New Album: Menolak Tunduk By Wukir Suryadi

New Album: Menolak Tunduk [Refuse to Obey]

By Wukir Suryadi

Based on album notes from Bandcamp:

The uncertain situation of the pandemic due to government policies that are not concerned with the welfare and security of the people makes anyone indignant. Survival is initiated independently and collectively through community solidarity action, including protest. Ironically, community action has not been responded to as an aspiration prompting government improvement, but instead was responded to with repression. Wukir’s statement of disobedience is not only directed against the sociopolitical conditions, but also against all things that limit and restrict freedom of expression.

This attitude is reflected in the compositions on this album. It’s not as melodic as it used to be. Dark as usual, aggressive, abrasive, transcendental, and definitely tribal. The percussion element is very dominant. This emerged from his new instrument in the form of a wooden box with a line-shaped hole. This ancient-futuristic album marks a tumultuous new cross-dimensional era to affirm our stance, to disobey.

credits
released November 10, 2021

Instruments:
Kentongan serie A and B,
Guitar, Industrial Mutant, Solet, Senyawa x Benchlab Pedal serie R prototype

Recorded in Senyawa Mandiri, 2021
Mastered by Joseph Lamont

license
some rights reserved

Tags
alternative experimental indonesia Yogyakarta

Yes No Wave Music’s website

Short Story: Bitter Covid By Seno Gumira Ajidarma

Bitter Covid

By Seno Gumira Ajidarma

“Which one tastes bett’a, Kab, bitt’a coffee or bitt’a cofi’?”

Sukab grins like from ear to ear on ‘earin’ young Jali, who ‘as taken the oppa’tuni’y to rest his motorcycle taxi at the food stall, rather ‘an the endless daily roar of pickin’ up food an’ deliverin’ it.

“Ain’t you workin’ because of the lockdown, Li?”

“See ‘ere, this lockdown ‘as made online fried tofu and fish dumplin’s sell like ‘ot cakes, Kab.”

“So, how comes you is still ‘angin’ aroun’ ‘ere, then?”

“One by one them regular customers is dyin’,” says Jali, takin’ off ‘is baseball cap, as if it were outta respect. “Left an’ right, front an’ back, in every ‘ouse, there is someone depar’in'”

“Depar”in’?”

“Depar”in’ this world, Cor!”

“Oh gees, yeah, sorry. So..?”

“What people who is still at home is still bein’ infected like, lookin’ for oxygen cylinders, which is real ‘ard, see. An’ if they looks ‘ealthy, like, it turns around that they is still OTG, infech’ted but without no symp’oms.

“‘at is the gravest of dangers, i’n’t it.”

“That is when they is the most infetchious!”

“Is that why you don’t wanna go out? Ain’t motorcycle taxis right popular jus’ now?”

“Fact is, there ain’t no orders, Kab. Ain’t jus’ the people who’s buyin’ food what’s ‘eadin’ to the gates…”

“The gates?”

“Oh, Sukab! Headin’ to them pearly gates, ‘ken ‘ell!”

“Ah! Snuffin’ it! Look yous keep changin’, see!

“Yeah, not jus’ the buyers even. Plen’y of sellers it is ‘ho ‘as also shuff’led off…”

“Shuffled off? You mean croaked it again, right?”

“Yaapp! Now you knows, ok, why I been sittin’ ‘ere playin’ chess, rather ‘an run aroun’ all confused like, ‘n all not knowin’ what I outta be doin’?”

Yati shouts as she holds out a packed of fried catfish and peanut sauce. “What the hell! Deliver this. And fast. Then get straight back ‘ere, ok? It all ain’t no use neither that people sellin’ food is shippin’ out…”

“Shippin’ out? Dyin’ too?”

“Hey, stup’id, the importan’ thing is, I do not wants no people who is still ‘ealthy dyin’ o’ ‘unger, right…”

Jali grabs the packet like and climbs straight onto his mo’orcycle like a cowboy climbin’ up onto his ‘orse.

The stall was quiet again then, though the motorcycle taxis is still queuin’. Waitin’ for Yati’s food packets. With all this constant comin’ and goin’, Sukab gets to thin’in’. With bein’ down at the bottom, sure is lucky we is still makin’ a little somethin’.

“It may be goin’ all right,” he thinks, “but the worst thin’ is, Christ, them lives…”

“If there is a collapse, like, you is gonna collapse too…,” says Yati, who ‘as joined all manner of online groups. WhatsApp, Instagram, Facebook, an’ Twi’er, they was all confusin’ people, an’ makin’ ’em panic, even if they was not wrong.

“The ambulance drivers is exhausted. The grave diggers feels likes they ain’t got no hands left. The preachers is all praying 24 hours a day. The  doctors is havin’ to pick from dozens of dyin’ patients layin’ all around the joint in the emergency tents. Then there’s the health workers, helpin’ theirselves to the vaccines… What else is it if it ain’t a coh’lapse… a brea’ down, a crash…,” says Sukab, as if he is in a kinda thea’re play.

It’s true everything that was happenin’. At the food stall you ‘ears every neighborhood announcement from the speakers at them mosques, the ones close by as well as the ones way off. There’s no end to the speakers wailing Inna Lillahi, etcetera, and endin’ in the news that some body or other is gonna get taken straight from the ‘ospital to the graveyard. Bodies is bein’ lost, bodies is bein’ swapped, their souls flyin’ up an’ not bein’ able to say nothin’ to their relies ‘ho is prayin’ in front of the wrong body’s grave.

Yati shakes ‘er head an’ jus’ stares at ‘er cellphone.

“It sure is like that. The people who ain’t passed says they was almost goin’ crazy jus’ because they ain’t been to the mall…”

“Pass?”

“Like, it’s everythin’ from before: croaks, goes up to that big house, goes to them pearly gates, shuffles off, depar’s this world… does I really have to say dies? Ok, so, passes on…”

Sukab picks up ‘is mask an’ takes a mouthful of ‘is corn coffee.

“What it’s called is runnin’ outta energy, from bein’ a volunteer, all the worry by itself is.., just real hard…”

“But, you ain’t gonna run out, right, Kab?”

“Of what?”

“Of what you says. Of energy.”

“Gees! It ain’t not enough to jus’ pray!” Then Sukab points to his forehead.

“Your ‘uman brain has gotta really work real good, like!”

He stands, grabs his ‘oe and dus’pan.

“Where is you goin’, Kab? Ain’t there a lockdown?”

“‘ell, who is gonna bury all them people ‘ho croak?”

***

Pondok Ranji, Thursday 15 July 2021


Bitter Covid (Kopid Pait) was published in Panajournal, 15 July 2021. (Retrieved from https://www.panajournal.com/2021/07/kopid-pait)

Seno Gumira Ajidarma, born in Boston, United States, June 19, 1958. Now serves as Chancellor of the Jakarta Institute of the Arts (IKJ). Seno became better known after writing his trilogy of works on East Timor, namely Saksi Mata (collection of short stories), Jazz, Purfum, dan Insiden? (novel), and Ketika Jurnalisme Dibungkam, Sastra Harus Bicara (collection of essays). In 2014, he launched a blog called PanaJournal (www.panajournal.com) about human interest stories with a number of journalists and professionals in the field of communication. For other work by Seno Gumira Adjidarma click here.

Kopid Pait

 

Decolonization, violence and war in Indonesia, 1945-1950: KITLV/Royal Netherlands Institute of Southeast Asian and Caribbean Studies

Decolonization, violence and war in Indonesia, 1945-1950

KITLV / Royal Netherlands Institute of Southeast Asian and Caribbean Studies Project

Decolonisation, violence and war in Indonesia, 1945-1950 is a large-scale, joint inquiry carried out by KITLV, the Netherlands Institute for Military History (NIMH) and the NIOD Institute for War, Holocaust and Genocide Studies. The project has been made financially possible by the Dutch government, due to its decision on 2 December 2016 to lend its support to a broad inquiry into the events of this period.

f1b13645-a88e-4794-8d7d-d947be1dd222The programme comprises nine subprojects and aims to answer questions regarding the nature, extent and causes of structural transborder violence in Indonesia, considered in a broader political, social and international context. In this context, detailed attention will be paid to the chaotic period spanning from August 1945 to early 1945 – often referred to as the Bersiap – and the political and social aftermath in the Netherlands, Indonesia and elsewhere.

It is expected that KITLV will be responsible for the synthesis and will carry out the subprojects Regional Studies and Bersiap. For these projects the group, together with Indonesian colleagues, will carry out research in several Indonesian regions. These subprojects will be the continuation of the KITLV-project Dutch military operations in Indonesia 1945-1950 that has run since 2012.

The programme has a strong international character. There will be cooperation with researchers from Indonesia and other countries involved and sources originating from Indonesia, Australia, United Kingdom and the United States (United Nations) will be used more than previously was the case. Furthermore, the programme explicitly includes the opportunity for witness accounts from the Netherlands and Indonesia to be presented. Witnesses can come forward themselves or will be traced by researchers, in order to allow them to document their personal accounts for future generations.

The three institutes stress the importance of broad national and international support for the programme. In order to achieve this, the institutes have appointed an international scientific advisory board and a Netherlands societal focus group (Maatschappelijk Klankbordgroep Nederland).

For more information see: https://www.ind45-50.org/en

Witnesses

For the purpose of this inquiry, it is important that those involved are seen and heard. If you have material or more information about Indonesia in the 1945-1950 time period and are willing to contribute to our research, please contact: getuigen@ind45-50.nl

Lotus Poems: Ode to a Huge Flood By WS Rendra

Ode to a Huge Flood

By WS Rendra

Between three mountains
embracing the moon.
From a broad arm of steel
emerges one thousand hands.
……………………….
In a huge flood that is unexpected
people survive
not because of strength,
not because of intelligence,
but because of the element of chance.
Of the strong and the intelligent
many die helplessly.
The pure small children
although they are powerless
survive the disaster
And saved also are those
who once more become young children
and dissolve into the universe.


WS Rendra, Ode to a Huge Flood (Syair Banjir Besar), Lotus Poems (Syair Teratai), Sinar Harapan Daily, 19 April 1975 (Accessed from Armin Bell, Kumpulan Fiksi Blog, Collected Fiction Blog.)

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Lotus Poems: Emptiness is Full of Power By WS Rendra

Emptiness is Full of Power

By WS Rendra

Habit is not personality
Personality is also not a delusion
about ourselves.
Personality comes from emptiness.
When we are empty
we are agile and alert.
In emptiness,
we can respond to anything,
according to the circumstances
and not based on habit.
The full are rigid and lumbering –
often even have no power.
The empty are in fact full of power.


WS Rendra, Emptiness is Full of Power (Kosong Itu Penuh Daya), Lotus Poems (Syair Teratai), Sinar Harapan Daily, 19 April 1975 (Accessed from Armin Bell, Kumpulan Fiksi Blog, Collected Fiction Blog.)

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