Yasmin Ahmad: Confronting prejudice head-on

Friday, September 29, 2006
Hera Diani, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

Clad in a white, embroidered kebaya (blouse) and colorful batik cloth, noted Malaysian filmmaker Yasmin Ahmad moved animatedly as she sang a couple of lines from Jablai, the hit song that appears in the current Indonesian film Mendadak Dangdut
(Suddenly Dangdut) by director Rudy Soedjarwo.

The lyric says Pergi tamasya ke Binaria/Pulang-pulang ku berbadan dua (Going to

Binaria for some fun/And leaving there pregnant).

"I passed Binaria this morning, and there was this public toilet. I thought, this is probably the place where they (people in the song) did it," said the outgoing lady, laughing. "The song is so funny. Ooh, I'd love to see the movie."

Yasmin, 48, has a strong affection for Indonesian films, which she said were much more progressive compared with those in Malaysia; this fondness was on constant display as she talked one Friday afternoon at the lounge of Mercure hotel, Ancol, North Jakarta.

She said she wanted to make a film here, for the country has a richer culture and its history is so much longer.

"I've told my friend here, you don't have to pay me. Just pay for my hotel and food, and give me a pack of cigarettes a day. I just want to make a film here. You don't even need to put my name on it," she said, in between puffs on her Camel cigarette.
As flattering as it sounded, it could be just another case of "the grass is greener on the neighbor's side", for contemporary Indonesian cinema contemporary films are in such a sorry state, with products that undermine viewers' intelligence.

Yasmin's work, on the other hand, is a poetic series that strikes the chords of humanity with great sensibility, and, at the same time, makes great use of visual technique to tell a story -- but not just for the sake of producing pretty, but ultimately empty, pictures.

Her first feature film, Sepet (Slit Eye, 2004), although somewhat slow, is an innocent and moving portrayal of an interracial relationship between two teenagers in Malaysia, one Chinese and one Malay.

It won an award for Best Asian Film at the 18th Tokyo Film Festival in 2005, as well as Le Grand Prix du Jury at the 2005 prix Creteil International Women's Film Festival in France.

Her sophomore effort, Gubra (2006) -- a colloquial Malay word for "anxiety" -- showed more technical prowess, and it weaves delicately two disparate stories on love, betrayal and prejudice.

Before Mukhsin was screened later that night, Yasmin warned: "Thank God the hotel ballroom's full of mosquitoes; they will keep you from falling asleep. The pace is even slower than Sepet and the story is the simplest of all."

Mukhsin turned out to be the most poetic of all, with just perfect pace and rhythm, about a heartwarming tale of first love between a preteen boy and girl set in a Malaysian kampong.

Written and directed by Yasmin, all three films orbited around the same character, Orked, played by Yasmin's muse, young Malaysian actress Syarifah Amani, and Orked's family -- a tribute to both legendary Japanese filmmaker Yoshijiro Ozu and Yasmin's loving and "crazy" parents ("they're in their 70s but still shower together and have sex, and chase one other around," she said.)

Her parents were one of the reasons Yasmin switched to filmmaking ("I want to tell them I love them"). Yasmin was already a household name in the Malaysian advertising scene when she forayed into film and made Rabun (2002), a feature for television based on real life when her father had eyesight problems.

She still works as executive creative director for Leo Burnett advertising agency (the screening of Mukhsin was part of the Citra Pariwara ad festival here), because, she said, one couldn't make money from filmmaking in Malaysia.

"The good thing about the advertising scene in Malaysia is that it's not bitchy. It's a small community that is mutually supportive," she said. Her expression turned dark for a second, adding, "The film scene, however, is very bitchy. It's a pathetic industry."

Sepet and Gubra might have been lauded as best films at the Malaysian Film Festival but condemnation was ripe back home.

She was labeled a corruptor of culture and religion for mixing Malaysian language and culture with others (English, Chinese, Indian) and her films are accused of having "pornographic elements".

Malaya University even held a seminar titled "Does Sepet Deserve to Win Best Film at the Malaysian Film Festival 2005?", which one Malay daily described as "narrow" and "as if full of hatred".
To an outsider, the accusations were baffling because the most pornographic elements in the films showed couples hugging, and scenes where women wore strapless sarongs at home.

Gubra is emotionally powerful as it showed a peaceful facade of Islam, including a story of a nonjudgmental cleric and his wife and their attitude toward their prostitute neighbors.

"They asked why the cleric and his wife were so nice to the prostitutes when they should have battled immorality," she said. "They were also angry because of a scene where the cleric patted a dog."

She said she deliberately infused Chinese and Indian language and culture because Chinese- and Indian-Malaysians are treated like second-class citizen.

"Because nobody has ever said it in a film and a novel that to be Indian and Chinese in Malaysia is sometimes like being in love with someone who doesn't love you back: They have no country; they don't feel they belong to China and India. They love Malaysia," said Yasmin, who is married to a Chinese-Malaysian.

The older generation of filmmakers, meanwhile, was so threatened by Yasmin and younger filmmakers that they badmouthed her to government officials and even paid reporters to write bad things about her.

The mainstream filmmakers, as Yasmin called them, even went as far as to tell moviegoers who were about to see Yasmin's films that tickets were sold out when in fact the theater was still half-full.

"They hate me: Ho Yuhang, Amir Muhammad and other new wave filmmakers. We don't hate them. Yes, we're embarrassed about their films but we don't hate them.

"If they make money from their films, good for them: Live and let live. But they're not the same. They got even more upset if our films were featured at international film festivals," she said, adding a swear word.

"The real reason is money -- they're afraid we will bite into their income."
She said all the condemnation hurt, but she would simply move on and make films. Her upcoming project is a film about a dark moment in Malaysia's history when Chinese and Malays killed each other back in the 1960s.

Another project she has pursued is about working-class women in rural areas in Indonesia.

One thing's for sure: Through her films, she wants to show people what's possible.
"It seems there's a trend of anger and hatred in films and in the world, to the point that models on catwalks don't smile anymore. To be arrogant and dismissive, to rip a person apart -- that's cool?

"This guy takes a knife and sticks it in his gut -- that's so cool. I'm thinking, 'what's so cool about it?' I'd like to persuade people that compassion is cooler."

Labels: Film, profile

Posted by hera at 8:21 PM | Permalinks | Comments

Adapting Koran to current realities

Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Hera Diani, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

For a 34 year-old, Muslim preacher-cum-gender activist Siti Ruqoyyah Ma'shum has been through more than most women her age in the marital department.
Growing up and living in the strict Islamic boarding school surroundings of the small, poor regency of Bondowoso, East Java, Ruqoyyah was forced to marry a son of her father's cleric colleague when she was barely 15 years old.
Arranged since she was a toddler, the marriage, however, ended in divorce as her husband and his family could not accept the fact that Ruqoyyah was as a better and more popular preacher than her ex-husband, she said.
She moved on to husband No 2. A well-educated politician and seemingly pious, he turned out to be an abusive partner who also practiced polygamy. The second marriage also ended, but not after Ruqoyyah said was a long, agonizing and discriminatory process in the religious court.
For many women it is often through these bitter, first-hand experiences that they realize the continuing discrimination practiced against their sex. The difference with Ruqoyyah, however, was she wanted to make sure other women around her would not have to go through the same fate.
Ruqoyyah uses regular Islamic gatherings not only as the venue to spread Islamic teachings but also as an opportunity to campaign for gender equality and equity.
"I regularly teach all-woman congregations, from children to the elderly. Apart from preaching, I also make myself available to them for consultations on anything, from religious issues to marital problems. This is where I familiarize gender issues to them," said the softly spoken activist.
Islamic boarding schools are places where the patriarchal culture is deeply entrenched, but Ruqoyyah benefits from her position as a respected figure, given her experience in preaching.
"It's a matter of a good approach. We can't just use sophisticated gender terms -- we need to explain the substance. We must not confront (the ulema), but instead be very well-mannered, and respectful -- especially to the elderly clerics," she said.
Ruqoyyah's approach has won the heart of many male clerics and she is often invited to preach to all-male congregations as well. Despite a strongly chauvinistic culture, with polygamy practiced widely, many ulema were not resistant to her progressive ideas, she said.
However, other ulema had challenged her by attacking her campaigning when they shared podiums, attempting to discredit her and her ideas.
"I usually come to them, asking them not to attack me in public, because that means deceiving people. There is a change, somehow. At least some preachers don't use sexist humor that much anymore," she said.
Ruqoyyah first rose to prominence as a preacher in 1989 as her then father-in-law saw her potential and nurtured her, teaching her public speaking and sometimes asking her to be his substitute.
"My late father was well educated; he graduated from Al Azhar University, Cairo. But he still bowed to the patriarchal culture in the boarding school," said the mother of a teenage son.
Her father-in-law's attention, however, sparked her first husband's and relatives' jealousy, who said it was unethical for a woman to outshine her husband.
Other challenges also came from women who, being mistresses or other wives, condemned Ruqoyyah's progressive ideas.
"I let them be. I just let women know their own rights and the consequences of their choices. I don't teach women to be harsh to their husbands, or ask second wives for a divorce.
"On the other hand, if women accept polygamy, I always tell them not to whine or speak ill of their husbands but accept their situation," she said.
Ruqoyyah fought back against her second husband who, she said, frequently beat her, did not give her financial support, sexually assaulted her and eventually married another woman while he was still married to Ruqoyyah.
Only then did Ruqoyyah realize how insensitive and sexist the legal system was here to a woman filing for divorce. The process was lengthy, the judges and lawyers smirked at her, and when the process was finally completed after three years, there was no alimony -- the foregone conclusion when a woman files for divorce.
"That's why many women who are financially dependent on their husbands never file for a divorce, no matter what. There are many weaknesses in our legal system with regard to women ... But I wanted to at least show (people) that nobody is above the law and no one can treat women unjustly," Ruqoyyah said.
Single now, she is actively involved in several organizations, including Puan Amal Hayati and the Wahid Institute, which are affiliated with Nahdhatul Ulama (NU), the largest Muslim organization in the country, as well as women's organizations such as Rahima.
The frequent training and workshops provided by these organizations have made her articulate in conveying her ideas about the issues of contemporary Islam. She also hosts a regular radio program on Islam and gender, travels around the country and has also been to the United States for an interfaith dialog.
Her hometown, the poor Prajekan village in Bondowoso, however, is where her heart is.
Asked about the toughest case she had ever been involved in there, Ruqoyyah said it was when a grandfather raped his granddaughter and the fifth-grader became pregnant.
The girl's family came to Ruqoyyah for help as there was no institution helping to empower women in the town.
Ruqoyyah advised the family to allow the girl to abort the child, although local ulema condemned this as haram (unlawful and sinful).
"Sometimes local figures are insensitive and follow the (religious) texts too strictly. But this girl was so young, she had a long journey ahead of her. We couldn't marry her to the father, either, as it was her grandfather, and besides, the pregnancy was only one month old," she said.
A clinic they went to objected the abortion at first, but then agreed to do it free of charge, as the family was poor.
The girl is still at school and is a regular member of religious gatherings led by Ruqoyyah.
The grandfather still lives in the area, although he has been ostracized by the local community.
"People need us to provide solutions. In a case like that, we cannot preach. I often tell my congregation that religious texts cannot be changed, particularly the Koran. But the interpretation can and must be adapted to current realities," she said.
Her sincere wish is to return to her school, delayed because of her forced marriage.
"I always tell my son when he's lazy to go to school, look at ummi (mom); I'm old but I'm eager to go back to school," she said, laughing.

Labels: Islam, profile, women's right

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Home is where the hurt is for Daw San San

Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Hera Diani, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

It is not unusual for House of Representatives legislators to hold hearings late into the night, especially when high-profile cases are involved.
On one particular evening recently, however, only four of 50-something legislators from House Commission I on defense, foreign and information affairs, showed up for the hearing.
The rest failed to have the courtesy to welcome two Myanmarese prodemocracy activists, Daw San San and Khin Ohmar, who came all the way from their place of exile in Mae Sot, Thailand, to meet the legislators.
It would not have been so pathetic had San San been in her late 30s, like Ohmar. However, San San is 73 years old: Clad in blouse and sarong, she looked like an abandoned grandmother in a room full of empty chairs.
But rarely is any grandmother as relentless as San San, a long-time prodemocracy advocate who has visited many countries to seek support in the struggle against the military junta or to receive awards on behalf of Daw Aung San Suu Kyi.
San San demanded Indonesia and other countries oppose Myanmar's turn next year to hold the chairmanship of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), as it will tarnish the countries' credibility.
"I know, some of you may be thinking that, at my age, I should be at home, enjoying life with my family. I wish for that too, but unfortunately, what is happening in my country does not permit that luxury," San San told the legislators.
In an interview with The Jakarta Post a few days later, she said the situation in Myanmar was deteriorating, both democratically and economically.
"There are problems of drug trafficking and terrorism. Activists are being harassed and arrested. As the largest democratic country in the region, I asked Indonesia to lend a helping hand," San San said in simple English, in tones stripped of emotion.
A former marine biologist, San San's active involvement in politics was heightened during the People's Uprising against the junta in 1988. Back then, she was a deputy director in the labor department.
"I was elected as president of the labor union. But then I was forced to resign," she said.
In the 1990 general elections, at which the National League for Democracy (NLD) led by Nobel laureate Suu Kyi won 81 percent of the seats, San San became an elected member of parliament.
The parliament, however, was not convened. Instead, the military started harassing elected members, forcing them to resign, arrested many others and declared many political parties illegal.
San San was among those arrested, but was given some sort of amnesty by the Home Affairs Ministry; she was released in 1992.
"They issued a statement, saying that I was not a danger to the state," she said.
However, after she was elected as NLD vice president for Yangon division in 1997, the amnesty was withdrawn. She was arrested with other prominent NLD members after attempting to hold a meeting with Suu Kyi.
For at least the first three months of her 25-year sentence, she was held in prison without access to her family, doctors or a lawyer.
Reports described her cell as having a very low ceiling, with only a tiny window, and prisoners sleeping on bamboo mats on the ground. The toilet was a muddy bowl in the center of the room and was emptied only once a day. The women were often forced to sit cross-legged on the ground with their heads bowed.
San San drew a picture of the prison as a place where rats were rife.
"It was a brick building, but my room was wooden, not made of brick and concrete, so rats could come and go. I then asked for a cat. But it was so small, it was afraid of the rats. So, I often caught them myself," she said, laughing.
As an elderly woman, she managed to escape physical torture, but things were different for male activists.
"They would cut their work and sources of earning money so that they would not be able to support their families. They would also be beaten mercilessly, or be put into some sort of well full of human excrement. That's why there are many women activists in Burma -- it is much more difficult for men," said San San, whose husband, a civil servant, died in 1994.
In 2001, already 69 years old, San San was released due to her failing health. She was suffering from hepatitis.
However, she was warned by the authorities that if she were to get involved in politics again, she would have to settle the prison debt.
"Of course I didn't listen to them. I tried to continue working because I felt the mandate of the people was more important," she said.
In 2003, after the Depayin massacre, in which many people were killed and many others, including Suu Kyi, were arrested, San San decided to flee to Mae Sot, Thailand.
"I dressed like an old man. I told the border security officials that I wasn't feeling well and couldn't leave my car at the checkpoint," said San San.
In Mae Sot, she lived with fellow activists, with financial support coming from the United States and Australia. The latter granted her political asylum and provides her with a travel document similar to a passport.
Asked if she had been afraid at all, San San said she was sometimes afraid that members of her family might suffer and be arrested. That was why she never contacted her five children and six grandchildren.
"My family did not know I fled. I never make contact with them because the authorities always tap my telephone. Even some of my relatives are agents," said San San.
She did not wish her children to become activists, saying that one activist was enough in her family.
"My eldest sister used to be involved in politics. She was not forced to resign, but after 20 years to 25 years working as civil servant, she is still a low-ranking official," San San said.
Her strong facade, however, crumbled a little as she recalled her family.
"I try to forget.. but sometimes in the afternoon, as the sun is setting ... I miss my grandchildren," she said, looking into the distance.
Asked again if she was exhausted by the struggle, San San only laughed. Clearly, regardless of her state of health or exile, she would not cease to strive for freedom in Myanmar.

Labels: Burma, profile

Posted by hera at 12:57 AM | Permalinks | Comments

Deneuve spreads her Gallic charm

Sunday, November 28, 2004
Hera Diani, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

Like Sophia Loren and Elizabeth Taylor, Catherine Deneuve is better known for her radiant beauty than setting the screen on fire with her acting fireworks, especially outside her native France.
Once given the honor of being the model for Marianne, the symbol of her homeland, Deneuve is often held up as the epitome of feminine beauty by noted photographers, and is the muse of her friend, the fashion designer Yves Saint Laurent.
The focus on her physical attributes belies the fact that she is one of the most productive French actresses, barely taking a hiatus from film production since she started her career in 1960.
There have been several international forays, such as the cult classic The Hunger with David Bowie and Susan Sarandon; notable among her recent screen outings was 2000's Dancer in the Dark by Danish director Lars Von Trier, in which Deneuve acted alongside pop star Bjork.
In conjunction with the screening of 2002's Au Plus Pres Du Paradis (Closest to Heaven), which she starred in, Deneuve made a brief visit to the capital last week, before heading to Bali for a vacation.
She appeared fashionably chic in a white suit and pants at a media conference here, her thick blonde hair now short, beautiful but not in an intimidating way.
Speaking in both French and English, she lacked any diva attitude, instead displaying a Gallic nonchalance with a cigarette twirling between her fingers.
That prompted a question, and Deneuve admitted she felt responsible when women took up smoking after being influenced by their film idols.
"I feel responsible, I try not to smoke so much and slow down," said Deneuve, 61.
But she found the move to ban smoking in films in the United States to be a great hypocrisy.
"What about alcohol? There's a greater danger in it (than smoking), and now people who drink are getting younger, yet drinking in film is not banned."
Unlike some of her peers, she is not content to sit on the political sidelines.
In fact, she is an activist whose causes include HIV/AIDS, cancer and combating drug abuse, as well as helping abandoned children.
She has been a goodwill ambassador for UNESCO, is involved with Amnesty International as well as campaigning in favor of women's rights, including on the right to abortion, but against capital punishment, which she does not consider a deterrent to crime.
"It seems as though there is a step back in the rights of women even in developed countries," she said of women's rights. "Therefore, women have to always be aware and careful."
As for capital punishment, she said: "I ask the countries who are still practicing it to reconsider the death sentence. It's a barbaric act. There's no guarantee that crime will be abolished with the death sentence. Even if somebody killed someone, the death sentence is not a positive answer."
Although she can talk the talk on such controversial issues, Deneuve is still a Parisian girl at heart, who loves to talk about fashion, and her friendship with Saint Laurent.
"He has such amazing intuition and talent. We collaborated on several films where he handled the costumes. You see costumes for the actor is, like, the first element in immersing oneself in a character. And he did it brilliantly."
She confessed that she loves to spend on fashion.
"I love the term chic because it's for everyone, very personal. It doesn't take a luxurious outfit to be chic. I love it because now fashion is more democratic, it reaches out to everyone."
However, Deneuve is not in favor of another fashion -- the nip/tuck.
"I'm realistic, I won't go against time. Let's just be natural and don't act against nature. When my time passes, so be it."
She was born Catherine Dorleac to actor parents; Deneuve is her mother's maiden name, and her elder sister, Francoise, who died in a car crash in 1967, was also an actor.
She made her film debut in 1960 with several films, but her breakthrough came in 1964 with the highly acclaimed musical Le Parapluies de Cherbourg (The Umbrellas of Cherbourg), followed by the psychological horror movie Repulsion, directed by Roman Polanski.
She has worked with several noted European directors, such as Polanski, Francois Truffaut, Luis Bunuel, Raoul Ruiz and Manuel Oliveira, in diverse roles, from several of ordinary women, to one losing her mind (Repulsion) to a bored rich housewife who turns tricks during the day (Bunuel's Belle de Jour).
Other highlights from her career include Le Dernier Metro, for which she won France's Cesar award in 1980, and later Indochine (1992), the tale of life in colonial Vietnam which brought her an Academy Award nomination.
The plodding Au Plus Pres Du Paradis may not be her best work, but the film shoot was quite memorable as it had been scheduled to be shot in New York City when the 9/11 tragedy happened.
"It's a romantic comedy, but it was difficult to get in the mood because of the situation. We also needed to relocate to Canada, building a New York setting in a studio there."
Deneuve's latest film Les Temps Qui Changent (The Changing Time), directed by Deneuve's longtime friend Andre Techine and costarring Gerard Depardieu, is due out in France on Dec. 15.
She said there was no stopping her from working in films.
"I'm not 100 percent content with my career, it's still moving on. But so far I like the films that I've done, I'm happy because many people appreciate them.
"There is no special plan, but there are projects for upcoming movies."

Labels: Film, profile

Posted by hera at 1:22 AM | Permalinks | Comments

Linda Christanty: The need for critical thinking

Sunday, October 24, 2004
Hera Diani, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

Winning a prestigious literary prize provides more of a burden than pride and joy for writer Linda Christanty, who frets that her works still lack much in quality.
Her reticence is despite the praise of the jury of the 2004 Khatulistiwa Award, who said her short story collection, Kuda Terbang Maria Pinto (Maria Pinto's Flying Horse), was "unpredictable, multidimensional, meaningful and able to adhere to writing technique and theme".
Linda, 34, said she found it hard to turn her ideas into simple but meaningful sentences.
"By simple, it doesn't mean I don't pay attention to structure, syntax or semantics. But I want the flow and the language to work well, and readers can feel the emotion right away, even if they cannot relate to the story," said Linda, who shared the prize for works of fiction with author Seno Gumira Ajidarma.
"I still cannot do that."
It did not seem to be the insincere lament of a winner trying so hard to be humble. Instead, Linda really did feel that she did not deserve the prize.
She also showed concern that she would fall into the trap of some fellow writers, believing in their own hype and becoming smug.
The local literary scene has perked up in recent years with the emergence of young writers, many of them women, and more works published than a decade ago.
However, as Linda put it, it has become a tumultuous market.
Many people write but take the art lightly, barely paying attention to logic, structure and characterization, resulting in mediocre works lacking intricacy and depth.
It does not seem to dissuade the critics and literary experts from hailing the next great literary hope, and showering them with hyperbolic praise.
Women writers, a rarity at one time, have been singled out for particular attention, to such an extent that author and columnist Ayu Utami even thought she was overrated.
It may be part of the well-intentioned effort to encourage young writers, but it often misleads readers into buying the vaunted works, only to be disappointed.
There is also the danger of the rise of second-rate writers elevated by one or two literary figures.
"There are the flowery blurbs from noted authors, and then what? Does that mean everybody has to write like that? Critical readers with knowledge will know which one is good, but I'm afraid there will be people who think that 'Oh, so this is what good writing is like', and then they start to write like that," said Linda, who studied Indonesian literature at the University of Indonesia.
Young writers need to be encouraged, but there also must be fair criticism of the literary offerings.
"Some say that readers will learn how to be critical. But I don't think that's true. We need to create a scene where fair criticism is given, so that readers will be critical and writers learn how to write well," she said.
Unbiased criticism is not yet an accepted part of the culture of this country, especially in the close-knit community of writers and publishers.
In a rather embarrassing move, a book shop owner-cum-writer recently slammed a noted critic in a long-winded full page opinion piece in leading Kompas daily. He declared that writers should follow their artistic calling without paying attention to critics, nor heavyweight literary method and theory.
So, no place for literary criticism, but let's just flog some trite works by those with overblown literary pretensions?
"I don't agree with that," Linda said of the piece. "Writers need to learn their craft, the language and the theory. Because the language is the tool of expression."
Born in Bangka island in southern Sumatra, Linda has written short stories, her favorite medium, since she was a teenager.
Her breakthrough came when she was one of the 10 winners of the short story competition held by Kompas in 1990.
Titled Daun-daun Kering (Dried Leaves), the story tells of a young woman left at loose ends after her boyfriend dumped her.
Kuda Terbang, meanwhile, consists of 12 short stories published in various publications, from Kompas to Media Indonesia and a+ magazine, from 2002 to 2004.
The title story is the strongest, about the myth of a woman chief commander riding a flying horse, told by a military man to a stranger.
It was inspired by a similar tale of East Timor.
"I just want to tell the story of war from the point of view of a soldier. A soldier usually comes from a poor farming family, who would like to escape his fate by being in the army. But in the end, in war and violence, they have to face their family."
An activist during Soeharto's regime, Linda's writing often has political themes, such as telling of an activist traitor, bomber or war.
She is also interested in homosexuality, inspired by her friendship with a lesbian who is now out of the closet.
Linda's writing may still lack intricacy and insight, but it is unpretentious and earnest.
She is now working for the Indonesian representative of the Brussels-based European Center for Common Ground, writing a radio soap opera called Menteng Pangkalan.
"It is aimed at educating the public about how to resolve community conflicts through dialog rather than violence," Linda said.
She also would like to try writing a novel.
"The short story cannot always accommodate an idea as a whole, it only works as fragments. I figure the idea will be more thorough and more intricate in a novel," said Linda, crossing her fingers.

Labels: literary, profile

Posted by hera at 1:29 AM | Permalinks | Comments

Nial puts his heart and soul into jazz music

The Jakarta Post
6 July 2003

So, define jazz, Nial. Nial Djuliarso straightened his back, while his

fingers played aimlessly with a green straw.

"Jazz is freedom of expression," said the 22-year-old jazz pianist

firmly.

Well, isn't rock about freedom of expression, too? He hesitated a

moment.

"True, but jazz has more substance. Well, rock also has substance, but

jazz ... (pause) gives.. It's good for the brain because the music requires

extra thinking. It's good for the heart, soul, body and mind," he said.

"It happens in other genre too, but jazz is more intense and visible in

terms of musicians' interplay. Especially when you play live ... The energy

is like, wow!"

The student of Boston's Berklee College of Music spoke in the enamored

tones of a teenage boy prattling on about Britney Spears, his face glowing

with passion.

He still resembles an adolescent, with his self-admittedly "nerdy" look:

Glasses, pale skin, skinny, dressed in a Walt Disney dinosaur T-shirt and

sneakers.

But Nial has the composure and determination of an adult. And while he

is confident, for sure, he never comes across as arrogant, not bothering to

trash pop music or sniping that the music of Kenny G or Norah Jones is not

jazz.

"They're jazz, only lighter. That's good too," he said.

And while his peers are stuck in their Holden Caulfield moments, Nial is

soldiering on along on a career path rarely chosen by Indonesian musicians.

The journey dates back to when he learned how to play the piano at the

tender age of three, and grew up watching his father play the bass and

altosaxophone in jazz clubs all over Jakarta.

The real turning point, however, was watching a performance of jazz

guitarist Pat Metheny at Senayan Sports Stadium in 1996.

"The jazz bug hit me that night! It really touched my heart. I was so

impressed by the improvisation, the sense of freedom and the expression,"

he said.

That was when he decided to do what his engineer father did not by

pursuing a life of music.

"He's the most talented among my children. I love playing jazz, but my

parents didn't let me have a career in it. So, when Nial said that he

wanted to become a professional jazz musician, I fully supported him,"

Nial's father Pudjo Djuliarso said.

Pudjo then sent his second child, 15 years old at the time and a budding

tennis player ("I got too tired"), to the home of jazz in the United

States.

After spending his high school years in Tennessee, Nial later earned a

full scholarship at Berklee, where he first took a major in jazz

arrangement and production but switched to jazz performance last year.

"It turned out I prefer performing to doing the behind-the-stage thing.

Performing is more fun. We can directly express ourselves," said Nial, who

admires the likes of Red Garland, Wynton Kelly and Oscar Peterson.

Living in the U.S. helped nurture his talent and experience. He

performed at the Sarasota Jazz Festival in Florida, and at the prestigious

North Sea Jazz Festival in the Netherlands with his own Nial Djuliarso

trio. In 2001 and 2002, he won the Hilton Head Jazz Society Scholarship

Competition in South Carolina.

Last year, Nial was one of an elite group of 28 young musicians from

around the world accepted by Jazz Ahead, a week-long jazz residency program

which was initiated in 1993 by premiere jazz vocalist, the late Betty

Carter.

The residency program, held at the John F. Kennedy Center in Washington

D.C., is a a venue to pass on the jazz tradition by bringing together young

emerging artists with experienced performers.

During his school holidays recently, he played several gigs in Kuala

Lumpur, Jakarta, Bandung and Yogyakarta.

After graduating next year, Nial plans to move to New York to work and

continue his studies.

"I want to sharpen my skills. When I get what I want and am satisfied

with what I'm doing, then I'm going to be back. I was born here. There are

some wishes to develop the jazz scene in this country," Nial said.

He added that except for noted jazz player Bubi Chen, there is no

Indonesian who plays pure jazz.

"I don't know why. People here mostly play smooth jazz, which is not bad

if it's played well.. Like Herbie Hancock, he is a crossover, a versatile

musician. He also plays smooth jazz."

Nial hopes more people take up jazz in this country so that there would

be rhythm sections when he returned home.

"I'm usually accompanied by bass and drum, because musicians here are

not used to playing jazz that I like to play, which is swing jazz. The

interplay in swing is more than the kind of jazz that is ting-ting-ting-

ting...

"Everyone can do that ting-ting-ting-ting. But swing is more difficult,

we have to be really focused," he said.

He criticized musicians who build up their own ivory towers and alienate

the audience.

"I guess that's the wrong attitude, because we need an audience as they

buy the tickets. We have to balance the music and the audience. Maybe

sometimes we have to compromise a little. But I guess if the music is good,

we hope that the audience will feel it."

Do you listen to pop, Nial? MTV?

"Not really. But I know Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Justin

Timberlake. I don't really listen to them, though, so I can't really

comment on them. But I guess musicians nowadays have to be versatile and

open minded if they want to survive. If I had an offer to play pop or funk,

as long as there's no other offer (for jazz), I'd take it.

"Because I believe that there's something that we can take from other

styles, which can be combined with what we've learned. That'd be good."

And so there Nial was, on stage at a cafe in Central Jakarta, looking

neat in a long-sleeved shirt, pants and loafers. His father stood against

the wall, watching, although many chairs were still available in the

audience.

Occasionally, Pudjo's cheers and excited clapping sounded through the

audience's polite applause. He also got on stage to make sure the piano was

finely tuned.

Through all his prowess at the complicated compositions, it was Nial's

unrestrained passion that showed through.

Labels: music, profile

Posted by hera at 2:03 AM | Permalinks | Comments

James Nachtwey, a sensitive war photographer

Sunday, November 03, 2002

Hera Diani, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

The only disappointing thing about longtime war photographer James Nachtwey, 54, is that he can't give a satisfactory answer on how to cope with the tragedy of war.

In a soft and careful tone, and with a faint smile, he tells say that you just have to deal with it.

"I just work it out in my own way. Talk about it with colleagues, deal with it myself. There are many powerful emotions involved and it's easy to become overpowered or paralyzed. I just channel it into my work," Nachtwey said in a recent face-to-face interview.

When asked if he has ever felt afraid at all, he replies: "I know what fear is. It's a very natural emotion. The important thing is to manage it so it doesn't paralyze you."

The American photographer is exceptional in many ways, both in his profession and as a person.

As a war photographer, many consider him the bravest, the best and the busiest. He has not missed a single war anywhere in the world in the past 20 years.

His extensive photographic essays have mostly appeared in Time magazine, as well as in books such as 1989's Deeds of War and 1999's Inferno and exhibitions all over the world.

Beside obvious excellent skill and sensitivity toward his objects, the thing about Nachtwey is that he is prophet-like. Always sporting a white shirt and jeans, with gray hair, he is soft-spoken, rather shy and very well-mannered.

It was his composure that won the heart of Switzerland film director Christian Frei. Frei made a documentary about Nachtwey titled War Photographer, which received an Academy Award nomination this year.

"He's very committed and brave but hardly fits the cliche of the hard boiled war veteran," Frei said.

Nachtwey and Frei were here to attend the screening of the film at the Jakarta International Film Festival (JIFFest). A touching scene occurred when they were reunited with Sumarno, a handicapped man who in 1999 was a subject of Nachtwey's photo essay.

Previously living with his family along a railroad track, Sumarno and his family now led a better life, thanks to people's generosity after seeing Nachtwey's photographs.

Nachtwey, however, refused to talk about the details, saying that: "I want to be modest about it. Besides, it's no good for Sumarno to receive such publicity."

Struck by images of the Vietnam War and the American Civil Rights movement, Nachtwey decided to become a war photographer, with his first assignment being the IRA hunger strike in Northern Ireland in 1981. After that, he was unstoppable.

A contract photographer with Time since 1984, he has devoted himself to documenting not only wars and conflicts but also critical social issues all over the world.

"I want to continue the tradition where photography has a social impact. To create pictures powerful enough to overcome the diluting effects of the mass media and shake people out of their indifference," he said.

Nachtwey has received numerous honors, such as the Robert Capa Gold Medal (five times), the World Press Photo Award (twice), Magazine Photographer of the Year (six times) and many others.

One of the honors from the World Press Photo Award was an image of a lynching in Ketapang, West Jakarta, in November 1998. It was a frightening shot of a man looking straight at the camera while slaughtering another man lying on the ground.

While aware of the possibility of getting killed, Nachtwey tried to persuade the man not to kill the other, which of course failed.

Nevertheless, he stayed and took a shot, remembering photographer Robert Capa saying: "If your picture's not good enough, you're not close enough."

The most horrifying crime against humanity that he has ever encountered, however, was the 1994 genocide in Rwanda where an estimated 800,000 minority Tutsi people were slaughtered by Hutu militia.

"It was probably the most incomprehensible story. It was impossible for me to understand. I was very depressed after that for a long time. It was very hard to recover," he sighed.

However depressing, Nachtwey never indulges in escapism to forget the terrible things he sees. Hans-Hermann Klare, the foreign editor of German-based STERN magazine, commented in the film that while Nachtwey's colleagues were having a cold beer after work, he would just sip a glass of water and then go to sleep.

"Well, I don't have any particular crutches," he laughed faintly. "I'm a human being, I enjoy other people, friends, family. I don't have any escape route. I don't use drugs or drink too much or anything like that. I enjoy things that normal people enjoy."

But he denied Klare's claim that as a long time war photographer, Nachtwey is in danger of feeling bulletproof.

"That's exaggerating," he smiled. "I don't feel bulletproof at all. I think he (Klare) was concerned about me, and it's very nice of him. But I understand that what happened to people around me can happen to me too."

Nachtwey has been hit with shrapnel three times, beaten by police and certainly had many close calls where people near him were killed.

However, the most significant effect of the war to him physically is the gradual loss of hearing, due to continuous exposure to the sound of explosions.

"It started back in the 1980s, but it's getting a little worse now. I can hear you now because we're in a quiet room. But like in the screening, with a lot of people in the room and background music, I can't hear them.

"It's not totally gone, but it's very impaired. It sometimes can be a little dangerous because sometimes I don't hear the bullet," he said calmly.

Will he continue? He nodded firmly, saying there is a purpose to his work, that is to make a change.

"It's a role as a visual historian. The value to show people what's happening. I choose this position to commit myself," said Nachtwey, who admires late American photographer W. Eugene Smith.

His commitment is also due to the fact that the media gives too much attention to lifestyle, celebrities, fashion and entertainment.

For the commitment also, he chose to stay single.

"I've chosen to push myself very hard continuously. It would've been very difficult for me to become a family man and do the work to the extent that I've done it," said Nachtwey, who runs Seven agency with six other photographers.

How does he maintain his energy and sense of humanity?

"I try to eat well, stay healthy. The sense of humanity comes from being involved with people. I'm inspired by people I once witnessed, like Sumarno. I'm inspired when seeing them struggling and enduring in terrible circumstances while maintaining love for each other.

"Do I ever get numb? Quite the opposite. I get more sensitized."

Labels: profile

Posted by hera at 12:48 AM | Permalinks | Comments

Alam: Singer who blends hardcore with 'dangdut'

Sunday, August 18, 2002

Hera Diani, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

It is easy to chuckle, or even roar with laughter, over the performance and stage act of dangdut singer Alam.

First of all, his music is not the usual hip-shaking ol' dangdut (popular local music with strong Arab/Indian influences). Rather, the 21-year-old newcomer has combined loud heavy-metal guitar and a hoarse voice with a dangdut beat.

With comical lyrics, "Mbah dukun sedang mengobati pasiennya" ("A shaman is healing his patient") followed by a loud spit, it is enough to turn heads or to make you scratch your head.

And then there's the act. Isn't Michael Jackson's moonwalk strut way too awkward now, despite the comeback of the 80s wave?

But Alam imitated the strut, joining older sister Vety Vera, already a well-known dangdut singer, to become dangdut singers with Jacko's dance steps.

"I'm not imitating, just adapting it. Yes, I admire Michael Jackson, because he is not just dancing. Through his trademark movement, Michael can produce a distinguished voice," said Alam, who also idolizes Jim Carrey.

But with the music, the lyrics, the voice and the act, Alam is now the hottest item in the country's dangdut scene -- also in Malaysia -- and has been dubbed "King of Metal Dangdut".

While dangdut album sales were on the decline after the economic crisis hit the country in 1997, Alam managed to sell over 400,000 copies of his debut Mbah dukun album.

"The album was released last February when the city was inundated by floodwaters. But thank God people liked the album," said Enok Erny Ibrahim, Alam's mother, producer and manager.

Erny said beside the unique sound, the success was due to a combination of his son's "cool attitude, relatively educated background and good looks", although she admitted that Alam was highly spoilt, strongheaded and a bit indisciplined.

In person, however, Alam is blunt, confident, pretty smart and knows what he wants to do with his life.

"I don't just want to have a singing career. I want to have control over everything. We can hardly do that in the dangdut industry. We have to sing like this, have to do that ... and it becomes soulless.

"I want to control the concept of the whole package, the songs, the video clip or even direct (the clip). Maybe other people will do them but the concept comes from me. I want to be like (American metal band) Slipknot and also.. who? Yes, Linkin Park. They do everything by themselves. And the result is good and has a solid concept," Alam said, while endlessly puffing on a kretek cigarette.

Although he now has firmly chosen to stick to the genre, in his younger years, he did not even care about it despite huge exposure to it at home as his sister is a dangdut singer and his parents own a dangdut orchestra.

He claims to be a true metalhead. Back in his hometown in Tasikmalaya, West Java, he once owned a band and led a gang of young people who were crazy about loud, headbanging music: Punk, heavymetal, hardcore, grindcore and so on.

With them, Alam did some crazy stuff, including stuffing certain leaves ("No, not marijuana") deeply into his nose, passing them through his pharynx and pulling them out of his mouth.

"The leaves were covered with blood. It's a common technique, you know, so we can create a deep, hoarse, throaty voice," said Alam, who has won several singing festivals.

His style from head to toe was purely punk: Stiff hair (with wood glue), leather outfit and earrings.

"I didn't pierce them though, otherwise I couldn't become an imam (one who leads Muslim prayers). In that sense, thanks to my parents' education, I'm quite religious," said Alam, swearing in the name of God that he never took drugs.

His interest in dangdut grew when accompanying Vety in recording sessions. He playfully sang some dangdut songs, but with a different vocal technique, a metal-inflected one.

Erny saw her son's potential, contacted some songwriters, asked Alam to record his album and the latter said yes.

"I used to sing loud and fast songs and bang my head. Then suddenly, I listened to dangdut, which is slow ... but it turned out good to listen to. It's just a bit too slow, so I turned up the volume and the beat," said Alam, who quit his studies in mechanical engineering at Bandung's National Institute of Technology (Itenas) because "school was too boring".

Now he is involved in the industry he has some opinions to offer. According to Alam, dangdut can never be really big and penetrate foreign shores because the artists are very competitive.

"They envy each other and try to bring each other down. Why has rock gone global? Because the competition is fair, unlike in dangdut. I've started to experience some ugly stuff," he said.

"And why did album sales decline? Because it has always been the same music, the same lyrics ... if not love, it's about divorce. It had become too monotonous."

With a second album already under way, Alam says he is more involved in songwriting and producing.

"It's harsher, louder, more punky, more solid in concept. I collaborated with a lot of younger musicians now, my old friends," he said.

By the way, did his friends laugh or ridicule him because he had turned to dangdut?

"No. But then again, I was the leader of the gang so they wouldn't dare to," he said unemotionally.

What if the metal-dangdut thing does not sell anymore?

"I think if we make music for the sake of it, put all of our effort and soul into it, it can always be good and will sell. Rock, and also metal has its ups and downs, but it will always exist. Dangdut, on the other hand, has rich elements. So, I will continue combining them. I just have to strengthen and sharpen my character."

Labels: music, profile

Posted by hera at 12:52 AM | Permalinks | Comments

Chan's key to magic: Originality

Thursday, May 30, 2002

Hera Diani, The Jakarta Post, Jakarta

Malaysian magician Thomas Chan cannot help but be flirtatious. If you are amazed by his magic tricks and ask for the secrets to them, he will always reply with "I'll tell you if you'll be my girlfriend".

When asked about his age, he says "That depends on what you prefer, younger or older men."

His interests outside magic? "Golf, chess and women."

His statements are followed by laughter, but you know that he is not really joking.

"Oooh, I'm so naughty sometimes, it gets me into trouble," laughed the 42-year-old magician.

Even his reason to learn magic goes back to when he was 14 years old and he wanted to impress the opposite sex.

"I can't sing, I have a terrible voice. I've got two left feet, and I can't dance. So I took up magic."

Did it work? Chan said yes, although his wife is no longer interested and has became bored with all his tricks.

Chan is an award-winning magician who has traveled around the world, amazing people from all walks of life, including the president of the United States and the Queen of England.

He started out by winning local and regional competitions, but his big break came when he was asked to perform in Las Vegas. Chan was hired by the Hyatt International group to become its corporate magician for seven-and-a-half years in a job that took him to many countries where Hyatt owns hotels.

He later joined Shangri-La for another six years.

Throughout May, he has been performing at The Park Lane Hotel in South Jakarta.

Chan's signature illusion lies in "table magic", especially card tricks, which are considered to be the most difficult of all magic skills to master.

"I actually started as a stage magician with props and all. But later on, I found it much more challenging to become a table magician, entertaining guests from table to table," he said.

"Stage magic is about 30 percent skill and 70 percent presentation. You just buy a box and some equipment and not much skill is required. Whereas table magic is the opposite. The audience is very very near, so you have to be very very fast. It's certainly much more difficult."

He then showed me several tricks. He shuffled the cards and asked me to take one, take a peak at it, put it down and rub it. And ... voila, the card changed.

As if reading my mind and Asian way of thinking, Chan said that there was no such thing as the supernatural and spirits were not involved in magic.

"They are all tricks and skills that anyone can learn. It's just a matter of how fast your hands are and also misdirection, like when I tell you to look at my left hand, I then do something with my right."

Chan retired four years ago from being a magician. His recent performance here was only "a favor to an old friend, the hotel manager".

One of the reasons was his two daughters, aged 10 and two.

"My oldest daughter had to settle down and go to school instead of constantly moving. She also became really spoiled. You know, we always traveled first class, staying in hotel suites where she could just call room service anytime she needed something. That kind of life is very plastic," he said.

"Another reason was I wanted to be the best and I've become one. Until today, no group of hotels hires corporate magicians. So there's no challenge anymore."

Chan is back in his home country, running some businesses, including a magic school, which was opened two and a half years ago.

"In the first year, though, I was very disappointed because I wanted to teach children, but 80 percent of my students were adults. Corporate companies sent their people there to learn magic as an ice breaker."

Chan said that he was willing to open a magic school here in Indonesia if there was a sponsor.

"Some seven to nine years ago, the standard was not that good. Now, it has improved a lot. I've met your top magician Deddy (Corbuzier). He's good. The important thing is he brought magic back to life in this country."

The key to becoming a great magician and having international recognition, he said, was originality.

"You can copy other magicians, but you don't follow it as exactly," he said.

He referred to Japanese magicians, who he said have the second highest standard of magic in the world after the United States.

"They have great mentality. Only the best magician can go out and perform. The Japanese are fantastic because they invent their own tricks. They can even fool me sometimes."

Chan recalled the best part about being a magician was amazing people and making them happy.

"Every gig is memorable because of that. Magic is also good because it teaches you to have a lot of confidence. It teaches you a way to communicate, and it especially teaches you logic."

The interview ended then. We thanked each other, shook hands, said goodbye and then there was a question from him: "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Labels: profile

Posted by hera at 1:03 AM | Permalinks | Comments