The Man by the Fire

“On what grounds?” I said.

“Atas dasar apa?” tanya saya.

He turned to me as if he had only just noticed I was there. “I wasn’t talking to you, young man.”

Dia menoleh kepada saya seakan baru sadar saya ada di sana. “Saya tidak bicara dengan Anda, Anak Muda.”

“You’re talking about my father. That makes it my business.” Behind me twelve stall-holders had stopped working to listen. Twelve names, out of the twenty the council wanted by the eleventh, and Mr Pike had just brought five more across the square only to take them away.

“Anda bicara tentang ayah saya. Itu membuat ini urusan saya.” Di belakang saya dua belas pemilik kios berhenti bekerja untuk mendengarkan. Dua belas nama, dari dua puluh yang diminta dewan kota sebelum tanggal sebelas, dan Pak Pike baru saja membawa lima orang lagi melintasi alun-alun hanya untuk menarik mereka kembali.

“Then here are my grounds.” He pulled his scarf tighter. “This is a Christmas market. It’s held on the steps of a church, on the feast of the birth of Christ. It has been run for thirty years by Walter Brandt, who is a Christian and a member of that church, and before him by Father Gregory, who was its priest. I’ve nothing against your father. I’ve bought my milk from him for twenty years. But he is not a Christian, and a Christian feast should be run by a Christian. That’s all.”

“Kalau begitu, ini dasar saya.” Dia mengencangkan syalnya. “Ini pasar Natal. Pasar ini diadakan di tangga sebuah gereja, pada hari raya kelahiran Kristus. Selama tiga puluh tahun pasar ini dikelola oleh Walter Brandt, seorang Kristen dan anggota gereja itu, dan sebelum dia oleh Father Gregory, imam gereja itu. Saya tidak punya masalah dengan ayah Anda. Sudah dua puluh tahun saya membeli susu darinya. Tetapi dia bukan orang Kristen, dan hari raya Kristen sebaiknya dikelola oleh orang Kristen. Itu saja.”

Behind him the five stall-holders looked at the snow. One of them, a young woman who sold knitted hats, looked as if she wished she were somewhere else.

Di belakangnya kelima pemilik kios itu menatap salju. Salah satunya, seorang wanita muda yang menjual topi rajutan, tampak ingin berada di tempat lain.

I am good at this kind of moment. I have taken apart better arguments than Mr Pike’s in front of judges. So I did what I am good at.

Saya pandai dalam saat seperti ini. Di depan hakim, saya pernah membongkar argumen yang lebih baik daripada argumen Pak Pike. Maka saya melakukan apa yang saya kuasai.

“Mr Pike,” I said, “you understand that what you’ve just said is discrimination? On grounds of religion. If you said it in a workplace, you’d be dismissed. If the council heard that stall-holders were refusing to trade because of the organiser’s faith, they’d be within their rights to refuse your licence, not his. I’d advise you very strongly to think about what you’ve said before you say it again.”

“Pak Pike,” kata saya, “Anda mengerti bahwa apa yang baru Anda katakan itu diskriminasi? Berdasarkan agama. Kalau Anda mengatakannya di tempat kerja, Anda akan dipecat. Kalau dewan kota mendengar bahwa para pemilik kios menolak berdagang karena iman penyelenggaranya, mereka berhak menolak izin Anda, bukan izin dia. Saya sangat menyarankan Anda memikirkan apa yang sudah Anda katakan sebelum Anda mengatakannya lagi.”

It was a good speech. It was clear, accurate and short. It was also, I saw at once, a disaster.

Itu pidato yang bagus. Jelas, tepat, dan singkat. Tetapi saya langsung melihat bahwa itu juga bencana.

Mr Pike’s face went hard and still. The young woman with the hats looked at me with something close to fear. Two of the stall-holders who had been working with us all evening, a married couple who sold roasted chestnuts, quietly put down their tools and walked over to stand beside him.

Wajah Pak Pike menjadi keras dan diam. Wanita muda dengan topi-topi itu menatap saya dengan sesuatu yang mendekati rasa takut. Dua pemilik kios yang bekerja bersama kami sepanjang malam, sepasang suami istri penjual kastanye panggang, diam-diam meletakkan alat mereka dan berjalan ke sisinya.

“Threats,” said Mr Pike. “From a London lawyer. In the middle of our own square.” He nodded slowly, as if I had proved something he had always known. “Thank you, Mr Yousef. That’s very clear.”

“Ancaman,” kata Pak Pike. “Dari pengacara London. Di tengah alun-alun kami sendiri.” Dia mengangguk pelan, seakan saya sudah membuktikan sesuatu yang selalu dia ketahui. “Terima kasih, Pak Yousef. Itu sangat jelas.”

He walked back across the square to the café. The others followed him, and the chestnut couple went too, carrying their tools. The door of the café closed behind them, and its little bell rang.

Dia berjalan kembali melintasi alun-alun ke kafe. Yang lain mengikutinya, dan pasangan kastanye itu juga pergi sambil membawa alat mereka. Pintu kafe menutup di belakang mereka, dan lonceng kecilnya berbunyi.

My father had not said a single word. He was still holding his plank. He put it down carefully on the trestle, picked up the saw, and went on cutting.

Ayah saya tidak mengatakan sepatah kata pun. Dia masih memegang papannya. Dia meletakkannya dengan hati-hati di atas penyangga, mengambil gergaji, dan terus memotong.