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 young in years
The little child nestles in her mother’s lap,
Singing soft songs and lullabies her mother
Beams over her child, overflowing with joy;
She rocks lovingly night and day,
Cradle hanging in the land of her ancestors.

Born to a nation with its own language
Surrounded by family to the right and the left,
Raised in the customs of the land of the Malays
In grief and joy and in sorrow too
Feelings of togetherness and unity flow
From her language with its sweet sound.

Whether with wailing tears, or in rejoicing
Whether in times of joy or in adversity and danger;
We breathe to maintain our lives
In the language that embodies our soul,
Wherever Sumatra is, there is the nation,
Wherever Pertja is, there is our language.

My beloved Andalas, my birth country,
From the time I was young,
Till the time I die and am laid in the earth
I shall never forget our language,
Remember, young people, unhappy Sumatra,
Lose your language, and your nation is lost too.

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.

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Batik maker

Mother Indonesia

By Sukmawati Soekarno Putri

Although I am no expert in the law of Islam
What I do know is the chignon of mother Indonesia is most beautiful

More elegant than your chador
So perfectly folded is the hair
As perfect as the fabric that enfolds your form

Her endlessly diverse creative senses
Fuse with the essence of the world around
Fingers with the scent of forest resin
Perspiration touched by sea breezes

Look, mother Indonesia
As your appearance grows more alien
So you can remember
The natural beauty of your nation
If you wish to become beautiful, healthy, virtuous and creative

Welcome to my world, this earth of mother Indonesia

Although I am no expert in the law of Islam
What I do know is the sound of the lullaby of mother Indonesia is most beautiful

More melodious than your lilting call to prayer
The gracious movements of her dance is holy service
As pure as the rhythm of divine worship

The breath of her prayer combines with creation
Strand by strand the yarn is woven
Drip by drip the soft wax flows
The wax pen etching holy verses of the heavenly realm

Behold, mother Indonesia
As your sight grows dim,
So you can understand the true beauty of your nation

For ages past, the story of this civilized nation has been love and respect for mother Indonesia and her people.


Small amount of background:  Islamic groups report Indonesian politician for reciting ‘blasphemous’ poem   Former Indonesian president’s daughter sorry after blasphemy outrage over poem   Sambil Menangis, Sukmawati Soekarnoputri Minta Maaf.

Wikibackground on the author

Featured image: Batik maker applying melted wax to fabric, Sultan’s Palace (Kraton), Yogyakarta by Rahiman Madli

Ahok

Poem for Mother

By W.S. Rendra

To recall mother
Is to recall dessert,
Wife is the sustaining main
Girlfriend the side dishes,
And mother
The perfect final,
In the great communal feast of life.

Her countenance is the sky at sunset:
The grandeur of the day that has completed its work.
Her voice the echo
Of the whisper of my conscience.

Remembering mother
I look on the promise of the best in life.
Hearing her voice,
I believe in the good in the human heart.
Looking at mother’s photograph,
I inherit the essence of the creation of the world.

Talking with you, my brothers and sisters,
I remember that you too have mothers.
I shake your hands,
I embrace you in fraternity.
We don’t wish to offend each other,
So we do not insult each other’s mother,
Who always, like the earth, water and sky,
Defends us without affectation.

Thieves have mothers. Murderers have mothers.
Just as corruptors, tyrants, fascists, journalists on the take and members of parliament for sale,
They too also have mothers.

What sort of mothers are their mothers?
Aren’t their mothers the dove soaring in the sky of the soul?
Aren’t their mothers the gateway to the universe?

Would a child say to his mother:
“Mother, I’ve become the lap dog of foreign capital,
Who makes goods which don’t do anything to reduce the people’s poverty,
Then I bought a government mountain real cheap,
While the number of landless villagers goes through the roof.
Now I’m rich.
And then, mother, I also bought you a mountain too,
To be your resting place one day.”

No. This is not something a child would say to his mother.
But how then will a child explain to his mother his position as tyrant, corruptor, forest scourge and mouse plague overrunning rice fields?
Will the tyrant declare himself leader of the revolution?
Will the corruptor and lap dog of foreign capital announce that he’s the hero of development?
And will the forest scourge and rice field mouse plague label himself the ideal farmer?

But, then, what of the beaming gaze of his mother?
Is it possible for a mother to say:
“Child, don’t forget to take your jacket.
Remember to wrap up against the night air.
A journalist needs to stay healthy.
Oh, yeah, and if any fat envelops come your way,
Just pick me up some fried prawns.”

Mother, now I really understand your value.
You are the statue of my life,
Not a fake statue or a white elephant like Monas and Mini Indonesia Park.
You are the anthem Great Indonesia.
You are the rain I watched in the village.
You are the forest encircling the lake.
You are the lotus flower of meditation’s peace.
You are the song of the simple people.
You are the arrow of my conscience in all I do.

Pejambon, Jakarta
23 October, 1977


Poem for Mother (Sajak Ibunda) was published in State of Emergency, W.S. Rendra, Wild & Woolley, Glebe, 1978, p. 52.

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 was one of the ones always being 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


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, lapping up an arctic ice dessert;
This afternoon you were my love, I decorated you with eclair 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;
Just playing for a moment is heaven.

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.


Featured Image: 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)

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