‘It’s needed all the more, so that your husband forgets your big belly and keeps looking only at your face.’
They both laughed.
‘I am so pleased that you live next to us,’ said Hasnah. ‘The family before you had too many children, there was constant uproar and Maryam got into fights with their children. How long have you been married?’
‘Three years!’
‘You don’t want to have children?’
‘In the beginning I did too. But it seems it’s not our fate. And now, with housing conditions as they are, I’m not eager to have a child.’
‘Don’t think that way! Every child brings its own luck. Our second baby here will bring us a house.’
‘How come you’re so sure that you’ll get a house?’
‘Sugeng has promised it.’
‘And if he said so does it mean that you’re sure to get it?’
‘Yes.’
‘You have no doubts whatsoever?’
‘No. Why should I doubt if Sugeng has promised it?’ asked Hasnah, astonished.
Dahlia shrugged her shoulders, and said,
‘Who knows, maybe your Sugeng is an exceptional person. But I never believe people’s promises. The more so, promises made by men. Even more so, promises made by my husband. Idris is an idiot. He’s an inspector of the Ministry of Education. His friends are all rich by now, but he isn’t worth even a half a cent.’
‘But you, you don’t seem to be at a loss. Look at your badju,1 they’re always beautiful. The material is always new. No lack of perfume, either,’ said Hasnah.
‘Yes, but I didn’t get it from him.’
Hasnah was about to ask her where she did get it from, but something kept her back.
‘Women today must be smart, look out for themselves,’ added Dahlia. ‘You must always be pretty. It’s the only thing men want from a woman.’
‘Ah, not Sugeng. He also loves his child.’
‘That’s what you say. How do you know he’s not playing around with another woman?’
‘I know Sugeng is not like that,’ said Hasnah.
‘How do you know?’
‘Somehow, I’m just convinced. Besides we were married by our own choice.’
‘You’re lucky,’ said Dahlia. ‘Do you like to go to shows?’
‘We do. But it’s been a long time since we’ve seen a show, because of this.’ And Hasnah pointed to her growing belly.
‘If you go out to a show, invite me sometimes?’
‘All right.’
‘Which film star do you like?’
‘Male or female?’
‘Ah, I like to see Gregory Peck, but he’s not quite forceful enough.’
‘Do you know who I like? Gary Cooper! There’s a real he-man for you!’
‘But he’s already old …!’
Sugeng was busy reading incoming mail when he got a call to appear before the chief of his bureau. His heart beating fast, he went to the office of his chief, hoping that the problem of his house was at last solved. The nearer Hasnah’s confinement came, the more nervous he had felt. He had fought who knows how many times with the people in charge of housing for the ministry’s employees. But he was constantly told just to have patience: he, at least, had a place to live, while there were many other employees who were separated from their families for lack of housing.
The bureau chief ordered him to sit down, and then said,
‘I have good news for you. According to the minister’s decision’ – and here he handed Sugeng a letter – ‘beginning with the end of the month, i.e. on the first of July, you will be promoted to the head of the import section.’
Sugeng shook the hand of the bureau chief and quickly went out. He was very happy – his salary would be higher and the chance of getting a house, as head of a section, would be greater. How pleased and happy Hasnah will be, a real professional advance.
They had been debating in the room for over two hours already; the problem they were discussing was turned over time and again, returning to its starting point, but it still looked as if the end was nowhere in sight. Suryono looked around him, and was amazed: were all these friends really convinced of what they were saying, and were they serious in believing that what they were doing here was of benefit to the nation? He felt somewhat trapped, because Ies Iskaq had once challenged him by saying that if he was so completely dissatisfied why didn’t he join them, to think about the nation’s problems, and she brought him several times to these meetings.
There were only six of them in the room. Ies, himself, Pranoto, the well-known essayist, who often wrote on Indonesia’s cultural problems and was considered to be the driving force behind this small club. His face was that of a thinker and he always spoke with sincerity. Achmad, a labour leader, and Yasrin, a poet, who as time went on felt that there was no chance for him to grow and develop in his own country, and Murhalim, a young provincial comptroller who was constantly enraged by the conditions in his office.
‘Is there a crisis, or isn’t there?’ said Pranoto. ‘Actually, the fact that this question is being raised at all, shows that a feeling of responsibility already exists in society. And …’
Suryono stopped listening to Pranoto’s exposition and thought of how time and again he had heard such discussions – about the function of culture in building up the country, of the individual’s loneliness in Indonesian society and where was Indonesian music going, and he recalled a particularly heated debate about Europeans having reached a dead end, and how the debate finished with a question from one of the people in the gathering – who was it?… he forgot – why were we worrying whether the peoples of Western Europe were stalemated or not, were we West Europeans?
He was aware of Ies sitting at his side, her fine face, the full curves of her breasts, and in his imagination he saw her without a badju on, lying beside him in bed, and was comparing her with Fatma. The young woman, feeling his stare, turned her head to glance at Suryono. What she saw in his face caused her to blush and she quickly turned away. Suryono woke with a start, and heard Yasrin saying,
‘I received an invitation to visit Peking at the expense of the Ministry of Education. In my conversation with the minister I explained my desire to go to R.R.T.1to study how they develop art among the masses over there. In my opinion, the problem of social integration in our nation is very closely connected with the development of a national culture, I even think that the problem of our society is a cultural problem.’
‘Just what do you mean by national culture?’ asked Murhalim. ‘I know – people are already sick and tired of hearing this problem discussed, but why get excited about the problem of a national culture? Why do people want to synthesize regional cultures in order to produce one national culture? Why do people want to synthesize Western dancing with the S’rimpi2 dance, or nationalize the S’rimpi? Why must gamelan3 music be “nationalorchestrated” with the addition of a viola, piano and cello? Why don’t we view the problem from an angle in which the gamelan is national music, as the Sundanese angklung and ketjapi4 are equally national music, and the S’rimpi dance of Central Java, the dances of Bali, the plate and handkerchief dances of Sumatra, the tjakalele5 of the Moluccas, the pakarene6 of Sulawesi, etc., all are national dances, because aren’t they all the property of the Indonesian people, but only of different regional origin? I believe the problem does not involve national culture, but the Indonesians who are not as yet mature enough to feel themselves as one nation, and who still differentiate between the regions.’
‘I protest, I protest,’ said Achmad. ‘What Murhalim just said is surely nice to hear. But this means being blind to history, and to reality as it actually is. The problem of national culture does arise, because the Indonesian people indeed do not have a national consciousness. This is why a national culture must be created, to achieve our national integration.’
‘Is it possible to organise a national culture when the people don’t have a national consciousness, as you�
�ve just said? Which comes first, a national culture, or a national consciousness?’ retorted Murhalim.
‘Ah, your thinking is rather naive, brother,’ said Achmad. ‘It’s decadent bourgeois thinking. It is necessary to establish a concept of national culture at the top and then to spread it downwards. This is why I agree with brother Yasrin’s plan to study the development of the people’s culture in R.R.T. He will probably learn a lot and be inspired by their example.’
‘But maybe what is possible in R.R.T. cannot be applied in Indonesia,’ interposed Ies.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Achmad.
‘In R.R.T. power is in the hands of the communists and everything is run by a dictatorship. We in Indonesia have high respect for democracy.’
‘What does democracy mean today to the Indonesian people?’ asked Achmad. ‘It is the voice of the bourgeois class wanting to retain its power over the ignorant and confused masses. How do we stand with our democracy? Is the provisional parliament democratic? Are our people already capable of realising a democracy? Can you answer that honestly?’
‘Eh … certainly not ripe yet, nevertheless …’ said Murhalim.
‘Nah, there you have that lack of certainty, the lack of courage of Indonesians to face the true reality. That’s why our country is confused. That’s why a moral crisis, a cultural crisis and all sorts of crises arise. Permit me to speak, and I hope Murhalim and Ies will refrain from interrupting me before I have really finished.’
Achmad drew breath, looked around with the air of a man confident of his coming victory.
‘According to Marx and Engels, it is the system of production which determines the process of social, political and intellectual life of man. This is the very root of our crisis. Because the system of production in our country is not only imperialistic, but at the height of capitalism. All sorts of crises are certain to occur, so long as their roots are not eradicated. And is any effort made to eradicate them, or to attempt to eradicate them? No! You, brothers, are worrying about a cultural crisis, but the discussion is all up in the clouds, because you don’t want to face reality. The bourgeois spirit causes all this, brothers.’
‘I protest,’ shouted Ies.
Pranoto pounded on the table.
‘Let Achmad finish speaking first,’ he said.
Achmad looked around again, and this time his expression conveyed that it’s done, he must win. The little wheels in his mind strained, and all the arguments that had to be advanced became clear and precise.
‘It is not man’s consciousness that determines the condition of the self; or the personal condition, but it’s the social self or the social situation which determines the consciousness of the individual. And because the system of production determines also the social life of man, it is clear therefore that a certain type of production system, such as capitalism, is a chain which constricts the social self of man, which further means pushing self-consciousness towards a conception of individuality. So it’s clear that capitalism directly enslaves the human soul, and that from such a system of production inevitably arise all sorts of crises, especially because of the conflicts among peoples who wish to free themselves from enslavement to this capitalism. So, if we discuss cultural crisis, we really should be discussing the basis of our economy.’
‘But you seem to propose that Indonesia should become a communist state?’ said Ies. ‘Our state is based on Pantjasila.’1
‘Ha, Pantjasila,’ said Achmad. ‘I can muster arguments which will convince people with equal success that the Pantjasila aims in fact at an Islamic state, or a Christian state, or a socialist-welfare state, or at a communist state. I’m not going to discuss the Pantjasila, because its philosophy is not fully thought out; but how can we debate here? Ah, brothers, I beg you not to interrupt me. Permit me to speak until I have finished. As I said before, you, brothers, are not realistic in viewing the problem. We cannot discuss the cultural crisis which confronts us without touching on the economic system which still prevails in our country. The political development, law, philosophy, religion, literature, art and so forth, are all based on economic development, so said Engels.’
‘Brother Achmad, have you finished?’ asked Murhalim.
‘Yes.’
‘May I ask a question?’
‘Please,’ replied Achmad.
‘I want to ask only one thing,’ said Murhalim. ‘Are you, brother Achmad, a communist, or a member of the communist party?’
‘What connection is there between my being a communist or a member of the communist party and the problem we’re discussing?’ asked Achmad resentfully.
‘If brother Achmad is a member of the communist party then it would be futile to continue this debate,’ said Murhalim, ‘because, to the end of days there would be no meeting of minds between us. I believe in democracy. Marxism, as practiced by communists, doesn’t bring freedom and happiness to man, but actually ends up bringing enslavement and loss of humanity. What brother Achmad wishes is that a dictatorship of the proletariat be established in Indonesia. But brother Achmad has forgotten that human beings are not machines who can be ordered to become parts of a production system. Next to materialism, there are also spiritual values of no less importance for ensuring the good way of life. If a man’s stomach may not be empty, neither may his soul be starved, and it must be able to live and flourish in freedom. Brother Achmad wants an economic system wholly controlled by the state, one hundred per cent. Such a totalitarian system must, of necessity, control the lives and thoughts of people, because without such absolute control and authority it would be impossible to attain what brother Achmad wishes for. I can agree that some parts of an economic system can influence the cultural development of a people. But one cannot completely disregard the human factors. The peoples of Persia, India, Egypt, Rome, Greece, all attained the peaks of their cultural glory under a system of absolute monarchy, which, according to communist theory, could not possibly produce highly prized values. The painter Picasso, who glorifies the communists, is himself the product of a bourgeois society and of capitalistic Western Europe. And I want to ask further, where are those cultural products that are supposedly coming out of Russia today? But – to return to my question – are you a communist?’
‘Your question implies a confession that you’re unable to carry on the debate. I am not a communist, but if conditions in our country should continue as they are today, with a leadership which continues to deceive the people, with corruption on the rampage, disintegration and confusion, then I shall become a communist.’
Murhalim shrugged his shoulders.
‘It’s a bit difficult to continue a debate when one is accused of inability to continue it.’
‘I am not an expert on Islam,’ intervened Ies, ‘but I want to introduce a thought for all of us to consider: could not Islam be made the mainstay of our people’s spiritual uplift? A modernised Islam, with a new dynamism?’
‘Ha, Islam, what naivety. Very naive,’ interposed Achmad quickly. ‘I once talked to a man who came from a Middle Eastern country and had visited its Islamic university, one of the highest, most widely acclaimed centres for the study of modern Islam in the world today. Do you know, sister, what he said? He was very disappointed. Disappointed no end. What he found was incredible dirt, people sleeping on dirty floors and nothing organised. And what did this Islam bring to these Arab countries? All we see is that one class of society exploits the masses who for hundreds of years have lived on the brink of starvation and in darkest ignorance.’
‘But this is not yet reason enough to reject the idea of seeking a new dynamism in Islam,’ Ies replied. ‘Probably, with sufficient conscious stimulation, some Islamic thinkers capable of finding it could emerge in Indonesia, too! The conditions we see today in Islamic countries are not the fault of Islam, but of some Moslems who disregard the teachings of their religion. They make the study of Islam a completely dead thing – no different than if one made a mynah bird recite the verses of the Holy
Qur’an, or from putting the verses of the Qur’an on gramophone records and then letting them play day and night. Since the majority of our people adhere to the religious teachings of Islam, and if some Islamic leaders would come forth bringing a new dynamism into Islam, couldn’t Islam then become a tremendous force in the development of our people?’
‘Theory! Vain hope! Impossible!’ exclaimed Achmad heatedly. ‘There isn’t a single proof in history that religion can bring about a good human society. Christianity at the time of its greatest glory, Islam at the time of its greatest glory, Buddhism at the time of its greatest glory, which of these really succeeded in eliminating the contrasts between the classes and bringing justice to humanity? The time of Islam’s glory was, as we saw, an era of royal power; enslavement is still the order of the day, so where is your just society? As Christianity flourished with its crusades, so also the Spanish Catholic Church going to South America has spread death and hatred.’
‘Brother Achmad appears to be completely anti-religion,’ interposed Murhalim. ‘And, to criticise religion, he uses communist clichés. What Ies meant was to seek out and develop the valuable principles contained in Islamic religion, just as there are valuable principles in any religion. Values which now are buried and dead should be revived, given a new life. That was the problem suggested by Ies’s question. Could Islam with a new dynamism be used to become the mainstay for the development of our people? This question was posed, I believe, because with the exception of you, brother Achmad, all of us here reject communism with its totalitarian system as a means to build up our nation.’
‘I don’t reject communism,’ said Suryono, speaking up for the first time. ‘Why should communism be rejected? Look at Russia where it succeeded in freeing the people from feudal oppression and provided them with livelihood. Look also at R.R.T., how tremendous the progress which has been initiated by Mao Tsetung in all fields – the liberation of the people from the oppression and corruption of Chiang Kaishek’s clique. If it can be done there, why not here?’
Twilight in Djakarta Page 4
