Matias Akankari<\/p>\n
By Gerson Poyk<\/p>\n
It was a parachutist who produced Matias Akankari from the
\njungles of Irian Jaya. In the dead of night he jumped and fell
\nback to earth and had come to rest, dangling from the branches of
\na tall tree. With great effort on his part he managed to
\nextricate himself. Then he rested. And, upon regaining his
\nstrength, he set out on foot to find his companions. Before
\nfinding them however, he met up with a young Irian male called
\nMatias Akankari.<\/p>\n
Matias had taken ill and the parachutist administered some
\nmedicine whose therapeutic effect soon had Matias back on his
\nfeet again. But this did nothing to quell the parachutist's
\ndismay when he realized that the young native was wholly
\nincapable of speaking Indonesian. Yet it was this Matias who
\nturned out to be an extremely dependable guide and who guaranteed
\nthe parachutist's safe return to Jakarta.<\/p>\n
Unlike the other boys from Jakarta who had also done Irian
\nservice, the parachutist returned to Jakarta without a
\ntelevision, an icebox or the other requisites for luxurious
\nliving left behind by the Dutch in their former colony. No, this
\nparachutist brought back to Jakarta, Matias. Matias who had been
\nhis boon companion through all sorts of trails and tribulations
\nand whose friendship he could not forget.<\/p>\n
But keeping Matias proved to be more expensive than
\nmaintaining an inanimate luxury item. Three plates of food a
\nsitting, a daily total of nine plates of food, was going down
\nthat alimentary canal. The parachutist grew alarmed. As a soldier
\non soldier's pay, how would he be able to keep up with such a
\nrich diet?<\/p>\n
But the parachutist was blessed with a nimble mind. He dressed
\nMatias in expensive haberdashery he had purchased in Irian: a
\nwool suit, dress shirt, tie and pinching shoes of foreign
\nmanufacture. Then he and Matias rode off in a borrowed jeep
\ntowards the bustling center of the city.<\/p>\n
Newly come to town, this being the third day of his sojourn in
\nthe capital city, Matias was agog, amazed by the brilliant neon-
\nlight show, astonished by the height and number of buildings.
\nWhat's more, he was dismayed by the forest of human beings.
\nNobody looked like him. His eyes blinked furiously and his head
\ntwisted back and forth, left and right, as he tried to capture
\nall that was the urban marvel scattering in the wake of the
\nswiftly-moving Soviet made Gaza jeep.<\/p>\n
Finally, they arrived at the Senen shopping district. The
\nparachutist took Matias to a movie theater. There for the first
\ntime in his life, Matias was going to see a film. A new
\nexperience; he focused all his powers of concentration on the
\nmovie screen. Thus when a certain parachutist casually made his
\nexit, Matias was so engrossed he did not sense the deed.<\/p>\n
\"I want to see something,\" the parachutist said to a fellow
\nparachutist who was outside the theater, waiting to see the same
\nfilm. \"I left Matias Akankari in there to watch the movie by
\nhimself. I want to see just how a primitive makes out in this
\ncity. Who knows? Maybe I can make some money from a book about
\nhim,\" the man boasted to his peer before jumping into his jeep
\nand zooming off.<\/p>\n
The film ended and Matias opened his eyes wide to engage in
\nhis surroundings. His heartbeat quickened, yet he did not utter a
\nsound because he could not speak Indonesian. His means of
\nexpression was his eyes. They stood out, red against the
\nblackness of his skin, rolling in their sockets as he scanned the
\njostling mass of bodies for his friend. It was hopeless. He let
\nhimself drift with the current of humanity moving out of the
\ntheater.<\/p>\n
Outside, his heartbeat quickened, the parachutist, the sole
\nmainstay of his urban existence, who he had encountered in his
\nfriendly green jungle, had vanished. And now Matias was by
\nhimself, alone, in the middle of a forest of tall lamps, jostling
\nhuman bodies, a jangling forest full of the commotion made by the
\nwhirling wheels of automobiles and pedicabs. His present
\nsurroundings could not compare to his own jungle's hospitable
\ntranquility. He drifted along, a lone sojourner.<\/p>\n
Suddenly Matias heard the sound of a loudspeaker. Ah, a thing
\nhe had seen in West Irian on the occasions of visiting
\ndignitaries from Jakarta. The thing cackled fiercely. A pity
\nthough that he could not understand what it was communicating.
\nThat he drew closer to this dissonance was simply in response to
\nthe memories of a remote jungle village where people similar to
\nhimself would have drawn together around this sound-giver in
\norder to listen to their own lovely language. But the people
\naround him now were unlike him, and their language was not his
\nown.<\/p>\n
For a view of the speech-giver, he nudged his way slowly into
\nthe center of the human crush. He is sure to be a companion to
\nthe people who come to Irian, Matias said to himself in his own
\nlanguage. But in his present straits, sound was useless. What he
\nreally needed was someone who would lead him to a home. Oh, to go
\nhome, to be under a roof, to have place to sleep and food
\nprepared for him to eat ... These were the things only a
\nprotector could guarantee.<\/p>\n
Implausibly hopeful of such a desirable fate, Matias
\nanticipated a helping hand. And a helping hand did condescend. A
\nsoft and friendly creature came to his aid. She spoke to him and
\nan alluring expression on her face made his heart beat joyfully.
\nThis invitation, for that it was, was followed by a flip of the
\npointed hand. A pedicab pulled up, and he and this gentle
\ncreature left for yet another unknown part of the city.<\/p>\n
Upon entering the sleeping quarters of this feminine creature,
\nMatias was immediately entwined and made one with her small body.
\nBig and strong as he was, he was overwhelmed by her power and
\ncould not do otherwise since he was the one in need of a friend
\nor a house, or even better yet a small island giving safe harbor.
\nIt was finally his. He rejoiced to pass the night sleeping next
\nto this woman who was so kind to him. He woke early the next day.
\nFood and drink were ready on a bedside table.<\/p>\n
After breakfast, he was entwined and overpowered again. But
\nthere had to be limits to this sort of human activity which
\nMatias had never experienced before; and once it was reached,
\nanother form of play ensued. Sitting face to face with this
\nwoman, Matias was treated to a pantomime. His jaw slack, his
\nmouth agape, he watched her go through a set of motions for an
\ninordinate length of time. Only when she thrust a handful of
\npaper at him and jabbed her forefinger at his breast and then
\nstabbed herself in her breast with the same forefinger did he
\nfinally grasp her intent.<\/p>\n
Matias wagged his hand and shook his head to signify that he
\nwas not in possession of such papers. The constricting
\nhabiliments he wore were the only things he had. So the woman
\nclutched his jacket and pointed her finger at her breast. Matias
\nunderstood the significance of this gesture. He took off his
\njacket and handed it to the woman. Whereupon the soft petite
\ncreature turned crude and rude. She pulled him over to the door,
\nshoved him out as hard as she could and slammed the door shut.
\nApparently it was time for her to rest.<\/p>\n
Matias turned his body to the left then to the right. There
\nwas nobody that he knew. He had been thrown back into the
\nwilderness that was not friendly like his Irian jungle.<\/p>\n
He began to walk, a remarkable thing to do in city where
\nwalking for several hours just to walk would be a feat in itself
\nfor people used to getting through life on a set of wheels. But
\nit was nothing for Matias; in his own, friendly, jungle he was
\nused to walks lasting for days.<\/p>\n
Matias continued his sojourn, and by the by he found himself
\nat the great church just as evening was approaching. No other
\npath seemed open to him except this one leading to the
\nexpurgation of the sin that he had unintentionally committed with
\nthat woman the night before. He entered the church to pray for
\nChrist's forgiveness. It was dark when he came out so he sat down
\non the church steps and reminisced about his village.<\/p>\n
Once on another island, so far away from him now, he went to
\nchurch naked but for his penis-sheath. He belonged to the choir,
\nand the choir would stand before the missionary in a happy jostle
\nand sing. He had joined the choir as a small boy. Few of its
\nmembers could read or write, but church songs the world over are
\neasy to learn by heart. It was during one of their musical
\nofferings that Matias performed the unpardonable act that had
\ngotten him expelled from the sheath-clad choir. Matias was at the
\nhead of the choir and, swept away by the melody of the hymn, he
\npulled off his penis-sheath and began to wield it as if it were a
\npendant flute. Avidly the congregation listened to this novel
\nform of accompaniment before collapsing in a fit of merriment.
\nThe worshipful spirit had been destroyed. Matias was reprimanded
\nby the missionary and inveighed against by the other members of
\nthe choir. He was kicked out of the choir. Nevertheless, he liked
\nto keep his penis-sheath with him at all times. Wherever he went
\nso did it. Presently he reached inside his shirt, took it out,
\nand began to blow into it softly and gently.<\/p>\n
Darkness progressed yet Matias could see, in the distance, a
\nbobbing figure coming his way. He observed the growing shape more
\ncarefully; it was a young man with a portfolio in his hand. As
\nthe figure grew closer, Matias discerned the reason behind the
\nman's curious gait; the soles of this person's shoes had come
\nlose, thus compelling the man to lift each leg up high before
\nsetting it down before him. Yet hampered as he was, this man had
\ncome to church. The man went in. After a while he came back out.<\/p>\n
\"This church is always open; it's different from the other
\nchurches in this city,\" the young man commented as he sat down
\nnext to Matias. Although he was carrying a portfolio, his clothes
\nwould have been better consigned to the ragpicker. Matias on the
\nother hand was turned out in the best sort of haberdashery: an
\nimported long-sleeved dress-shirt, a tie and woolen trousers<\/p>\n
Matias did not understand a word, but the young man did not
\nknow this and kept on talking. \"I'm so tired. I walked all over
\nthe city today and now the soles of my shoes are flapping like
\nlizards' tongues. I have a college degree but I can't find myself
\na job,\" he said as he tried to clamp the shifty lizard-tongues
\nshut.<\/p>\n
Matias observed him. Then he took off his shoes and proffered
\nthem to this unemployed college graduate. \"These shoes do torture
\nme,\" Matias declared in native elocution. \"No shoes did I wear in
\nthe great jungle, even there, where many thorny and prickly
\nplants grow among the trees. My feet bled not. Yet these shoes do
\nnow make my feet bleed. Here, take them away from me.\"<\/p>\n
To the young man's ears, Matias' words were gibberish, but
\nwith his eyes he came to understand that a new pair of shoes were
\nbeing transferred to his feet.<\/p>\n
From the church stoop, the two men walked to Banteng Field.
\nWordlessly they laid themselves down to sleep under the colossal
\nstatue there of another young Irian male but who had been caught
\nfor posterity's sake in the act of breaking free the shackles on
\nhis wrists. They slept soundly.<\/p>\n
The college graduate woke early the next morning but was
\nafraid to wake Matias. If he were to do so he would be obliged to
\nkeep him by. What a pair they'd make. They would create a
\nsensation wherever they went. So in manner of leave-taking, he
\nslipped a letter into Matias' shirt pocket.<\/p>\n
When Matias woke up, his friend was not there. He noticed that
\nhe had a piece of paper on his person. He turned the piece of
\npaper this way and that, but could make nothing of it since he
\nwas an unlettered man. He crumpled it up and threw it as far away
\nas he could, then returned to his sleep on the cold marble tiles.
\nGusts of wind crossing Banteng Field feathered and chilled him in
\nhis sleep.<\/p>\n
When he next woke, Matias found that the day had turned to
\nnight. Hunger reigned in his belly, but he could still walk.<\/p>\n
He passed into an area full of homeless beggars. In this place
\nhe came upon a woman pregnant and lying on a heap of paper
\nrefuse. She was about to give birth. He remembered how the
\nChrist-child was born over a pile of straw and was swaddled in
\nrags. Now here was another Christ-child coming into the world but
\nover a pile of refuse. It started to rain as the woman waited
\nphlegmatically for her child to come out. She was fortunate; she
\nhad a piece of plastic which she then draped over herself. That
\nwas her roof; beneath her was still paper.<\/p>\n
Matias peeled off the clothes which were binding him and gave
\nthem to this woman who was about to bring forth a child into the
\nworld. \"Thank you, thank you...,\" she said to Matias who had
\nreturned to his original dress. His penis-sheath was back in
\nplace. In this manner he waited on her. The rain, coming down
\nharder and harder, turned into a deluge. But he waited until she
\ncame out of labor. Then he could do no more for her. He resumed
\nhis walk under the heavy downpour.<\/p>\n
And that is how he arrived at the city's greatest
\nthoroughfare, Thamrin Boulevard, barricaded on both sides by tall
\nmulti-layered buildings. The boulevard led him nearer and nearer
\nto Hotel Indonesia. His wonderment grew over the host of
\nautomobiles that were beginning to collect about him. Even though
\nit was raining these speeding vehicles had to slow down and some
\nof them even stopped for a closer look at him. One of the
\nautomobiles contained a dark-colored man, a man like himself, who
\nwas wearing a suit and sitting next to a beautiful girl. As the
\nautomobile came to a stop its passenger turned to look at him.
\nMatias found himself staring back at a person who was like
\nhimself. He sprung onto the rear of the automobile and clung on.
\nThe automobile roared forwards but to no avail. Matias had a good
\ngrip on it. The automobile rushed into the drive of Hotel
\nIndonesia and stopped under the porte cochere where it disgorged
\nthe dark-skinned man. Matias had guessed wrong. The man was not
\none of his own people. The man was an American negro.<\/p>\n
A host of uniformed men appeared. Their bodily motions and
\ncircling tactics told Matias that they were intending to capture
\nhim. He ran back into the pelting rain. Maybe because they were
\nafraid to get wet, the groups of uniformed men gave up the chase.<\/p>\n
Matias had escaped but then he sensed that he was still being
\npursued. Indeed, a man in a raincoat was now running after him.
\nSo like an arrow zinging away from a taut bow, Matias ran faster
\ndown the great boulevard until he found himself before one of the
\ngreat multi-layered buildings. He dashed inside, sighted the
\nsmall narrow room open to him, and spurted in. The room closed
\nshut, and when its doors opened, another room slid into view.
\nThis room was cavernous but dimly lit except for the far end
\nwhere there was an illuminated platform and a group of women
\ndancing on it. They wore body-covering exactly they way he did
\nexcept theirs were not of the prominent sort. They were doing a
\nwonderful new interpretation of the dances of his own village. He
\nrelished that. Matias step-hopped to the stage, just as he was,
\nin his penis-sheath, and joined the women in their dance. The
\nsound of applause rose from the shadows.<\/p>\n
With that episode, his sojourn drew to a close. The city
\ndailies featured the story of how Matias was recovered by his
\nbenefactor, the parachutist. Intended in the only way it possibly
\ncould, serendipituously. In fact, Matias was given a goodly sum
\nof money. With this he was able to secure a return back to his
\nbeloved village.<\/p>\n
At home they all wanted to hear his story. And he told them
\nthat in Jakarta, the \"high class\" was replicating what they, in
\nIrian, already had. Folks just like to wear penis-sheath.<\/p>\n
Translated by Mary Lou Wang<\/p>\n
Born in Namodale, Roti, Timor, in 1931, Gerson Poyk is one of
\nIndonesia's prolific writers. The short story Matias Akankari was
\nfirst published by Balai Pustaka in 1975. The English translation
\nfirst appeared in Menagerie I and is published here with courtesy
\nof The Lontar Foundation.<\/p>",
"url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/matias-akankari-1447899208",
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