What's not in the plan was this one event, the second anniversary of a reading community in Taman Menteng - a community I was just made aware of by Teddy. (And again, Nitha laughed at my cluelessness about it.) The other option after the orchestra was to watch Guardians of the Galaxy, but why watch something that you can watch later - either legally or illegally?
So off we went, after grabbing a dinner and feeling a little bit posh about ourselves.
The community literally named itself Komunitas Baca-baca di Taman (KBBT). Unlike its straightforward name, its history is rather murky for me. Teddy said that it was initiated by some ex-punk heads there. They ditched their old lives, collected some books, and invited gamins to read every Saturday night. The first three meetings were held in Bundaran HI. They switched place to Taman Menteng because it's quieter, it has more trees, and it's less polluted here, unlike the traffic-heavy Bundaran HI. The community then got bigger and attracted the non-members or everyone who happened to be there to sit and read with them. They make events with tongue-in-cheek acronyms: BiR (beer) that stands for Bincang Ringan (small talk), KuDeTa (coup d'etat) that stands for Kumpul dengan Teman (gathering with friends), and a discussion session called MiRas (liquor) that stands for Mikir Keras (thinking hard).
When Nitha and I arrived, the anniversary celebration had not started.
"Let's play swings!" she asked me. I obliged.
We walked to the northern part of Taman Menteng where the swings located. I laid my eyes to the pyramidal glass house. I've been told that KBBT usually takes place in front of it, so it's likely that their anniversary was there, too. But still, there were not so much activities in its vicinity. Amidst the couples on Saturday night dates, parents bringing their kids to play in the sandbox, cigarette-and-instant-drink-mix sellers on bikes, and some teenagers playing futsal, the glass house shone brightly, illuminated the park and its dwellers. From afar, where I sat on my swing set, it looked like the third world version of Louvre pyramid.
Taman Menteng was previously Menteng Stadium, a football stadium belonged to Persija Jakarta. In 2004, under Sutiyoso's administration, it was planned to be converted to be a park (the plan allegedly date back even further, during Surjadi Soedirdja's administration). It was very controversial. Some individuals in PSSI reacted with disdain. It even almost led to a conflict that almost disband Persija. 30 billion rupiah and almost 3 years later, it was finally open to public as a park.
Ten minutes passed. I said to Nitha, "I think they are getting started. Let's go there."
And there they were. There was this modest make-do stage in front of the glass house, on the side adjacent to Jl. H. O. S. Cokroaminoto. One man, wearing striped T-shirt and three-quarter jeans, played two-piece drum kit. The other man, a middle-aged man with glass, played guitar. He dressed in white Tshirt with batik scarf around his neck, singing some folks songs. A banner in black color is tied in trees. It said happy 2nd anniversary, signed "KBBT - Komazine". There were two other stand banners in white, beside those two guys playing music. One showed KBBT's motto: "Mau Pintar Kenapa Musti Bayar?" (why must you pay if you want to be smart?). The other: "Bawa Buku Buka dan Baca di Taman" (bring books, open and read them in the park); complete with a cartoon of bourgeoisie-looking giant boar in suits and top hat, reading book while stepping on the protesting humans to death. Red stars and the anarchists' Circle-As adorned both banners. KBBT is apparently a redemption, an educative facility for street people, a society of sharing, and a protest to despondent government all at once.
The books were laid on a mat on the terrace of glass house. We looked around. Most of the ones who came wore black T-shirts. The books were mostly Pramoedya Ananta Toer's. And surprisingly, the collection was very extensive. There were Mangir, Larasati, Arus Balik, Nyanyi Sunyi Seorang Bisu, Perempuan dalam Cengkeraman Militer, Arok Dedes, Calon Arang, and of course, Buru Tetralogy. Among Pramoedya's books, there were several editions of zine titled Komazine scattered.
We spoke to a man who introduced himself as Uu'. His face, his long hair, and his stature reminded me of Indonesian young philosopher, Martin Suryajaya. Not that I actually ever met Martin, but his resemblance was quite conspicuous. He manages both KBBT and Komazine. He is Komazine's all-around writer, layouter, editor, and illustrator.
Komazine is an alternative zine with strong left political leaning. The name was derived from "koma" (coma), which according to them is the most apt depiction to describe this nation: in limbo, coma, neither life nor dead. Its life force has been sucked by the corporates and the corrupt governments, leaving next to nothing to the common folks. Komazine is even older than KBBT. When KBBT was born in September 1st 2012, Komazine already issued its 11th edition. It has 16 issues to date.
"How often is it usually published?"
"It's not regular. We publish it when we're able to publish. The next edition, for instance, will have to be pushed back to October due to some problems."
I held one in my hand. It dated July 2009.
Visually coarse and crudely illustrated, Komazine hosts works and writings from Uu' and his friends. There are writings about social protests, critics to government, propaganda against capitalism. There are also poems and caricatures. And what excited me somehow were the writings about Marx and Bakunin. With all the limitations these people in Komazine have, be it educations, budgets, and literature references, they succeeded in transforming themselves into political educators for other people. This autodidact, guerrilla education is very, very admirable.
I asked if I can buy this one.
"Well, I didn't bring copies with me. If you want that one we can make you a copy. We have Twitter account. Mention us the issue you want and next week we'll bring it to you."
"Do you have the one that is for sale?"
I grabbed three issues. The young man besides me took one.
"So, how do you know Teddy?" I asked.
"Oh, he just came here one night. And we just 'clicked'"
"He was with Maesy?"
"Oh, the lady? Yeah. She couldn't stand near here, though. She had trouble breathing. Those dudes were smoking. I wasn't. I don't smoke."
"She has asthma."
Beside being used to finance its future edition, the sales of Komazine are used to fund the maintenance of KBBT's books.
"Are you not afraid if these Pramoedya books are borrowed but not returned?"
"No. We have a strict policy regarding this kind of books. It must be returned in the same day."
Nitha then asked, "What happens if it rains?"
"Oh, we're gonna save the books first. We'll wrap them, make sure they're not wet. Don't care if we are soaked by the rain."
The guys playing drum and guitar "stepped down". The birthday party was about to begin. To my surprise, one relatively new TV station also came to report. After asking Uu' for interview and for taping the event, the crew asked me and Nitha to be interviewed. Both of us declined. Nitha said to me that it's very typical for a TV station to find the photogenic ones. Apparently my blob-like appearance was camera-friendly.
"Okay, we're kinda late actually," says the MC, "most of us have gathered anyway. So let us begin!"
Like the books, the stage and its music equipments were collective good. Several people took the stage alternately. Some sang Iwan Fals songs. Some sang their own song bearing the same message of protest to government, support for the labors, and demand for social justice.
One reminded us about capitalism: "The capital is only owned by a few people!"
"Go back to Article 33!" sang one. Article 33 of Indonesian constitution is about social welfare: common endeavor based on kinship principle, ownership of sectors of production which are important for the country and affect the life of the people by the country, and utilization of Indonesian lands, waters, and natural resources contained therein for the greatest benefit of the people. The song conveyed the restlessness of the common folks seeing this nation's resources being exploited for the interests of corporates and foreign countries instead of its own people.
Mbak Tari, one of the performers that night yelled at the end of her song, "The women must fight!"
"The women must fight!" cheered the crowds back.
Socialism, feminism, anti-imperialism. What's not to like here?
One man, said to be the "director" of KBBT then gave his speech. He explained the manifesto of KBBT and its "Mau Pintar Kenapa Musti Bayar?" maxim. He said, our education has failed. He said, our education has been commodified and capitalized. He said that our government is apathetic about education, even more to the marginalized masses.
"Makan sekolahan gak bikin pinter!" (School doesn't make you smart!)
"Ya iya lah. Makan sekolah gimana bikin pinter? Makan apa lo? Bangkunya?" (Of course. How can eating school make you smart? What do you eat anyway? Its bench?) The man in batik scarf took the literal meaning of "makan" (eating) to heckle the "director." The crowds burst in cachinnations.
"Makan buku, lah!" (reading book, of course!)
"Buku apa? Buku nikah?" (what book? Marriage book?) said another. Another hearty laughter.
"Marriage has been commodified by the country!" said the batik scarf man.
"Marriage is a legalized adultery!" I said without thinking.
He conclude that KBBT is here to take back public space for public use. For better use.
"The public place is ours too!"
Next performers was Petruk. He recited one of Heri Latief's poems. After him, Uu' came to the stage and read Latief's poem from the very same book Petruk just read. I admire this community more. We live in a short-attention-span generation; the age where its youths fetishize gadgets and pop stars. This is the age where posting something on Facebook or Path is trendy, and poetry and philosophy are considered vain exercises. In the age where the refusal to learn is epidemic, who knows that our one of the beacons of classical education is in here, in this small park every Saturday night?
"The stage is all yours! If you want to perform anything, perform!"
The event continued.
"Wiro! C'mon, Wiro!"
Then one group consisting of one girl and two guys. One of them - the one wearing AC/DC T-shirt - I presumed was Wiro. They took the stage and began singing Serenada from Steven and the Coconut Treez.
Nitha and I sat on the floor. We were offered some snacks, boiled cassava, boiled banana, and oranges.
"No, thanks. We've just eaten."
I took an orange. And in a very socialistic manner, Nitha offered her Cha Cha. Some people took and shared it.
The man in batik scarf sat down near us. He introduced himself as Cibal, a member of Komunitas Kretek, a cigarette appreciation community..
"So do you know Mas Puthut?"
"Of course! We had coffee last week."
"Do you know Iqbal? Iqbal Aji Daryono?" Nitha asked.
"Yes! Do you study in Jogja?"
"Naah, I'm not. She is. In UGM."
The MC shouted, "Next, came far away from Tegal, he's gonna read a poem!" His name was Deni or Dani, I can't remember.
I whispered to Nitha, "He came far away from Tegal just to be here? Wow."
"No, you fool. He's probably from Tegal and has stay long in Jakarta." She laughed at my naivete.
Then we traded stories about our mutual friends, about Klinik Kopi in Jogja, about Komunitas Kretek and its Ekspedisi Cengkeh project, about how attractive clover was in Age of Discovery, about Magellan and Columbus.
"KomTek is not a cigarette lobbyist group. We're not from industry side. We are an appreciation group. Every May 31st, on World No Tobacco Day, we make tweets with #TerimakasihTembakau hashtag, providing counter-narrative," Mas Cibal narrated.
He then added, "KomTek Jakarta usually gather in Tebet. Do come sometime."
"I will come some time."
He went and chatted with other people. At one moment he teased a man who brought his Caucasian friend, "I love national products, not imported ones!"
They all laughed boisterously, except the Caucasian. The joke was lost in translation perhaps.
The musics then shifted from reggae to slow rock to bluesy-folk interchangeably. Most of them were their own songs, and the message about struggle remained the same. Two faces of music I listened that day. One was the classic that - while aurally sophisticated - was devoid from any resistance elements. It was pure art. The other one was unyielding voice of the working class. It was pure moving force. And I enjoyed both.
I looked again at the stage, at this camaraderie, at the grass root socialism in action. They have been down the street, joining the rally for the labors in Mayday. They even walked to Russian ambassador, campaigning for Pussy Riot to be released. Then I wondered whether our intellectual left ever embraced them. I never studied Marxism extensively, and I know that our lighthouse of the left in Indoprogress are doing very great jobs, but it itches me that our revolutionary movement has two faces. What can this writing, for instance, support our comrades in Komazine? It's too complicated, too abstruse, too pretentious to relate even for me, and especially for them. Mr. Ali Sastro beats me to it in his critic here. I dream that one day both of them can have discussions together. I dream that they can solidify our educational movements together instead of patronizing, or worse, becoming a left hegemony (which is an oxymoron).
For about 15 years, with not more than four people (Vasily Ignatov, Vera Zasulich, Leo Deutsch, and Pavel Axelrod), Georgi Plekhanov's early works were dedicated to write, to theorize, to polemicize, and to translate Marxist works into Russian. It was almost unheard, and it was not without critics, too. He was accused to divorce Marxism from its mass acts. But without his writings - as Ted Sprague from Militan once said - perhaps there would be no Trotsky, no Lenin, and no October 1917 Revolution. Building the intellectual and theoretical building blocks is of course necessary for a revolution in a country, especially if Marxism is still in infancy there. Without theories, a mass acts will be a bunch of reactionary agent provocateurs incapable of rhetoric, shaky in its ideology. And I am guilty of it, particularly in last presidential election. Frankly, in a hindsight, it distressed me to vote for a president whom I am actually sure that he will speak in a neoliberalese language, instead of obdurately staying in principle. But both Komazine and Indoprogress are both basically trying to educate the masses. Political education is difficult, but writing something perplexing and out-of-touch with proletarian life is not going to make it easier either. Maybe in this I am patronizing, too, but I believe that Komazine can use some supports from good folks from Indoprogress.
Uu' said the celebration would be all night long. Meanwhile, my friend chatted me to come over to Jalan Sabang and have some coffee. I asked Nitha if she's okay to have some coffee. She said yes.
Mas Cibal said, "There's this one good coffee in Cikini called Kopi Tahlil. Pekalongan style. It's made with nine spices. Nine! It's across Holland Bakery."
"Nice! Thanks for the suggestion. Will go sometimes." We excused ourselves to leave early.
I said to Nitha while we were walking to the parking lot, "I'm happy."
"I'm happy too," she replied while smiling, "I'm happy knowing that you have something exciting to do while I'm out of town for two weeks."
I will make sure bringing books next time.
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