Harry Roesli <br>Taking shots at terror

Harry Roesli
Taking shots at terror

Hera Diani, The Jakarta Post, Bandung

Passing by the Rumah Nusantara cafe and gallery in North
Bandung last Sunday, I saw a big black banner that read
"Teroris, Pentas Musik 50 Jam" (Terrorist, 50-hour Music
Performance).

And below the banner stood Harry Roesli, founder of Depot
Kreasi dan Seni Bandung (DKSB, literally the Bandung art and
creation refreshment stand). It was so him.

I went into the cafe and found a small stage out back, where a
group was singing traditional keroncong music. Around the stage,
dozens of people sat on the floor while a few others sat on
chairs.

I walked around looking for Harry. And there he was, wearing
his usual black outfit and black hat, sitting at a table with
some people, including stage director/novelist Putu Wijaya.

Introducing myself, I waited at a nearby table until Harry
finished his dinner.

The performance was his first appearance since the
controversial Independence Day commemoration last August, when he
sang a satirical version of Garuda Pancasila.

The free-of-charge performance was also a birthday party for
Harry, who turned 50 on Sept. 10.

Running from Friday at 8 p.m. to Sunday at 10 p.m., the show
included hundreds of performers, some famous some not, including
over 100 street singers.

Ten minutes later, a man handed me an envelope on which Harry
had written a poem: "The Jakarta Post which I respect, I pray,
hoping that you will come, Pray to God ... please grant my wish,
grant it, God, grant it ... Iman (Faith), Amen."

Inside the envelope was an invitation to a performance by the
Bandung-based Teater Tanpa Nama (Anonymous Theater) on Saturday.

Harry (real name Djauhar Zaharsjah Fachruddin Roesli), having
apparently finished dinner, then approached, ready for an
interview.

Why did you decide to hold a 50-hour, non-stop show? Well,
besides it being your 50th birthday?

So that I could meet people and talk with them for a long
time. Usually it's, like, a two-hour show, and then after that
talking with people for, like, an hour, and then we promise to
meet again but we never meet. It's different now. I can meet old
friends and acquaintances. And then where else can street kids
share the same stage with Putu, (stage actress/director) Ratna
Sarumpaet and (singer/songwriter) Doel Sumbang? What an
experience for them. It can be motivating.

When did you come up with the idea?

Quite a long time ago. I've done 24-hour performances, 26-
hour, 28-hour, 32-hour, 36-hour and now 50. Fifty also comes from
50 percent. Nothing is optimum in our country. Nothing has ever
been done 100 percent. And neither is this show. It's not a show
or a performance, it's just ... it.

And the terrorist thing?

Well, of course I was taking into account the situation now. I
saw the U.S. attack Afghanistan last week, and I thought, "Oh,
s---, this isn't right." And then the idea for the performance
came. I want to do something that can "eliminate" terror, because
there are too many terrors in our lives now. The impending fuel
price increase, for example. That's also terrifying. Let's just
try to eliminate our sense of being terrorized.

Facing terror with terror won't solve anything. Terror must be
fought with something that counters terror.

Why hold the performance here?

It's the first time I have held something here. Usually I hold
performances at the CCF (Centre Culturel Francais) building. But
lately there have been some demonstrations, so I chose this
place.

What about the performances and the performers?

This is a spontaneous show. People came and performed whenever
they liked. We had keroncong, dangdut and then suddenly there was
a snake dance. Yesterday, an old man came at 7 a.m. and said that
he wanted to play guitar. As for famous performers like Putu and
Ratna, I just called them, whether they wanted to come or not.

Why is it free of charge?

Why not? (laughs) If it can be free why should I charge for
it?

Are you performing also?

Not really. I only played some songs on the keyboards. I
should have performed, but it turned out there were a lot of
other people who wanted to perform. But I am staying here for
three days, watching people come and go. It turns out it's more
tiring doing nothing than performing.

So, what have you been up to lately?

Mostly pushing the button on the remote control and watching
TV (laughs). I rarely play music now. I can't play guitar anymore
because my fingers hurt. I have this nerve ailment on the back of
my head. I still write a column for Kompas daily every three
weeks.

The idea? Well, don't be afraid to lose ideas here in this
country (laughs).

What do you think of Bandung's music scene now?

Creatively, it's still good. But commercially, not very good.
Bandung musicians have to move to Jakarta because that's where
the money is.

Bandung bands and musicians used to dominate Indonesia's music
scene, but not anymore.

It's an industry, after all. So now bands from Surabaya and
Yogyakarta are hot and trendy. It's OK. It doesn't mean Bandung
musicians are losing their creativity.

Why have you chosen to remain in Bandung?

I get more luxury here. I'm a middle- to upper-class resident
here, while in Jakarta I'm middle to lower (laughs). I also get
more luxury in terms of time and creativity. Besides, Jakarta is
only three hours away.

The interview was suddenly interrupted when a group of people
came over and greeted Harry. They were apparently old friends,
and Harry ended the interview.

So I turned to Putu, who praised the show, which he said
involved the audience emotionally.

"I think it can serve as a model, so shows are not just
commodities where people come and go."

Putu said he and Harry had worked together on and off since
1982. And they have performed together several times abroad,
including in Singapore, Germany and Japan.

"I don't know, we just click. I almost always turn to him when
I need music illustrations for my work. We suit each other
because we have the same power and energy," he said.

On stage, Harry was making fun of the emcee, Mamat, who was a
street singer in the Leuwi Panjang bus terminal. Everybody
laughed. More people came and the small cafe was packed.

A guitar player, one of Harry's friends, played some folk
songs. After that a local group sang religious songs, while Harry
stood on a table to watch.