• Abstract and Figures
• Public Full-text

Dikeluarkan dari koleksi Pe/pVistakaa'i UI I Twilight in Djakarta In his first novel to appear in English, Mochtar Lubis writes with lucidity and frankness of the dark side of political and social life in Djakarta. He tells of corruption in the high echelons of society, the slum life of the immigrant villagers, the intellectual circles, the activist groups and the underground world of criminals and prostitutes. His is the story of a great city in whose swirling cross-currents individual lives become the flotsam and jetsam. The central figure is Suryono, a young man who, after a visit to New York, finds life in his own country and his post in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs unsatisfactory. He takes as /mistfess the young second wife of his father, the skilful financier, Raden Kaslan. The other women in his life are Dahlia, a prostitute as well as the wife of a minor official, and Ies, the girl who frequents his intellec­ tual discussion circle and whom he would like to marry. Enmeshing*'them all is the tingle* of Indonesian politics. ^ ^ Lubis sees the lovable and the admirable, as well * ' ' 4 * ‘ ** r t < ' as the sordid and the mean, and his work is born of an ardent love for the Indonesia he is helping to create. NEW VOICES IN translation : I While the work of contemporary authors in the major European languages readily finds an English publisher and hence an audience in the English- speaking world, the prose and poetry of writers in the other languages— from Asia, Africa or the minority languages of Europe— are often unavail­ able in English translation. The Congress for Cultural Freedom has launched the present series, New Voices in Translation, in order to help fill this gap. Mochtar Lubis’s novel Twilight in Djakarta is the first volume in this series. The Congress for Cultural Freedom is an independent world-wide association of scholars, scientists, writers and artists. Its purpose is to cultivate the spirit of free inquiry and devotion to truth and defend intellectual liberties against infringement from whatever source. NEW VOICES IN translation: I Twilight in Djakarta * MOCHTAR LUBIS translated from the Indonesian by CLAIRE HOLT HUTCHINSON OF LONDON HUTCHINSON & CO. (Publishers) L T D 178-202 Great Portland Street, London, W. 1 London Melbourne Sydney Auckland Bombay Toronto Johannesburg New York ★ First published ig63 Reprinted P 2 E.¥UCX.(.iVA¥! MKomsr-,~ rJ rouTiK 13.. A. c a l l dNUMBER u m b e r -------------- i'll W- R i m d u :? © Congress for Cultural Freedom 1963 PRINTED IN GREAT Rr i t a ik > r>w BILLING AND SONS LTD r-MlPnFSET LITHOGRAPHY BY LTD- GUILDFORD AND LONDON To Hally to whom I owe a debt of love ACKNO WLEDGEMENTS The author thanks Arthur Koestler for permission to reproduce the introductory quotation from Arrow in the Blue, an autobiography, published by Collins. CONTENTS Translator's Note 11 Foreword 13 M A Y 15 J U N E 41 J U L Y 69 A U G U S T 85 SEPTEMBER 109 OCTOBER 129 N O V E M B E R 145 D E C E M B E R 185 JANUARY 225 TRANSLATOR'S NOTE Translation or rather transposition into English of any other idiom naturally presents a great number of problems. Among those peculiarly related to Indonesian is the absence of a pronoun for it and the avoidance of pronouns you, he and she, including their possessive form. This often produces a repeti- tiousness in the naming of a subject or object. On the other hand it was, or may have been, the intention of the author to hammer away at a certain concept (e.g. truck, woman, step­ mother, horse, etc.), thus evoking a semi-obsessive or all- pervading presence. This translator was inclined to retain some repetitive structures wherever the boundary between the original idiomatic necessity and the stylistic intention seemed to overlap, and thus to retain the flavour of both language and style. The difficulty of finding some convincing equivalent to the colourful and phonetically idiosyncratic Djakarta dialect spoken by the uneducated city workers and the impossibility of rendering its full local flavour need not be belaboured. As for the transcription of Indonesian names and terms, the reader will come closer to their sound if he gives the vowels approximately the following sound-values: a as in father; e as in pet in closed, and as in gale in open, syllables; i as in see or pit; o as in law; and u as in boot. The translator is deeply indebted to a generous friend, who does not wish to be named, for many excellent suggestions, incorporated in the final version, which he made after careful comparison of the Indonesian and English texts. Now this Wang Lun had one secret ambition in his life, but it took him fifty years o f strenuous effort to realize it. H is ambition was to be able to behead a person with a stroke so swift that, in accordance with the law o f inertia, the victim's head would remain poised on his trunk, in the same manner as a plate remains undisturbed on the table i f the tablecloth is pulled out with a sudden jerk. Wang Lun's great moment came in the seventy-eighth year o f his life. On that memorable day he had to dispatch sixteen clients from this world o f shadows to their ancestors. He stood as usual at the foot o f the scaffold, and eleven shaven heads had already rolled into the dust after his inimitable master-stroke. His triumph came with the twelfth man. When this man began to ascend the steps o f the scaffold, Wang Lun's sword flashed with such lightning speed across his neck that the man’s head remained where it had been before, and he continued to walk up the steps without knowing what had happened. When he reached the top o f the scaffold, the man addressed Wang Lun as follows: ‘ Oh cruel Wang Lun, why do you prolong my agony o f waiting when you dealt with the others with such merciful and amiable speed?' When he heard these words, Wang Lun knew that the work o f his life had been accomplished. A serene smile appeared on his features; then he said with exquisite courtesy to the waiting man: ‘ Just kindly nod, please.' ARTHUR KOESTLER Arrow in the Blue May SAIM UN TIGHTENED his belt.’ His stomach was again rumbling with hunger. He’d had nothing to eat since morning. And it was still early. The drizzle which had started at dawn increased his hunger; Saimun blamed the rain. His bare and grimy foot— mud, filth and germs were stuck to that bare foot— kicked a refuse-filled basket off the top of the rubbish heap. The basket rolled down till it was stopped by the dilapidated wall of a hut, so very battered, so very rotten, so sadly dripping in the drizzling rain. A woman stuck her head out and shouted hoarsely, ‘Say, take it ’bit easy! Where’re your eyes?’ Saimun started a little, looked up and stared at the woman. He laughed roughly, without anger or malice, just because he always laughed that way; momentarily, lust stirred in him at the sight of the breasts of the woman in the hut, visible through the rents of her worn and ragged blouse. For an instant the desire flickered up to go down and get that woman, but then he heard the rumbling of the municipal garbage truck. Turning quickly he sprinted off and jumped on as it was moving away. Saimun crouched down at the side of Itam, who was lighting a kretek cigarette. He looked at his feet on the truck’s I5 TWILIGHT IN DJAKARTA dirty, wet floor, felt the hard boards against the bones of his behind shaking loose all the tense muscles of his body, leaned against the wooden wall of the truck and stretched out his' hand towards Itam, saying, ‘Please, just one, ’Tam.’ Itam looked at him, the reluctance behind his eyes vanished quickly and he handed his kretek to Saimun, watch­ ing closely how Saimun inhaled deeply, deeply, retaining the smoke in the hollow of his chest, long, returning the cigarette to Itam, who immediately took a long drag, and then, to­ gether, they blew the smoke through their nostrils, slowly, and for the moment they forgot the drizzling rain, the dirt and smell of the truck, forgot themselves; there was only the scent of the kretek, the warmth of the cigarette upon the tongue and the relaxation of the body. Itam inhaled the smoke once more, handed the cigarette to Saimun and, while scratching the back of his itching ear, with the other hand brushed off the flies, swarming in the truck, from the scabs below his knee. ‘I’m hungry ’lready, ’Tam ,’ said Saimun. ‘One more, then we’ll go get our wages. While waiting for wages we can first stop ’n eat at Mother Jom’s.’ ‘Thinking o’ food, my body’s limp, no strength left,’ said Saimun, his stomach feeling emptier and emptier, as if that emptiness was draining the last bit of strength left in his blood. He leaned back against the truck wall. Suddenly he felt ex­ hausted and very faint. Itam offered Saimun another draught from his kretek. Saimun inhaled avidly, Itam watching anxiously how rapidly the glow moved towards the end of the cigarette. As soon as Saimun finished, Itam retrieved it hastily, drew on it until it burned his fingers and then threw the tiny stub out o f the truck.

Load more

  245

Copy Link