Two Skulls<\/p>\n
By Motinggo Busye<\/p>\n
I take a deep breath every time the story of two skulls buried
\nsomewhere in the restive province of Aceh, the northernmost
\nprovince of Sumatra, crosses my mind. The two human body parts
\nare very important to me because they belong to my relatives. Now
\nI have to go to the area to unearth them.<\/p>\n
The story started with a telephone call from Umi (Acehnese for
\nmama) telling me to immediately present myself at Lhokseumawe,
\nthe capital of North Aceh regency.<\/p>\n
Twice Umi called me about that. She said I had been appointed
\nby the family as the head of a committee in charge of moving the
\nskeleton of my grandfather from a isolated village to a better
\nplace. I fully understood the message and would soon depart for
\nAceh so that Umi would not need to call me for the third time.<\/p>\n
I would shortly go there using land transportation, although I
\nunderstood quite well that the road linking Lampung and South
\nAceh was quite rough. Moreover, the towns I would pass along the
\nway give me no special impression.<\/p>\n
Later, upon arrival in Aceh, I directly went to see Mak Toha,
\na kind-hearted old lady whom I have known since my childhood. My
\nrelationship with her is like that of mother and son. And Ali,
\nher oldest son, was my classmate in junior high school. Mak Toha
\nwas very surprised to see me standing at her front door. She
\nwelcomed me with an Islamic greeting: Assalamu'alaikum, which
\nmeans peace be on you.<\/p>\n
\"You make me feel as if Ali has come back to life,\" she said.<\/p>\n
\"So, is it true that he is dead?\" I asked.<\/p>\n
\"Yes, it is. But our family full-heartedly accepts God's will.
\nAli has treaded the right path of God. For us, he is a valuable
\nticket to go to Heaven,alhamdulillah (Arabic for praise be to
\nGod),\" she added.<\/p>\n
Mak Toha asked me to be seated as she went to the kitchen to
\nmake tea. While doing that, she asked me how I knew that Ali had
\ndied.<\/p>\n
\"Ja'afar informed me,\" I said. I tried to hide the emotional
\nbattle inside me. My heart asked why Ali had been the victim of a
\nbrutal murder. Every one knew he was a smart dancer of seudati,
\nthe most popular Acehnese classical dance. He was also a gifted
\ndramatist and an expressive poetry reader.<\/p>\n
Ali once sent me a letter from Tripoli, Libya. After reading
\nit, I got an impression that he was a great worshiper of Qaddafi,
\nthe controversial Libyan leader. He signed the letter as
\n\"Qaddafi's son.\" But as time went by, Ali changed his attitude.
\nAfter he returned home from the North African country and settled
\nin Medan, Ali also sent me a letter. This time he seemed to have
\nfreed himself from the hero worship. He said his job in the
\ncapital city of North Sumatra province was teaching English.<\/p>\n
\"Although my mother is rich, I don't want to be spoiled. I
\nwant to be self-supporting,\" he said. \"In fact, my mother urged
\nme to start a patchoulie plantation, an easy way to get rich. But
\nwealth is not my aim,\" he said. His final sentence was the most
\nimportant.<\/p>\n
That is the last letter I received from Ali. Some friends
\ninformed me that he and some colleagues had been killed by
\ntroops. All of them were buried in a mass grave. But to Mak Toha,
\nAli is now a beloved missing person.<\/p>\n
In his last days, people remembered Ali for his flawless
\nEnglish. He had also memorized Shakespeare's works by heart. His
\naptitude for languages became apparent when he was in senior high
\nschool. Nobody believed that Ali was fit enough to carry a gun or
\nthat he deserved to be a victim of military brutality. They
\nshould not have murdered him. They should have appreciated him
\nfor his artistic ability.<\/p>\n
I remember one day Ali came to my house to tell me about a new
\ninnovation of his. Shakespeare, he said, was not only a
\nplaywright but also a great poet. He said he had just gotten a
\nbook on Shakespeare from his uncle in Singapore. Ali asked me to
\nread one of the poems from the book: So shalt thou feed on Death\/
\nthat feeds on men\/ And Death once dead\/ there's no more dying
\nthen.<\/p>\n
What impressed me deeply was his ability to translate the
\npoems into Acehnese so perfectly. Acehnese people are known for
\ntheir love of poetry. There are a lot of traditional oral poets
\nin the province. And this time the local people had a chance to
\nhear Shakespeare's poems read by Ali, especially the ones
\nspeaking about death. The locals believe that death only comes
\nonce.<\/p>\n
Years ago, Mak Toha told me that Ali rejected her advise to go
\nto Sidikalang, North Sumatra, to open a plantation because he
\nwanted to pursue her studies in Singapore. But he did not live
\nlong in the island city. On my advice, he left for Egypt. But in
\nthe land of the Pharaohs, Ali changed his mind and proceeded to
\nLibya.<\/p>\n
Mak Toha denied the accusation by the military authorities
\nthat Ali was in Libya to take part in military training. \"That is
\na lie, a poisonous lie. The truth is Ali was an English teacher
\nthere,\" Mak Toha said.<\/p>\n
Ali told me in his letter that Qaddafi liked to look down upon
\nuneducated people. A bright man, he was educated at a British
\nmilitary academy under the sponsorship of sultan Idris, the
\ncountry's monarch whom he later ousted. Ali said Qaddafi did not
\nonly speak English but French.<\/p>\n
Mak Toha could not hold back her tears when she spoke about
\nher son. I felt sad too because Ali was now lying two meters
\nunderground, in an unmarked mass grave.<\/p>\n
And that day, I told Mak Toha I could not spend much time with
\nher because I had to proceed to Lhokseumawe to meet my relatives
\nand prepare everything for the removal of my grandfather's
\nskeleton.<\/p>\n
But I had to postpone my departure to the North Aceh regency
\ntown upon the strong persistence of the old lady. \"Please spend
\none night here so that my longing for Ali can be satisfied,\" she
\nbegged.<\/p>\n
I was lucky that Ibrahim, Ali's younger brother, suddenly
\narrived. The young man was quite talkative but I did not mind
\nbecause I could shift my focus from Mak Toha's sentimental tale.
\nIbrahim came fully dressed on such a hot day as that.<\/p>\n
\"Why are you dressed so in the scorching sun? \" I asked.<\/p>\n
\"It is important, to show the troops I'm not an extremist. You
\nknow, I'm an busy patcholie exporter.\"<\/p>\n
Ibrahim informed me that he and relatives would immediately
\nleave for the village of Dayah Baureuh to unearth the bodies of
\nthe victims of an indiscriminate massacre by the troops. They
\narbitrarily accused innocent people of being members of the Free
\nAceh Movement (GAM). The victims were buried in a mass grave
\nbeside a field where they were gunned down.<\/p>\n
\"We want to find the victims' identity and rebury them in a
\nproper burial place with full respect,\" he said.<\/p>\n
I was shocked to hear Ibrahim's story because what I heard
\nfrom Yacob, a friend of mine, the massacre was less inhuman. I
\ntold Ibrahim that I would take part in the digging job. And with
\nMak Toha's permission, we left for Lhokseumawe.<\/p>\n
Arriving home, it was Umi's turn to be surprised because my
\narrival was much earlier than she had expected.<\/p>\n
I told my mother that we would have to delay the unearthing of
\ngrandfather's body. Personally, I never met the old man because
\nhe was shot to death in 1942 by the Japanese occupational troops.
\nI was touched, however, every time Umi told me the story of his
\ndeath.<\/p>\n
I hoped the delay would not upset Umi. Although consistent at
\nall times, if she had to choose between unearthing her father's
\nskeleton and those of DOM officers, those notoriously brutal
\nmilitary operation officers, she would, of course, prefer the
\nsecond. I knew that for sure.<\/p>\n
When I told Umi how lively Mak Toha told the story of Ali's
\nexcellence and how she tried to persuade me to spend a night
\nthere so that she would be able to speak more about her son, Umi
\nshed dears and wiped them with the edge of her head scarf.
\n\"I wish it were you who had been killed by the military so that
\nour family would have a medal from God for the next life,\" she
\nsaid firmly.<\/p>\n
Umi also related how sincere Ali was. She once attended a
\npoetry reading in four languages by him. That took place in
\nLangsa, the capital of East Aceh regency.<\/p>\n
\"When was that, Umi?\"<\/p>\n
\"It was right after he returned from Tripoli. Ali was fluent,
\nnot only in English, but also in Arabic. Foreign consuls, who
\nattended the show, could not believe their eyes at what they
\nwitnessed. It was par excellence. I broke into tears for over his
\naccomplishment. I was sorry you were not there,\" she said.<\/p>\n
I did not say anything. I knew when Acehnese women spoke about
\ndeath they were fully overwhelmed by the spirit of holy war. For
\nthem, Ali's death was an expression of love for God and a promise
\nto those he left behind.<\/p>\n
At a meeting with relatives, we agreed to go Dayah Baureuh to
\nunearth the bodies of the victims of the military brutality. The
\ndecision certainly pleased Mak Toha. And on that day, I received
\na telephone call from Ibrahim in Sidikalang. He said he and his
\nfamily would arrive in Dayah Baureuh on Wednesday with food and
\ndrinks. \"I want to meet you there,\" he said.<\/p>\n
Arriving at the appointed place on Wednesday, I hugged all the
\npeople who had come to help dig the mass grave.<\/p>\n
We worked extra carefully in order not to affect the bodies.
\nSome of the victims were neatly dressed, while others were
\ncomplete with ID cards. I was also surprised to find high school
\nclass mates among the victims. But there were also many without
\nan identity.<\/p>\n
One of the victims wore a bronze ring with an agate. \"This
\nmust be my son, Amir,\" said a woman, who was his mother.<\/p>\n
Another woman shouted:\" This must be Buyung, my son. Look at
\nhis ring with the Persian emerald. Mak Toha, who was standing
\nnearby, kept silent.<\/p>\n
\"Ali tried to resist the execution,\" said Udin, an eyewitness
\nof my age.<\/p>\n
\"What happened after that?\"<\/p>\n
\"He was gunned down by an army captain,\" said Udin.<\/p>\n
Udin's statement pushed me to ask an officer who was there.
\n\"If the executioner was a commandant, did he use a long or short
\ngun?\"<\/p>\n
\"Usually, a pistol,\" he said.<\/p>\n
I picked up one of the skulls, which had a hole in the
\nforehead.<\/p>\n
\"If Udin's story is true, this must be Ali's skull,\" I said
\nwhile cleaning soil from it. I was surprised to find a projectile
\ninside. I showed the bullet to the officer and asked whether it
\nwas shot from a pistol.<\/p>\n
\"It is from a Vickers pistol,\" he said.<\/p>\n
I asked Mak Toha whether she was satisfied, and she said:
\n\"Alhamdulillah,\" adding, \"But please clean it further because a
\nplatinum-capped tooth will determine the truth.\"<\/p>\n
I cleaned it until the old woman shouted in happiness because
\nthere was no doubt any more; It was Ali's skull. I removed the
\ntooth and gave it to her. She kissed it with deep respect.
\nAfterward, she put it into her purse. At the same time, I also
\nput the bullet into my shirt pocket.<\/p>\n
\"If that is Ali's skull, this must be Rozak Harimau's,\" said a
\nyoung man who was standing nearby, whose name was Tengku Jajaj.
\nHe attested that Rozak's canine teeth were similar to those of a
\ntiger. That is why he was called Razak Harimau (Razak the Tiger).<\/p>\n
Mak Toha was happy to see me cleaning the rest of skulls in
\nthe way Muslims bathed the dead. When they were all clean, I
\nwrapped them in a clean white cloth. After that, all the skulls
\nwere placed in a row for a special prayer service. This was all
\ndone according to Islamic tradition. The last ritual was burying
\nthe skulls properly in a special grave.<\/p>\n
But the following week, as I was unearthing my grandfather's
\nskeleton in another place, I had almost the same feelings. My
\ngrandfather's skull also had a hole in the forehead. But I did
\nnot find any bullet. What I saw was a bigger hole at its back. My
\ngrandfather was also gunned down by a soldier, but he was a
\nJapanese soldier during the occupation of Indonesia in World War
\nII. Military fascism was extremely cruel during the Japanese
\noccupation.<\/p>\n
When we held a family gathering in Lhokseumawe some time
\nlater, one of the participants urged me to beg to the authorities
\nto confer my grandfather with a special medal of honor for his
\nheroic deeds in resisting the Japanese occupation. But I opposed
\nthe proposal saying, \"No, it is not necessary.\"<\/p>\n
\"But your grandfather was a victim of the Japanese brutality,\"
\nmy uncle said.<\/p>\n
\"Okay,\" I said, \"what about my friend Ali, a victim of our own
\nmilitary's operations?\"<\/p>\n
Everyone was quiet. It seemed we needed time for
\ncontemplation.<\/p>\n
Translated by TIS<\/p>\n
The story is taken from \"Dua Tengkorak Kepala (Two Skulls),
\nKompas selected short stories, 2000.<\/p>",
"url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/two-skulls-1447899208",
"image": ""
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