ashes, stumbles home.

I Have to Go Home this Lebaran

Umar Kayam That night Nem decided to tell her employer her plan, once again,

as honestly as she could. Once again and as honestly as she could, because she’d actually done it a couple of times already. But in the past, every time she did it, her employer talked about something else instead, so in the end they ended up discussing anything but her plan.

That night Nem was determined to state her plan casually but firmly, getting straight to the point, in order to stop her employer diverting their conversation to another topic. Nighttime was the best moment to do it, while both of her employers and their only daugh- ter sat in front of television, enjoying whatever it displayed, a music show or the like. When Nem thought the time had come, she slowly sat on the floor, next to her female employer. She held her employer’s foot and gave it a massage.

Her female employer, who loved being massaged by Nem, automati- cally gave her her le ft foot. “What’s the matter with you? It’s still early and you’ve already massaged my feet without me calling and asking you first.” Nem smiled as she felt her tactics working.

“Here’s the thing, ma’am, sir and kid. This Lebaran I want to go home.” “I see, you want something from us, no wonder you massage my feet voluntarily!”

Instead of responding to her female employer’s words, Nem told them her story. “Come to think of it, I’ve been working here for twenty years. When did the father of my daughters die from typhus? How long it has been? Oh dear husband, why did you die just like that? Even two years a fter you left us all I was lost. Our village felt empty after our daughters married men who would help them find a better life abroad. I don’t even know where they are now. They could be living in an Arab country, or Malaysia. I still don’t understand why they le ft me alone in our village. But I was lucky that I had my nephew and niece, Djan and Min. Their life was already stable, and although Instead of responding to her female employer’s words, Nem told them her story. “Come to think of it, I’ve been working here for twenty years. When did the father of my daughters die from typhus? How long it has been? Oh dear husband, why did you die just like that? Even two years a fter you left us all I was lost. Our village felt empty after our daughters married men who would help them find a better life abroad. I don’t even know where they are now. They could be living in an Arab country, or Malaysia. I still don’t understand why they le ft me alone in our village. But I was lucky that I had my nephew and niece, Djan and Min. Their life was already stable, and although

Nem kept on massaging the feet of her female employer. Her employer closed her eyes, enjoying Nem’s massage. “So, Nem, you like working for us, right?” “Absolutely, sir. I’ve been working and living here for at least fi fteen

years. That’s a long time, I guess. Don’t you think so, sir?” Her female employer suddenly opened her eyes, sat up straight, and looked at Nem. “Well, before you said twenty years. Just now, you reduced it to fi fteen years. How come?” “It’s all the same to me, fi fteen years or twenty years. It’s all the same, madam, sir and miss.” “Then what?” “Well, I don’t know, miss. It’s Lebaran, and I must go home. I have

to, miss. Because I haven’t visited my village for I don’t know how long, miss.”

“Really, you went there two years ago!” “Two years? Two years ago, ma’am?” “Ah, yes! Your nephew, Djan, and your grandson Giman picked

you up!” Nem didn’t say a word. Then she remembered Djan and his grandson, Giman, did pick her up, and together they had gone to their village. Nem also remembered how hard and troublesome that journey had been. The train was packed. Then they took an oplet (public bus), and in the end they rode three motorcycles to get to their destination. And she paid for the three of them.

At the village, Djan’s wife was pregnant with their fi fth child. Her another nephew, Min, had a wife who was also pregnant with their fi fth child. The house was full in no time. In the afternoon, two of At the village, Djan’s wife was pregnant with their fi fth child. Her another nephew, Min, had a wife who was also pregnant with their fi fth child. The house was full in no time. In the afternoon, two of

“It’s okay, right, Auntie?” “Of course, son.” By the rice field that her late husband had le ft her, she noticed that

it had became narrower. This was because of a lea fhopper infestation, and she, involuntarily, had had to sell half of it to the rich farmer in the village. Nem didn’t mind at all.

“So, Nem, do you really want to leave us for good this Lebaran?” “What can I do, ma’am and miss? I’m getting older, and honestly,

now I’m getting tired easily. This Lebaran, I need to go home for ever.” “What will you do for a living in your village, Nem?” “I don’t know, sir. Maybe I will take care of my grandchildren, Djan

and Min’s children.” “Are they your grandchildren?” “Of course, ma’am. Djan and Min are my nephews. Their children

are my grandchildren.” “What about your own children, Nem? How are they doing?” “I don’t know, ma’am. They’re gone, their husband took them away

somewhere I don’t know.” “Okay, then, Nem, if you really want it so badly. But at least before you leave us, can you please cook rawon (traditional Javanese food), beef ribs, and red-bean soup?”

“With pleasure, ma’am! I’ll do it!” That same night, in her small room at the rear of the house, on her “With pleasure, ma’am! I’ll do it!” That same night, in her small room at the rear of the house, on her

During her sleep, magically, she still painted a smile on her face.

Writing is a way of continuously filling an empty room with history and trag- edy. Where are we now? In a small room which the writers have built using mental architecture to help us deal with these foreign feelings. The readers are aban- doned in translation. But is it really language that matters here? Can language build a house for being? Is there a way to escape displacement other than immers- ing yourself in work? On the other hand, work, the routine, provides another route towards another place that we can call home.

Upon Hearing the News of Xu Lizhi’s Suicide Zhou Qizao, a fellow worker at Foxconn