Shadows

Mornings are usually quiet at The Gallery. Everyone usually comes sometime after 11, and the day would then start to get busy until late at night. Nina likes it like that. She would come early in the morning before everyone else so she has time alone, doing whatever she needs to do at The Gallery.

The morning light is softly dispersed in the back room where she usually works. The light fills the room through the full glass window overlooking the lush garden at the back of the lot. Tall mango trees and cascading Bougainvillea screen the harsh high noon, but the morning lights often play an amazing composition of lights and shadow onto the walls.

Nina keeps her belongings on a table near the brick wall. The intricate latticework of the brick wall provides the privacy from the outside and it carefully stitches the outdoor into the interior of the open plan workshop and office space. Nina loves that she can see through the lattice; the sense of being outdoors while she’s actually inside takes her back to the idle days at Kat’s pavilion.

Nina is flipping through an A5 size booklet. She’s reading every word and inspecting every image printed on the paper. Tsk! She still spots misspelling here and there, and the paper quality Dino has chosen is still not good enough for her. It is the fourth draft of booklets that the graphic designer has sent for the upcoming exhibition that she has spent the last year assembling.

The exhibition is bringing together artworks by individuals who had become political prisoners and/or political outcasts, based solely on blind suspicions or false accusations. Some of them were sentenced without trials as a result of the snowballing effect from the political turmoil that unraveled in Indonesia in 1965.

The New Order regime claimed it was an effort to clean up any ‘leftist’ affiliated with the communist party PKI, the common enemy made official by the New Order regime. In reality, some of the brightest minds of the generation were taken and sent to the remote island of Buru in Maluku, while others were stripped of their rights and had their activities monitored by the country’s intelligence for years and years.

Their families were also put under restrictions to participate in public service. Some of them had to change names or hide their true identity, so they can live in peace in society. The stigma that was put on them has created an immense trauma. To this day, almost 50 years later, there is still a great divide about the issues of 1965 and the following events.

Nina’s grandfather, Kamal Sugondo was one of those individuals that were taken away for no reason, and his family was never informed of his whereabouts. Nina did not know him personally; she hadn’t even been born yet when all that happened. But Nina’s family bore the cross and carried a massive wound, the kind of trauma that her father tried to keep away from Nina.

Nina’s father hardly ever mentions Pak Kamal; they took him from their family home in Solo when he was only four years old, a story Nina would later found out after years of searching. Bapak never really knew his own father. Growing up, the family, which consisted of a mother and 2 young sons, was always on the move because as soon as the neighbors found out about the father they would ask the family to leave. Bapak changed his last name into Sugandhi to detach himself from his father’s. After high school, he set out on a journey to make a man of himself, away from his father’s shadow.

Bapak set up a new life in Yogyakarta, where he would later meet Ibu, Nina’s mother, and started a family. Bapak only confided in Ibu about who he was and his family history, but Nina’s mother had never inquired more into husband’s background. It has been Ibu’s belief that as long as Bapak respects and takes full responsibility of his little family, she does not need to probe into his past.

Bapak found out later that Pak Dhe, Bapak’s older brother, still lives with Eyang Ti in a village near Munthilan, a small town on the outskirt of Yogyakarta. Bapak went to visit them once or twice, but Eyang Ti and Pak Dhe had never been to Nina’s house.

Tethered by unbroken bond, Bapak’s family stays on the perimeter; they’re close enough to feel each other’s presence while maintaining ample space between them as not to disturb each other’s peace.

One day when she came home from school, Nina came up to Ibu, who was preparing to cook dinner in the kitchen, and asked,

“Ibu, who is my grandfather?”

”Why it’s Mbah Kung of course,” Ibu stopped slicing the carrot and glanced over to Nina. She replied carefully, aware that Nina was not asking about her father.

“I mean, Bapak’s father, Ibu. Who is he? How come I have never met him?”

“Oh, Bapak’s father passed away a long time ago. Even before you were born. Even I have never seen him,” Ibu had chosen her answer wisely.

“Then how come we don’t have his picture? We still keep Mbah Putri’s picture on the wall, even though she died when I was little, too.” Nina insisted, feeding her curiosity.

Ibu washed her hands, picked up her daughter and carefully sat Nina down on her lap.

“Why do you want to know, Nina?”

“The teacher at school said PKI was bad and evil. Some kids at school said my grandfather was PKI? Is it true?”

No matter how hard he tried, Bapak can’t outrun his family’s past. Rumors started especially when Ibu decided to marry Bapak, a young man without history and no clear family background. They choose to ignore them, but somehow it managed to stick around. Although Ibu had hoped Nina would never ask this question, she knows it would be inevitable. She had prepared for this moment ever since Nina was born.

This is an excerpt from “Urup”. As we go through the final editing, I will share work in progress (even though my editor would probably kill me :)) and the tiny jumps of joy and despair (!) that I experience along the process with you.

Let me know what you think, review, or simply green-heart it. I would be humbled to receive valuable feedback from you.