Let's go back to Johan bin Berahim

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Johan bin Berahim is a meticulous garbage collector; he won’t miss a beer bottle left on someone’s doorstep, a piece of food that shows class differences, a menstrual pad stained with blood and unwashed, a flattened rat in the parking lot, or stinky objects hiding under windows like lipstick or semen on old newspapers. He doesn’t let anything escape his notice. He never turns away from dirty and rotting finds, even if they are known only to the owner of the garbage and his God.

For Johan bin Berahim, other people’s secrets are definitely none of his business. He doesn’t question where the discarded items came from or how they became useless. Now, you may have a different perspective. For example, Johan bin Berahim’s silence isn’t because he doesn’t like me. He just doesn’t care, except for the trash. We often think that his silence is a way to avoid questions about lost items. But in reality, Johan bin Berahim always returns valuable items he finds. If the item is not in his possession, of course he will be honest.

Johan bin Berahim never bothered to learn other people’s secrets; once, I witnessed a couple having a big fight in one of the rooms. They were throwing things at each other. That’s when Johan bin Berahim arrived, casually collecting the trash bags without a second thought. The same thing happened when the police tried to break into a room to chase a repeat offender of sexual violence. Johan bin Berahim remained focused on his task, undisturbed by the chaos around him. He seemed unafraid of death, even when a gunfight was taking place right before his eyes. And the story of the opium smoker in the room next to mine could be a complement—the tenant found freedom in throwing away the remains of his ritual.

Now you fully agree with this idea: everyone has secrets and Johan bin Berahim has the power to hold everyone’s secrets. But Johan bin Berahim is not aware of the extent of his authority. Johan bin Berahim mirrors Mrs. Kessler in his work. The burden of human sin resembles a pile of dirty laundry in dire need of cleaning. The tenants of this rented room understood him and considered Johan as just another part of the scenery—like the dust that accumulates under the bed, the folds on a woman's chest, an old man's hat, the stones scattered in the garden, and the dark, forgotten corners of the storeroom, where unspeakable things are kept, things that cannot really be cleaned.

Johan bin Berahim has been missing for a month now. I can still clearly picture his last morning; I saw him arrive late. His figure was hunched over by the entrance gate, shaking uncontrollably. Beside him lay a large garbage bag. He remained there for a long time, as if something inside him was trying to speak. I could not tell if Johan was still in the process of collecting the garbage, or if he had already finished. But what was surprising was his gaze towards the rented rooms. The intensity of his eyes was full of caution, and that was enough for me to keep my distance.

That is how I repeated it, in his statement to the authorities. I said that Johan bin Berahim looked guilty, although I did not know for sure what was in the bag and where Johan bin Berahim was taking it. My lack of understanding of the character did not help anyone in understanding Johan bin Berahim. Not the security guard, not the occupants of the rooms, not you yourself, who must have been here to understand his job, before you took over Johan bin Berahim's task of collecting the remains we had thrown away.

Why did Johan bin Berahim look at this rental building with such concern? Was there really a body in that garbage bag? Was it because Johan, who always returned people's lost things when he found them, suddenly decided that this one thing didn't need to be returned? Johan disappeared on the same day that my seven-year-old stepson disappeared from their upstairs family room, number seven. Some say Johan kidnapped him, but others think he was just another victim in the chaos.

Johan bin Berahim is similar to Mrs. Kessler in some ways, but not entirely. He is also not like my character, who, during interrogation, could say that some people are born to be trouble. As if Johan bin Berahim would never clean up after everything. Or would it still be appropriate to put them together as a whole, as if we had all read Mrs. Kessler's testimony while she was alive, rather than as one of those hundreds of postmortem poems from hundreds of years ago?

Johan bin Berahim had his secrets, just like you and I. Everyone has things they hide that don’t make it into this story. You can ask him yourself if you’re lucky enough to find him alive. But if by chance you find Johan dead, and there’s a new character with a fresh perspective, someone we don’t know who’s taking notes on Johan’s story—like, that for every dirty business, there’s always someone else who serves as the cleaner—then please, do me one favor. Give Johan his apology. Johan bin Berahim. Thank God he existed.