Odang Puputan

By Abel Tasman

There was no other choice: Odang Puputan had to be proclaimed a free and sovereign country. Whatever reasons the village secretary may have had, the people were sure to ignore him because they believed in a democratic country whose power was in the hands of its people. And now all of the subjects had made a unanimous decision: Odang Puputan must be declared a free nation.

The decision had flabbergasted the village secretary and given him a splitting headache, making him feel totally at sea. The people's demand that the village be declared an independent state was completely irrational because there were only 297 subjects to rule in the village, including small children and some very old people. And besides, the village was too small to be a tiny town, much less a country.

"You always make excuses! We don't need your excuses, period!" cried one of the demonstrators, milling about in front of the village secretary's house.

"This is not an excuse, but a fact, we ... "

"Lies!" shouted another voice loud and clear.

The village secretary clammed up, scanning his subjects one after another. When his gaze met their eyes, he saw them as if they were hungry tigers ready to pounce, forcing him to bow his head.

"A state only needs people, a leader and land. We've got them all, so what are we waiting for? Or are you afraid of something?" challenged a junior high school dropout.

"It's not that simple, son! We ... "

"Why is it so difficult? Why make things complicated?" the boy interrupted, leaving the village secretary standing there with his mouth open. A fly, guided by the foul smell of the shrimp paste the village secretary had just eaten, perched on his lip and nearly fell in.

" All we have to do is declare our independence. Whether it is recognized or not is not the point," the boy said.

"Long live Odang Puputan!" cried another voice.

"Long live ... " the demonstrators roared in unison.

"We'll deal with whoever stands in our way!"

"Yeah!"

"We'll fight anyone who tries to stop us."

"Yeah!"

" Folks, this doesn't mean that I don't agree with you, but my question is are you ready for an embargo?" asked the village secretary in a clear voice, trying to placate the demonstrators.

To show that he was a wise leader, he tried to remain composed. However, he realized that the word "embargo" had left the crowd puzzled. When he saw his people gazing at him with their mouths agape, he continued. "I just want you to know that our village is not even included on the map of the regency, much less the one of the province. Do you know what all this means?" he asked, beginning to feel some relief.

"That means that our village is too small to be reckoned with, moreover, we do not have any armed forces. A small task force would be enough to rout us and all of us would perish. Or a single bomb would be more than enough to devastate us and the whole village. And nowadays, detonating a bomb is just as easy as setting off a firecracker." The village speaker felt sure that his words would deter the demonstrators.

However, he turned out to be wrong. From amid the crowd came a louder and angrier voice. "It's because we're so small and isolated that we have to do something. We have to do something to have our village recognized by history. If they have a thousand bombs, we have a million fighting spirits ready to explode."

"Right!" thundered the rest of the crowd.

"Chicken-hearted people must not be counted," said the man in a roaring voice.

"Yeah!"

"Freedom!"

"Freedom!"

It was the last day for the chief to announce whether or not he was in support of the people's demand for independence. The village secretary was still unable to make a decision, even after the large crowd of people had gathered in the yard. He, too, was under heavy pressure, both from his superiors and his subjects.

"If you can't even handle a small number of people, how can you be a village chief?"

"It's not that I can't handle them, sir. They are uncivilized."

"So, take care of them. It's your job."

"Sir, those who can be managed are the ones who care about the law; those who have common sense"

"Are you saying that I don't have common sense? How dare you say that I don't have common sense, just because you happen to know that I often go against the book!"

"Oh, sorry, it's not at all like that, and it was not my intention to say that ..."

"So what? Mind you, no matter how great you feel you are, you are still my subordinate," barked the chief threateningly.

"Well, then," snapped the chief, turning his head away. "Now take care of the demonstrators," he said, craning his neck to have a look at the crowd through the windows.

For a moment, he was silent. Then the village secretary spoke in a low mumble. "They're getting wild, sir. They are not listening to me."

"No wonder. You're too nervous."

"Terribly, sir. I'm afraid that they're going to run amok."

"You don't have to deal with all of them."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Find the provocateurs."

"Provocateurs? What if I can't find them?"

"You must find them. And if you can't, pick out anyone you like. That's easy, isn't it?"

"Sir?" he asked. The chief stared at him, perplexed.

"Do it, move!"

"My job is just to find a scapegoat?"

"Precisely, that's the most fitting term. Find a scapegoat! Get them now!" The chief beamed a bizarre, suspicious smile.

For a moment, the village secretary was silent, then said in mournful and nervous voice, "I can't, sir."

"Sure you can."

Finally, the village secretary nervously stepped outside, followed by the village chief and his staff. Trying to pull themselves together, the village secretary and the village chief straightened themselves out and smiled at the unruly crowd to demonstrate the remnants of their fading authority.

The shouting and booing gradually died down and moments later it became eerily quiet as the village secretary began to deliver his speech. The quiet did not last long, however, for the long and boring speech made the crowd restless. Then their blood started to boil causing them to shout angry and abusive words.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you can't show me any respect, that's all right! But please show some respect for the chief," said the secretary, trying to contain his emotions.

"What's the difference between the two of you? Now tell us whether or not we'll get our independence!" cried a young man.

"Long live Odang Puputan!"

"Long live!"

"Freedom!"

"Freedom!"

"Tell that young man to come here, he's the crook ... I mean the provocateur," the chief whispered, feeling indignant at seeing the secretary perplexed.

"What if he doesn't want to come?" asked the nervous village secretary in a stammer.

The chief hardly had time to answer the question when he saw dozens of goats being herded by Dudung down the main road behind the crowd. Everybody knew that Dudung always acted strangely, but the crowd became upset when they saw Dudung driving the goats to the village secretary's house. On the contrary, his appearance relieved the village secretary and the chief, even if for only a few seconds, because the goats had diverted the crowd's attention.

"Dudung, get your goats out of here!" barked the young man.

"But, Mr. Secretary ... "

"What does this have to do with the secretary?" the young man asked Dudung eagerly.

Confused, Dudung glanced back and forth between the village secretary and the young man.

"Tell me! Did the village secretary order you to bring these goats here?" the man said accusingly, thinking that the village secretary had planned it all.

"No, not at all."

"Don't lie!"

"Calm down!" said another man trying to mediate. "Let him talk. Idiots don't lie, trust me," he added.

Everybody waited for Dudung to talk. The village secretary panicked, wondering why the idiot had mentioned his name.

"When Mr. Secretary and the village chief were inside, I overheard the chief say something about finding goats, yes, goats. The secretary said he couldn't find any, so I helped him find some," Dudung innocently explained, happy to have been able to help out.

Both the chief and the secretary turned pale. Before they could say anything, the young man barked, "Tell us what this is supposed to mean?"

"How should I know," said the village secretary.

"You can't trust an idiot, can you?" the chief added.

"I'm telling you the truth, fellows," Dudung interrupted. "I really heard the village chief ordering Mr. Secretary to find goats, yes, goats. Since Mr. Secretary said he was unable to find any, I got some for him."

"Friends, please listen!" the young man said after hearing Dudung's explanation. "Now it's clear; the village chief ordered the secretary to take one of us and accuse him of being a provocateur," the young man shouted.

"Baaa," one of the goats bleated.

"Listen everyone, even this goat backs Dudung's story," someone else in the crowd said.

"Baaa," the other goats bleated, frightened by the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please calm down," the village chief cried out. "You should not believe Dudung!"

"That's right, it's rather funny that you should trust goats," continued the village secretary.

"We'd rather trust goats than leaders like you!" cried a young man who was carrying the flag of Odang Puputan and pushing his way to the stage where the village chief and his secretary were standing.

But his flag fell to the ground because of the pushing and shoving of the crowd, and moments later it was being trampled on by the goats and demonstrators. When he finally managed to retrieve it, the flag was smeared with dirt and goat droppings. With his chest puffed out from indignation, annoyance and anger, he screamed hysterically, punching his fist into the air, "Freedom, Freedom!"

"Baaa," the goats bleated, getting more and more panicky.

The situation suddenly became really tense when hundreds of soldiers marched into the village and opened fire on the villagers, goats and all. A barrage of shots ended the commotion and clamor of the crowd. Odang Puputan was bathed in blood.

Translated by Faldy Rasyidie