'In Front of Papua' tells cultural journey of Jecko

'In Front of Papua' tells cultural journey of Jecko

Helly Minarti, Contributor, Jakarta

Local, rich traditions often are the main fuel of new dance
choreography in Indonesia, as seen in the history of Indonesian
contemporary dance over the last 40 years. After choreographers
from Java and Sumatra have transformed their traditions into a
strong body of new work, now comes Jecko Siompo, a Papua-born
dancer/choreographer who once studied at the Jakarta Institute of
the Arts (IKJ)'s dance department.

Dance has led Jecko, 29, to travel to numerous "places" -- not
only in physical terms, but most importantly, in cultural
spheres. As a dancer, he has performed for well-known Indonesian
choreographers -- Sardono W. Kusumo, Boi G. Sakti, to name a few
-- here and abroad. The two senior choreographers base their work
on various traditions and styles. Jecko has also created a body
of work himself, including some with Papuan themes like Asmat
Dani and Obahorok. In Front of Papua is a full-length dance
staged a while ago at the Jakarta Playhouse.

As the theater's red velvet curtain parted, standing on the
right-front corner of the dimly lit stage was a male Papuan
dancer. Close to him, an Eurasian beauty faced the audience,
bending her knees asymmetrically.

Soon, the lights revealed three other sturdy male bodies at
the back-left corner, with their backs to the audience, shaking
in the manner of hula dancers. The music is an eclectic mix of
inter-cultural percussions (Papuan tifa, Minang/West Sumatra
drums and talempong), with Sumatra bamboo flutes and an
Aborigine degeridoo in between.

For the next 60 minutes, the eight dancers moved around the
black-covered, low-level parting that divided the stage
horizontally, treating it as a kind of border which they jumped
over, rolled on and laid on, with legs stretching wide apart or
curling in.

This "border" produced allegorical situations of forest and
cities, of rivers in the jungle and pedestrians in the city.
Rhythmic dance steps taken from Papuan folk/tribal dances were
mixed with the ordinary movements of daily life, intercut with
sing-a-song, the humming of Papuan folk songs and a cacophony of
shrieks and murmurs.

The dancers moved fast, fluidly, at times almost chaotically,
but together they constructed a structured choreography.

In Front of Papua tells the cultural journey Jecko has taken,
from his childhood in several areas in Papua (from the big city
of Jayapura, to the hinterland of Wamena and his hometown Fak-Fak
on the coast), his move to Jakarta to study dance at the Jakarta
Arts Institute, then as a dancer performing on various world
stages (from Hong Kong to New York), including trying out break
dancing with the b-boys in Queens.

"I feel, after traveling all around the world, I need to look
back to my home, Papua, in front of it, but at a distance," said
Jecko of the title of his work.

Instead of telling his story in a linear, narrative manner,
Jecko opted to produce images projected by the eight dancers'
bodies (including a brief act by himself). The core four dancers
are striking -- male, sturdy, dark, topless or wearing shabby T-
shirts -- moving fluidly, in unison or interactively. Their
movement vocabulary consist of tribal dances they mutually share
from Papua, as well as distinct individual body gestures.

The only female dancer is a Eurasian -- part Ambonese, part
Australian -- who is on an exchange program. She has put her
contemporary training off for awhile and immersed herself in
these men's dancing euphoria. The youngest male dancer, playing a
nameless character, is a student at the Jakarta Arts Institute,
Jecko's old school.

Like his dance career over the past 10 years, Jecko's In Front
of Papua juggles different styles of movement -- tribal, trivial,
modern and street. As a dancer, he has mastered the modern,
contemporary vocabulary, as well as ethnic dances from Java and
Sumatra. He has also immersed himself in globalized street dance
culture: the world of b-boys "breaking" imported from the streets
of New York that he once visited. This latest work compiles most
of these styles.

His insertion of light humor might seem banal, but Jecko was
just being himself, trying to be at ease by absorbing various
influences in his dances, not intimidated by categories. He just
works with bodies, trying to figure out what will result.

In Front of Papua has some riveting moments, but in the end it
was just a rather lengthy piece with several repetitive scenes
that could have been edited out. While seni etai -- a dance of
hinterland Papua -- inspired the piece, Jecko decided not to take
it as it is.

For its tribal looks and forms, Papua cultural identities are
often stereotyped as primitive and homogeneous, while the
hinterland/coastal and traditional/modern paradigms actually
create a diverse expression and cultural idiosyncrasies.

Like many other minority cultures in Indonesia, Papua is
under-represented, often projected as mere political jargon, not
an actual political decision. Jecko and his body of work -- he
recently managed to attract a Papua-born high official in the
government, thus opening up opportunities to reconnect his
contemporary work with the Papuan community through workshops --
add an identity to an otherwise often mistranslated minority
culture in Indonesia.

Papua is not a single image, as if frozen in the act of the
traditional sculptor carving wood outside the theater during the
performance. Instead, it moves on as a changing entity, as
sometimes depicted by the performance inside the theater.