Chapter One - Richard Lewis
Chapter One - Richard Lewis Chapter One - Richard Lewis
"Mak, remember when I asked you who Luhde Srikandi was? When you were selling your songket to Tina?" She narrowed her eyes and worked her lips as if chewing betel nut. "The CIA spy. She and that man with the big nose and the camera." "Mak, I know who Luhde Srikandi was. I figured it out." Mak squatted on her haunches, wrapping her tattered scarf around her shoulders. "Have you done your homework? You always put it off to the last minute and then you expect me to help you." But there was something cunning to her addled mind, shrewd intelligence pricking through those rheumy eyes. "I thought it was Mother at first," Nol said. "My father would do anything to protect her. But some things didn't make sense, and other things made more sense." He worked the reed again. Click-clack. "Your songkets were famous. You went around the island selling them. You could visit everybody, anywhere. Nobody would think a thing. Your songkets gave you access. They allowed you to do your job. As Luhde Srikandi." She squinted fiercely. "Torture me, but I won't say a word." "You were my father's favorite relative. My sister said he adored you. He would have done anything to protect you, just like he would Mother. My guess is you and him had long discussions in this granary on Marxism and water rights and whatever else you talked about." Mak picked her nose. "He wouldn't believe. He was a half-revolutionary." "And Mother knew who you were. She knew you were Luhde Srikandi. She's kept that a secret all this time." "Why does she have an electric iron now? What's wrong with charcoal one? Next thing you know, she'll get an electric ice box and that machine that cooks your food using magic rays." "It's called a microwave, Mak." Nol eyed her. Spruce her up a little, teach her a mantra or two to chant, and she would make a great backdrop to a yoga health center, the wise elder from whom Nol had learned the ancient secrets. "Nah, Mak, listen to me. Do you know anything about herbs and traditional medicine?" 208
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS The bloody trauma of 1965 remains to this day a dark bruise on Indonesian psyche. Growing up in Indonesia, I absorbed much of the myth and mystery and murk, as did everyone who lived through that time. You knew who among your neighbors did the killing, and you knew others who'd lost their families or livelihoods, and occasionally in private you heard stories from both sides that rushed out like bitter waters, but you also knew not to talk openly about any of this. While I underscore the fact that my principal characters and the principle setting of Batu Gede is entirely made up out of my imagination, I did draw on this lifetime of osmosis. I also read the standard works, both old and new, liberal and conservative, on the 1965 coup and counter-coup. Rarely has such a deadly upheaval of this magnitude been cause for such wildly divergent interpretations. I would especially like to thank Dr. Saskia Wieringe, whose book SEXUAL POLITICS IN INDONESIA, pulled together several stories I'd heard into a different context than that of the New Order's official version of events, and brought into focus a major element of the novel. The author can be contacted at richard at richardlewisauthor.com b 209
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"Mak, remember when I asked you who Luhde Srikandi was? When you were<br />
selling your songket to Tina?"<br />
She narrowed her eyes and worked her lips as if chewing betel nut. "The CIA spy.<br />
She and that man with the big nose and the camera."<br />
"Mak, I know who Luhde Srikandi was. I figured it out."<br />
Mak squatted on her haunches, wrapping her tattered scarf around her shoulders.<br />
"Have you done your homework? You always put it off to the last minute and then you<br />
expect me to help you." But there was something cunning to her addled mind, shrewd<br />
intelligence pricking through those rheumy eyes.<br />
"I thought it was Mother at first," Nol said. "My father would do anything to<br />
protect her. But some things didn't make sense, and other things made more sense." He<br />
worked the reed again. Click-clack. "Your songkets were famous. You went around the<br />
island selling them. You could visit everybody, anywhere. Nobody would think a thing.<br />
Your songkets gave you access. They allowed you to do your job. As Luhde Srikandi."<br />
She squinted fiercely. "Torture me, but I won't say a word."<br />
"You were my father's favorite relative. My sister said he adored you. He would<br />
have done anything to protect you, just like he would Mother. My guess is you and him<br />
had long discussions in this granary on Marxism and water rights and whatever else you<br />
talked about."<br />
Mak picked her nose. "He wouldn't believe. He was a half-revolutionary."<br />
"And Mother knew who you were. She knew you were Luhde Srikandi. She's kept<br />
that a secret all this time."<br />
"Why does she have an electric iron now? What's wrong with charcoal one? Next<br />
thing you know, she'll get an electric ice box and that machine that cooks your food using<br />
magic rays."<br />
"It's called a microwave, Mak." Nol eyed her. Spruce her up a little, teach her a<br />
mantra or two to chant, and she would make a great backdrop to a yoga health center, the<br />
wise elder from whom Nol had learned the ancient secrets. "Nah, Mak, listen to me. Do<br />
you know anything about herbs and traditional medicine?"<br />
208
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