Artists mark Independence Day by pondering Indonesia today
JAKARTA (JP): Indonesia has just celebrated the 53rd anniversary of her independence, but can we really count ourselves as free? Some feel independence inevitably remains incomplete without freedom of expression.
Writer and director Putu Wijaya ventured this thought in his essay-reading held on the eve of Independence Day at the Graha Bhakti Budaya Stadium of Taman Ismail Marzuki arts center in Central Jakarta.
Malam Renungan Kemerdekaan (An Independence Eve Contemplation), which ended at 1:30 a.m. on Independence Day, was a collaboration of the arts center and the city's arts council.
Its 23 featured artists included Putu, Sitok Srengenge, Hamsad Rangkuti, Agus R. Sardjono, Aspar Paturusi, Jose Rizal Manua and Ugo Haryono.
About 500 people filled the stadium as artists, most of whom read poetry, touched on the subjects of patriotism, welfare, sacrifices made for independence, corruption, collusion and nepotism, and former president Soeharto.
Artists read their meaningful poems, but none earned the generous applause bestowed upon Putu.
He told a story of a child who persistently pushes his grandfather -- a freedom fighter who fought for the nation's independence -- through his line of questioning to agree to a "much publicized knowledge".
"Grandfather, is it true that we are not free men yet?" the grandson asked.
He badgers his grandfather by repeating this question despite the grandfather's listing of the nation's and the people's sacrifices.
He goes on to tell his grandfather that since they could not express an opinion, criticize or accuse those responsible for wrongdoing, they are not free.
An enraged grandfather sees a whole history of fighters, dead families and children, bombs and explosions, passing before his eyes and tells of the essence of what freedom fighters defined as independence.
He says: That we are not free to express ... not free to talk about poverty, the history of hunger this nation has suffered in recent years, is another matter. We never thought of these matters. Independence to us meant that we must be free from colonialists ... we are free from them. Do you understand this?
The boy looks into his grandfather's eyes boldly and says, "No".
To this, the grandfather responds: "This is it ... the fact that you can say "No", shows that you are a free man.
"Merdeka (freedom) means to not only fight for one's rights, but to know of one's duties ... to learn and respect other people's rights too."
The grandfather rails at the child about people having no right whatsoever to flaunt or rub "independence" on other people's faces.
"With independence, we 'educate' our rights to exercise freedom. With independence, we educate other people's rights to exercise their freedom," he said.
"With independence, we learn to set limits to our freedom. With independence, we are not free and we learn to not express our freedom."
At this, the grandson holds the finger of his shocked grandfather and says "this means, we are not free".
Among the poetry recitals, Aspar's strong reading served as a reminder of the people's sacrifices to gain independence.
Excerpt : A drop of blood stains the road/A tear glistens on this drop of blood/Ignore not the drop of blood, ignore not the tear/They reflect the beginnings of independence.
Another piece, read by Aspar, head of the city arts council's theater committee and his wife Lasmi Paturusi, though sweet, brimmed with sarcasm. Titled Tidurlah Anakku (Sleep My Child), the poetry had the chorus, "eh abe abe (lullaby)," interjected following each paragraph reading.
Excerpt: Sleep purity, in my arms/in the arms of time/in the arms of green fields/in the arms of angels/you will grow to face countless "don't-do-this"'s and "do-this"s/all of it will be conveyed to you in a tone as sweet as... eh... abe...abe/ (ylt)