Asean 20Th Century Literatures Selected Poems and Short Stories From

ASEAN 20TH CENTURY LITERATURES SELECTED POEMS AND SHORT STORIES FROM

INDONESIA

Country Coordinator MRS. DIAH HARIANTI Director of Internalization Values and Culture Diplomacy Ministry of Education and Culture

INDONESIA MODERN POEMS* Diponegoro by Chairil Anwar (1922-1949) Diponegoro 1943

Kembalikan Indonesia Padaku by Taufiq Ismail (1935) Give Indonesia Back To Me, 1971

Sajak Seonggok Jagung by Rendra (1935-2009) Corn Pile Poem, 1975

Dalam Doaku by Sapardi Djoko Damono (1940) In My Prayers, 1989

Asia Membaca by Afrizal Malna (1957) Asia Reading, 1985

Celana (3) by Joko Pinurbo (1962) Trousers (3), 1996

MODERN SHORT STORIES*

Kota-Harmoni by Oleh Idrus (1921-1979) Kota-Harmoni, 1943

Robohnya Surau Kami by Alih Akbar Navis (1924-2003) The Collapse Of Our Surau, 1955

Pengemis dan Shalawat Badar by Ahmad Tohari (1948) The Beggar And Shalawat Badar, 1989.

All poems and short stories translated by Ibnu Wahyudi *with short biographies of authors

MODERN POEMS

1. Diponegoro by Chairil Anwar (1922-1949) Diponegoro 1943

2. Kembalikan Indonesia Padaku by Taufiq Ismail (1935) Give Indonesia Back To Me, 1971

3. Sajak Seonggok Jagung by Rendra (1935-2009) Corn Pile Poem, 1975

4. Dalam Doaku by Sapardi Djoko Damono (1940) In My Prayers, 1989

5. Asia Membaca by Afrizal Malna (1957) Asia Reading, 1985

6. Celana (3) by Joko Pinurbo (1962) Trousers (3), 1996

All poems translated by Ibnu Wahyudi

DIPONEGORO by Chairil Anwar

Di masa pembangunan ini tuan hidup kembali

Dan bara kagum menjadi api Di depan sekali tuan menanti Tak gentar. Lawan banyaknya seratus kali. Pedang di kanan, keris di kiri Berselempang semangat yang tak bisa mati.

MAJU

Ini barisan tak bergenderang-berpalu Kepercayaan tanda menyerbu.

Sekali berarti Sudah itu mati.

MAJU

Bagimu Negeri Menyediakan api.

Punah di atas menghamba Binasa di atas ditinda

Sungguh pun dalam ajal baru tercapai Jika hidup harus merasai.

Maju.

Serbu. Serang. Terjang.

Februari 1943

CHAIRIL ANWAR was an Indonesian poet, said to be the most widely known until now. HB Jassin, a very influential critic of modern Indonesian literature, regarded Anwar as the pioneer of “Angkatan ‘45” or “1945 Generation”. In addition to writing poetry, he also was known by his thoughts that were very modern and rebellious at that time. Drawing influence from foreign poets, Anwar used everyday language and new syntax to write his poetry, which has been noted as aiding the development of the Indonesian language. His poems were often constructed irregularly, but with individual patterns. During his lifetime, Anwar wrote approximately 94 works, including 75 poems. He also translated 10 poems and 4 pieces of prose. Most of those were unpublished at the time of his death, but were later collected in several collections of his work published posthumously. The first published was Deru Campur Debu (Roar Mixed with Dust), which was followed by Kerikil Tajam dan Yang Terampas dan Terputus (Sharp Pebbles and the Seized and The Broken). Although several poems in those collections had the same title, they were slightly different. The most celebrated of his works is "Aku" ("Me"). In 1956 documentarian HB Jassin compiled most of Anwar's remaining works as Chairil Anwar: Pelopor Angkatan 45 (Chairil Anwar: The Pioneer of the 45 Generation), and in 1970 Burton Raffel published English translations of Anwar's original works as The Complete Poetry and Prose of Chairil Anwar.

DIPONEGORO1 (Diponegoro by Chairil Anwar)

In the present development You come back to life

And the embers of admiration become the fire

On the front You are waiting Undaunted. Number of opponents hundred times. Sword in right, kris2 in the left armed with a spirit that can not die.

This ranks do not use a drum-percussion Belief is a sign to invade.

Means once Afterwards died.

For you my country Providing fire.

Extinct at the top become the servant Perish at the top be oppressed

1 Diponegoro is the name of the national hero of Indonesia against Dutch colonialism. He played an important role in the Java War (1825–1830). 2 Kris or “keris” is an asymmetrical dagger with distinctive blade-patterning achieved through alternating laminations of iron and nickelous iron. Today in Indonesia, the kris is almost never used anymore and more as objects of art.

Earnest even in death only reached If life must feel.

Go forward. Strike. Attack. Lunge.

February 1943

Translated by Ibnu Wahyudi

KEMBALIKAN INDONESIA PADAKU by Taufiq Ismail

kepada Kang Ilen Hari depan Indonesia adalah dua ratus juta mulut yang menganga

Hari depan Indonesia adalah bola-bola lampu 15 watt, sebagian berwarna putih dan sebagian hitam, yang bernyala bergantian,

Hari depan Indonesia adalah pertandingan pingpong siang malam dengan bola yang bentuknya seperti telur angsa,

Hari depan Indonesia adalah pulau Jawa yang tenggelam karena seratus juta penduduknya,

Kembalikan Indonesia Padaku.

Hari depan Indonesia adalah satu juta orang main pingpong siang malam dengan bola telur angsa di bawah sinar lampu 15 watt,

Hari depan Indonesia adalah pulau Jawa yang pelan-pelan tenggelam lantaran berat bebannya kemudian angsa-angsa berenang-renang di atasnya,

Hari depan Indonesia adalah dua ratus juta mulut yang menganga, dan di dalam mulut itu ada bola-bola lampu 15 watt, sebagian putih dan sebagian hitam, yang menyala bergantian, Hari depan Indonesia adalah angsa-angsa putih yang berenang-renang sambil main pingpong di atas pulau Jawa yang tenggelam dan membawa seratus juta bola lampu 15 watt ke dasar lautan,

Kembalikan Indonesia padaku. Hari depan Indonesia adalah pertandingan pingpong siang malam dengan bola lampu yang bentuknya seperti telur angsa,

Hari depan Indonesia adalah pulau Jawa yang tenggelam karena seratus juta penduduknya,

Hari depan Indonesia adalah bola-bola lampu 15 watt, sebagian berwarna Putih dan sebagian hitam, yang menyala bergantian,

Kembalikan Indonesia padaku. 1971

Taufiq Ismail, at first, was a student activist in his campus. Although his education is in the field of veterinary, he ultimately produced more work in the form of poetry. Political upheaval in Indonesia in 1966 can be said as a trigger to the birth of a number of his poetry. He figured prominently in Indonesian literature of the post-Sukarno period and is considered one of the pioneers of the "Generation of '66". In the development of creativity, written poems voiced many social problems; many nuances of religious poetry was also produced and even become a sort of trademark. Meanwhile, the form of his poetry are generally simple; not too many literary experiments he did. The strength of his works are more on socio-religious theme that is close to daily life in Indonesia. Taufiq Ismail wrote many poems, best-known of which are: Malu (Aku) Jadi Orang Indonesia (Shame (I) Be People of Indonesia), Tirani dan Benteng ( The Tyranny and The Fort), Tirani (The Tyranny), Benteng (The Fort), Buku Tamu Musium Perjuangan (Guest Book of the Museum of Struggle), and Sajak Ladang Jagung (Field Corn Verses). Bored with his serious writing style, in 1970 he began writing poems mixed with humor. He has won many awards, Including the "Cultural Visit Award" from the Australian Government (1977) and the SEA Write Award (1994).

GIVE INDONESIA BACK TO ME (Kembalikan Indonesia Padaku by Taufiq Ismail)

To Kang3 Ilen

Indonesia's future is two hundred million mouths gaping

Indonesia's future is the light bulbs 15 watts, most white and some black, which turns fiery,

Indonesia's future is a ping-pong match day and night with a ball that looks like a goose egg,

Indonesia’s future is Java island sinking because hundred million inhabitants,

Give Indonesia back to me

Indonesia's future is one million people playing ping pong during evening with a ball of goose eggs in the light of 15 watts,

Indonesia's future is Java's slowly sinking because of the heavy load then the geese swim on it,

Indonesia's future is two hundred million mouths gaping, and in the mouth there are light bulbs 15 watts, mostly white

3 "Kang" is a greeting that has meaning "brother" to the male, usually used as a form of respect or to greet an older person.

and partly black, the light up alternately,

Indonesia's future is white swans swim while playing ping-pong on the island of Java is sinking and bring a hundred million 15-watt light bulb to the bottom of the ocean,

Give Indonesia back to me

Indonesia's future is a ping-pong match day and night with bulb shaped like a goose egg,

Indonesia’s future is Java island sinking under a hundred million inhabitants,

Indonesia's future is the light bulbs 15 watts, partially colored White and some black, the light up alternately,

Give Indonesia back to me

1971

Translated by Ibnu Wahyudi

SAJAK SEONGGOK JAGUNG by Rendra

Seonggok jagung di kamar dan seorang pemuda yang kurang sekolahan.

Memandang jagung itu, sang pemuda melihat ladang; ia melihat petani; ia melihat panen; dan suatu hari subuh, para wanita dengan gendongan pergi ke pasar... Dan ia juga melihat suatu pagi hari di dekat sumur gadis-gadis bercanda sambil menumbuk jagung menjadi maisena.

Sedang di dalam dapur tungku-tungku menyala. Di dalam udara murni tercium bau kuwe jagung.

Seonggok jagung di kamar dan seorang pemuda. Ia siap menggarap jagung. Ia melihat kemungkinan Otak dan tangan siap bekerja.

Tetapi hari ini:

Seonggok jagung di kamar dan seorang pemuda tamat SLA Tak ada uang, tak bisa menjadi mahasiswa. Hanya ada seonggok jagung di kamarnya.

Ia memandang jagung itu dan ia melihat dirinya terlunta-lunta. Ia melihat dirinya ditendang dari diskotik. Ia melihat sepasang sepatu kenes di balik etalase. Ia melihat saingannya naik sepeda motor. Ia melihat nomor-nomor lotre. Ia melihat dirinya sendiri miskin dan gagal. Seonggok jagung di kamar tidak menyangkut pada akal, tidak akan menolong seorang pemuda yang pandangan hidupnya berasal dari buku, dan tidak dari kehidupan. Yang tidak terlatih dalam metode, dan hanya penuh hafalan kesimpulan. Yang hanya terlatih sebagai pemakai, Tetapi kurang latihan bebas berkarya. Pendidikan telah memisahkannya dari kehidupan. Aku bertanya: Apakah gunanya pendidikan bila hanya akan membuat seorang menjadi asing di tengah kenyataan persoalannya? Apakah gunanya pendidikan bila hanya mendorong seseorang menjadi layang-layang di ibukota kikuk pulang ke daerahnya? Apakah gunanya seseorang

belajar filsafat, sastra, teknologi, ilmu kedokteran, atau apa saja, bila pada akhirnya, ketika ia pulang ke daerahnya, lalu berkata: “Di sini aku merasa asing dan sepi!”

TIM, 12 Juli 1975

Rendra was not only known as a poet; he is actually more well known as a talented playwright or actor in the theater. Even so, the works of his poetry is very popular because of the problems often raised was the issue of social criticism that is closely related to the Indonesian government. The themes of education, poverty, corruption, or government mismanagement are expressed through his works, both in the form of poetry and drama. Rendra was increasingly important as a poet and his performances and poetry readings were mass events. In 1979, during a poetry reading in the Ismail Marzuki art center in Jakarta, Suharto’s military intelligence agents threw ammonia bombs on to the stage and arrested him. Rendra was Indonesia's major contemporary poet. He was nicknamed Burung Merak, the Peacock, for his flamboyant and powerful performance style. In addition to a number of works in the form of drama, his poems have been published in several anthologies. A collection of his poems, among others, was Balada Orang-orang Tercinta (Ballad of Loving People), Blues untuk Bonnie (Blues for Bonnie), Empat Kumpulan Sajak (Four Set of Poems), Sajak-sajak Sepatu Tua (Poems of Old Shoes), Perjalanan Bu Aminah (Mrs. Amina Travel), Potret Pembangunan dalam Sajak (Development Portrait in Poetry), Orang-orang Rangkasbitung (People of Rangkasbitung), and Doa untuk Anak Cucu (Prayers for Children-Grandson).

CORN PILE POEM (Sajak Seonggok Jagung by Rendra)

Pile of corn in the room and a young man less education.

Looking at the corn, the young man saw the fields; he saw the farmer; he saw the harvest; and one day at dawn, women with a sling go to the market ... And he also saw one morning near wells girls joking while pounding corn become corn meal.

While in the kitchen fireplaces lit up. In the pure air smell of corn cakes.

Pile of corn in the room and a young man. He was ready to work on corn. He saw the possibility of Brain and hand ready to work.

But today:

Pile of corn in the room and a young man graduated from high school There was no money, can not become student. There was only a pile of corn in his room.

He looked at the corn and he saw himself neglected. He saw himself kicked out of the discotheque. He saw a pair of stylish shoes behind the storefront. He saw his rival was riding a motorcycle. He saw the lottery numbers. He saw himself poor and failed.

Pile of corn in the room does not involve the intellect, will not help a young man whose outlook on life comes from the book, and not from life. Which not trained in the method, and just full of memorizing conclusions. Which only trained as a user, But lacking in free practice work. Education has separated them from life. I asked: What is the use of education if only to make one feel alienated in the middle of a reality problem? What is the use of education if only encourage someone become a kite in the capital city

16 clumsily returned to his village? What is the point for a person studied philosophy, literature, technology, medicine, or whatever, if in the end, when he returned to his village, and said: "Here I feel strange and lonely!"

TIM, 12 July 1975

Translated by Ibnu Wahyudi

DALAM DOAKU by Sapardi Djoko Damono dalam doaku subuh ini kau menjelma langit yang semalaman tak memejamkan mata, yang meluas bening siap menerima cahaya pertama, yang melengkung hening karena akan menerima suara-suara ketika matahari mengambang tenang di atas kepala, dalam doaku kau menjelma pucuk-pucuk cemara yang hijau senantiasa, yang tak henti-hentinya mengajukan pertanyaan muskil kepada angin yang mendesau entah dari mana dalam doaku sore ini kau menjelma seekor burung gereja yang mengibas-ngibaskan bulunya dalam gerimis, yang hinggap di ranting dan menggugurkan bulu-bulu bunga jambu, yang tiba-tiba gelisah dan terbang lalu hinggap di dahan mangga itu magrib ini dalam doaku kau menjelma angin yang turun sangat pelahan dari nun di sana, yang bersjingkat di jalan kecil itu menyusup di celah-celah jendela dan pintu dan menyentuh-nyentuhkan pipi dan bibirnya di rambut, dahi dan bulu-bulu mataku dalam doa malamku kau menjelma denyut jantungku yang dengan sabar bersitahan terhadap rasa sakit yang entah batasnya, yang dengan setia mengusut rahasia demi rahasia, yang tak putus-putusnya bernyanyi bagi kehidupanku aku mencintaimu, itu sebabnya aku takkan pernah selesai mendoakan keselamatanmu.

1989

Sapardi Djoko Damono is known for lyrical poems, and who is widely regarded as the pioneer of lyrical poetry in Indonesia. His first collection of poetry, DukaMu Abadi (Your Eternal Sorrow), was released in 1969. The focus of DukaMu Abadi is on the pain of the individual who questions existence, and unlike many of his literary peers of this time, Sapardi's poetry focused more on the human condition rather than revolutionary and social ideas. In 1974, he published Mata Pisau (Knife) and Akuarium (Aquarium). These were followed by Perahu Kertas (Paper Boat) and Sihir Hujan (Rain Spell), and in 1986 he received SEA-Write Award for poetry. In 1998/1999, Sapardi wrote about the social turbulence resulting from the fall of the New Order regime. This resulted in the book Ayat-ayat Api (Verses of Fire), which received some negative criticism, largely due to the angry tone of the work which differed markedly from his normal style. His best known works include “Hujan Bulan Juni” (A June Rain) and “Berjalan ke Barat di Waktu Pagi Hari” (Walking to the West in the Morning). Hujan Bulan Juni, one of his most popular works, was published in 1994. It contains 95 poems, including a selection of his poems from 1964 to 1992. Sapardi's poems have also formed the inspiration behind several musical compositions, most notably by Indonesia’s internationally-acclaimed pianist Ananda Sukarlan. Several singers have also released albums using his poetry: Hujan Bulan Juni (1990), Hujan Dalam Komposisi (Rain in Composition) (1990) Gadis Kecil (Little Girl) (2006) and Becoming Dew (2007). In the realm of film, Aku Ingin has been rearranged into a soundtrack by musician Dwiki Dharmawan for Garin Nugroho’s 1991 film Cinta dalam Sepotong Roti (Love in A Slice of Bread). Today, he is a retired professor at the University of Indonesia. He was once elected Dean of the faculty of letters after a few times previously becoming the Vice Dean.

IN MY PRAYERS (Dalam Doaku by Sapardi Djoko Damono) in my prayers this morning you transformed the sky which during the night do not closed her eyes which extends clear ready to receive first light, which is curved silent as it will receiving voices when the sun is quiet floating above my head, in my prayers you transformed shoots of the pine which kept in the green, which incessantly ask questions that abstruse intended for sough of wind from nowhere in my prayers this afternoon, you transformed a sparrow, which feathers flapping in the drizzle, which perch the twigs and dropping of feathers rose-apple flowers, suddenly restless and then fly perched on a limb of that mango this evening in my prayers, you transformed the wind which went down very slowly from the nun there, which walk slowly on the path infiltrate in the cracks of windows and doors and touched cheeks and lips in the hair, forehead and my eyelashes in my evening prayer, you transformed my heartbeat, which the patiently stick to pain, which either limit, who faithfully investigate the secret for the sake of a secret, which incessantly singing for my life I love you, that's why I'll never finish pray for your welfare.

1989

Translated by Ibnu Wahyudi

ASIA MEMBACA by Afrizal Malna

Matahari telah berkali-kali berganti di sini, tetapi kami tetap menghadapi langit dan tanah yang sama. Setelah dewa-dewa pergi dan menjadi batu dalam pesawat-pesawat televisi; setelah waktu-waktu yang menghancurkan dan berita-berita lama memanggil lagi dari dunia yang lain, setiap kata-kata terasa gelap di situ. Lalu kami masuki dekor-dekor baru yang menyimpan kerusuhan-kerusuhan, mencari hari-hari dalam pasar yang digantungi kepala naga. Asia. Kami meranggas dalam pertaruhan-pertaruhan kekuatan yang mengantar kami ke dalam pembisuan. Bagaimanakah kami tahu bahwa kami sedang memasuki sebuah dunia yang berbau bensin, melepas anak-anak berlarian dalam bentangan kawat listrik; dan dari setiaplembaran kitab suci, kami mencari kembali saat-saat penciptaan. Tanah berkaca-kaca mencium bau manusia, menyimpan kami dari segala jaman. Asia. Kami pahami lagi debur laut, tempat para leluhur mengirim burung-burung mencipta hutan. Asia hanya bisa ditemui setelah malam gelap-gulita, menggerayang, mencari tanah-tanah yang hilang. Asia. 1985 Afrizal Malna can be regarded as a writer of various genres. In addition to his poetry that is most regarded as a special contribution to the world of poetry in Indonesia, Afrizal also produce work in the form of prose (short stories and novels), essays, and theater scripts. His poetry, stylistically, is characterised by syncopated rhythms, non sequiturs, and broken sentences. Early in his poetic career, he occasionally seemed to delight in simply listing a string of mixed images in his poems. Objects also frequently metamorphose in his work. Among his works, the theme of the poem Afrizal Malna that stands out is the depiction of the modern world and urban life, as well as the material objects of the environment. The works of his poetry has been collected in a number of anthologies, such as Abad yang Berlari (The Runaway Century, 1984), Yang Berdiam dalam Mikrofon (Who Silence In Microphone, 1990), Arsitektur Hujan (Architecture of Rain, 1995), Kalung dari Teman (Necklace from a Friend, 1999), Dalam Rahim Ibuku Tak Ada Anjing (In My Mother’s Womb There Are No Dogs, 2002), danTeman-Temanku dari Atap Bahasa (My Friends from the Roof of Language, 2008).

Asia Reading (Asia Membaca by Afrizal Malna)

The sun has been changed many times here, but we still face the same sky and ground. After the gods go and become rock in the television sets; after a devastating times and old news call again from another world, every word was dark in there. Then we enter a new which stores the riots, look for the days in the market, which hung with the head of the dragon. Asia. We wither in the betting-gambling forces that drove us into a mute. How do we know that we are entering a world that smells of gasoline, release the kids running around in a stretch of electrical wire; and of each sheet scriptures, we are looking for the moments of creation. Land glazed smell humans, save us from all times. Asia. We understand again the crash of the sea, where the ancestors sent the birds create the forest. Asia can only be found after night in the dark, grope, searching for the lost lands. Asia.

1985

Translated by Ibnu Wahyudi

CELANA (3) by Joko Pinurbo

Ia telah mendapatkan celana idaman yang lama didambakan, meskipun untuk itu ia harus berkeliling kota dan masuk ke setiap toko busana.

Ia memantas-mantas celananya di cermin sambil dengan bangga ditepuk-tepuknya pantat tepos yang sok perkasa. “ini asli buatan Amerika,” katanya kepada si tolol yang berlagak di dalam kaca.

Ia pergi juga malam itu, menemui kekasih yang menunggunya di pojok kuburan. Ia memamerkan celananya. “ini asli buatan Amerika.”

Tapi perempuan itu lebih tertarik pada yang bertengger di dalam celana. Ia sewot juga. “Buka dan buang celanamu!”

Pelan-pelan dibukanya celananya yang baru, yang gagah dan canggih modelnya, dan mendapatkan burung yang selama ini dikungkungnya sudah kabur entah ke mana.

1996

Joko Pinurbo is one of the Indonesian contemporary writers whose works can be said to be the most widely read. His poems are very close to our daily lives, but it often contains irony, parody, or even satirical. Of his works, Pinurbo seem to be exploring and studying the treasures of Indonesian poetry diligently from the beginning to the present generation. And apparently, Joko Pinurbo does not want to be in the shadow of other poets. His poetry was thus very different from previous works or the works of the great poets before. His work often mixes different strands of imagery and linguistic

23 registers. Reality and dream, the solemn and the comic, the lofty and the pedestrian may be found together in the same line, mentioned in the same breath. Religious imagery may appear alongside socio-political commentary or intimate conversations. He has published eight poetry collections and has won numerous awards in Indonesia. Among his collection of poems are Celana (Trousers, 1999), Di Bawah Kibaran Sarung (Under the Fluttering of the Sarong, 2001), Pacarkecilku (My Little Lover, 2002), Telepon Genggam (Cell Phone, 2003), Kekasihku (My Beloved, 2004), Pacar Senja: Seratus Puisi Pilihan (Twilight Lover: One hundred selected poems, 2005), and Kepada Cium (To: Kiss, 2007).

TROUSERS (3) (Celana (3) by Joko Pinurbo)

He had to get trousers long dream coveted, though for that he should went around the city and get into any clothing store.

He tried on his trousers in the mirror, while he patted proudly thin buttock which quasi dashing. "This is a genuine American-made," he said to the idiot who acted in the glass.

He went well that night, meet a lover, waiting at the corner of the cemetery. He showed off trousers. "This is a genuine American-made."

But the woman was more interested in which perched in the trousers. He was also furious. "Open and throw away your trousers!"

Slowly, he opened the new trousers, which dashing and sophisticated model, and get a bird that had been kept all the time, had run away somewhere.

1996

Translated by Ibnu Wahyudi

MODERN SHORT STORIES

1. Kota-Harmoni by Idrus (1921-1979) Kota-Harmoni, 1943

2. Robohnya Surau Kami by A.A. Navis (1924-2003) The Collapse Of Our Surau, 1955

3. Pengemis Dan Shalawat Badar by Ahmad Tohari (1948) The Beggar And Shalawat Badar, 1989.

All short stories translated by Ibnu Wahyudi

KOTA-HARMONI by Oleh Idrus

Trem penuh sesak dengan orang, keranjang-keranjang, tong kosong dan berisi, kambing dan ayam. Hari panas dan orang dan binatang keringatan. Trem bau keringat dan terasi. Ambang jendela penuh dengan air ludah dan air sirih, kemerahan-merahan seperti buah tomat. Dalam trem susah bernapas. Tapi orang merokok juga, menghilangkan bau keringat dan terasi. Seorang perempuan muda, Belanda Indo, mengambil sapu tangannya, kecil sebagai daun pembungkus lemper, dihirupnya udara di sapu tangannya, lalu katanya: Siapa lagi yang membawa terasi ke atas trem. Tidak tau aturan, ini kan kelas satu. Seorang orang Tionghoa, gemuk seperti Churchill, merasa tersinggung dan berkata dengan marah kepada nona Belanda Indo itu: Jangan banyak omong. Sekarang kemakmuran bersama, bukan Belanda. Orang Tionghoa itu membungkuk, mengambil dari keranjang sayurnya sebuah bungkusan dan katanya, sambil melihatkan bungkusan itu kepada nona Belanda Indo itu: Ini dia terasi, mau apa? Seorang perempuan tua, bungkuk dan kurus, bajunya berlubang seperti disengaja melubangkannya, seperti renda seperai, dimarahi kondektur: Ini kelas satu, mengapa di sini. Ayo ke belakang. Kalau tidak, bayar lagi. Perempuan tua itu beriba-iba, meminta supaya ia dibolehkan di kelas satu saja: Terlalu sempit di sana Tuan. Saya tak bisa. Ya, kalau tak bisa bayar lagi. Lambat-lambat perempuan tua itu pergi ke kelas dua. Tiba di sana ia melihat dengan marah kepada kondektur dan katanya: Ah, belagak betul. Sedikit saja saja dikasi Nippon kekuasaan sudah begitu. Sama orang tua berani. Tapi coba kalau orang Nippon, membungkuk-bungkuk. Bah!

Seorang laki-laki, kuat dan tak memakai baju, berdiri dan katanya kepada perempuan tua itu: Jangan banyak bicara. Duduk. Di sebuah tempat perhentian trem berhenti. Orang berdesak-desak, pekikan tukang jual karcis kedengaran: Yang turun dulu. Ayo, cepat. Orang-orang berasa legah sebentar. Tapi sebentar lagi trem penuh sesak kembali. Dari bawah kedengaran suara seorang Nippon: Kasi jaran. Bagero. Orang-orang tambah berdesak, memberi jalan kepada orang Nippon itu. Seorang anak muda, melihat kepada Nippon itu dengan muka masam dan katanya lambat-lambat: Orang kelas satu dan orang kelas dua disamakannya saja, seperti binatang saja diperlakukannya. Tapi waktu orang Nippon itu berdiri di dekatnya, ia diam dan melihat ke tempat lain. Orang Nippon itu bergayut pada kulit di atas atap trem dan dari lengan bajunya yang pendek itu keluar bau terasi. Pemuda itu mengambil sapu tangannya dan dilekatkannya ke hidungnya. Di tengah jalan trem berhenti. Orang tercengang-cengang. Pikir mereka tentu ada kerusakan atau ada kecelakaan. Semua orang melihat ke luar. Di tengah- tengah ril kelihatan tiga orang Nippon berdiri menahan trem. Kondektur takut dan untuk keselamatan kepalanya diberhentikannya trem. Ketiga orang Nippon itu naik. Tangan orang-orang gores-gores kena pangkal pedangnya. Mereka berdiri dan tertawa, tertawa kemenangan. Trem jalan lagi berciut-ciut seperti bunyi kerekan. Pada pengkolan orang- orang terhereng. Seorang perempuan muda tiba di atas pangkuan seorang anak muda. Seperti sudah biasa, anak muda itu memeluk pinggang si gadis dan ditolongnya berdiri kembali. Tapi tempatnya tak diberikannya kepada gadis itu. Bau keringat tak terahan-tahan lagi. Setiap orang mengeluh. Ah, aku teringat kepada masa silam, kata seorang orang Indonesia, bajunya bagus dan bersih. Sebentar-sebentar dipukulnya lengan bajunya, menghilangkan debu.

Orang-orang tak menjawab perkataan orang Indonesia itu. seperti perkataan itu sudah biasa saja. Di sebuah perhentian trem lagi, naik seorang pemuda dan seorang gadis. Muka mereka merah, karena kepanasan. Tapi mereka tertawa dan berkata dalam bahasa Belanda, kata yang laki-laki: Hm, enak betul di sini. Seperti dalam pasar ayam. Yang perempuan tertawa, diambilnya sapu tangannya, dilekatkannya ke hidungnya, mancung seperti hidung orang Yahudi. Katanya: Lebih baik daripada berjalan kaki. Yang laki-laki memberengut: Hm. Pukul berapa hari. Orang perempuan itu mengangkat tangan kirinya, hendak melihat hari. Tangan kanannya mengingsut lengan kebayanya, tetapi lengan kebayanya tak bergerak. Dilihatnya... arlojinya sudah menonjol ke luar dari sebuah lubang di lengan kebayanya itu. kemalu-maluan katanya: Pukul setengah dua. Kondektur berjalan di muka perempuan tua tadi di kelas dua: Karcis yang baru, karcis yang baru. Perempuan tua itu melihat saja kepada kondektur. Di belakang kondektur bibirnya ditariknya ke kanan, seperti monyet, dan katanya: Lihat monyet itu. Orang banyak heran dan melihat ke bibir orang tua itu. Tiba di Harmoni trem berhenti pula. Dari Kota ke Harmoni lamanya dua puluh menit. Seorang Indonesia, pakai destar Jawa dan sepatu Inggris melihat dengan marah ke arlojinya dan dengan suara naring seperti gersik daun kelapa yang sudah tua, katanya: Bah, dulu hanya empat belas menit. Tak ada yang teratur sekarang ini. Pada tukang jual karcis katanya: Bang, mengapa tak diatur orang banyak di tangga trem. Apa itu macam. Apa sekarang tidak ada aturan lagi. Itu, orang berdiri di atas tangga itu, larang. Nanti jatuh.

Keheran-heranan tukang jual karcis itu melihat kepada orang Indonesia itu dan mengejek diputarnya badannya dan ditiupnya peluitnya. Beberapa orang berpekikan: Hai, nanti dulu. Mau turun. Trem yang sudah berjalan itu, tertegun, berhenti lagi. Berdesak-desak kembali. Masih banyak orang yang hendak turun. Orang Indonesia yang berdestar Jawa dan bersepatu Inggris itu melompat ke arah tukang jual karcis, ditariknya bajunya. Dengan marah katanya: Engkau apa? Berbuat sekehendak hatimu. Lihat dulu orang baru bunikan peluit. Tukang karcis itu bertambah heran. Dalam hatinya: Siapa orang ini? Ia membalikkan badannya pula, tapi tak mengejek lagi, ketakutan rupanya. Sangkanya: Barangkali anggota Chuo sangiin. Trem berjalan lagi. Orang tak begitu banyak. Sudah banyak yang dapat tempat duduk. Di tengah-tengah tak berapa orang berdiri yang lagi. Di kelas satu tak seorang juga orang Nippon. Perempuan gemuk berkata, sambil menyeka keringat dari lehernya, pendek seperti Nippon: Euh, kalau tak terpaksa, kuharamkan naik trem. Mobilku diambilnya. Belum dibayar. Bilang saja hendak merampas, lebih baik. Orang laki-laki yang di sebelahnya, berkata: Nyonya, siapa yang mengambil mobil. Siapa lagi. Orang tertawa dan maklum. Sabarkan saja hati. Nanti tentu datang hari gilang gemilang. Suara ini ke laur dari sebuah mulut, berkerinyut seperti kulit orang tua. Apa? ... Sabar? Kalau aku tak sabar sudah lama aku masuk rumah sakit gila, seperti ...

Perempuan gemuk itu tak mau meneruskan perkataannya. Mengeluh katanya: Zaman susah sekarang. Tahun dua puluh dulu susah juga, tapi tak sesusah sekarang. Seorang laki-laki, celananya pendek dan kotor, mendekati perempuan gemuk itu; lambat-lambat katanya: Jangan bicara begitu. Nanti menyesal. Dekat Pasar Baru trem berhenti di muka gedung kumidi. Orang banyak naik dan turun. Beberapa orang naik dari jendela. Seorang orang Nippon naik pula dari jendela. Seorang orang Indonesia di atas trem berkata kepada orang Nippon itu: Hai, engkau apa? Naik dari jendela. Tak tahu aturan. Orang Nippon itu mengeluarkan beberapa perkataan Indonesia, patah seperti pengkolan jalan. Orang Indonesia itu merah mukanya. Baru ia tahu yang ditegurnya tadi, orang Nippon. Tapi ia malu kepada orang banyak. Diberanikannya saja hatinya, dan katanya: Itu tidak bagus. Naik jendela. Orang Nippon itu naik juga. Tiba di atas trem, ia marah-marah kepada orang Indonesia itu: Kerja di manaka? Kenapa berani rarang-rarang Nipponka? Orang Indonesia itu tak mau kalah, tapi dalam hatinya ia kecut seperti cita Nippon kena air. Katanya: Tuan kerja di mana? Saya kerja di Naimubu. Mereka bertengkaran mulut. Tapi Nippon itu tak mau melekatkan tangannya, sebab dekat itu ada Kenpei. Kenpeitai itu berdiri, berkata dalam bahasa Nippon dengan orang Nippon pereman itu. Rupanya Kenpeitai itu marah. Dengan suara manis, katanya kepada orang Indonesia itu: Dia sudah saya marahi. Memang dia salah. Orang Indonesia itu berasa senang, mendapat kemenangan yang gilang gemilang.

(Sumber: H.B. Jassin, Kesusastraan Indonesia di Masa Jepang, Jakarta: Balai Pustaka, 1975, h. 158- 163. Cerpen ini pertama kali dimuat dalam Dari Ave Maria ke Jalan Lain ke Roma yang terbit pada tahun 1948).

Idrus was an Indonesian writer, best known for his realistic short stories and novels. He is known as the representative of the prose of the '45 Generation of Indonesian literature. Idrus wrote with a style which emphasized the harsher aspects of reality, using short, concise sentences and abandoning the aesthetics present in the earlier Balai Pustaka and Poedjangga Baroe eras. His writing style is full of cynicism and sarcasm. Most of Idrus' characters were average persons. He is often said to be the Chairil Anwar of prose, namely the writer who brought forth a new style through his writings but many observers do not agree with this opinion and reputedly he himself was not happy that his name is included in the ’45 Generation. In the world of writing, Idrus has produced a number of works, mainly in the form of prose, either short stories or novels. Short stories have been collected in Anak Buta (Blind Child) and Dari Ave Maria ke Jalan Lain ke Roma (From Ave Maria to Another Way to Rome), while his novels include Aki, Corat-coret di Bawah Tanah (Doodles on the Underground), Dengan Mata Terbuka (With Eyes Open), Hati Nurani Manusia (Human Conscience), Hikayat Petualang Lima (Adventurers Tale of Five), Hikayat Putri Penelope (Tale of Princess Penelope), and Surabaya. Because Idrus has the ability to speak many foreign languages, he also has translated a number of foreign works into Indonesian. Among the works he translated are Acoka, Cerita Wanita Termulia (The Story of Greatest Woman), Dari Penciptaa Kedua (From A Second Creation), Dua Episode Masa Kecil (Two Episodes of Childhood), Ibu yang Kukenang (Mother I Recalled), and Keju (Cheese).

KOTA-HARMONI by Idrus

The tram was crowded with people, baskets, empty and filled containers, goats and chickens. The day was hot and the people and animals were soaked with sweat. The tram smelled of sweat and terasi. 4 The window sill filled with saliva and water betel, reddish-crimson like tomatoes. In the tram difficult to breath. But the people smoked as well, eliminate smell of sweat and terasi. A young woman, Indo-Dutch, took out her handkerchief, small as lemper5 wrapping leaf, the air inhaled in her handkerchief, and said: Who else is bringing terasi to the tram. Do not know the rules, this is first class. A Chinese man, fat like Churchill, was offended and said angrily to the Indo- Dutch girl: Shut up. Now prosperity for all, not just for the Dutch. The Chinese were bent, took a bundle of his vegetable cart and said, showing the girl the packet: Here it is the terasi, so what? An old woman, bent and thin, her clothes perforated holes like intentional, such as lace bedding, scolded by the conductor of the tram: This is a first class, why are you here. Move to the back. If not, pay the extra. The old woman begged, asking that she be allowed in the fist class: Too crowded in there Sir. I can not get into the room. Come on, if you can not, pay the extra. Slowly the old woman went to second class . Arriving there she looked back angrily at the tram conductor and said: What a bossy officer. Just a little power from the Nippon and he acts that way. With an old woman, he’s tough as nails. But you can bet if I were Japanese, he’d be bowing and scraping. Damn! A man, strong and shirtless, stood up and said to the old woman: Shut up. Sit down!

4 Condiment made from pounded and fermented shrimp or small fish. 5 Snack made from sticky rice, minced meat stuffed in it and wrapped in a banana leaf.

At a tram stop, the tram halted. People crowded around. The yell of the ticket seller could be heard: Passengers getting out first! Come on, hurry it up! For a moment, the people inside could breathe, but in another second the tram was packed again. From below came the voice of a Japanese: Let me through. Idiots!6 The crowd jammed closer together to make way for the Japanese. A youngster looked at the Japanese, and with a sour face slowly said: First and second class are treated the same, just like animals. But when the Japanese stood next to him, he shut up and looked away. The Japanese hung on the leather strap from the ceiling of the tram and from the short sleeved shirt came the stink of terasi. The young man took his handkerchief and attaches to the nose. Along the way, the tram stopped. Passengers perplexed. They thought for sure the tram had broken down or there had been an accident. Everyone looked out. Between the rails, three Japanese stood holding up the tram. The tram driver was afraid, and for his safety, he had stopped the tram. The three Japanese climbed in, scratching the passengers’ hands with the hilts of their swords. They stood and laughed, laughed for their victory. The tram started off again, squeaking like a rusty pulley. On the curves the people swung to the side. A young girl landed on a boy’s lap. As usual, the boy hugged the girl’s waist and helped her stand up. But he didn’t give her his seat. The smell of sweat became intolerable. Everyone complained. Ah, I remember the past, said an Indonesian in a fine clean shirt. From time to time he dusted off his shirtsleeves. No one responded to the words of that man. As if those words were already common. At another stop, a young man and woman got on. Their faces red from the heat. But they laughed and spoke in Dutch. The young man said: Hmm, it really feels great in here. Just like in a chicken coop.

6 As in the original script, the words of the Japanese people are generally less clear when it should pronounce the sound / l /. The sound / l / is usually pronounced as / r /. In translation, an example for this case is rather difficult to display.

The woman laughed, took her handkerchief, and clapped it over her nose, long and pointed like the nose of a Jew and said: It’s better than walking. The man scowled: What time is it? The woman raised her left hand to look at her watch. Her right hand tugged up her kebaya sleeve, but the sleeve didn’t move. She looked ... the watch was sticking out from a hole in the sleeve. Embarassed, she said: 1:30 pm The tram conductor walked past the old woman in second class: Tickets, any more tickets. The old woman just looked at the tram conductor. Once he passed, she pulled her lips to the right, monkey-like, and said: Look at that monkey. Passengers surprised and looked at the old woman’s lips. At Harmoni, the tram stopped again. From Kota to Harmoni, it had taken 20 minutes. An Indonesian, wearing a Javanese destar7 and English shoes, angrily looked at his watch and said in a shrill voice, high like the rustle of old coconut palm leaves: Damn, it always used to take only 14 minutes. These days, everything’s gone to hell. To the ticket seller he said: Bang,8 why don’t you get rid of all those people on the steps of the tram? What the hell is this. Aren’t there any rules anymore? There, those guys on the steps, it’s forbidden. They’ll fall off. Astonished, the ticket seller stared at the Indonesian and contemptuosly, he turned his back on him and blew his wistle. Several people yelled: Hey, wait a minute! We want to get off! The tram was already moving, but it stopped suddenly again. People crowded on again, but a lot still wanted to get off. The Indonesian in the destar and English shoes jumped toward the ticket seller, grabbed him by the shirt and said:

7 A headband formed of batik cloth triangular. 8 A call for male officers commonly used in Jakarta.

Who do you think you are? Doing whatever comes into your head. See what people want first, then blow your whistle. The ticket seller grew more astonished. He said to himself: Who does he think he is? He turned his back on the man, but not contemptuously, scared it seemed. He thought: Maybe he’s a member of the Chuo Sangiin.9 The tram started again. There weren’t so many passengers now. There have been many who got a seat. Only a few standing in the aisle. In first class, there wasn’t a single Japanese. The fat woman spoke, wiping the sweat from her neck, short as a Japanese: Uh, if I didn’t have to, I’d say forget the trams. They’ve taken away my car. Without paying too. It’d be more honest if they came out and said they were robbers. A man next to her said: Lady, who took your car? Who else? The man laughed, understanding what she meant. Be patient. The great day will surely come. The voice came from a mouth dripping like sweat off skin. What? Be patient? If I hadn’t been patient this long already, I’d be in the nut house, like ... The fat woman didn’t want to continue. She sighed: Times are hard. In the twenties, it was hard too, but not like now. A man in dirty shorts moved closer to the young woman, quietly saying: Don’t talk like that. You’ll be sorry later. Near Pasar Baru the tram stopped in front of the theater. Crowds got on and off. Several people climbed up through the window. A Japanese was climbing up through the window too. An Indonesian on the tram called to the Japanese:

9 Puppet ligislature during the Japanese occupation.

Hey! What are you doing? Climbing up through the window. Have you no manners? The Japanese muttered several words in Indonesian, broken like the curves in the road. The Indonesian turned scarlet, suddenly realizing the man he’d just bawled out was a Japanese. But now he felt humiliated in front of the other passengers. So he got his courage up and said: That’s no way to get in. Climbing up through the window. The Japanese just kept on climbing in. When he got inside the tram, he roared at the Indonesian: Where do you work? How dare you tell a Japanese what he can’t do. The Indonesian didn’t want to give in, but inside, his heart shriveled like Japanese cloth after washing. He said: And you Sir, where do you work? I work at the Naimubu. They argued, but the Japanese was unwilling to lay a hand on him because nearby stood someone from the kenpeitai.10 The kenpeitai man spoke in Japanese to the Japanese civilian. Apparently he was angry. Ingratiatingly, he said to the Indonesian: I’ve reprimanded him. After all, he was in the wrong. The Indonesian felt happy. He had won a glorious victory.11

Translated by Ibnu Wahyudi

(Source: H.B. Jassin, Indonesian Literature in the Period of Japan, Jakarta: Balai Pustaka, 1975, p. 158-163. This short story first appeared in From Ave Maria to Another Way to Rome, published in 1948)

10 Military police. 11 “Kemenangan yang gilang gemilang”; a joke about the way Japanese victories were always described on the radio.

ROBOHNYA SURAU KAMI by Ali Akbar Navis

Kalau beberapa tahun yang lalu Tuan datang ke kota kelahiranku dengan menumpang bis, Tuan akan berhenti di dekat pasar. Melangkahlah menyusuri jalan raya arah ke barat. Maka kira-kira sekilometer dari pasar akan sampailah Tuan di jalan kampungku. Pada simpang kecil ke kanan, simpang yang kelima, membeloklah ke jalan sempit itu. Dan di ujung jalan itu nanti akan Tuan temui sebuah surau tua. Di depannya ada kolam ikan, yang airnya mengalir melalui empat buah pancuran mandi. Dan di pelataran kiri surau itu akan Tuan temui seorang tua yang biasanya duduk di sana dengan segala tingkah ketuaannya dan ketaatannya beribadat. Sudah bertahun-tahun ia sebagai garin, penjaga surau itu. Orang-orang memanggilnya Kakek. Sebagai penjaga surau, Kakek tidak mendapat apa-apa. Ia hidup dari sedekah yang dipungutnya sekali se-Jumat. Sekali enam bulan ia mendapat seperempat dari hasil pemungutan ikan mas dari kolam itu. Dan sekali setahun orang-orang mengantarkan fitrah Id kepadanya. Tapi sebagai garin ia tak begitu dikenal. Ia lebih terkenal sebagai pengasah pisau. Karena ia begitu mahir dengan pekerjaannya itu. Orang-orang suka minta tolong kepadanya, sedang ia tak pernah minta imbalan apa-apa. Orang-orang perempuan yang minta tolong mengasahkan pisau atau gunting, memberinya sambal sebagai imbalan. Orang laki-laki yang minta tolong, memberinya imbalan rokok, kadang-kadang uang. Tapi yang paling sering diterimanya ialah ucapan terima kasih dan sedikit senyum. Tapi kakek ini sudah tidak ada lagi sekarang. Ia sudah meninggal. Dan tinggallah surau itu tanpa penjaganya. Hingga anak-anak menggunakannya sebagai tempat bermain, memainkan segala apa yang disukai mereka. Perempuan yang kehabisan kayu bakar, sering suka mencopoti papan dinding atau lantai surau di malam hari. Jika Tuan datang sekarang, hanya akan menjumpai gambaran yang mengesankan suatu kesucian yang bakal roboh. Dan kerobohan itu kian hari kian cepat berlangsungnya. Secepat anak-anak berlari di dalamnya, secepat perempuan mencopoti pekayuannya. Dan yang terutama ialah sifat masa bodoh manusia

38 sekarang, yang tak hendak memelihara apa yang tidak dijaga lagi. Dan biang keladi dari kerobohan ini ialah sebuah dongengan yang tak dapat disangkal kebenarannya. Beginilah kisahnya. Sekali hari aku datang pula mengupah Kakek. Biasanya Kakek gembira menerimaku, karena aku suka memberinya uang. Tapi sekali ini Kakek begitu muram. Di sudut benar ia duduk dengan lututnya menegak menopang tangan dan dagunya. Pandangannya sayu ke depan, seolah-olah ada sesuatu yang yang mengamuk pikirannya. Sebuah blek susu yang berisi minyak kelapa, sebuah asahan halus, kulit sol panjang, dan pisau cukur tua berserakan di sekitar kaki Kakek. Tidak pernah aku melihat Kakek begitu bermuram durja dan belum pernah salamku tak disahutinya seperti saat itu. Kemudian aku duduk di sampingnya dan aku jamah pisau itu. Dan aku tanya Kakek, “Pisau siapa, Kek?” “Ajo Sidi.” “Ajo Sidi?” Kakek tak menyahut. Maka aku ingat Ajo Sidi, si pembual itu. Sudah lama aku tak ketemu dia. Dan aku ingin ketemu dia lagi. Aku senang mendengar bualannya. Ajo Sidi bisa mengikat orang-orang dengan bualannya yang aneh-aneh sepanjang hari. Tapi ini jarang terjadi karena ia begitu sibuk dengan pekerjaannya. Sebagai pembual, sukses terbesar baginya ialah karena semua pelaku yang diceritakannya menjadi model orang untuk diejek dan ceritanya menjadi pameo akhirnya. Ada-ada saja orang-orang di sekitar kampungku yang mencocoki watak dari pelaku-pelaku ceritanya. Ketika sekali ia menceritakan bagaimana sifat seekor katak, dan kebetulan ada pula seorang yang ketagihan jadi pemimpin yang berkelakuan seperti katak itu, maka untuk selanjutnya pimpinan tersebut kami sebut pimpinan katak. Tiba-tiba aku ingat lagi pada Kakek dan kedatangan Ajo Sidi kepadanya. Apakah Ajo Sidi telah membuat bualan tentang Kakek? Dan bualan itukah yang mendurjakan Kakek? Aku ingin tahu. Lalu aku tanya Kakek lagi. “Apa ceritanya, Kek?” “Siapa?” “Ajo Sidi.” “Kurang ajar dia.” Kakek menjawab.

“Kenapa?” “Mudah-mudahan pisau cukur ini, yang kuasah tajam-tajam ini, menggorok tenggorokannya.” “Kakek marah?” “Marah? Ya, kalau aku masih muda, tapi aku sudah tua. Orang tua menahan ragam. Sudah lama aku tak marah-marah lagi. Takut aku kalau imanku rusak karenanya, ibadatku rusak karenanya. Sudah begitu lama aku berbuat baik, beribadat, bertawakal kepada Tuhan. Sudah begitu lama aku menyerahkan diri kepada-Nya. Dan Tuhan akan mengasihi orang yang sabar dan tawakal.” Ingin tahuku dengan cerita Ajo Sidi yang memurungkan Kakek jadi memuncak. Aku tanya lagi Kakek, “Bagaimana katanya, Kek?” Tapi Kakek diam saja. Berat hatinya bercerita barangkali. Karena aku telah berulang-ulang bertanya, lalu ia yang bertanya padaku, “Kau kenal padaku, bukan? Sedari kau kecil aku sudah di sini. Sedari mudaku, bukan? Kau tahu apa yang kulakukan semua, bukan? Terkutukkah perbuatanku? Dikutuki Tuhankah semua pekerjaanku?” Tapi aku tak perlu menjawabnya lagi. Sebab aku tahu, kalau Kakek sudah membuka mulutnya, dia takkan diam lagi. Aku biarkan Kakek dengan pertanyaannya sendiri. “Sedari muda aku di sini, bukan? Tak kuingat punya isteri, punya anak, punya keluarga seperti orang lain, tahu? Tak kupikirkan hidupku sendiri. Aku tak ingin cari kaya, bikin rumah. Segala kehidupanku, lahir batin, kuserahkan kepada Allah Subhanahu wataala. Tak pernah aku menyusahkan orang lain. Lalat seekor enggan aku membunuhnya. Tapi kini aku dikatakan manusia terkutuk. Umpan neraka. Marahkah Tuhan kalau itu yang kulakukan, sangkamu? Akan dikutukinya aku kalau selama hidupku aku mengabdi kepada-Nya? Tak kupikirkan hari esokku, karena aku yakin Tuhan itu ada dan pengasih dan penyayang kepada umatnya yang tawakal. Aku bangun pagi-pagi. Aku bersuci. Aku pukul beduk membangunkan manusia dari tidurnya, supaya bersujud kepada-Nya. Aku sembahyang setiap waktu. Aku puji-puji Dia. Aku baca Kitab-Nya. Alhamdulillah kataku bila aku menerima karunia-Nya. “Astagfirullah” kataku bila aku terkejut. “Masya Allah” kataku bila aku kagum. Apa salahnya pekerjaanku itu? Tapi kini aku dikatakan manusia terkutuk.”

Ketika Kakek terdiam agak lama, aku menyelakan tanyaku, “Ia katakan Kakek begitu, Kek?” “Ia tak mengatakan aku terkutuk. Tapi begitulah kira-kiranya.” Dan aku melihat mata Kakek berlinang. Aku jadi belas kepadanya. Dalam hatiku aku mengumpati Ajo Sidi. Tapi aku lebih ingin mengetahui apa cerita Ajo Sidi yang begitu memukuli hati Kakek. Dan ingin tahuku menjadikan aku nyinyir bertanya. Dan akhirnya Kakek bercerita juga. “Pada suatu waktu,‘ kata Ajo Sidi memulai, ‘di akhirat Tuhan Allah memeriksa orang-orang yang sudah berpulang. Para malaikat bertugas di samping-Nya. Di tangan mereka tergenggam daftar dosa dan pahala manusia. Begitu banyak orang yang diperiksa. Maklumlah di mana-mana ada perang. Dan di antara orang-orang yang diperiksa itu ada seorang yang di dunia dinamai Haji Saleh. Haji Saleh itu tersenyum-senyum saja, karena ia sudah begitu yakin akan dimasukkan ke dalam surga. Kedua tangannya ditopangkan di pinggang sambil membusungkan dada dan menekurkan kepala ke kuduk. Ketika dilihatnya orang- orang yang masuk neraka, bibirnya menyunggingkan senyum ejekan. Dan ketika ia melihat orang yang masuk ke surga, ia melambaikan tangannya, seolah hendak mengatakan ‘selamat ketemu nanti’. Bagai tak habis-habisnya orang yang berantre begitu panjangnya. Susut di muka, bertambah yang di belakang. Dan Tuhan memeriksa dengan segala sifat- Nya. Akhirnya sampailah giliran Haji Saleh. Sambil tersenyum bangga ia menyembah Tuhan. Lalu Tuhan mengajukan pertanyaan pertama. ‘Engkau?’ ‘Aku Saleh. Tapi karena aku sudah ke Mekah, Haji Saleh namaku.’ ‘Aku tidak tanya nama. Nama bagiku, tak perlu. Nama hanya buat engkau di dunia.’ ‘Ya, Tuhanku.’ ‘Apa kerjamu di dunia?’ ‘Aku menyembah Engkau selalu, Tuhanku.’ ‘Lain?’ ‘Setiap hari, setiap malam. Bahkan setiap masa aku menyebut-nyebut nama- Mu.’

‘Lain.’ ‘Segala tegah-Mu, kuhentikan, Tuhanku. Tak pernah aku berbuat jahat, walaupun dunia seluruhnya penu oleh dosa-dosa yang dihumbalangkan iblis laknat itu.’ ‘Lain?’ ‘Ya, Tuhanku, tak ada pekerjaanku selain daripada beribadat menyembah- Mu, menyebut-nyebut nama-Mu. Bahkan dalam kasih-Mu, ketika aku sakit, nama- Mu menjadi buah bibirku juga. Dan aku selalu berdoa, mendoakan kemurahan hati- Mu untuk menginsyafkan umat-Mu.’ ‘Lain?’ Haji Saleh tak dapat menjawab lagi. Ia telah menceritakan segala yang ia kerjakan. Tapi ia insyaf, pertanyaan Tuhan bukan asal bertanya saja, tentu ada lagi yang belum dikatakannya. Tapi menurut pendapatnya, ia telah menceritakan segalanya. Ia tak tahu lagi apa yang harus dikatakannya. Ia termenung dan menekurkan kepalanya. Api neraka tiba-tiba menghawakan kehangatannya ke tubuh Haji Saleh. Dan ia menangis. Tapi setiap air matanya mengalir, diisap kering oleh hawa panas neraka itu. ‘Lain lagi?’ tanya Tuhan. ‘Sudah hamba-Mu ceritakan semuanya, o, Tuhan yang Mahabesar, lagi Pengasih dan Penyayang, Adil, dan Mahatahu.’ Haji Saleh yang sudah kuyu mencobakan siasat merendahkan diri dan memuji Tuhan dengan pengharapan semoga Tuhan bisa berbuat lembut terhadapnya dan tidak salah tanya kepadanya. Tapi Tuhan bertanya lagi: ‘Tak ada lagi?’ ‘O, o, ooo, anu Tuhanku. Aku selalu membaca Kitab-Mu.’ ‘Lain?’ ‘Sudah kuceritakan semuanya, o, Tuhanku. Tapi kalau ada yang lupa aku katakan, aku pun bersyukur karena Engkaulah yang Mahatahu.’ ‘Sungguh tidak ada lagi yang kaukerjakan di dunia selain yang kauceritakan tadi?’ ‘Ya, itulah semuanya, Tuhanku.’ ‘Masuk kamu.’

Dan malaikat dengan sigapnya menjewer Haji Saleh ke neraka. Haji Saleh tidak mengerti kenapa ia dibawa ke neraka. Ia tak mengerti apa yang dikehendaki Tuhan dari dirinya dan ia percaya Tuhan tidak silap. Alangkah tercengang Haji Saleh, karena di neraka itu banyak temannya di dunia terpanggang hangus, merintih kesakitan. Dan ia tambah tak mengerti lagi dengan keadaan dirinya, karena semua orang yang dilihatnya di neraka itu tak kurang ibadatnya dari dia sendiri. Bahkan ada salah seorang yang telah sampai empat belas kali ke Mekah dan bergelar syekh pula. Lalu Haji Saleh mendekati mereka, dan bertanya kenapa mereka dinerakakan semuanya. Tapi sebagaimana Haji Saleh, orang-orang itu pun, tak mengerti juga. ‘Bagaimana Tuhan kita ini?’ kata Haji Saleh kemudian, ‘Bukankah kita disuruh-Nya taat beribadat, teguh beriman? Dan itu semua sudah kita kerjakan selama hidup kita. Tapi kini kita dimasukkan-Nya ke neraka.’ ‘Ya, kami juga heran. Tengoklah itu orang-orang senegeri dengan kita semua, dan tak kurang ketaatannya beribadat,’ kata salah seorang di antaranya. ‘Ini sungguh tidak adil.’ ‘Memang tidak adil,’ kata orang-orang itu mengulangi ucapan Haji Saleh. ‘Kalau begitu, kita harus minta kesaksian atas kesalahan kita.’ ‘Kita harus mengingatkan Tuhan, kalau-kalau Ia silap memasukkan kita ke neraka ini.’ ‘Benar. Benar. Benar.’ Sorakan yang lain membenarkan Haji Saleh. ‘Kalau Tuhan tak mau mengakui kesilapan-Nya, bagaimana?’ suatu suara melengking di dalam kelompok orang banyak itu. ‘Kita protes. Kita resolusikan,’ kata Haji Saleh. ‘Apa kita revolusikan juga?’ tanya suara yang lain, yang rupanya di dunia menjadi pemimpin gerakan revolusioner. ‘Itu tergantung kepada keadaan,’ kata Haji Saleh. ‘Yang penting sekarang, mari kita berdemonstrasi menghadap Tuhan.’ ‘Cocok sekali. Di dunia dulu dengan demonstrasi saja, banyak yang kita peroleh.’ Sebuah suara menyela. ‘Setuju. Setuju. Setuju.’ Mereka bersorak beramai-ramai. Lalu mereka berangkatlah bersama-sama menghadap Tuhan.

Dan Tuhan bertanya, ‘Kalian mau apa?’ Haji Saleh yang menjadi pemimpin dan juru bicara tampil ke depan. Dan dengan suara yang menggeletar dan berirama rendah, ia memulai pidatonya: ‘O, Tuhan kami yang Mahabesar. Kami yang menghadap-Mu ini adalah umat-Mu yang paling taat beribadat, yang paling taat menyembahmu. Kamilah orang-orang yang selalu menyebut nama-Mu, memuji-muji kebesaran-Mu,mempropagandakan keadilan-Mu, dan lain-lainnya. Kitab-Mu kami hafal di luar kepala kami.Tak sesat sedikit pun kami membacanya. Akan tetapi, Tuhanku yang Mahakuasa, setelah kami Engkau panggil kemari, Engkau memasukkan kami ke neraka. Maka sebelum terjadi hal-hal yang tak diingini, maka di sini, atas nama orang- orang yang cinta pada-Mu, kami menuntut agar hukuman yang Kaujatuhkan kepada kami ke surga sebagaimana yang Engkau janjikan dalam Kitab-Mu.’ ‘Kalian di dunia tinggal di mana?’ tanya Tuhan. ‘Kami ini adalah umat-Mu yang tinggal di Indonesia, Tuhanku.’ ‘O, di negeri yang tanahnya subur itu?’ ‘Ya, benarlah itu, Tuhanku.’ ‘Tanahnya yang mahakaya raya, penuh oleh logam, minyak, dan berbagai bahan tambang lainnya, bukan?’ ‘Benar. Benar. Benar. Tuhan kami. Itulah negeri kami.’ Mereka mulai menjawab serentak karena fajar kegembiraan telah membayang di wajahnya kembali. Dan yakinlah mereka sekarang, bahwa Tuhan telah silap menjatuhkan hukuman kepada mereka itu. ‘Di negeri di mana tanahnya begitu subur, sehingga tanaman tumbuh tanpa ditanam?’ ‘Benar. Benar. Benar. Itulah negeri kami.’ ‘Di negeri, di mana penduduknya sendiri melarat itu?’ ‘Ya. Ya. Ya. Itulah dia negeri kami.’ ‘Negeri yang lama diperbudak negeri lain itu?’ ‘Ya, Tuhanku. Sungguh laknat penjajah itu, Tuhanku.’ ‘Dan hasil tanahmu, mereka yang mengeruknya, dan diangkut ke negerinya, bukan?’ ‘Benar, Tuhanku. Hingga kami tak mendapat apa-apa lagi. Sungguh laknat mereka itu.’

‘Di negeri yang selalu kacau itu, hingga kamu dengan kamu selalu berkelahi, sedang hasil tanahmu orang lain juga yang mengambilnya, bukan?’ ‘Benar, Tuhanku. Tapi bagi kami soal harta benda itu kami tak mau tahu. Yang penting bagi kami ialah menyembah dan memuji Engkau.’ ‘Engkau rela tetap melarat, bukan?’ ‘Benar. Kami rela sekali, Tuhanku.’ ‘Karena kerelaanmu itu, anak cucumu tetap juga melarat, bukan?’ ‘Sungguhpun anak cucu kami itu melarat, tapi mereka semua pintar mengaji. Kitab-Mu mereka hafal di luar kepala.’ ‘Tapi seperti kamu juga, apa yang disebutnya tidak dimasukkan ke hatinya, bukan?’ ‘Ada, Tuhanku.’ ‘Kalau ada, kenapa engkau biarkan dirimu melarat, hingga anak cucumu teraniaya semua. Sedang harta bendamu kaubiarkan orang lain mengambilnya untuk anak cucu mereka. Dan engkau lebih suka berkelahi antara kamu sendiri, saling menipu, saling memeras. Aku beri engkau negeri yang kaya raya, tapi kau malas. Kau lebih suka beribadat saja, karena beribadat tidak mengeluarkan peluh, tidak membanting tulang. Sedang aku menyuruh engkau semuanya beramal di samping beribadat. Bagaimana engkau bisa beramal kalau engkau miskin. Engkau kira aku ini suka pujian, mabuk disembah saja. Tidak. Kamu semua mesti masuk neraka. Hai, Malaikat, halaulah mereka ini kembali ke neraka. Letakkan di keraknya!” Semuanya jadi pucat pasi tak berani berkata apa-apa lagi. Tahulah mereka sekarang apa jalan yang diridhai Allah di dunia. Tapi Haji Saleh ingin juga kepastian apakah yang akan dikerjakannya di dunia itu salah atau benar. Tapi ia tak berani bertanya kepada Tuhan. Ia bertanya saja kepada malaikat yang menggiring mereka itu. ‘Salahkah menurut pendapatmu, kalau kami, menyembah Tuhan di dunia?’ tanya Haji Saleh. ‘Tidak. Kesalahan engkau, karena engkau terlalu mementingkan dirimu sendiri. Kau takut masuk neraka, karena itu kau taat bersembahyang. Tapi engkau melupakan kehidupan kaummu sendiri, melupakan kehidupan anak isterimu sendiri, sehingga mereka itu kucar-kacir selamanya. Inilah kesalahanmu yang terbesar,

45 terlalu egoistis. Padahal engkau di dunia berkaum, bersaudara semuanya, tapi engkau tak mempedulikan mereka sedikit pun.’ Demikianlah cerita Ajo Sidi yang kudengar dari Kakek. Cerita yang memurungkan Kakek. Dan besoknya, ketika aku mau turun rumah pagi-pagi, istriku berkata apa aku tak pergi menjenguk. “Siapa yang meninggal?” tanyaku kaget. “Kakek.” “Kakek?” “Ya. Tadi subuh Kakek kedapatan mati di suraunya dalam keadaan yang mengerikan sekali. Ia menggorok lehernya dengan pisau cukur.” “Astaga. Ajo Sidi punya gara-gara,” kataku seraya cepat-cepat meninggalkan istriku yang tercengang-cengang. Aku cari Ajo Sidi ke rumahnya. Tapi aku berjumpa sama istrinya saja. Lalu aku tanya dia. “Ia sudah pergi,” jawab istri Ajo Sidi. “Tidak ia tahu Kakek meninggal?’ “Sudah. Dan ia meninggalkan pesan agar dibelikan kain kafan buat Kakek tujuh lapis.” “Dan sekarang,” tanyaku kehilangan akal sungguh mendengar segala peristiwa oleh perbuatan Ajo Sidi yng tidak sedikit pun bertanggung jawab, “dan sekarang ke mana dia?” “Kerja.” “Kerja?” tanyaku mengulangi hampa. “Ya. Dia pergi kerja.” ***

Bukittinggi, Maret 1955

A.A. Navis rose to prominence with the story, “Robohnya Surau Kami” (“The Collapse of Our Surau) in 1955, which was voted one of the three best stories of the year by the literary magazine, Kisah. The story was considered very brave in criticizing the pious who neglect the poor. His collection of short stories was released under the same title in 1956. Navis taught many other writers while producing his own short stories, novels, poetry, children’s stories, radio plays, and essays on cultural and social problems. He wrote 22 books, five anthologies with other poets, and eight anthologies abroad. He also composed 106 papers for academic publishers and activities at home and abroad. Navis works in the form of fiction (short stories, poems, and novels) among others are Robohnya Surau Kami (The Collapse of Our Surau - a collection of short stories, 1986), Hujan Panas dan Kabut Musim (Summer Rain and Fog on The Season - collection of short stories, 1990), Dermaga dengan Empat Sekoci (The Dock with Four Lifeboats - collection of poems), Kemarau (Drought - novel, 1992), and Saraswati, Si Gadis dalam Sunyi (Saraswati, the Girl in Silence - novel, 1970).

THE COLLAPSE OF OUR SURAU12 (Robohnya Surau Kami by Ali Akbar Navis)

If a few years ago you came to my hometown by riding the bus, you will stop near the market. Walk down the road for west direction. Thus approximately one kilometer from the market, you will arrive at my village road. At a small intersection to the right, which is the fifth intersection, turn into the narrow street. And at the end of that road, you will be meeting an old surau. In front of it, there is a fish pond, where the water flows through four showers. And in the courtyard of the surau to the left, you will meet an old man who used to sit there with all his old behavior and his obedience worship. It's been many years he was as garin, a guard of the surau. People called him “grandpa”. As a guard of the surau, grandpa did not receive anything. He lived on alms that picked up once every Friday. Once every six months he got a quarter of the harvest carp from the pond. And once a year, people drove him tithes. But as garin he is not so well known. He is more famous as a knife sharpener. Because he is so adept by his work. People like to ask for help to him, while he never asked for anything in return. Those women who ask for help to sharpen a knife or scissors, giving chili sauce, as a reward. Men who ask for help, give him a cigarette as a reward, sometimes money. But most often he receives a thank you and a little smile. But this grandfather is no longer present. He was already dead. And stayed surau without guards. Until the children use it as a playground, playing all what they liked. Women who run out of firewood, often likes to cannibalize the wall or floor board of the surau at night. If you come now, you will only see an image that will impress the sanctity collapsed. And the collapse of the increasingly rapid ongoing. As quickly as the children ran in it, as soon as women removing the wood. And foremost is ignorant of human nature now, who does not want to maintain what is no longer maintained. And the culprit of this collapse is a mythical undeniable truth. Here's the story. Once a day I came also hired grandfather. Grandpa usually happy to accept me, because I like to give him money. But this once Grandpa is so

12 Prayer house or communal building suitable for any devotion except Friday prayer.

48 grim. In the right corner he sat down by his knee straightened prop hands and chin. Wistful gaze forward, as if there is something that raging mind. A tin of milk that contains coconut oil, a whetstone smooth, long leather soles, and an old razor scattered around the foot of grandfather. Never have I seen so grandpa moping and have never my regards not like when he replied it. Then I sat down beside him and I touched the knife. And I asked Grandpa, "Whose knife, Grandpa?" "Ajo Sidi." "Ajo Sidi?" Grandpa did not answer. Then I remember Ajo Sidi, the braggart. It's been a long time I did not see him. And I want to see him again. I'm glad to hear crap from him. Ajo Sidi can bind people with a weird bluff all day. But this rarely happens because he is so busy with his work. As a loudmouth, his biggest success is that all the actors he told the models to be mocked and story eventually became a byword. There are people around my village that matches the character of the actors in the story. When once he tells how character of a frog, and there is also a coincidence that hooked into a leader who behaves like a frog, then to the next, we call the leader the head of the frog. Suddenly I remember the grandfather and the arrival of Ajo Sidi, to him. Do Ajo Sidi has made a crap about Grandpa? And what the crap which makes a gloomy to Grandpa? I want to know. Then I asked Grandpa again. "What's the story, Grandpa?" "Who?" "Ajo Sidi." "Damn him." Grandpa replied. "Why?" "Hopefully this razor, which I am sharpening this sharply, slit his throat." "Grandpa angry?" "Angry? Yes, when I was young, but I'm old. The old man holds manner. It's been a long time I do not get angry anymore. I'm afraid that my faith is damaged hence, my worship is also damaged thereby. It's been so long I do good, worship,

49 put my trust in God. It's been so long I surrendered to Him. And God will love those who are patient and resignation." What I want to know, the story of Ajo Sidi which makes depressed grandfather so peaked. I asked again Grandpa, "What he said, Grandpa?" But Grandpa was silent. Heavy heart told me, perhaps. Because I have repeatedly asked, then he asked me, "You know me, do you not? From you was a kid, I've been here. Since my youth, is not it? You know what I do all, is not it? Are my actions damned? Does God curse all my work?" But I do not have to answer it again. For I know that Grandpa had opened his mouth, he will not be silent anymore. I let Grandpa with his own question. "Since young I'm here, is not it? Do not remember have a wife, have kids, have a family like everyone else, you know? Do not think of my own life. I do not want to find a rich, make home. All my life, physically and spiritually, I give to Allah Subhanahu wataala.13 I never made other people difficult. I was reluctant to kill a fly. But now I am called a man cursed. Feed for hell. Is God angry if I did it, you suppose? Will curse me if I devoted my life to Him? Do not think of tomorrow, because I believe there is a God and a gracious and merciful to his people that resignation. I woke up early. I purification. I beat beduk14 to wake people from sleep, to bow in resignation to Him. I pray every time. I praise Him glory. I read His Book. Alhamdulillah I said when I accepted his gift. "Astagfirullah" I said if I was surprised. "Masha Allah" I said if I was in awe. What's wrong with my work? But now I'm said to be a cursed man. " When Grandpa a long pause, I asked the question, "He said grandfather like that, Grandpa?" "He did not say I'm cursed. But presumably that's about. " And I saw of grandfather's eyes filled with tears. I'm so sorry for him. In my heart I cursed Ajo Sidi. But I wanted to know what the story of Ajo Sidi, so beating hearts of grandfather. And because I want to know, makes me ask nosy. And finally grandfather told me too. ‘Once upon a time,’ said Ajo Sidi begin, 'in the hereafter, God checking people who have passed away. The angels in charge, beside Him. In their hands clasped

13 God who is praised and most high. 14 Large drum suspended horizontally at mosque or surau to summon to prayer.

50 list of sin and human reward. So many people were examined. It's known everywhere there is war. And among those who checked it was a man named Haji Saleh. Haji Saleh was smiling, because he was so sure would put in heaven. He put his hands on her waist as he puffed out his chest and put his head to the neck. When he saw the people who go to hell, his lips mocking smile. And when he saw people who go to heaven, he waved his hand, as if to say 'congratulations you later'. As inexhaustible, people are lined up so long. Losses in advance, to grow the behind. And God check with all His attributes. Finally, comes the turn of Haji Saleh. Smiling proudly he worshiped God. Then God asked the first question. 'You are?' 'I am, Saleh. But since I've been to Mecca, the Haji Saleh my name. ' 'I do not ask name. Name for me, no need. Name just for you in the world. ' 'Yes, my Lord.' 'What your work in the world?' 'I always worship you, my Lord.' 'Another?' 'Every day, every night. In fact, every time I mention your name. ' 'Other.' 'All thy ban, I stopped, my Lord. I never do evil, even if the whole world full of sins which is thrown by the devil's curse. ' 'Another?' 'Yes, my Lord, there is no work other than to worship adore You, mention Your name. Even in Your love, when I'm sick, Your name be the fruit of my lips as well. And I always pray, pray for Your generosity to convict Your people. ' 'Another?' Haji Saleh can not reply anymore. He has told everything he did. But he repented, God was not merely asking questions, sure there are more that have not been said. But in his opinion, he had told everything. He did not know what to say. He was pensive and bowed his head. The fire of hell suddenly spread warmth to the

51 body of Haji Saleh. And he cried. But all the tears, sucked dry by the air from the hot hell. 'Another?' asked of God. 'I've told you everything, o, very Almighty God, the Compassionate and Merciful, Just, and the Omniscient.' Haji Saleh, who has been dull try a tactics to humble himself and praise God with the hope that God can do soft on him, and no wrong asked him. But God asks again: 'No more?' 'O, o, o, my Lord. I always read the Book of You. ' 'Another?' 'It told you all, o, my God. But if there is I forgot to say, I was grateful that You are all-knowing. ' 'Really, nothing else you do in the world besides you tell me earlier?' 'Yes, that's all, my Lord.' 'You go inside.' And the angel deftly tweaked Haji Saleh to hell. Haji Saleh did not understand why he was taken to hell. He did not understand what God wants from him, and he believed God was not mistaken. Haji Saleh was stunned because in hell, a lot of friends in the world parched scorched, groaning in pain. And he increasingly does not understand anymore with his situation, because everyone he saw in the hell it was nothing less than her own worship. There's even one who has fourteen times to Mecca and holds a sheikh15 anyway. Then Haji Saleh approached them, and asked, why do they put all to hell. But as Haji Saleh, the people also, do not understand either. 'How is this our Lord?' said Haji Saleh later, 'Are not we told to obey His worship, unwavering faith? And that's all we do during our lives. But now we put by Him into hell. ' 'Yes, we were also surprised. Look at the people of the country with all of us, and no less devotion to worship,’ said one of them. 'It's really not fair.' 'It's not fair,' said the repeated utterance of Haji Saleh.

15 Title of a Islam scholar.

'Well, then, we must ask the testimony of our guilt.' 'We have to remind the Lord, if perhaps he mistaken, send us into this hell.' 'Right. True. True.’ cheers others justifying Haji Saleh. 'If God did not want to admit His mistake, how?' A shrill voice in the group of the people. 'We protest. We make resolutions,’ said Haji Saleh. 'What we make the revolution?" asked another voice, which seems to be the leader in the world revolutionary movement. 'It depends on the circumstances," said Haji Saleh. 'What is important now, let us demonstrate facing God.' 'It fits perfectly. In the world, with demonstrations only, many of which we have acquired.’ Interrupt a voice. 'Agreed. Agree. Agree." They cheered together. Then they went together to face God. And the Lord asked, 'What do you want?' Haji Saleh who became the leader and spokesman, stepped forward. And with a trembling voice and rhythmic extremely low, he started his speech: 'O our Almighty Lord. We are facing this is your people worship Thy most obedient, most obedient worship. We are the ones who are always calling Your name, praise Thy greatness, propagate Your justice, and others. We memorize the Book of Your. Not one bit misguided we read. But, my Almighty God, after you call us here, you put us into the hell. So before things happen that are not desired, then here, on behalf of those who love You, we demand that you drop the penalty to us to be revisited and we enter into heaven as you promised in Your Book.' 'In the world, where do you live?' asked of God. 'We are your people living in Indonesia, my Lord.' 'O, in the country's fertile land?' 'Yes, it is true, my Lord.' 'The land is very rich, full metal, oil, and various other minerals, is not it?' 'Right. True. True. Our Lord. That's our country.' They replied in unison as the dawn began to have excitement on his face again. And they believe now, that the Lord has been mistaken sentence to them.

'In the land where the soil is so fertile, so the plants grow without planted?' 'Right. True. True. That's our country.' 'In the country, where the people themselves were impoverished?' 'Yes. Ya. Ya. That's our country.' 'State long enslaved another country's?' 'Yes, my Lord. It was anathema invaders, my Lord.' 'And the harvest of your land, they took it, and transported to the country, is not it?' 'Yes, my Lord. Until we do not get anything else. Indeed they were anathema.' 'In a country that is always chaotic, you're always up to you to fight, while the harvest of your land, other people take it, is not it?' 'Yes, my Lord. But for us, it's a matter of property we do not want to know. The important thing for us is to worship and praise you.' 'You are willing to remain poor, is not it?' 'Right. We willingly once, my Lord. ' 'Since willing it, your descendants still too wretched, is not it?' 'Even though our children were impoverished, but they are all smart Koran. Your Book they were memorized by rote.' 'But as you also, what is mentioned is not inserted into his heart, is not it?' 'There, my Lord.' 'If there is, why do you let yourself impoverished, persecuted until all your descendants. You let your treasure being another person took it to their grandchildren. And you would rather fight amongst yourselves, each cheat, blackmail each other. I give you a rich country, but you're lazy. You prefer to worship, because worship does not remove the sweat, toil not. As I told you all do good in addition to worship. How you can donate if you are poor. You think I was like a compliment, drunk worshiped only. Not. You all should go to hell. Hi, Angel, bring them back to the hell. Put in crust!’ Everyone is so pale, not daring to say anything anymore. They know now, what God approves road in the world. But Haji Saleh also wanted certainty whether that will be doing in the world was wrong or right. But he did not dare to ask God. He asks only to the angel who led them.

'Is it wrong in your opinion, if we were, worshiping God in the world?' Asked Haji Saleh. 'Not. You are wrong, because you are too concerned with yourself. You afraid to go to hell, because you obey the prayers. But you have forgotten your people's own life, to forget your wife's own child's life, so they were disorganized forever. This is the greatest iniquities, too egotistical. But you are in the world live together, brothers all, but you do not care about them one bit.' Thus Ajo Sidi story, which I heard from the grandfather. The story, which makes the depression of the grandfather. And the next day, when I'm leaving in the morning, my wife said what I was going to visit. "Who died?" I was shocked. "Grandpa." "Grandpa?" "Yes. Grandfather caught dead before dawn at his surau in a terrible state. He cut his throat with a razor." "Gosh. Ajo Sidi who make matter." I said as I quickly left my wife, who were astonished. I am looking for Ajo Sidi to his home. But I just met with his wife. Then I asked him. "He's gone," said Ajo Sidi wife. "Do not he know grandfather died? ' "It was. And he left a message in order to buy a shroud for grandfather, seven layers. " "And now," I asked, losing my mind really hear all the events by Ajo Sidi actions are not in the least responsible, "and now where is he?" "Work." "Work?" I repeated blankly. "Yes. He went to work."

Bukittinggi, March 1955

Translated by Ibnu Wahyudi

PENGEMIS DAN SHALAWAT BADAR by Ahmad Tohari

Bus yang aku tumpangi masuk terminal Cirebon ketika matahari hampir mencapai pucuk langit. Terik matahari ditambah dengan panasnya mesin disel tua memanggang bus itu bersama isinya. Untung bus tak begitu penuh sehingga sesama penumpang tak perlu bersinggungan badan. Namun dari sebelah kiriku bertiup bau keringat melalui udara yang dialirkan dengan kipas koran. Dari belakang terus-menerus mengepul asap rokok dari mulut seorang lelaki setengah mengantuk. Begitu bus berhenti, puluhan pedagang asongan menyerbu masuk. Bahkan beberapa di antara mereka sudah membajing loncat ketika bus masih berada di mulut terminal. Bus menjadi pasar yang sangat hiruk-pikuk. Celakanya, mesin bus tidak dimatikan dan sopir melompat turun begitu saja. Dan para pedagang asongan itu menawarkan dagangan dengan suara melengking agar bisa mengatasi derum mesin. Mereka menyodor-nyodorkan dagangan, bila perlu sampai dekat sekali ke mata para penumpang. Kemudian mereka mengeluh ketika mendapati tak seorang pun mau berbelanja. Seorang di antara mereka malah mengutuk dengan mengatakan para penumpang adalah manusia-manusia kikir, atau manusia-manusia yang tak punya duit. Suasana sungguh gerah, sangat bising dan para penumpang tak berdaya melawan keadaan yang sangat menyiksa itu. Dalam keadaan seperti itu, harapan para penumpang hanya satu; hendaknya sopir cepat datang dan bus segera bergerak kembali untuk meneruskan perjalanan ke Jakarta. Namun laki-laki yang menjadi tumpuan harapan itu kelihatan sibuk dengan kesenangannya sendiri. Sopir itu enak-enak bergurau dengan seorang perempuan penjual buah. Sementara para penumpang lain kelihatan sangat gelisah dan jengkel, aku mencoba bersikap lain. Perjalanan semacam ini sudah puluhan kali aku alami. Dari pengalaman seperti itu aku mengerti bahwa ketidaknyamanan dalam perjalanan tak perlu dikeluhkan karena sama sekali tidak mengatasi keadaan. Supaya jiwa dan raga tidak tersiksa, aku selalu mencoba berdamai dengan keadaan. Maka kubaca semuanya dengan tenang: Sopir yang tak acuh terhadap nasib para penumpang itu, tukang-tukang asongan yang sangat berisik itu, dan lelaki yang setengah mengantuk sambil mengepulkan asap di belakangku itu.

Masih banyak hal yang belum sempat aku baca ketika seorang lelaki naik ke dalam bus. Celana, baju, dan kopiahnya berwarna hitam. Dia naik dari pintu depan. Begitu naik lelaki itu mengucapkan salam dengan fasih. Kemudian dari mulutnya mengalir Shalawat Badar dalam suara yang bening. Dan tangannya menengadah. Lelaki itu mengemis. Aku membaca tentang pengemis ini dengan perasaan yang sangat dalam. Aku dengarkan baik-baik shalawatnya. Ya, persis. Aku pun sering membaca shalawat seperti itu terutama dalam pengajian-pengajian umum atau rapat-rapat. Sekarang kulihat dan kudengar sendiri ada lelaki membaca shalawat badar untuk mengemis. Kukira pengemis itu sering mendatangi pengajian-pengajian. Kukira dia sering mendengar ceramah-ceramah tentang kebaikan hidup baik dunia maupun akhirat. Lalu dari pengajian seperti itu dia hanya mendapat sesuatu untuk membela kehidupannya di dunia. Sesuatu itu adalah Shalawat Badar yang kini sedang dikumandangkannya sambil menadahkan tangan. Semula ada perasaan tidak setuju mengapa hal-hal yang kudus seperti bacaan shalawat itu dipakai untuk mengemis. Tetapi perasaan demikian lenyap ketika pengemis itu sudah berdiri di depanku. Mungkin karena shalawat itu maka tanganku bergerak merogoh kantong dan memberikan selembar ratusan. Atau karena ada banyak hal dapat dibaca pada wajah si pengemis itu. Di sana aku lihat kebodohan, kepasrahan yang memperkuat penampilan kemiskinan. Wajah-wajah seperti itu sangat kuhafal karena selalu hadir mewarnai pengajian yang sering diawali dengan Shalawat Badar. Ya. Jejak-jejak pengajian dan ceramah-ceramah tentang kebaikan hidup ada berbekas pada wajah pengemis itu. Lalu mengapa dari pengajian yang sering didatanginya ia hanya bisa menghafal Shalawat Badar dan kini menggunakannya untuk mengemis? Ah, kukira ada yang tak beres. Ada yang salah" Sayangnya, aku tak begitu tega menyalahkan pengemis yang terus membaca shalawat itu. Perhatianku terhadap si pengemis terputus oleh bunyi pintu bus yang dibanting. Kulihat sopir sudah duduk di belakang kemudi. Kondektur melompat masuk dan berte-riak kepada sopir. Teriakannya ditelan oleh bunyi mesin disel yang meraung-raung. Kudengar kedua awak bus itu bertengkar. Kondektur tampaknya enggan melayani bus yang tidak penuh, sementara sopir sudah bosan menunggu tambahan penumpang yang ternyata tak kunjung datang. Mereka terus bertengkar

57 melalui kata-kata yang tak sedap didengar. Dan bus terus melaju meninggalkan terminal Cirebon. Sopir yang marah menjalankan busnya dengan gila-gilaan. Kondektur diam. Tetapi kata-kata kasarnya mendadak tumpah lagi. Kali ini bukan kepada sopir, melainkan kepada pengemis yang jongkok dekat pintu belakang. "He, sira! Kenapa kamu tidak turun? Mau jadi gembel di Jakarta? Kamu tidak tahu gembel di sana pada dibuang ke laut dijadikan rumpon?" Pengemis itu diam saja. "Turun!" "Sira beli mikir! Bus cepat seperti ini aku harus turun?" "Tadi siapa suruh kamu naik?" "Saya naik sendiri. Tapi saya tidak ingin ikut. Saya cuma mau ngemis, kok. Coba, suruh sopir berhenti. Nanti saya akan turun. Mumpung belum jauh." Kondektur kehabisan kata-kata. Dipandangnya pengemis itu seperti ia hendak menelannya bulat-bulat. Yang dipandang pasrah. Dia tampaknya rela diperlakukan sebagai apa saja asal tidak didorong keluar dari bus yang melaju makin cepat. Kondektur berlalu sambil bersungut. Si pengemis yang merasa sedikit lega, bergerak memperbaiki posisinya di dekat pintu belakang. Mulutnya kembali bergumam: "... shalatullah, salamullah, 'ala thaha rasulillah...." Shalawat itu terus mengalun dan terdengar makin jelas karena tak ada lagi suara kondektur. Para penumpang membisu dan terlena dalam pikiran masing- masing. Aku pun mulai mengantuk sehingga lama-lama aku tak bisa membedakan mana suara shalawat dan mana derum mesin diesel. Boleh jadi aku sudah berada di alam mimpi dan di sana kulihat ribuan orang membaca shalawat. Anehnya, mereka yang berjumlah banyak sekali itu memiliki rupa yang sama. Mereka semuanya mirip sekali dengan pengemis yang naik dalam bus yang kutumpangi di terminal Cirebon. Dan dalam mimpi pun aku berpendapat bahwa mereka bisa menghafal teks shalawat itu dengan sempurna karena mereka sering mendatangi ceramah-ceramah tentang kebaikan hidup di dunia maupun akhirat. Dan dari ceramah-ceramah seperti itu mereka hanya memperoleh hafalan yang untungnya boleh dipakai modal menadahkan tangan. Kukira aku masih dalam mimpi ketika kurasakan peristiwa yang hebat. Mula- mula kudengar guntur meledak dengan suara dahsyat. Kemudian kulihat mayat-

58 mayat beterbangan dan jatuh di sekelilingku. Mayat-mayat itu terluka dan beberapa di antaranya kelihatan sangat mengerikan. Karena merasa takut aku pun lari. Namun sebuah batu tersandung dan aku jatuh ke tanah. Mulut terasa asin dan aku meludah. Ternyata ludahku merah. Terasa ada cairan mengalir dari lubang hidungku. Ketika kuraba, cairan itu pun merah. Ya Tuhan. Tiba-tiba aku tersadar bahwa diriku terluka parah. Aku terjaga dan di depanku ada malapetaka. Bus yang kutumpangi sudah terkapar di tengah sawah dan bentuknya sudah tak keruan. Di dekatnya terguling sebuah truk tangki yang tak kalah ringseknya. Dalam keadaan panik aku mencoba bangkit bergerak ke jalan raya. Namun rasa sakit memaksaku duduk kembali. Kulihat banyak kendaraan berhenti. Kudengar orang-orang merintih. Lalu samar-samar kulihat seorang lelaki kusut keluar dari bangkai bus. Badannya tak tergores sedikit pun. Lelaki itu dengan tenang berjalan kembali ke arah kota Cirebon. Telingaku dengan gamblang mendengar suara lelaki yang terus berjalan dengan tenang ke arah timur itu: "shalatullah, salamullah, 'ala thaha rasulillah..."

(Sumber: Ahmad Tohari, Senyum Karyamin, Jakarta: Gramedia, 2000)

Ahmad Tohari began writing short stories, poems, and essays in the early 1970s while working for the Bank Negara Indonesia or BNI. Initial recognition came in 1975 when he was named favorite short story writer in a Dutch Radio Hilversum contest. Further success came in 1978 when his novel, Di Kaki Bukit Cibalak (On the Foothill of Cibalak), won a novel writing contest organized by the Jakarta Arts Council. In 1980, he published his novel, Kubah (Dome). This was followed in 1981 with the publication of the first book of his famous trilogy, Ronggeng Dukuh Paruk, in series in the Kompas Daily. The second and third books, Lintang Kemukus Dini Hari (A Shooting Star at Dawn) and Jentera Bianglala (The Rainbow's Arc), were published in 1985 and 1986 respectively. The trilogy and Kubah discussed in some detail the fate of those accused of collaborating with the Communist Party after the 30 September Movement. This did affect publication. Although the trilogy was serialized in Kompas, several sections of the final in the trilogy, Jentera Bianglala, had to be rewritten as the daily feared publishing them in their original form. The complete trilogy was later published with the previously removed sections restored. The main strength of the works of Ahmad Tohari is the charming details which show the local richness of culture into the background of the story, namely Java, combined with convincing historical dimension.

THE BEGGAR AND SHALAWAT BADAR16 (Pengemis Dan Shalawat Badar by Ahmad Tohari)

Bus, which I was riding, enter the Cirebon terminal when the sun barely reaches the top of the sky. The scorching heat of the sun plus the old diesel engine buses bake it with passengers. Fortunately, the bus was not full so that fellow passengers do not have to contact the body. However, from my left, blowing the smell of sweat that flowed through the air by the paper fan. From the back constantly billowing smoke from the mouth of a man half asleep. As soon as the bus stopped, dozens of hawkers invaded. Even some of them have gone up and jump when the bus was still in the mouth of the terminal. Bus became very market tumultuous. Unfortunately, the bus engine not turned off and the driver jumped down just like that. And the hawkers were offering merchandise with a squeaky voice in order to overcome the roar of the engine. They handed merchandise, if necessary, until close to the eyes of the passengers. Then they complain when they discover no one wants to shop. One of them even condemned by telling the passengers are miserly humans, or humans who do not have money. The atmosphere really hot, very noisy and the helpless passengers against the excruciating circumstances. In such circumstances, the expectations of the passengers only one; should the driver, quickly come, and soon the bus moves again to continue the trip to Jakarta. But the man who became a beacon of hope, seemed preoccupied with his own pleasure. The driver was joking fun with a woman, a fruit seller. While the other passengers looked very agitated and upset, I tried to be another. This kind of trip have been dozens of times I have experienced. From such experiences I understand that the inconvenience of the journey is not to complain because it did not overcome situation. In order for the body and soul is not tormented, I always try to come to terms with the situation. So I read everything with

16 The prayer which is read to accompany the departure of the Prophet Muhammad to the battle of Badr. The Battle of Badr, fought on Saturday, 13 March 624 CE in the Hejaz region of western Arabia (present-day Saudi Arabia), was a key battle in the early days of Islam and a turning point in Muhammad's struggle with his opponents among the Quraish in Mecca. The battle has been passed down in Islamic history as a decisive victory attributable to divine intervention, or by secular sources to the strategic genius of Muhammad. It is one of the few battles specifically mentioned in the Quran. Most contemporary knowledge of the battle at Badr comes from traditional Islamic accounts, both hadiths and biographies of Muhammad, recorded in written form some time after the battle.

60 a sense of calm: The driver who does not care about the fate of the passengers, the hawkers were very noisy, and the man who half asleep while puffing smoke behind it. There are still many things I have not had time to read when a man got on the bus. Trousers, shirt, and his kopiah17 is black. He rose from the front door. Once climbed into the bus, the man say salam or greetings with fluent. Then from his mouth, flowed Shalawat Badar in a clear voice. And his hand looked up. The man was begging. I read about this beggar with a very deep feeling. I listen carefully his shalawat. Yes, exactly. I also often read shalawat as it was mainly in the general recitation (of the Qur’an) or meetings. Now, I saw and heard there was a man reading the Shalawat Badar, for begging. I think the beggar often came to the recitation. I think he often heard lectures on the goodness of life, both in this world and the hereafter. Then of recitation like that, he just got something to defend life in the world. Something that is a Shalawat Badar which is now being voiced while he cupped hand. At first there is a feeling not agree why things are sacred, such as reading shalawat used for begging. But such feelings vanished when the beggar was already standing in front of me. Maybe because of that shalawat, then moving my hand reached into the bag and gave a piece of hundreds. Or because there are a lot of things can be read on the face of the beggar. There I see stupidity, resignation that reinforce poverty appearance. Faces as it is know by heart because it is always present coloring recitation, which often begins with a Shalawat Badar. Ya. Traces of recitals and lectures on the goodness of life, leave their mark in the face of the beggar. Then why of lectures frequently visited he could only memorize Shalawat Badar and now use it to beg? Ah, I thought there was something wrong. Something is wrong. Unfortunately, I do not really have the heart to blame the beggar who keeps reading the shalawat. My attention to the beggar interrupted by the sound of the bus door slam. I saw a driver has been behind the wheel. The conductor jumped in and shouted to the driver. His scream swallowed by the sound of the diesel engine wailing. I heard both the bus crew fight. The conductor seems reluctant to serve bus if not full, while

17 Kind of rimless cap, headdress worn by Muslim men and also by Indonesian men in general as a symbol of national identity.

61 the driver was tired of waiting for additional passengers who apparently did not come. They continued to fight through words not nice to hear. And the bus drove on, leaving the Cirebon terminal. Angry driver runs the bus crazily. The conductor silent. But his violent words suddenly spilled again. This time not to the driver, but to the beggar, who squatted near the back door. "Hey, you! Why do you not go down? Want to become beggar in Jakarta? You do not know beggars there, on being discharged into the sea used as rumpon18?" The beggar was silent. "Get off!" "You do not think! Bus runs fast like this, I have to go down?" "Did anyone tell you up?" "I ride alone. But I do not want to go. I just want to beg, really. Try, tell the driver to stop. Later I will go down. As long as not much." The conductor run out of words. He saw the beggar closely as he was about to swallow his whole. The beggar just resigned. He seems to be willing to be treated as whatever, as long as not pushed out of the bus which drove faster. The conductor walked away grumbling. The beggar who feel a little relieved, moving to improve its position near the back door. His mouth again muttered: "... shalatullah, Salamullah, 'ala Taha rasulillah ...."19 The shalawat continue playing and sounding more clearly because there was no sound of conductor. The passengers were silent and lost in their own thoughts. I was getting sleepy, so after a long time, I could not tell where sound of shalawat and where the roar of the diesel engine. Perhaps I've been in a dream and there I saw thousands of people read shalawat. Surprisingly, they are numbered so many that have the same image. They are all very similar to the beggar who ride the bus, which I entered at the Cirebon terminal. And in the dream I found a text they can memorize the shalawat perfectly because they often come to the talks about the good life in this world and the hereafter. And from such lectures they only get rote, which fortunately be used as capita to beg.

18 Breeding grounds of fish in the sea are made from secondhand objects such as tires or rickshaw. 19 A piece of shalawat.

I thought I was in a dream when I felt a great incident. At first I heard the thunder burst with a powerful sound. Then I saw bodies flying and falling all around me. The bodies were injured and some of them look very dreadful. Because of fear, I ran. However, a stumbling stone, and I fell to the ground. Salty taste in the mouth and I spit. Apparently, the red saliva. Feels there is fluid flowing from the nostrils. When I touch, it was a red liquid. Oh my God. Suddenly I realized that I am mortally wounded. I'm awake and in front of me there is a disaster. The bus that I was riding already lying in the middle of rice fields and the shape is not frivolous. Nearby rolled a tanker truck that is not less damage. In a panic I tried to get up to move onto the highway. However, the pain forced me to sit back. I saw a lot of vehicles stopped. I hear people moaning. Then vaguely saw a man crumpled out of the carcass of the bus. His body was not a scratch. The man calmly walked back toward the city of Cirebon. My ears clearly hear the voice of the man who kept walking calmly toward the east: "shalatullah, Salamullah, 'ala Taha rasulillah ..."

(1989)

Translated by Ibnu Wahyudi