Backscratchers,
banquets and goosebumps
Blitar is history in the raw.
Visitors eager to understand more of the Archipelago’s
distant and recent past untouched by image polishers will find rough-cut gems in
the small East Java city
The marvellous and the mundane, the profound and the crass,
the graceful and the kitsch all rub shoulders – but don’t create friction.
Blitar is the resting place of President Soekarno, the Proklamator of Independence. In 1970 his
body was banished to the inland town 170 kilometers below Surabaya by his usurper
Soeharto, fearing that a Jakarta grave would become a shrine for dissent.
In other countries such an internationally historic figure
would be weighed down with grand titles, but in Blitar he’s just Bung
Karno. ‘Bung’ is street talk for mate or
brother and gives a good feel for how Soekarno has been embraced as a man of the
people.
Blitar is more than
BK. It includes the 12th
century Candi
Penataran, the largest Hindu temple in East Java and still a revered
site – another reason to visit. Unlike
Borobudur in Central Java, Penataran has not been over commercialised. Tourists are rare, so likewise touts.
The Haul (commemorations)
marking the eve of Soekarno’s passing had a religious theme, though only through
happenchance. This year Ramadhan fasting
falls in June, which is normally BK’s month.
Otherwise the Haul was
secular, sunny and fun. Security had
nothing to do but yawn and rub their tummies.
The theme was 1,000 Tumpeng,
the yellow rice cones encircled by a landscape of vegetables and meats. This spectacular
dish is presented on a tampah, a
large woven bamboo plate, the arrangement so precise that demolition seems
sacrilege. However hunger, like love, conquers
all.
Tumpeng represent
the national cuisine, though the widely-exported nasi goreng (fried rice) holds that position overseas. Combining nationalism with religion meant fasters
could assuage the gnawing beast at 5.25 pm while giving thanks to Bung Karno
for making his people proud.
The Tumpeng were served
on red carpets laid on the roads, the banquet enjoyed by many of Blitar’s
140,000 residents. Visitors were invited
to join whatever their faith. The foods were donated, with the most lavish presentations
from the biggest government departments and corporations.
Although supposedly an egalitarian feast, the footwear left
at the edge of the carpets revealed the gap - handcrafted leather shoes at the
VIP end, battered rubber sandals in the kampong.
The gourmet gauntlet stretched at least two kilometers from
the well-preserved home of BK’s family right to his grave.
This is the sort of place you wouldn’t want to be seen dead
in - slippery marble, cracked concrete and columns devoid of art. There’s an abundance of photos and
memorabilia wanting preservation – along with the roof.
Three drip-catching buckets among the portraits told the broader
story, unworthy of a man who had taste in everything – including women.
The official tally is nine wives and 14 children, though
only Sukmawati Soekarnoputri (left) visited
Blitar on 20 June to remember the passing of her Dad.
Although not at the
official buka puasa (breaking of the
fast) the stylishly dressed daughter did watch a staged love story about her
grandparents. This had a plotline more
like a TV sinetron (soap opera) than recall
of a momentous moment, but the crowd wasn’t expecting Sophocles so thought it a
hoot.
In the play Javanese
schoolteacher Raden Soekemi Sosrodihardjo meets his future Balinese wife Ida Ayu
Nyoman Rai, overcoming religious and regional prejudice and eventually producing
baby Bung.
For three hours around
2,000 onlookers heard rousing speeches praising Pancasila, stirring songs in
Javanese and frequent shouting of Merdeka!
(Freedom!) All was jovial.
A marathon noteless
recital of BK’s life and times by schoolgirl Galuh Adriani Sulaiman preceded
elegant dancing by bare-shouldered beauties who would be whipped in Aceh for
public indecency. Such is the diversity
of Indonesia.
Further proof was the
presence of hundreds of white-clad Hindus, recognized with many Om shanti peace greetings. Indonesia has a reputation for being almost
monotheistic and at times intolerant of non-Islamic religions. But at Blitar’s Haul Muslims mixed openly and cheerfully with followers of Java’s
original faith.
Also in the audience was
Singgih Hartono,(right) a 70-year old market gardener from Probolinggo. He makes an annual five-hour journey from the
north coast just to recall the greatness of yesteryear. He was one of the few who had actually met BK.
“I was a teenage scout
and he told me we had to grow a great nation,” Hartono said. “I will not
tolerate anyone saying bad things about him. Bung Karno is our Nelson Mandela
(the anti-apartheid champion of South Africa.)
“He is still alive in my
heart. Just talking about him now gives
me goosebumps.”
If these bothered him, Hartono
could have bought a BK back-scratcher, catapult, massage sandals and other
trashy souvenirs of a statesman.
Otherwise a T-shirt with a portrait and slogan to suit every viewpoint.
The air-punching
demagogue in black glasses screaming into a microphone, the dapper diplomat
meeting foreign heads of state, the family guy with wives and kids.
This year the image is
of a friendly fellow, though the colorists had spilt the pastel paintpot giving
BK a wishy-washy look diluting his reputation.
How he is remembered
depends on the history lens used – clear-sighted visionary or devious
manipulator, hero or betrayer, despot or democrat, hypnotic orator but flawed
economist.
Blitar only knows a son
who went into the world and dazzled. The
city honors him in a way that’s neither solemn nor sad, though elements of those
emotions linger and are there to be savored by all.
Said Hartono: “Other leaders built grand
houses for themselves. Bung Karno built
a nation for his people.”
(First published in The Jakarta Post 15 July 2016)
No comments:
Post a Comment