Jankowski finds RI an object of desire

Jankowski finds RI an object of desire

Christina Schott, Contributor, Jakarta

Until June 2001, German poet Martin Jankowski divided his
biography into two parts -- before and after the reunification of
Germany.

After June 2001, he still mentions those two parts of his life
but with a totally different, geographical specification: before
and after his first contact with Indonesia.

The country first slipped into Jankowski's life in the person
of Indonesian poet Agus Sarjono, head of the literature section
at the Jakarta Arts Council. Agus was invited to join the
International Poetry Festival in Berlin in 2001 and Jankowski was
assigned to become the "author's godfather" in Berlin.

"At the beginning, I refused. My only relation to Asia at that
time was that I once had to learn Russian and some Zen-meditation
exercises I did when I was a teenager," Jankowski said.

"But then I met Sarjono and it was a bull's eye. Suddenly, a
totally new world opened up before me. It was like a release from
the ever-lasting topic of East and West Germany."

The long process of the poet's life took some interesting
turns and detours.

Martin Jankowski was born in 1965 in the city of Greifswald,
then part of the German Democratic Republic (GDR). His first
poems were published in a church newsletter when he was not yet
15. Although the verses were about nature and peace, they landed
him in trouble: The Stasi, the East German intelligence services,
regarded his writings as dangerous because of its pacifist
tendencies.

From the age of 17, the young bard was an "object of
observation". His parents' telephone was bugged, his mail
controlled and the instructions from above were to avert the
teenager from becoming an opposition artist.

"I had no idea about this, instead I started writing songs,
since this promised to be more successful with the girls," the
self-confident man said with a smile.

Nevertheless, he could not free himself from his prosecutors.
After high school, the "subversive element" was ordered into the
army, where he received special treatment to wear him down.

"It was horrifying. We had to work and sleep in a two-hour-
rhythm. They wanted to break us. But in the end, I was only
angrier at the system," Jankowski said.

Originally, the young writer wanted to study German literature
and later become a lecturer. But since all his efforts to get a
place at university or even a job were thwarted, Jankowski
finally became a librarian. Even during his education at Gotha,
he felt disturbed -- his apartment was searched in his absence,
forbidden books and records from the West vanishing without any
explanation.

In 1987, he was fed up but, despite it all, Jankowski did not
wish to escape to the then West Germany.

"I wanted something different, a change. Consequently,
political opposition became my main occupation," said the rebel
with the piercing eyes. "Just because they gave me such an
overdimensional grilling, I finally became exactly what they
tried to save me from. In fact, I was only a shy, romanticizing
teenager before."

Jankowski went underground. He did not keep hidden 24 hours a
day -- he had his own apartment and did not change his name. But
although he was not allowed to practice any kind of art, he
played and read twice a week with different camouflage at always
changing places: in private living rooms, community houses or
churches, in front of audiences ranging from 12 to 4,000 people.

"After every performance, I gave my hat around, which brought
me a better income than most of the people in the former GDR
had," he said.

It was during that era that the protest singer became a member
of the Leipzig circle of opposition intellectuals, who later
initiated the famous Monday demonstrations that finally led to
the peaceful revolution in East Germany in 1989.

It was only after reunification that Jankowski understood the
risks he took in refusing to play along in the old system.

"We provoked and blamed the regime by contacting journalists
from the West or snooping about nuclear data without being aware
of the gigantic punishments we could get for that," he said.

"Later a friend of mine found an official order from December
1989, one month after the fall of the Berlin wall: Me and a
colleague were meant to be isolated and eliminated... we were
really lucky!"

During the difficult transition period after reunification,
Jankowski moved to Berlin. He stopped singing and concentrated on
writing: poems, short stories and, in 2000, his first novel Rabet
oder Das Verschwinden einer Himmelsrichtung (Rabet or The
Disappearance of Wind Direction) -- all full of reflections about
the German division and reunification.

"There was suddenly so much rubbish told and written to
satisfy the overall German reunification-holiday-jabbering that
caused my hair to stand on end. Therefore, I told my own version
of the story in a fictive novel that includes a few
autobiographical characteristics," the divorced father of a
teenage daughter said.

Then came that fateful day in June 2001, Agus Sarjono and
Indonesia. After making his new contact, Jankowski met for a few
days with noted poet-playwright Rendra in Berlin and was invited
to the International Poetry Festival Indonesia in 2002.

"It was fascinating. We saw the highlights of Indonesia in
only three weeks and were treated like kings. We met with all
these impressive people and it thrilled me."

Jankowski has been besotted ever since, thinking about and
working on his object of desire.

"A lot of experiences here feel very familiar to me.
Indonesia's transition period after reformasi (reform) reminds me
of the problems in my country. Many things that East Germany lost
after the reunification, I suddenly find here again -- starting
with socialization between people in music and other fashions,"
said Jankowski, who always wears a Basque-style cap.

"Martin has something similar to an Indonesian. From the
beginning, I felt that we fit together. The situation in our
countries is different as well as the climate, but in the end,
the feeling is the same," Agus said.

In 2003, Jankowski organized a reading tour with Agus
throughout Germany, the Netherlands and Belgium. Agus also
brought over his German counterpart as a guest lecturer at the
University of Indonesia in Jakarta.

Just two months ago, Agus, the "retired troubadour", was
elected chairman of the newly formed German-Indonesian Cultural
Institute in Berlin that seeks to support intercultural exchange
between both countries.

A joint reading at Goethe-Institut Jakarta last August
revealed that the mutual experiences of both poets led to
sometimes amazing results: Agus' poems about Berlin exactly
responded to Jankowski's impressions of Jakarta and the other way
around, without having been planned before. Agus' book was
translated into German and in a few months, Jankowski's anthology
Indonesisches Sekundenbuch (Indonesian book of seconds) will be
published in both languages.

"I could not just decide right now if it's enough already with
Indonesia and to look for another theme. Something is already
moving that I cannot stop anymore by myself," Jankowski admitted.

"My fascination with this country has nothing to do with
exotic tourism, adventures or even with arts alone -- it's
something very emotional that cannot easily be explained within
words. You have to feel it inside."