Chapter One - Richard Lewis

treacherous Communists, the Army quickly relabeled the September 30 Movement, or
Gerakan Tiga Puluh September, into Gestapu. Soeharto and his loyalists moved to crush
the ringleaders and then the Communist party leadership. The Communist Party, which
had been accelerating to power via political process, was cut off at the knees and then
gutted. When the bodies of the slain generals were found, there spread like wildfire lurid
stories of how they'd been tortured by the Gerwani women. Gerwani became a symbol of
treachery and wanton wickedness.
The Army, with the vengeful help of nationalist and Islamic organizations, began
in October to cleanse Java, to secure the Communists down to their very roots. It was a
methodical process. All transportation between the islands was halted. Bali was cut off
and locked down. While Java was cleansed, as bodies by the hundreds and thousands
filled gullies and floated down the island's rivers, Communists in Bali began to renounce
their party and admit their sins. The daily newspapers were filled these remorseful and
fearful confessions.
Madé Catra continued to teach at school. He was not PKI, and he had never
joined leftist unions. Surely he was safe.
Until Mantera came around one morning late in October to visit Arini in the
family compound. He had with him an edition of the Harian Rakyat newspaper, which he
showed to Arini while standing at the gate. She refused to let him onto the property.
"That," Mantera said in his soft, cultured voice, while pointing to the name, "is
your husband. The land reform he talks about is my land. It is in a Communist Paper."
"The article counsels common sense," Arini replied, as her young daughter
clutched her skirt. "If anything, it is to your benefit."
"A Communist news organ," Mantera repeated. "You know I am PNI. A
nationalist leader. I am in charge of this district. I am keeping," he said, speaking softer
yet, "a list of names."
Arini said nothing.
Mantera folded the newspaper. "I can put your husband on the list or I can keep
him safe. It's your choice."
"I want you to leave," Arini said.
Mantera glanced down at the girl. "Such a lovely child you have." He put his
hands together and took his leave.
He was back the following day, and the next. Each time, his intrusion extended a
just that little bit further into the family compound, to the garden wall inside the gate, to
the garden pavilion, to the porch of the simple room where Catra and Arini slept.
Every time Arini resisted, Mantera would mention his list of names, growing
longer each day. He would smile and pinch her young daughter's cheek and give her a
small gift.
After he left, Arini would take this gift—a hair brush, a tin bangle, a colored
pencil—and throw it into the kitchen hearth.
One morning in early November Anak Agung Mantera again stopped in to see
Arini. This time his gift for her was a half kilogram of precious white cane sugar.
"Perhaps you have not yet offered me coffee because you are ashamed you have no
sugar," Mantera said. "Two spoons in my glass, please. Thank you."
Wordlessly, Arini retreated to her kitchen hut and made him a glass of coffee,
from the tin of powder which she was hording for Catra's morning cup. For Mantera, she
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