Silver lining for gay and lesbians

Seek the light: Activists wearing masks hold up candles during a demonstration marking International Day Against Homophobia in La Paz, Bolivia, on May 17. According to LGBT leaders, 24 people from the LGBT community have been murdered in the last 18 months in Honduras because of their sexual orientation. AP/Juan Karita

Fady, 29, limits his imagination to the future of his relationship with his boyfriend.

A closet homosexual, except to a few very close friends, he keeps his sexual orientation a secret.

“I have a lot of things to consider if I come out to people outside my [circle] of close friends. I don’t have enough energy and time to go through that,” he said.

For him and his boyfriend, what they have is the present. He said he would be happy enough if he could be with his partner for the next year.

“We don’t think about how it would be when we’re old and etc,” he said.

In the country’s strong heterosexist culture, LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) people are either hidden or marginalized. Most LGBT people in Indonesia face rejection from families when they “come out” and are discriminated against by the system.

But, the country’s LGBT and liberal human rights groups are slowly working to fight the stigma of a lewd, mentally disordered lot attached to the LGBT community.

One of the country’s gay rights
organizations, OurVoice, is campaigning to fight homophobia in conjunction with the International Day of Anti-Homophobia that falls on May 17.

May 17 has been commemorated as the International Day Against Homophobia (IDAHO) since 1996, after a conference on gay rights in Montreal, Canada.

The date, May 17, was chosen as the symbolic day, as it was on this date the World Health Organization scrapped homosexuality from the list of mental disorders. The American Psychiatric Association stated in 1975 that homosexuality was not a mental disorder.

In 2006, the Yogyakarta Principle, a guideline of International
human rights law in relation to gender identity and sexual orientation was signed.

Despite that, persecution against LGBT people still takes place around the world. According to OurVoice, there are more than 70 countries that criminalize a person based on sexual orientation and gender identity.

In Indonesia, regional bylaws in South and West Sumatra criminalize homosexuals and the 2008 pornography law states that homosexuality is a deviant behavior despite the Health Ministry’s declaration in 1993 that homosexuality is no longer a mental disorder/disease in their Diagnostic Classification on Mental Disorder Guidelines (PPDGJ).

Fady said he did not know that such a day commemorating the rights for LGBT people existed. He said it was a good thing that a group of people in the world was concerned for LGBT people, although it didn’t affect him much, he added, as he kept his relationship with his partner a secret.

But for Ramy, a 20-year-old lesbian, that day is very important. While Fady keeps his sexual orientation and relationship a secret, not daring to imagine the future, Ramy said she would make sure to follow her own life path. “For the next couple of years, I will make sure I will have a relationship, like it or not,” she said. “I will be true to myself and not undermine my true self to please society,” she said.

Strong unity: Youths take part in a rally near the presidential house in Tegucigalpa on International Day Against Homophobia on May 17. Reuters/Edgard Garrido

Ramy, who chose not to disclose her last name, said her family learned of her attraction to the same sex in mid-2009. “My brother suspected that I liked women. I’m a tomboy, and he started to be suspicious. He followed me and found me with my girlfriend and took me home,” she said.

Her family interrogated her, asking why she couldn’t be “normal”. “I just told them that I was just following my heart; that I desired a woman,” she said.

Ramy said her family took her to an Islamic boarding school that treats “drug addicts and stressed out youth”, where she had to bathe in water mixed with seven kinds of flowers in an attempt to “cure” her.

After two months at the boarding school, Ramy, who lives with her mother, never brought her partner to her parent’s house again.

“My wish in the future is that my family can have an open mind and not be as rigid as now,” she said.

Ramy said that, among her friends and colleagues, she does not hide her homosexuality. “The first time they found out they were surprised, but later they said, ‘It’s her life,’” she said. “While my friends at work, luckily they are people who mind their own business,” she added.

When her colleagues found out, Ramy said that usually the first thing they would say was, “How did that happen? Since when?”

“My friends were surprised at first but later got used to it, while my colleagues at work mind their own business,” she said.

In urban areas, public knowledge, awareness and acceptance of homosexuality have increased compared to 10 years ago, general secretary of OurVoice, Hartoyo, said. Films with themes of homosexuality have been well-accepted, such as Nia Dinata’s Arisan! (Savings Gathering). A gay-themed film festival, Q Film Festival, also has been successfully running for almost 10 years.

“I think people are more accepting. Not that I’m saying they 100 percent accept [LGBT people], but information about LGBT is more open, which enables communication to happen,” Hartoyo said.

Hartoyo himself has experienced discrimination and abuse due to his sexual orientation, when in 2007 policemen in Aceh abused and tortured him for having homosexual relations.

Hartoyo said LGBT people gathering at places such as gay bars and clubs in big cities also indicated people were accepting.

Another example of how society is accepting — to a certain extent — towards LGBT people can be seen in Dino’s (not his real name) experience. Dino, a straight guy, pretended to be gay so he could live with two girls in a shared house without arousing suspicion and rejection from surrounding neighbors.

Dino said that to live in the house in South Jakarta, his housemates suggested that he pretend to be a stereotypical gay man by acting effeminate.

“I’d heard that some people protested when a guy lived in the house before I moved in,” he said. “When he moved out and I was about to replace him, my friends told me to act gay,” he said.

“My neighbors feel that their space needs to be protected,” he said.

Dino said that this could be an indication that LGBT people were more accepted, but he doubted that if an “outed” gay couple lived in the neighborhood, people would be as accepting.

For Hartoyo, it comes down to society’s perception of sex and the lack of sex education. “Sex is seen as sacred and on the other hand dirty.

“What is sacred is heterosexual relations under lawful marriage according to religious laws. Outside of that, sex is considered dirty, which means homosexual and lesbian sexual relations and heterosexual relations outside of marriage,” he said.

He said that there was a lack of sex education in the country. “Sex is always a taboo and feared. Sex education is something that is feared, with the assumption that by giving sex education people will have sex,” he said. “That’s not the case, and the state should not have a phobia of sex,” he said.

“When talking about reproductive health, safety, equality and justice, relationships do not have anything to do with halal (allowed by religious law), but mutual respect and understanding,” he said.

He said if a sexual relationship was based on equality between partners, it should not be considered a public matter. “Unless there is discrimination and violence, then what’s private can be a public matter,” he said.

Prodita Sabarini, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta | Life | Sat, May 21 2011

Dysfashional #6: The imagination that makes fashion

La Orfanelle, an installation by Antonio Marras, 2006.

Fashion is a paradox. Its skin-deep and transient nature makes one never take it too seriously. Yet good fashion is nothing but serious. It is art that stems from deep contemplation about aesthetics and self-identity.

The French Cultural Center (CCF) opened its Le Printemps Francais or art festival this month with “Dysfashional #6”.

“As a fashion exhibition which does not exhibit clothing, ‘dysfashional’ shows that fashion is beyond the objects that materialize it, an unstable state of sensibility,” says the event’s program booklet.

Some 15 art works curated by Italians Luca Marchetti and Emanuele Quinz, in the form of installations, videos and photography from European and Indonesian artists are exhibited at the National Gallery in Central Jakarta from May 8 to 15.

The Jakarta edition of this exhibition marks the first time “Dysfashional” is presented in an Asian country. The first edition was held in Luxembourg in 2007. Lausanne, Paris, Berlin and Moscow also hosted the exhibition in the following years.

Marchetti and Quinz approached designers and artists to participate in this exhibition on fashion that did not feature products such as clothing but “the imagination linked to fashion”.

CCF Jakarta director David Tursz said in the press briefing on Dysfashional #6 that the exhibition showed French culture from a more European perspective.

“To present France not alone, but really as part of this European state,” he said.

Turnz added the event also opened up opportunities for Indonesian artists to be involved in the festival.

Ruangrupa artist collective, Jay Subiakto with Stella Rissa, Davy Linggar, Deden Hendan, Oscar Lawalata, Dita Gambiro and Kiki Rizki with Erika Ernawan participated in the Jakarta edition of “Dysfashional”. Their works were exhibited alongside installations from European artists including Justin Morin with Billie Mertens, Antonio Marras, Hussein Chalayan and Michael Sontag.

The range of ideas and concept explored by artists in one simple theme of fashion is broad. The theme brought out contemplations on the body, urban lifestyle, fashion as protection of identity, and nothingness.

The first installation at the entrance of the gallery represents the different languages used to express the idea of fashion and beauty in Germany and France.

To visualize this, Parisian artist Justin Morin — who was in residence in Berlin in 2009 — and Belgian designer Billie Mertens observed how women in Berlin and Paris wore their hair, in a collaborative work titled Babylone.

The work features two columns, one with different shades of colorful wigs and the other column made of blonde and brown hair.

Morin when speaking at the National Gallery last week, said he had noticed many people with colorful hair in Germany. “Housewives, women between 50 and 70 years old with strange hair cuts and dyed hair,” he said.

As someone coming from Paris, he found this interesting. “It’s a cultural representation of traditional beauty. Like it’s very normal for them [Berliners] to have these very strange haircuts. I think maybe for them French women are very boring,” he said.

Morin explained he focused his attention on hair because he wanted to work beyond the ideas behind clothes. At the first and second edition of “Dysfashional” in Luxemburg and Lausane, he noticed “everyone was talking about the clothes but nobody was talking about the hair”.

In addition, Morin said hair was part of his personal story as his mother was once a hairdresser until he was five years old. “It’s an old souvenir for me,” he said.

British-Turkish designer Hussein Chalayan’s 2004 short film Anaesthetics can be seen on a big screen as visitors walk further into the gallery. The 11-chapter film shows how rituals and codes of behavior in fashion can work as anesthesia. “With aesthetics you can anesthetize the violence of life,” Quinz said on Chalayan’s video.

Photographer Davy Linggar revisited the 2005 work he created with Agus Suwage in Pinkswing Park (Adaptation), which ignited the furor of the Islamic Defenders Front (FPI) for the nudity it contained. The original Pinkswing Park described the life of Adam and Eve, with models Anjasmara and Isabel Yahya posing nude in the picture.

In the adaptation of his own work, Linggar created a black and white version of the park and left a blank spot where the models once stood. The picture was then placed above a dresser drawer with lit candles on top of it. “This represents the death of freedom of expression,” Davy said in the gallery. “Someone’s morality should not be judged by one’s nakedness,” he said.

Antonio Marras’ Le Orfanelle is a poignant piece on the life of unwanted babies in Marras’ hometown Sardinia. His installations consist of white frocks hanging from the ceiling with dim lights shining from the bottom of the frocks. Quinz said the idea came from the Sardinian custom of leaving unwanted babies at the doorstep of monasteries and donning them in a white frock.

Marchetti noted the fresh perspective Indonesian artists brought to the exhibition. The Jakarta exhibition aroused a sense of exploration in him. In Europe, Marchetti and Quinz commissioned works from new artists for the exhibition. “Even if each piece of work, even if each new art work was new, we had more or less the feeling we would know what would come out,” he said.

According to Marchetti, there is a common aesthetic in Europe with some differences between countries. “There are common points, common aesthetics, and common ground,” he said.

“Arriving here we could feel the exhibition was really going to be an exploration or discovery,” he said.

Prodita Sabarini, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta | Features | Thu, May 12 2011

Tan Malaka: An opera of absence

Tan Malaka is a story of absence, mystery and, ultimately, about not knowing. The opera incorporates these themes into its very structure and communicates a subdued feeling of absence.

Throughout the work moments of silence — and the absence of the character for whom the work is named — gave the audience a sense of incompleteness.

The opera, a collaboration between libretti Goenawan Mohamad and composer Tony Prabowo, was re-staged in Graha Bhakti Budaya (GBB) at the Taman Ismail Marzuki cultural center on April 23.

Tan Malaka was first performed for the public at the Salihara Theater in October. The performance commemorated both Goenawn’s 70th birthday and the 40th anniversary of Tempo, the magazine he co-founded.

The opera began in the pitch black. Then a line of red light traversed the stage from bottom to top. A man came out and stood on top of an ersatz wood platform waving a red flag depicting the hammer and sickle.

The opera tells the story of Tan Malaka, one of the country’s founding father and an international communist activist. He wrote about a potential Indonesian nation in his work Naar de Republiek-Indonesia in 1924 while in Canton, China — well before Sukarno and Mohammad Hatta voiced similar ideas.

Tan however was not present when Sukarno and Hatta proclaimed independence in 1945.

“People say he was in Jakarta those days. However, the young people prepared the proclamation of independence, and he was not there. Tan Malaka did not show even a couple of meters from Jl. Pegangsaan. He was unseen on the Aug. 17. Nobody told him,” Landung Simatupang, the opera’s narrator, said on the stage in the work’s third act.

Nearing the end of the opera, text flashed onto a screen behind the stage read: “Reportedly someone was shot dead. Reportedly Tan Malaka was shot dead. In the Kediri area”.

According to Harry A. Poeze, a historian who has traced Tan’s story for the last 30 years, Tan was shot in Selopanggung, Kediri, in 1949.

Goenawan described the performance as an essay opera — “a form that maybe has never existed before”. The opera does not follow the traditional storytelling conventions, such as a linear plot.

As Goenawan said in the opera’s program notes, the creators wanted to convey the idea that the stage did not represent an illusory reality.

“The stage is the place where reality is processed and the audience is involved in the process of freedom from illusion”.

There is no dialogue in the conventional sense. The actors are storytellers. Without a plot, however, the opera becomes demanding on viewers. It featured neither a crescendo nor resolution in the usual sense.

For some viewers, these muted currents allow for contemplation of the absence of Tan Malaka during the country’s most crucial moments and his mysterious death. For others, it’s a lovely (albeit inadvertent) lullaby.

Nyak Ina “Ubiet” Raseuki and Binu Doddy Sukaman beautifully performed the work’s arias. The sopranos sang short poems about Tan Malaka set to music performed by an orchestra conducted by Josefino Chino Toledo from the Philippines.

Goenawan incorporated into the work the Sumatran folk tale of Malin Kundang, which tells of a son who travels and returns home ungrateful.

Ubit and Binu each sang in turn: “Once there was a mother who heard her son say ‘I came to be seditious’,”. Malin Kundang symbolizes Tan Malaka as the antithesis of the status quo.

Landung replaced Adhi Kurdi who portrayed the narrator in the last version of the work. His strong presence on stage made the audience think of what happened during the time of Tan Malaka’s absence.

.Whani Darmawan played the person behind bars. He tells of the idea of struggle, a metaphor for continuing the revolution despite imprisonment.

The Paragita choir of the University of Indonesia, headed by Aning Katamsi, provided supporting vocals while Yudi Ahmad Tadjudin served as assistant director.

One of the most important elements of the opera was dance. Fitri Setyaningsih’s choreography was slow and silent to the point of meditation. About two dozen dancers from Surakarta represented the common people, miners and refugees, in the opera.

At one scene Fitri drew chalk circles on the stage, representing Tan Malaka’s continuous effort in writing and thus shaping history.

Goenawan and Tony’s opera revives memories of a revolutionary figure whose life ended tragically.

Tan Malaka is immortalized in the opera. As the narrator says:

“I disappear therefore I exist. I am present. Tan Malaka will not die in this story. Maybe that is what I need to say”.

Prodita Sabarini, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta | Feature | Sat, May 07 2011

An open heart

To visit artist Iman Soleh’s house in Ledeng, Bandung, one must walk through an alley even motorcycles cannot pass.

Despite this limited access, his house, located behind the busy public transportation terminal of Ledeng, is the center for community-based theater Celah-celah Langit (CCL), also known as the Ledeng Cultural Center (CCL).

His large front yard, where children can be seen running around while chickens peck the dirt, is where rehearsals for CCL productions take place, including for the recent play Tanah: ode kampung kami (Land; ode to our kampung) presented at Taman Ismail Marzuki cultural center in Cikini, Central Jakarta.

The theater community stages performances there around three to four times a year. Iman said they also hold surveys and perform in different villages to bring art closer to the people.

“I am not against art and cultural spaces but I think that art should come to the people,” he said.

Iman, 47, a seasoned theater player who has joined different theater companies in Japan, France, the Reunion Islands and Australia, said cultural centers should be built near narrow alleyways where people live.

“Even in the most densely populated area… That’s where cultural centers should be built,” he said at Taman Ismail Marzuki recently. Iman was in Jakarta recently to prepare for the play Tanah.

His area in Ledeng has traditionally been an arts and cultural hub, Iman said. The terminal building in Ledeng changed the social landscape there with the communities that grew around it.

However, it isn’t the government that initiated any arts or culture conservation projects there. Iman explained the leader of his neighborhood was a puppet master; not far from his house lived a calung (traditional Sundanese bamboo musical instrument) player, and a bringbrung (traditional Sundanese percussion) player. A traditional Sundanese martial art pencak silat center is located near his house too.

“These rich culture and art communities should not disappear into thin air because they are the ones who bring art closer to the people,” he said. “We are the ones who become snobbish and make barriers because we want it to be representative. I think art should be representative, not the building,” he said.

That is why he opened his house to CCL.

Many have often wondered how his family can retain privacy in his very open home.

“If you want your lives to be beneficial to other people, you have to open your house [to them],” he said.

“Don’t be stingy with what you have if you want to give your life to people.”

During Iman’s childhood, one of his neighbors used to leave a water jug in front of her house for people who were thirsty.

“I would walk pass her house and drink her water and then shout ‘Hatur nuhun bu!’,” he said, which means thank you in Sundanese.

For the play Tanah, 25 people stayed in his living room. “But they are so diligent,” he said. “Learning about art is learning about life. When learning about beauty, the first thing you have to do is learn about cleanliness,” he said.

Iman plans to set up a small library so children can come and read there.

Before the center was called Celah-celah Langit, the place was already a hub for Bandung artists. Iman said poet Acep Zamzam Noor, painter Tisna Sanjaya used to hang out there. It was named Gang Bapak Eni Community, after the name of the street. After the fall of president Soeharto in 1998, the community was called Celah-celah Langit. “Because we can see the sky from the front yard,” Iman said.

A group of international actors from Germany, Brazil, Australia, Japan, in 2007 stayed with CCL for three months in an Indonesia-Australia collaboration between CCL and the Sidetrack performance group.

Their collaboration gave birth to a play called Tangled Garden directed by Brazilian Carlos Gomez.

Iman said he grew up surrounded by the arts in Ledeng. The idea of studying theater came to him when he was studying acting and then directing at the Indonesian Arts College (STSI) — now the Indonesian Arts Institute (ISI). He is currently taking a postgraduate degree at the Jakarta Arts Institute.

He joined the Studi Klub Teater in Bandung and then Teater Kecil headed by Arifin C Noor before travelling around the world.

During his travels, he saw there was a gap between the arts and people in many countries.

“I don’t want Indonesia to be like that,” he said. That is why CCL often performs in villages, to bring art closer to the people he said.

“Art should be representative,” he said. That is why he always starts from facts when creating art.

Iman likes to talk to people around him. After the dawn prayer at the mosque, he goes to the public transportation terminal and has coffee with the buskers there.

“That way we can know what they are worried about,” he said.

CCL is preparing three productions at the moment, including a children’s play, Iman said.

Iman puts these plays together to preserve local art. “Art is the main ingredient in a social world. I don’t want our lives in Ledeng to be dry”.

Iman added that CCL had received support this year from Kelola Foundation, a not-for-profit organization on art and culture, and the Theater Embassy from the Netherlands. “Last year we just managed on our own.”

“The government and the private sector are very stingy. But we don’t need to get upset about this. It’s
OK. If we want to build a community we have to think this way: Forget the existence or absence of the government. Forget the existence or absence of the private sector. If you can manage on your own, just do it.”

Prodita Sabarini, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta | People | Wed, May 04 2011

Our land, our people

Powerful voices: Without the help of microphones, the actors rely on the strength of their voices during the performance. Antara/Agus Bebeng

The ground beneath our feet is the foundation of our lives. Last Friday night’s performance of community-based theater Celah-celah Langit (CCL) was a poignant representation of how people are losing their life foundations — their home and livelihood — by selling land to greedy property developers.

At Sanggar Baru in Taman Ismail Marzuki cultural space, 15 Central Jakarta actors enacted Tanah: ode kampung kami (Land: ode to our kampung) in a powerful one hour 10 minutes performance.

Accompanied by music from traditional Sundanese musical instruments, the actors told a story through 13 scenes of roaring dialogue and energetic dance moves.

The actors, dressed in black, showed physical and audio strength in their performance. They moved in movements that were slightly acrobatic, showing their bamboo pole skills.

They began the play with a jovial funny scene in which they were enjoying themselves in the fields.

Without the help of microphones, the actors relied on the strength of their voices. Holding dry rice leaves, they talked about the importance of land. The only female actor, Anita Bintang, who played the mother, a metaphor of the land, recited the poem Tanah ode kampung kami: Land is the beginning/in land we exist/we are the land/hurting the land hurts ourselves/pleasing the land pleases ourselves/don’t sell your land/selling the land sells ourselves/selling land sells your mother.

In the next scene, the actors held a big bamboo pole together close to their chests. The mother hung on to the bamboo pole using her arms and legs, outstretched.

The story portrayed two men luring people to sell their land. They told the landowner he could spend the money to go on the haj pilgrimage. “Tell all your neighbors. The whole village can go on the haj and to heaven together,” a land broker said.

One person did not want to sell his land and tried to persuade the others not to sell theirs. But his efforts were to no avail. The mother was surrounded by tall bamboo, representing the buildings and skyscrapers. “My children!,” she cried out.

Each actor then dropped the bamboo poles until they surrounded Anita. She was then lifted up and left to die.

The play is an adaptation of the voices of the people of Lembang, Bandung. The hilly area in Bandung has undergone many transformations over the years with many businesspeople buying up the land there.

Iman Soleh, director of the play and founder of Celah-celah Langit or also known as Ledeng Cultural Center, prepared this production as a theater for development and educational project supported by Kelola Foundation, an NGO for the arts and culture and the Theater Embassy from the Netherlands.

In November 2010, he held a writing workshop with the people of Lembang to determine their opinions on the land issue. These 25 compiled texts were then discussed and adapted into a play.

“Art should always start from facts. If it do not come from facts we are detached from the problems of the people. What good is art when it is detached from the people’s concerns,” he said.

This makes the process of playwriting a long one, but Iman said they just had to be patient. “We talk to them about what they want to convey. ‘I will make art so that your message can be delivered’,” Iman said.

Egbert Wits, the coordinator for theater for development and education from the Theater Embassy, said the production aimed to “give a voice to the people through art”. The workshops of theater for development can give the people new skills such as writing, poetry reading, singing and dancing.

Wits added that theater for development aimed to stimulate dialogue between people about the issues communicated in the play.

Iman added that the story of Lembang was only an aperçu, which fit into the bigger problem of land in general. “Is there land for the people?” he asked. “People come to Jakarta and big cities because they don’t have anything in their villages,” he said.

He pointed out that land rights were given to only a few big companies who claimed they created jobs, while the government did not empower the people with land.

“I ask, do [the companies] guarantee their laborers good welfare? Young people no longer want to be farmers,” Iman said, adding that this was because they could not survive in this trade.

The play is presented in Jakarta, Iman said, because the capital also had its own unique land problems. “There are 1,007 land cases in Jakarta and 125 are unresolved,” he said.

Iman, a theater performer, who has joined various theater groups in Japan, the Philippines, France, Reunion Island and many other countries, founded the CCL community. The CCL creative process takes place in his front yard in Ledeng, Bandung. He witnessed his father’s village in Cigondewah convert from paddy fields into an industrial area. He also saw how the Ledeng public transportation terminal transformed the area into an arts hub.

The area is home to hundreds of university students renting boarding rooms, Ledeng residents, vendors, buskers and children. Iman said they usually performed in villages to bring the art closer to the people. Iman said that most actors in the play were university students.

Tanah will be presented in Jatiwangi as well as Lembang, Bandung.

Prodita Sabarini, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta | Entertainment | Wed, May 04 201

Bandung performers to present the story of land

Land is key: The play Tanah, to be presented this Friday at Taman Ismail Marzuki, focuses on the issue of land. Courtesy of Celah-celah Langit

A community-based theater from Bandung will present their play Tanah (Land), which delves into the issue of land at Taman Ismail Marzuki (TIM) cultural space this Friday night.

The theater community Celah-celah Langit or the Ledeng Cultural Centre, headed by performer Iman Soleh, based in Ledeng, Bandung has been preparing the production of this one hour and 10 minutes show since November 2010.

The play will be open to the public and take place in Sanggar Baru, TIM. Celah-celah Langit opened their première of Tanah in Bandung. After Jakarta, the theater will also perform in Jatiwangi.

The play is part of a theater for development and educational project supported by Kelola Foundation, a not-for profit organization for the arts and culture and Theater Embassy from the Netherlands.

The 13 scenes of the play are based on 25 texts produced by the people of Bandung hilly area in Lembang who have been affected by Lembang’s changing landscape.

Iman said the idea for this play had germinated in Lembang in 2009. With the Netherlands Theatre Embassy and Kelola Foundation, Iman held writing workshops in Lembang to find out the experiences the Lembang people had with the changing of the land.

“The writings were diverse, with diverse language as well. We held continuous discussions around the writings that were collected,” Iman said. “The discussion process was longer than other explorations [for the play],” Iman said.

He added that the story of Lembang was only an apercu, which fit into the bigger problem of land in general. The play is being presented in Jakarta, Iman said, because the capital also has its own unique land problems. “There are 1,007 land cases in Jakarta and 125 of them are unresolved,” he said.

Iman pointed out that 26 people were involved in the production including musicians, costume designers and lighting crew. There are 15 actors in the play.

Bamboo and hay will be prominent theater props to convey a feel of the agrarian life.

“We brought 20 long bamboo poles from Bandung,” he said.

Egbert Wits, the coordinator for theater for development and education from Theater Embassy, said the production aimed to “give voice to the people through art”.

The people can benefit from the production process with new skills such as writing, poetry reading, singing and dancing.

“The people become more confident and become brave in speaking in public,” he said.

Wits added that the theater for development aimed to stimulate a dialogue between people about the issues that was being put forth in the play.

Prodita Sabarini, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta | Feature | Fri, April 29 2011

A beautiful mind

Showing solidarity: Participants to the World Autism Day held on April 2 walk down the streets of Yogyakarta. Antara/Wahyu Putro

For the first 10 years of her son’s life, Sri Astuti never heard him utter a word.

Her son Raditya Parasadi is autistic. When he was growing up, information on autism was hard to come across, Sri explained.

Now, 13 years later, Raditya communicates freely. He can hold conversations on various topics from religion to marriage. He also has a penchant for designing clothes.

While he has now blossomed into a talented young man, Sri said raising an autistic child wasn’t easy, mainly because society perceives autistic children or people as strange and freakish.

Raditya once worked in a hotel, Sri said, but when his old boss moved on, Raditya was laid off because his new superior wasn’t open to having an autistic employee.

Actress-cum-activist Christine Hakim recently launched a campaign to eliminate the negative stigma surrounding autism, which was accompanied by a documentary film on autistic children.

Christine, through her foundation Christine Hakim Feature, aims to educate the public about autism.

“People say the [autistic] children looks crazy, while in fact they [children] are not. We have to approach them to understand them,” Christine said during the launch of the documentary.

For her campaign, Christine is working with neurologist Andreas Harry as a producer and advisor, and Ricky Avenzora, a lecturer in child recreation and disabilities, as a documentary film director.

Sri said that meeting with Christine, Andreas and Ricky was like a miracle.

“I don’t shed tears anymore. I’ve cried too much already,” she said.

“I say stop the tears. Don’t be sad. It’s a miracle from god. Our child is a gift we should care for. Give as much love as you can,” Sri said.

Autistic children and their parents gathered recently in a restaurant in a central Jakarta office tower for lunch. They came to share their stories and watch an extract of the documentary film on austistic children Love Me as I am.

Christine, award-winning actress who has produced documentaries on Indonesian heritage, started doing research for the documentary on autism in January this year. The film’s launch on April 1 was meant to coincide with Autism Day on April 2. Christine plans to screen the documentary film in schools, to change the perception that autistic children should not attend regular public schools.

Studying in a regular school allows autistic children to interact with other children who aren’t autistic, she went on. Children who aren’t autistic also benefit because they get to know about autism, and stop stigmatizing it.

Documenting the lives of autistic children and their families has been both painful and inspiring for Christine. She said she wanted to educate people about what autism was really about.

Autism is not a disease, according to the medical community, Andreas said. It is a syndrome caused by a different anatomic structure in the brain, Andreas explained. Difficulties in verbal and non-verbal communication, including difficulties making eye-contact; unstable emotions and having one repetitive single interest were the general symptoms of autism.

According to Andreas, the film plays an important role raising awareness about autism among society.
“There are more children born with autism than before,” he said.

In 2008, eight out of 1,000 babies were born with autism, compared to one in 1,000 in 2000, Andreas stated.

Andreas, whose child is autistic, said autistic children had great potential in several fields. “My child is a doctor at 21,” he said.

He added that researchers in the UK claimed Einstein might have been autistic. He has symptoms of Asperger’s syndrome, which is a form of autism.

The documentary recounts the stories of autistic children with exceptional talents. One of the talented children is 7-year-old Michael Anthony. He is autistic and blind.

The sound of his fingers dancing on the piano keys comes out like that of an adult maestro playing classical music. Christine said that listening to Michael play brought tears to her eyes.

Michael can play around 100 songs, including sonnets from Mozart, Bach and Beethoven. His mother said he first listened to his brother playing the piano, and then started to play around with the piano himself.

Andreas said that at his age, Michael could still be exposed to different areas of interest. Music might just be one of many areas Michael possesses talent in, he said.

“He might have more than one talent,” he said.

Emilio, another autistic child, does paintings with vivid colors. One of his paintings could have sold for US$5,000, but Emilio and his family declined to sell it.

Christine said it was important for the government and the public to get rid of any misconception about autistic children. The latter should be allowed to study in public schools and interact with non-autistic children, she said. Denying them a place in regular schools was a violation of human rights.

“Because our principle is education for all,” she said.

Irma, a mother of two children, said her autistic son had learned to interact socially with his younger sister, who isn’t autistic.

Christine explained that autistic children improved their social skills when studying alongside other children in regular schools. Children who are not autistic care more for their autistic friends and help the latter at school.

She cited as an example Global Mandiri School, which has 59 autistic students.

“The students [who are not autistic] do not tease their autistic friends. They are caring and they help them out,” Christine said.

Andreas added that autistic people could have an independent and meaningful life.

“In the end they are able to fall in love and form families. We want to go to that direction,” he said.

Prodita Sabarini, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta | Life | Wed, April 13 201

The love life of transsexuals

Caring souls: (From left to right): Adel, Shanti and Nency sit in a waiting room at Cipto Mangunkusumo Hospital, in Salemba, Jakarta, after fellow transsexual and AIDS activist Shakira was shot by unidentified assailants at Taman Lawang in Central Jakarta at dawn last month. JP/Wendra Ajistyatama

For many transgendered women, loving a man means letting him go. Only few dare to wish for an everlasting romantic partnership.

Yuli Rettoblaut, Mariyani and Rully all share the same story: They were in long-term relationships where they eventually told their partners to leave them and marry a “real” woman.

“I feel I’m destined to not have a partner,” Rully said in Yogyakarta.

Rully said she had been in a 7-year relationship with a man. Being a devout Muslim, Rully encouraged him to find a wife. “Whenever we talked about children and other stuff, we came to a dead end. I suggested he end this [relationship] and marry [another woman],” she said.

In the beginning, her partner refused to leave her but eventually agreed to end the relationship.

“I’ve concluded that it’s enough to feel love in our hearts; we don’t need to have it written down because there is controversy [in the issue of same sex or transgendered marriages], and we might not have the courage to always be known as something that defies long-held rules in society’s norms,” she said.

Those who do marry often come to loggerheads with Indonesian law. Recently, Fransiska Anastasya Oktaviany, also known as Icha and Rahmat Sulistyo, 19, was arrested for alleged identity fraud. Icha had been married for six months to Muhammad Umar, 32. Umar said he did not know Icha was a transgendered woman.

Hartoyo, director of LGBT rights organization Ourvoice, said in a press statement that Icha’s gender identity and sexual orientation was Icha’s and Umar’s private concern. “However, Icha has a different gender role and sexual conduct so she had to forge her identity card. The problem of why Icha forged her identity should be highlighted by the State… Many transgendered people do the same thing, and some of them are permitted by local authorities to change their sex on their ID card,” Hartoyo said.

Despite the fact that the State, through the Ministry of Health in 1993, has stated that homosexuality, bisexuality and transsexuality are not diseases or mental illness, the 2006 Demographic Administration Law has not accommodated transgendered people as a separate identity and still designates gender identity according to physical anatomy, Hartoyo said.

Mariyani, who runs an Islamic School for transgendered women, once encouraged her partner to leave her and marry another woman. But, after that relationship, she found someone new and was married under religious law.

“A female religious leader married me off,” she said. Her husband apparently already had a wife and children, so Mariyani and her husband separated. Mariyani adopted a child and decided to live on her own with her daughter.

Lulukaszyura Surahman (Luluk), 28, said until a couple of years ago, she wouldn’t admit she was a transgendered woman. “I felt I was a woman and I was very against telling people that I’m a waria [transgendered],” she said.

Men would court her, and she would be responsive. Eventually, she would ask her friend to tell the man courting her that she was a transgendered woman. “They usually disappeared after that,” she said.

Now she tells people from the start that she is a transgendered woman.

“So, he would know from the start,” she said. Luluk added that she would not want to stay single the rest of her life.

“It doesn’t feel good to be alone all the time,” she said. “Every person wants to love and be loved,” she said.

— JP/Prodita Sabarini

Prodita Sabarini, The Jakarta Post | Feature | Mon, April 11 2011

Life as a (special) woman

Action time: Dozens of waria who are members of a solidarity network gather for a protest at Hotel Indonesia’s traffic circle. JP/Arief Suhardiman

What makes a woman a woman? What makes a man a man?

For Lulukazyura Surahman (Luluk), 28, being a woman is a question of identity. It is all in the mind and in the way one behaves. It has little to do with one’s sexual organs.

“I’m a woman even though I have a penis,” she said. “I’m a woman, but I’m special.”

And a beautiful one she is. With long black hair, curly lashes and a big easy smile, she said people often did not realize she was transgendered.

Luluk struggled with questions of identity while growing up, from forcing herself to act manly to questioning God. But, despite her struggles to accept herself, Luluk is one of the lucky ones. Her family, with a moderate Muslim Nahdlatul Ulama background, never rejected her for being transgendered and made sure she completed her education until university level. She got her undergraduate degree in sociology and worked as an activist at Srikandi Sejati, an organization that works with LGBT issues.

Other transgendered women have not been so lucky while undergoing the soul-searching process of accepting their gender identity. Often they embrace their identity at the expense of rejection from family and society.

Once they have established their gender identity and found peace with who they are, issues of societal acceptance like teasing and barriers in the workplace continue to haunt their lives.

Many transgendered women end up on the streets and disconnected from their families, while at the same time isolated from mainstream society. Living in exclusive transgendered communities, they busk on the street or solicit sex for money or to find sexual partners.

Vinolia Wakijo, 51, the founder and director of the Yogyakarta Transgendered Women’s Organization (Kebaya) said a lot of transgendered women lived a life steeped in violence.

“They lack social experience since they leave their families at a young age. Life on the street is harsh, especially in the [transgendered] community. Where do they learn ethics? They race to get the best in whatever way. In the end, they live a harsh life,” she told The Jakarta Post at Kebaya’s headquarters in Yogyakarta.

In Jakarta, the transgendered women’s community hangs out at Taman Lawang park. That is where Faizal “Shakira” Harahap was shot earlier this month. Shakira, a transgendered woman, was killed and two other transgendered women, Agus “Venus” Yuliaman and Tantang “Astrid” Stianugraha, were injured. The police are still investigating the case.

In Aceh, Cut Yanti Asmara, a transgendered woman who worked at a moving beauty salon, was killed last week. The suspect, Fuadi, is now in police custody. He allegedly called Cut Yanti “bencong” which loosely translates as “tranny”. Yanti became enraged and came at him with a knife and was reaching for a shovel when the latter allegedly hit her with a crowbar.

In 2008, the Central Jakarta Public Order Agency was accused of violence that led to the death of a transgendered woman in Taman Lawang. The transgendered woman died after leaping into the Ciliwung River while fleeing a hail of stones thrown by public order officers.

Transgendered women in Indonesia are prone to becoming victims of violence, starting from the rejection of their families to cheating customers and bigoted strangers.

For Lenny Sugiharto from Srikandi Sejati, transgendered women have to be emotionally stronger in dealing with mocking and teasing from people.

“When one has chosen to live their life as a waria they have to be ready for the consequences,” she said. She added, “don’t let the teasing get to you.”

Discrimination against transgendered women in the workplace is also a huge problem. Up to now, Indonesian society accepts transgendered women only in specific areas, such as beauty salons and the entertainment industry.

Rully, 50, had to give up being a teacher in a school in a remote area in West Sumba. Raised in Makassar, South Sulawesi, Rully, who has dressed as a woman since she was a child, defied the education system in the early 1980s and presented herself in class as a transgendered woman.

Rully explained to her students from the beginning that she was a transgendered woman. “So they don’t develop the wrong understanding about waria,” she said,

She taught third to sixth graders. “Almost all the students respected me. [There were] only one or two cases, for example a student once said ‘trannies like to suck d*cks’. They didn’t know that I am a devout Muslim. In the early struggle this really hit me hard,” she said.

In the end, Rully felt pressured by the education agency. The head of the provincial education agency called her in. “I was summoned because I’m a waria,” she said.

In the one year that Rully taught, she concluded that mentally she was not ready to “go public” as a transgendered woman. “Almost every day I waste my energy with conflicting thoughts,” she said.

She resigned from being a civil servant. Rully now works with Vinolia in Kebaya as coordinator for support for transgendered women.

While, Luluk and Rully are transgendered women who received family support early in their childhood and completed their higher education without having to run away from home, Vinolia experienced the “dark side” of being a transgendered woman — working as a sex worker.

Mariyani, the founder of an Islamic school for transgendered women in Yogyakarta, led a similar path, living the life of a sex worker before settling down and setting up a beauty salon and in 2006 an Islamic school.

From her work at night, Vinolia was exposed to the outreach activities of Yogyakarta PKBI (Indonesian Planned Parenthood Association) and became a volunteer herself.

Vinolia said many transgendered women are not confident interacting in the community. Constant rejection and mocking from society causes them to have low self-esteem. Vinolia said transgendered women should push themselves and talk to their neighbors and be social. Both Vinolia and Mariyani joined an arisan (savings gathering) with women in their respective neighborhoods in order to be social and accepted in the areas they live in.

But, even among transgendered women their gender identity can be different from one another. Luluk believes she is a woman, and is open to the possibility of a sex change. Meanwhile, Rully, Mariyani and Vinolia believe they are waria (transgendered women).

“We’re women at heart, male physically. These two things together build what is man and women,” she said.

“We are transgendered physically and mentally,” she said.

“I will not have an operation,” Mariyani said. “I don’t want to defy God’s laws.”

She said that as long as she still feels it is a sin, she will never undergo a sex-change operation.

“I’m satisfied like this, I feel pleasure like this, I’m comfortable like this,” she said.

Prodita Sabarini, The Jakarta Post, Yogyakarta/Jakarta | Life | Mon, April 11 2011

Dwiki Dharmawan: An ambassador of music

Dwiki Dharmawan gave the cue to five men with string instruments. “From the top!” he said and brilliant staccato jazz rhythms ensued.

The 44-year-old internally acclaimed pianist was in a studio at the renowned music school he runs in South Jakarta rehearsing for a concert at the Salihara Cultural Space on Thursday.

Four members of the band came from the Jogya String Quartet, led by cellist Dimawan Krseno Aji, while the man on acoustic bass was Donny Sunjoyo.

Dwiki usually performs with big bands or an orchestra when playing with his world music group, Krakatau, which is famous for combining traditional Indonesian music and jazz.

This time around, he said he opted for a simpler format to soak in the detail and movements of all the musicians he jammed with.

“When I listen to minimalistic music, the details stand out more — and the interpretation of every player can be felt more,” Dwiki said.

Inspired after seeing jazz great Chick Corea performing in a quartet, Dwiki decided to team up with the Jogya String Quartet and Donny.

The collaboration merged two different styles, Dwiki said: Donny and Dwiki have jazz backgrounds, while the string quartet is a classical music ensemble.

“I want to encourage [the band] to improvise,” he said. “Playing music is not like reading a book.”

Dwiki, Donny and the string quartet plan to tour Asia in 2011. Afterwards Dwiki said he would to take his musical experiment to Europe alone and try the format with local musicians.

His passion for exploring and mixing traditional ethnic music and contemporary jazz has made him one of Indonesia’s music virtuosos.

Dwiki has performed in more than 30 countries, effectively becoming an ambassador of Indonesian music.

It’s a moniker he proudly accepted; as a child he wanted to be a diplomat. “Then I discovered music, so I wanted to be a diplomat who is good in music. But then I decided to be a musician and let my music do my diplomacy,” he said.

Dwiki’s music speaks of Indonesia. Krakatau, renowned for fusing ethnic and contemporary music, has released eight albums since 1987. The group last released Rhythm of Reformation in 2006. Dwiki’s solo album, Nuansa (Nuance), was released in 2002 with the support of a host of international musicians.

Sax player Andy Suzuki, Yellowjackets bass player Jimmy Haslip, oud player Kamal Mussalam, percussionist Steve Thornton and more than 100 other musicians joined Dwiki’s World Peace Orchestra (WPO) in 2008.

Local talents guitarist Dewa Budjana, drummer Sandy Winarta and singer Dira J. Sugandi rounded off the musicians in the WPO.

The idea for an international orchestra came to Dwiki after he played in Jakarta’s Java Jazz festival. “I saw a lot of international musicians coming and they kept to themselves. There was no synergy afterwards,” he said.

“The project aims not only to promote Indonesia and multiculturalism, but [also] peace,” he said. WPO is a fusion of East and West. “There’s Arabic, European, and Indonesian styles of music,” he said.

The WPO inspired Dwiki to work on another project drawn from his experiences travelling in the Middle East. When visiting the region, Dwiki said, he thought combining jazz and Middle Eastern music would be wonderful.

Then he met Kamal Mussalam in 2009. Kamal played the oud, a distant relative of the lute used in Middle Eastern and North African music.

“Communication in music usually takes place in jam sessions,” Dwiki said. However, Kamal and Dwiki did communicate through music. The pair are now collaborating on a project called Eastmania with legendary jazz drummer Billy Cobham.

As if all that was not enough, Dwiki said he planned to return to Sulawesi for his Celebes Fantasy project, which traces its origins to a visit he made to the island in 2010 for a festival.

Intrigued by Sulawesi’s traditional music, Dwiki teamed up with a local music group, Phinisi, and plans to release Celebes Fantasy in 2011.

Dwiki’s love of Indonesia is evident from his exploration of the country’s music. His projects have always explored traditional Indonesian music, albeit in a contemporary way. “Krakatau brings Indonesia’s traditions to the global sphere by ‘contaminating’ — for example — the gamelan tradition with jazz,” he said.

His musical mission has taken a more serious turn over recent years, Dwiki said. “At first I felt happy playing music and happy that I could make other people happy with my music. But as time goes by I want to find meaning in life by way of creating music for the country and the people.”

Dwiki was introduced to music at an early age. His mother was a singer and introduced him to singing and music. He started studying the classical piano at the age of six and the jazz piano, under the late Elfa Secioria, when he was 13. In 1985, he formed Krakatau with Pra Budi Dharma, Donny Suhendra and Budhy Haryono.

In 1995 he married singer Ita Purnamasari.

As his purpose in creating music has shifted to a more nationalistic side, he said that goals such as fortune, fame, or even mere personal happiness did not matter.

A lot can be learned from music, Dwiki said.

“I really like multiculturalism in music. People respect each other, show tolerance towards each other and appreciate one another, he said.

“Why can’t everyone be like this?”

Prodita Sabarini, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta | People | Mon, April 04 2011

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