Martin Aledia: Writing as testimony on joys and grief

Martin Aledia: Writing as testimony on joys and grief

Lie Hua, Contributor, Jakarta

Had it not been for the bloody tragedy of 1965 now commonly referred to as the Sept. 30 Movement, an attempted coup allegedly masterminded by the now defunct Indonesian Communist Party (PKI), the name Martin Aleida would not be found among the ranks of Indonesian writers of today.

Barely 22 years old, Aleida, born on New Year's Eve, 1943, as Nurlan in Tanjung Balai, North Sumatra, was a member of the editorial board of Zaman Baru (New Era), a literary magazine published by Lekra (People's Cultural Institute), an organization that leaned heavily toward communism in the early 1960s. During the witch-hunt of communists and communist sympathizers that was carried out in the years following the 1965 coup, Nurlan was incarcerated under the New Order regime.

Upon his release from prison, Nurlan felt the need to earn his own living.

Naturally, he could not write under his own name, so he thought of the pen name Martin Aleida, which combines Martin, taken from Martin Luther King, the father of the American civil rights movement and whom Aleida's own father admired, and aleida, an interjection common among the people in his hometown to express amazement.

Under this pseudonym, Aleida opened the doors to a new life with a short story, Malam Kelabu (Gray Night), which was published in February 1970 in Horison literary magazine. This story was a passport of sorts for Aleida to return to normal life.

He later joined Tempo weekly magazine, where he stayed for 13 years, and when his true identity was found out by the country's security apparatuses, he moved to the Jakarta office of the United Nations and stayed there for about a decade.

For Aleida, writing is synonymous with delivering a testimony on one's joys and griefs.

It was after Soeharto stepped down in 1998 that Aleida found more freedom to express himself and tell the outside world of how he and people like him were trampled during the New Order regime.

He has since written a number of short stories, many of which are now collected in the anthology Leontin Dewangga (Red-Orange Pendant). His earlier work were published in two other short story anthologies, Malam Kelabu, Ilyana dan Aku (Gray Night, Ilyana and Me) and Perempuan Depan Kaca (Woman Before a Mirror).

Aleida has also written an account of his experiences during the witch-hunt of the communists in the early years of the New Order in an autobiographical novelette, Layang-Layang itu Tak Lagi Mengepak Tinggi-tinggi (The Kite No Longer Flies So High), and a 2004 novel titled Jamangilak Tak Pernah Menangis (Jamangilak Has Never Wept). Both are his testimony to the world about how he was robbed of his dignity as a human being, but stubbornly refused to bow down.

Talking about the current literary scene in Indonesia, Aleida expressed his optimism that Indonesian literature would continue to develop.

In terms of quantity, he said, a broad range of literary works, be they short stories, novels or poetry, had been published since 1970.

A variety of themes were also presented, and many young writers had shown their talent and displayed a skilled use of Bahasa Indonesia in their works. Unfortunately, according to Aleida, many of them had yet to truly comprehend the problems that Indonesia and her people are facing. Many, for example, were still fascinated by the Latin American style of magical realism.

He hoped that Indonesian writers would develop a solid grasp of the problems that the people faced. Only in this way, he believed, that Indonesian literature would be read by Indonesians.

Aleida was positive about the emergence of women writers, although he said he was still waiting for the emergence of women writers that really explored Indonesian women's souls and issues, instead of simply exploiting their physical aspects.

In the same respect, he said, the flourishing of teen-lit should be seen as a reflection of youngsters' need to express themselves. The phenomenon of chick-lit and teen-lit must be perceived as a means to improve the level of intelligence in society.

Newspapers and magazines, Aleida said, contributed a lot to the development of modern Indonesian literature. They gave space to aspiring and established writers to publish their work.

While the country has virtually only one literary magazine, Horison, pages dedicated to literature in newspapers and magazines give ample room for the development of literature today.

Whether or not a literary work is good does not depend on where it is published, he said, but in its inherent literary quality.

Finally, as regards the relationship between politics and literature, Aleida lamented that Indonesian writers were not sensitive enough to receive the signals emanating from the host of injustices and hordes of problems now confronting the nation. Indonesian literature is quiet about these things because its writers, in general, failed to understand the situation.

At present, he said, Indonesians no longer know what to cry over or laugh at.

It is Aleida's great concern, therefore, that Indonesian writers will end up simply becoming part of a nation that has lost the sharpness of their feelings and perceptions.