The Najwa Gaze

A Note from Ahok

 

A Note from Ahok
For Metro TV Show Mata Najwa and host Nana.

Indonesian Police Mobile Brigade
Headquarters [Prison], 16 August 2017

I’m one of those who was often invited onto [Metro TV’s talk] show Mata Najwa. (Showing off a little here 🙂 ) What’s for sure is there were a lot of supporters both for and against me appearing on the show. Why? Because Najwa would ask the hard questions and would fish and box me in when the viewers suspected me of, thought I was giving the impression I was guilty or lying. For me, [the host of the show] Nana is a professional person, and doesn’t try to win the argument all the time or give the impression of cornering you. Nana only wants her viewers to get the truth from insightful questions, of course with that classic Najwa gaze. I’m grateful, the Mata Najwa show allowed me to appear just as I am, and definitely to say it as it is. Facing questions, and the Mata Najwa gaze, there was only one key. I had to answer according to what was in my heart and conscience. My mouth and brain had to connect. By doing that, Nana and the viewers would accept all my answers. I pray that Nana is successful and full of joy wherever she serves. The Lord bless you, Nana.

Signed BTP

Nana

Nana

Nervous waiting to interview Ahok

Nervous waiting to interview Ahok

Notes from Ahok on Twitter

A note from Ahok on Twitter

 


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Mesjid Cikini Raden Saleh Jakarta 1947

Arctic Tuti

By Chairil Anwar, 1946

Between happiness now and in the future yawns a great canyon,
my little sis who’s lapping up an arctic ice dessert;
this afternoon you were my love, I decorated with eclairs and Coca-Cola,
my wife in training: we made the clock tick stop.

You’re really good at kissing, there’s a cut I can still feel
– When we rode our bicycles I took you home –
You’re blood’s so hot, how fast you became woman
Visions vivid flying high into the sky

Every day you meet your choice, every time changing;
tomorrow we’ll pass in the street and we’ll totally blank each other;
heaven’s only playing for a moment.

I am like you too, everything passes away quickly
Me and Tuti and Greet and Chinese Honey…… souls abandoned,
Love’s a joy that fades so quickly.


Arctic Tuti (Tuti Artic), Pantja Raja, No. 1 Vol. 2, 15 Nov 1946, p. 482.


Photo: Tjikini moskee aan de Raden Saleh te Jakarta, Indonesië (1947) Fotograaf: Cas Oorthuys Vervaardigingsjaar 1 januari 1947 tot 28 februari 1947

http://resolver.kb.nl/resolve?urn=urn:gvn:NFA02:cas-10031-11

Graffiti

Event: Two films on transgender issues in Indonesia

07 February 2017

Film screening

The first screening of the ‘Framing Asia’ film series will focus on transgender issues in Indonesia. Two short films Renita, Renita and Accross Gender  will be followed by discussion with Intan Paramaditha, Indonesian author and lecturer in media and film studies and one of the filmmakers, Anouk Houtman.

Films

Renita, Renita (15min)

Tony Trimarsanto

Trapped in a male body, Renita wanted to be a doctor and a woman since she was a child but her parents forced her to study at a Islamic school where she was bullied and ostracized. She rebelled by becoming a prostitute in the hope of finding freedom but instead, found that it came at a cost — she experienced brutality and was discriminated against by her family and the Indonesian society in which she lived.

Across Gender (24min)

Anouk Houtman

What is it like being transgender in Yogyakarta? There is no single answer to this question. This film aims to show different ways of negotiating visibility in the Indonesian society when one ‘crosses gender’. The difficulty of this negotiation becomes apparent through the anti-LGBT sentiments and actions in early 2016.

Discussion

Anouk Houtman is a young filmmaker with an MA in Visual Anthropology of Leiden University. She graduated with a film and thesis researching the visibility of transgenders in Yogyakarta, Indonesia. Currently she is pursuing a second MA in Gender Studies and University Utrecht.

Intan Paramaditha is an Indonesian author and lecturer in media and film studies at Macquarie University, Sydney. Focusing on contemporary film practice in Indonesia, her research explores the relation between media, cultural activism, and sexual politics in the convergence and tension between national and cosmopolitan trajectories.

Time 19:30- hrs Venue Faculty of Humanities, Lipsius building, rom 028 Cleveringaplaats 1 Leiden Netherlands Google Maps

Source –http://iias.asia/event/two-films-transgender-issues-indonesia

Mau Dibawa Ke Mana Sinema Kita? : Beberapa Wacana Seputar Film Indonesia – Khoo Gaik Cheng & Thomas Barker (Penyunting)

Saya sering berkata “malas” untuk menonton film Indonesia. Bukan demi menunjukan sikap resistansi apapun. Tak ada pembenaran terkaitnya, karena mendukung perfilman Indonesia paling sederhana memang…

Mau Dibawa ke Mana Sinema Kita?

Mau Dibawa ke Mana Sinema Kita?

Source: Mau Dibawa Ke Mana Sinema Kita? : Beberapa Wacana Seputar Film Indonesia – Khoo Gaik Cheng & Thomas Barker (Penyunting)

Language, Nation

By Muhammad Yamin, 1921

“What you have inherited from your fathers, earn over again for yourselves or it will not be yours.” Goethe

While still small and tender in years
The little child sleeps in her mother’s arms.
Her mother sings, soft songs and lullabies
Adoring the little one with endless praise;

Rocking lovingly night and day
Rocker hanging in the land of the ancestors.
Born in the country, with its own language

Surrounded by family right and left,
Raised in the customs of the Malay lands
With happiness, and also sadness;
Feelings of union coming together,
In her language, sweet the sound.

Weep and shed tears of great joy
With gladness in adversity and danger;
You and I breathe the incarnation of our life
In the language the extension of our soul,
Wherever Sumatra is, there is the nation,
Wherever the Patchwork cloth is, there is our language.

My beloved Andalas, vase-shaped island,
Since a small young child,
Until death and laid to rest in the earth
Forget our language, we shall never,
Remember young people, oh unhappy Sumatra
Lose our language, and the nation too is lost.

February 1921


First published in Indonesian in the Dutch language journal Jong Sumatra : organ van den Jong Sumatranen Bond, Batavia, February 1921 via Sandjak-sandjak Muda Mr. Muhammad Yamin [The Young Poems of Mr. Muhammad Yamin]  Firma Rada, Djakarta 1954, p. 9 and republished in Jassin, H. B.  Pujangga baru : prosa dan puisi / dikumpulkan dengan disertai kata pengantar oleh H.B. Jassin  [Pujangga Baru : prose and poetry / collected and accompanied by an introduction by H.B. Jassin] Haji Masagung, Jakarta,  1987, p. 322.

Sumatra

Love

By Muhammad Yamin, 1921

I often laze about, deep in thought,
Watching the sky aglow,
Vaguely visible, joyful,
Sweeping all away, my contemplative thoughts.

What is there to say, what does the future hold?
Weak is my heart, without any strength,
Watching the stars shining gloriously,
Far atop the mountains.

Oh God of all nature,
What is the point of being here,
Worrying about my lot, after night has fallen?

The stars are shining now and it is dark,
Leaving me sitting here like this
Longing for love . . . leave me here to drown in my thoughts.


Based on and adapted from the work of Keith Foulcher (“Perceptions of Modernity and the Sense of the Past: Indonesian Poetry in the 1920s.” Indonesia, no. 23, 1977, pp. 39–58. www.jstor.org/stable/3350884.) First published in Indonesian in the Dutch language journal Jong Sumatra : organ van den Jong Sumatranen Bond, Batavia, June 1921.

Graffiti

7

By Emha Ainun Nadjib

My God

I entrust myself

to the heart

I make a life ready

for the vibration

where courageous thoughts

are solely of the ultimate gift

which is the frailest

of all prayers

My God

in this my small cell

on this aging mat

as I behold the wooden shelves

books

buildings of an overcast civilization

having done battle in the deceiving sun

I lay down my thoughts

I lift up my heart

and wash

in Your hands.


Emha Ainun Nadjib.  99 untuk Tuhanku [99 For My God],  Pustaka Bandung  1983

6

By Emha Ainun Nadjib

My God
Extinguish not the fire
with a bare foot
but allow me to cross it.

My God
be pleased to permit me
in a world of fire
to attempt to tread
the boundary line
between vicious devils
with the source of drizzling rain.

My God
I beseech you remain alert
within my soul
spray forth the fire
which I may soak in my blood
and so shown forth may be
Your victory.

My God
make of me
part of that fire
which burns up the sun
revolving
opening the dawn of day.

My God
before my future day arrives
leadeth me
to be able to divine
which is the false flame
and which the fire true.

padi

Padi


Emha Ainun Nadjib.  99 untuk Tuhanku [99 For My God],  Pustaka Bandung  1983


The image is “The seal of Sultan Ahmad Tajuddin Halim Syah of Kedah.  The Arabic inscription reads: al-‘azīz dhū al-mulk al-qadīr al-ghālib ghayr al-maghlūb al-sultān khalīfat Allāh ‘alā dā’īrah Kedah wa-huwa al-Sultan Ahmad Tajuddin Halim Syah ibn al-Sultan Abdullah Mukarram Syah sanat 1219, ‘The mighty one, possessor of the kingdom, the powerful one, the conquering [yet] unconquered one, the sultan [who is the] vicegerent of God over the territory of Kedah, and he is Sultan Ahmad Tajuddin Halim Syah, son of Sultan Abdullah Mukarram Syah, the year 1219 (1804/5)’.  The seal is stamped on a letter from the Sultan to the Governor-General of Bengal, [Lord Minto], 26 Rabiulakhir 1226 (20 May 1811), pleading for protection against the Siamese.  British Library, MSS Eur.D.742/1, f.3.”  http://blogs.bl.uk/asian-and-african/2014/02/malay-ballad-from-kedah-the-naval-battle-for-phuket.html

59

By Emha Ainun Nadjib

My God

What really is the meaning of Your will

By not sending down any more

Even one more Prophet

For an age which needs

So many more Prophets?

Farmers Shackled by Cement!

Farmers Shackled by Cement! #Dipasungsemen


Emha Ainun Nadjib.  99 untuk Tuhanku [99 For My God],  Pustaka Bandung  1983

Mount Bromo Savanna

Rustle of the Ulla Grass

By M. Adil, 1935

Ulla grass, I often listen to your whistling rustle,
If the soft wind swirls around you;
Your heads lowered as if in homage,
You bow singing of grief which cuts the heart;

While shivering grips your long stems
Straight and bowed declaring your praise –
          Completely pervading my conscience,
Because your song makes an agreement with my sorrow.

          In the shade I often lazing sit
Gazing at the waves which gently undulate,
Escorting the song of your sighing siren leaves
Serene, at peace, unperturbed
I recede me into a wave of ecstasy
Into your oneness mystic soaring oblivious to time,
          Caught in the stream as if in a dream,
          Prostrate to intercede for God’s mercy divine.


Desau Pimping, From Panji Pusaka via Pujangga Baru II/9, March 1935. Republished in Jassin, H. B.  Pujangga baru : prosa dan puisi / dikumpulkan dengan disertai kata pengantar oleh H.B. Jassin  [Pujangga Baru : prose and poetry / collected and accompanied by an introduction by H.B. Jassin] Haji Masagung Jakarta  1987, p. 34.

 

Images: Themeda gigantea (Cav.) Hackel ex Duthie [as Anthistiria gigantea Cav.]   Cavanilles, A.J., Icones et descriptiones plantarum, vol. 5: t. 458 (1799) [A.J. Cavanilles]  Drawing: A.J. Cavanilles  http://plantillustrations.org/illustration.php?id_illustration=240997; Bromo Midnight Tour and Travel; Savanna Valley, Whispering Desert Mount Bromo

Dartmoor's tors

Tahun Baru Di Dartmoor

Tahun Baru Di Dartmoor

Oleh Sylvia Plath

Ini adalah kebaruan: setiap halangan murahan
Kecil yang terbungkus oleh kaca dan ganjil,
Berkilauan dan berdenting dalam suara falsetto seorang santo. Cuma kamu
Tidak tahu bagaimana memahami kelicinan mendadak itu,
Kemiringan buta, putih, seram yang tidak teraih.
Yang tidak dapat didaki dengan perkataan yang kamu tahu.
Tidak dapat didaki dengan gajah atau roda atau sepatu.
Kita hanya datang untuk melihat. Kamu terlalu muda
Untuk menginginkan dunia di dalam topi kaca.

Biljartzaal van sociëteit De Harmonie te Batavia

Ayah

Ayah

Oleh Sylvia Plath

Kamu tidak lagi pas, kamu tidak lagi pas
sepatu hitam
Di mana aku sudah hidup seperti kaki
Selama tiga puluh tahun, miskin dan putih,
Hampir tidak berani bernafas atau bersin.

Ayah, aku sudah harus membunuhmu.
Kamu meninggal sebelum aku ada waktu–
Berat seperti marmer, sekarung penuh Tuhan,
Patung mengerikan dengan satu jari kaki kelabu
Sebesar anjing laut Frisco

Dan sebuah kepala di dalam Atlantik aneh itu
Di mana hujan deras berwarna hijau kacang di atas biru
Di perairan lepas Nauset yang indah
Aku dulu berdoa untuk mendapatkanmu kembali.
Ach, du.

Dalam bahasa Jerman, di kota Polandia itu
Terkikis datar oleh penggilas
Perang, perang, perang.
Tapi nama kota itu umum.
Sahabatku orang Polak

Katanya ada selusin atau lebih.
Jadi saya tidak pernah bisa tahu di mana kamu
Menginjakkan kakimu, akarmu,
Aku tidak pernah bisa berbicara denganmu.
Lidah terjebak di rahangku.

Lidah terjebak dalam jerat kawat berduri.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
Aku hampir tidak bisa bicara.
Aku pikir setiap orang Jerman adalah kamu.
Dan bahasanya kasar

Sebuah lokomotif, sebuah lokomotif
Bergemuruh membawaku seperti orang Yahudi.
Seorang Yahudi ke Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
Aku mulai berbicara seperti orang Yahudi.
Aku pikir mungkin aku adalah orang Yahudi.

Salju di Tyrol, bir jernih dari Wina
Tidak begitu murni maupun benar.
Dengan leluhur perempuanku seorang Jipsi dan keberuntunganku yang aneh
Dan pak kartu Tarotku dan pak kartu Tarotku
Mungkin aku sedikit Yahudi.

Aku selalu takut padamu,
Dengan Luftwaffemu, omong kosongmu.
Dan kumis rapimu
Dan mata Aryanmu, biru terang
Manusia Panzer, manusia Panzer, Oh Kamu–

Bukan Tuhan tetapi swastika
Begitu hitam sehingga tiada sedikitpun langit dapat mengintip.
Setiap wanita mencintai seorang Fasis,
Sepatu bot di muka, orang kejam itu
Hati brutal dari orang brutal seperti kamu.

Kamu berdiri di papan tulis, ayah,
Dalam gambar kamu yang aku punya,
Celah dalam dagumu bukan kakimu
Tetapi itu tidak mengurangi kesetananmu, tak juga
Mengurangi sifatmu sebagai orang kulit hitam yang

Menggigit hati merah cantikku menjadi dua.
Usiaku sepuluh ketika mereka menguburmu.
Pada usia dua puluh aku berusaha mati
Dan kembali, kembali, kembali kepadamu.
Aku pikir tulang pun akan cukup.

Tetapi mereka menarikku keluar dari karung,
Dan aku ditempel kembali dengan lem.
Kemudian aku tahu apa yang harus kulakukan.
Aku membuat model kamu,
Seorang pria berpakaian hitam berpenampilan Meinkampf

Dan sayang pada rak dan sekrup.
Dan aku berkata ya, ya.
Jadi ayah, aku akhirnya putus.
Telepon hitam itu mati pada akarnya,
Suara-suara itu tetap tidak mampu merayap keluar.

Jika aku telah membunuh seorang pria, aku sudah membunuh dua–
Vampir yang mengaku sebagai kamu
Dan minum darahku selama setahun,
Tujuh tahun, kalau kamu ingin tahu.
Ayah, kamu dapat berbaring sekarang.

Ada pasak kayu dalam jantung hitam gemukmu
Dan penduduk desa tidak pernah menyukaimu.
Mereka menari dan menginjak-injakmu.
Mereka selalu tahu itu kamu.
Ayah, ayah, bajingan kamu, putuslah aku.


https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/48999

Sylvia Plath, “Daddy” from Collected Poems. Copyright © 1960, 1965, 1971, 1981 by the Estate of Sylvia Plath. Editorial matter copyright © 1981 by Ted Hughes. Used acknowledging all applicable rights of HarperCollins Publishers.

Source of English: Collected Poems (HarperCollins Publishers Inc, 1992)

Images: http://www.geheugenvannederland.nl/nl