'The Burning Moon' focuses on workers

'The Burning Moon' focuses on workers

By Helly Minarti

JAKARTA (JP): Four female workers dressed in black wearing
clownish masks stood on an open air stage in a wide lot owned by
Ray Sahetapi, a film actor who now concentrates on his theater
group, Studio Oncor.

The girls stood elegantly and sang a touching, slow dangdut
song, Selamat Malam (Good Night), a hit from popular singer Evie
Tamala. The song was part of the opening of Rembulan Terbakar
(The Burning Moon), a play by Teater ABU (Aneka Buruh) whose
members are mainly factory workers. The play was staged on Jan.
20 and the audience were free to choose where they sat on the wet
grassy embankment.

The Burning Moon was Teater Abu's fifth performance since it
was founded in 1993. Unlike their earlier performances, which
were full of verbal statements and symbols of the situation of
Indonesian workers, this time they modified songs -- dangdut,
rap, marches and ballads -- to communicate their problems and
lives as factory workers and as human beings.

"I don't want to get trapped in a cliche of workers' theater
performances which tend to exploit the bad treatment they
suffer," said Margesti, the director. "It's too predictable; the
classic conflict with the employer ends with the workers loosing
their jobs," added Margesti, who is an actress.

"This time I asked them to share various aspects of their life
which reflects being a worker with all the consequences. It still
includes the typical topics as their low wages, the empty
promises from their employers for health allowance, and the long
working hours. Yet it also opens up the other facets of their
life such as how becoming a worker can affect their love lives."

One of the rap lyrics describes love in the factory. "The
working hours, uhh, the working hours. The morning shift, the
afternoon shift, the night shift. The fact is my boyfriend failed
to tolerate that. And we broke up again, broke up again!"

"Acting in the theater doesn't solve my problem in the
factory, but at least I have space to let out what's on my
chest," said Yuli, who feels the policy of the factory where she
works is wrong. "I just want them to keep their promises. Just
recently I got very sick. The factory doctor said that I was just
fine and gave me the same medicine for my different complaints. I
checked with a doctor outside the factory and he discovered
something was wrong with my kidney. It cost me a fortune to pay
for the doctor and the medicine. The factory didn't give a damn
or care about it," Yuli said, flatly.

"At Teater ABU I can express what I feel. And It's relatively
harmless," Yuli added.

Margesti understands this different perception of theater
players. "All I know is that theater is a medium of art for the
creator. For these people it is a means to express themselves."

That's why Margesti declines judging her players by
professional acting criteria.

"They're different. Don't expect them to play like a real
actor or actress because what they do is actually playing their
own life. Their own story," said Margeti, who is married to the
director of Teater SAE, Budi S. Otong.

"I don't want them to act like me or to be like me. I only use
the potential inside every member. I only make it shine better,"
she said. "I really want to make them realize that they have
something that they can claim as their own. Not something that I
transform. It's their acting."

The group practices once a week in Margesti's house. "I have
my hands full now. I take the creative side as well as the whole
production," she added. She asked a few friends to join her so
the workers can slowly take over management of the theater.

The Burning Moon is based on a story a worker told her. "A
friend helped me in writing the story. Others thought about
raising funds and other things. All of us are independent people.
Not representing any organization in doing the job. And we and
the workers are working side by side," she said.

Margesti composed most of the songs herself and contacted
musicians she calls "Teater ABU's supporters". The result is a
truly sweet collage of music and song with theatrical body
movement filled with symbolism.

Teater ABU has never performed on a formal stage. Their first
play, Nyanyian Pabrik (The Factory Song) was staged in the
Bandung house of Indonesian painter Jeihan. They once performed
on an impromptu stage outside the Bulungan Youth Center in South
Jakarta when the annual Jakarta Theater Festival was held in
early 1994. Both plays attracted a large crowd, including some
distinguished figures in theater like as the late Arifin C. Noer.

Last year they participated in a street celebration of the
Indonesian golden independence and also performed on a plain
stage at a corner near the Legal Aid Foundation's building in
Central Jakarta. Last January they performed in a vacant lot in a
back area of Bintaro Jaya in southwestern Jakarta.

The most important thing for them is for their colleagues to
see them perform and share their feelings.

At first, Teater ABU was supported by a non-governmental
organization specializing in female workers issues.

"I was hired as a professional to train them," Margesti said,
explaining her first encounter with Teater ABU. Now her
involvement seems more emotional.

"We had to stop rehearsing for some time, especially when I
got pregnant and had my second child. But they kept coming to me
and asking me to continue the program. Now the NGO which used to
support us has abandoned us and we try to do our best to
survive," she said.

Margesti devotes not only her creative energy but also cuts
into her household budget to support the group.

"We are working on getting financial support. There are always
friends who sympathize with what we're doing. We always try to
keep the budget low, but we still need money to pay for regular
expenses such as transport for rehearsals and performances," said
Margesti, who has been acting for 20 years.

"They're very enthusiastic to go on with this theater, but the
fact is they also need support --- creatively and financially. In
the mean time they're trying so hard to be self-sufficient. But
with their minimum wages it is too hard to do."