Permadi finds life behind bars a blessing

YOGYAKARTA (JP): Permadi Satrio Wiwoho, the controversial soothsayer, is spending time behind bars at the Wirogunan Correctional Institution as he awaits trial on charges of blasphemy.

His days are passed inside a three by four meter cell, No. 2 in Block A, reading books and newspapers, and doing a lot of writing, including preparing his defense in court. He is also busy giving spiritual advice to fellow inmates.

He has already lost three kilograms since March when he voluntarily turned himself in to the police amid accusations that he defamed Prophet Muhammad. He underwent police investigation in Jakarta and was subsequently charged with blasphemy for remarks he made during a seminar at Gadjah Mada University in Yogyakarta last year.

He was transferred from Jakarta to the Wirogunan jail on May 12. Four days later Permadi, who always wears black attire, celebrated his 55th birthday, with his wife Dewi, in jail.

"I've got to regain my weight," he told a friend who visited him in his cell recently.

The following is an excerpt of a brief exchange between Permadi and the friend, as related by the latter, to The Jakarta Post.

Friend: How do they treat you in here?

Permadi: Everyone here is treating me fine, from the inmates, guards to the wardens. Director General of Correctional Institutions Baharuddin Lopa also came here and asked what I needed. But I've asked that I be treated like other inmates. My brother offered to arrange to bring in food for me, but I said no. I want to eat what other inmates have.

Friend: I heard that people around here call you mbah (grandfather)?

Permadi: Yes. Others also call me romo (father) or even papi (dad).

Friend: Why's that?

Permadi: It's more out of respect because they look up to me. Some learn meditation from me. Others come to seek spiritual advice. I'm in the same block with murderers, car thieves and robbers. They're all treating me well. They help care for my plants, clean the toilet and bathroom. They do it without asking for anything in return or without me asking them to. If I give them cigarettes every now and then, that's normal. Some of the murderers and robbers cried when I lectured them on spiritual things, on their future. Some of them have met the truth, and this makes me happy. I don't feel isolated because I can write and read. (Permadi subscribes to five daily newspapers and two magazines).

Friend: How do you pass your time in here?

Permadi: My time here is already full without me having to pass it. The moment my cell is opened at six o'clock in the morning, a crowd of inmates is already waiting for me outside. The guards often have to send them away for fear that they disturb me. I also do some gardening. In the evening, they lock my cell, but I can still communicate with other inmates through the bars. I'm writing my defense, and other things I feel like writing. There are so many things I want to comment on, like my idea that the Armed Forces should refuse to have its seats in the House of Representatives reduced. I think I'm the only person who holds this view.

Friend: How did you feel when you lost your freedom, at least physically?

Permadi: Nothing's changed. That's puzzling I know, to me and to others, including my wife and relatives. Pak Ramdlan (Permadi's lawyer Ramdlan Naning) thinks that I'm just saying that to keep my spirits up. But I swear to God, nothing has changed. I don't feel that I'm being confined. I'm not suffering. In fact, I find an exceptional blessing from this all.

Friend: What's that?

Permadi: Now I'm washing my own underwear and pants. But the heavier stuff, like jeans, are washed by other inmates who volunteer. The moment they see they're dirty, they take them away and wash them.

I feel that in here I find something I could not get outside. Like genuine appreciation that I'm really needed by others. Physical confinement? I'm used to that. Don't forget I'm a very spiritual person. I go for days to meditate in a cave or in a mountain by myself, and I'm happy. I never feel lonely.

There was one time, when they transferred me here, that I felt a little scared. When I came, I saw murderers who were built like Mike Tyson and tattooed all over. I guess I was affected by the conception that every new inmate must pass certain grueling tests. But when I came, they all came into my room and helped clean things up for me.

Friend: Why do you think this happened?

Permadi: Because they know who I am. And not a single person here believes that I did the things they accuse me of doing. This is heartening for me. People here look up to me like sort of their parent.

Friend: What is the thing you most want now?

Permadi: I accept my fate. If I was freed, I wouldn't be overjoyed because I'm not supposed to be here. If they send me back here, I won't be sad because that is my fate. And I believe that God has a certain plan for me by making me go through the things I have to go through.

Friend: Who has visited you since you came here?

Permadi: Pak Lopa (Baharuddin), the chief of the Yogyakarta Justice Office, Ali Sadikin, student activists, fellow spiritual healers from Solo, Yogyakarta and Jakarta. Wimanjaya (a writer). And also girls. My wife was angry yesterday because there were girls here when she came. She said "you're still doing this" and I responded that I never asked them to come in the first place. They came in black attire.

Friend: How do your children feel with the case you're facing?

Permadi: They were shocked initially. But later, they wrote to me saying they were proud of me. There is one good thing that comes out of this. Those people who sent me here obviously intended to see me suffer. But on the contrary, I found something that's been missing all this time. Before this, I rarely saw my family because of my activities. I never knew anything about plants or washing clothes. But now I do my own washing, I do gardening. The meetings with my wife and children now have become more meaningful. Something I never felt before. Those people may want to see me suffer, but I don't feel I'm suffering at all. Every time my wife and children come to visit, we become that much closer. This is very meaningful and joyful.

Friend: Do you suffer psychologically?

Permadi: No. Maybe once when I wrote a birthday card to my daughter. First I thought I had no problem, but when I started writing, I shed tears. That was the only time. But I never had any fear about how long I would have to stay inside. I'm amazed at myself. Have I lost all my senses? People may say that I'm only saying this to lift my spirits and that deep down I'm really suffering. But no. May be this is the result of my years of involvement in spiritual study. I leave everything to God. I'm here in jail because of God's will, and if I'm freed, that is also because of God's will.

Friend: Don't you feel concerned about your family?

Permadi: Not really. My wife and children are all well trained. I often leave them for a month, and once even for three months when I went to Europe. I never gave money to my wife. People may wonder what kind of person I am. But we, the family, lead a harmonious and romantic life. Each respects the other's opinion and conditions. And they know that I'm not after material things.

Friend: Didn't your mother just visited you last week?

Permadi: Yes, that was totally unexpected. I had been with the police for two months and my mother was never told about it. We managed to conceal it from her, and told her that I was out of the country. But eventually I decided to write to her and tell her that I'm now in jail. I told her not to worry because she had been through this before, when my father was imprisoned by the Dutch. My late father once told me that I should not fear jail if I have to live by my principles. He said he would be more embarrassed if I was running away instead of defending my principles.

My mother eventually understood. When she came here, she cried like a child. But she came round once she saw that I was fine. I even called in some of the murderers and robbers to say hello, so that she knows I'm okay here. She said she would pray for me every night. My mother is very devout.

Friend: What did she tell you then?

Permadi: She asked me how did this happen, so I explained everything to her. Then she said that "as long as you don't steal or rob, I'm not ashamed of you." (02/emb)