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.