Bhinneka, October 2015: Half a Century of the 1965 Genocide (English edition)

=== [Page 1] === Title: Bhinneka (2015-10) - Half a Century of the 1965 Genocide, English ed., incl. testimony of Christina Sumarmiyati [archive.org BhinnekaOct15English] Source: Internet Archive, https://archive.org/details/BhinnekaOct15English Date retrieved: 2026-10-19 OCR text (_djvu.txt) N N E BHINNEKA Please spread this magazine to as many people as possible « enocide Indonesia Half a Century after... Half a Century Genocide Since The Dutch Colonial era, we have not seen many people die lose their freedom BHINNEKA OCTOBER 2015 EDITORIAL BOARD EDITOR IN CHIEF SOE TJEN MARCHING CO-EDITORS MARY FARROW AND JOHANNES SANUSI LLUSTRATOR ANDREAS ISWINARTO RUMAH DESIGN 2A JWI MATHOVANI, JONATHAN LESMANA, HENDRA ADI. T PHOTOGRAPHER ANGUS NICHOLLS PROMOTERS DINAR A.Y, CALVIN SIE, DEDE KENDRO, JENNY ANGGITA, LARA PRASETYA, SHINTA MIRANDA ONLINE DISTRIBUTORS ABIGAIL meganabigail@ymail.com PUJI MAHARANI puj imaharani.id@gmail.com MIZAN MADANI mizanmadani@gmail.com AL HANIF al_khanif@yahoo.com ADI adiidaadiida@mail.com BHINNEKA MAGAZINE IS FREE AND PUBLISHED BY BHINNEKA NUSANTARA NGO. SURABAYA t) @BhinnekaNusanta Yayasan Bhinneka Nusantara BHINNEKA Illustration; ANDREAS WINARTO Please spread this magazine to whomever and in whatever way you can to fight against historical manipulation in indonesia. Donation can be transferred to the following account: Yayasan Bhinneka Nusantara, BankMandiri. 1420014363518 Swiftcode: BMRIIDJA 1420014363518 TABLE OF CONTENTS VICTIM TESTIMONY Ex-Women Prisoners » HARTITI >> MARIA GORETTI SUMILAH » THERESIA KADMIYANTI >> YOSEPHINA ENDANG LESTARI VICTIM TESTIMONY O A Why Did They Take My Father's Life? » BASRI BAKO >> TOGA TAMBUNAN 27 32 VICTIM TESTIMONY My Scholarship Was Revoked Because I Am a Daughter of a Communist • NINUK SETYA UTAMI COMIC Class Struggle 37 » KHARISMA JATI VICTIM TESTIMONY When the World Was Divided 44 » DATUK MAJOINDO OPINION The Loof of Silence: Finding Our Humanity in the Face of Genocide 48 » DESMOND TUTU » MARY WALD POETRY In the Women's Axiom Camp » MANUSIA PERAHU BHINNEKA OKTOBER 2015 VICTIM TESTIMONY Exiled from My Homeland IBRAHIM ISA OPINION Truth of 1965: Disturbing Peace? » SOE TJEN MARCHING OPINION Indonesian Children: Mass Violence Conservers? » GALANG BAGUS SATRIA OPINION When Literature Unveils History » YOSE RIZAL TRIARTO COMIC Propaganda Product » AJI PRASETYO 82 The Fragrant Plantungan • BANYU BENING SHORT STORY The Legend of Isa Tree » AMAR AR-RISALAH OPINION Does the Spectre of Communism Haunt Indonesia? » TEDI CHO Editor In Chief: SoeTjen Marching 135^ BHINNEKA / SEPTEMBER 201 5 EDITOR IN CHIEF Timeline: INDONESIA 1965 - 1998 1967 March Soeharto is appointed as acting President and then as President the following year, and continues in power until 1998. I October 1965 Dawn: six top generals of the Indonesian Army and one aide are kidnapped from their homes, and murdered. This incident is later known as the G30S. 7 prn: Soeharto announces that he now controls the Army and claims that the murder of the generals is part of the coup plan to seize power from Sukarno. 3 October 1965 The bodies of the generals are discovered in a disused well in Jakarta. 5 October 1965 Burial of the generals. Soeharto blames the PKI (the Indonesian Communist Party) for what happened. Propaganda against the PKI and the left-wing women's organisation (Gerwani) begins widely in the mass media. 18 October 1965 The mass murder of people associated with the PKI erupts across the country. II March 1966 Sukarno signs the presidential decree called Supersemar, the original of which is lost. Soeharto's followers claim that this document contains an agreement to transfer power from Sukarno to Soeharto. 1984 The propaganda film Pengkhianatan G30S/PKI (The Treason of G30S/ PKI) is released. Students are required to view it and later, it is screened annually on television on September 30. It becomes the most broadcast and the most watched Indonesian film of all time. 21 May 1998 Soeharto is forced to resign but escapes prosecution. His cronies are allowed to remain in power. ^ t the end of 1998, a few weeks after my father m passed away, I had a huge urge to write about his life story, M because my father was imprisoned from 1966 - 69 for his involvement in the Indonesian Communist Party, PKI. However, my mother banned me from doing that. She told me to never talk about my father's imprisonment or about the 1965 bloody incident. “The government is much better now and we are at least at peace, but if you want too much, the people in power may explode again.” My mother might have been right. After Joshua Oppenheimer's films The Act of Killing and The Look of Silence, the people in power in Indonesia have been getting more aggressive, banning discussions and film screenings across the country. This has led many people to believe that Oppenheimer's films had negative impacts on the Indonesian government's policy. The arrest and deportation of Tom Iljas, a former Indonesian political exile who lives in Sweden, underscores this argument. Iljas went to West Sumatra in early October 2015 in search of the grave of his father, who was murdered in 1965. Soon after came the banning of events at the Ubud Literary Festival related to the 1965 massacre. However, does this mean that bringing up the events of 1965 provokes negative reactions by the government? I completely disagree with this. The government's reactions so far reflect their hysteria and paranoia concerning the truth about 1965. It is the revelation of their masquerade that they are afraid of. So it is really unwise to point a finger at Oppenheimer's films or at anyone else revealing the truth about this genocide. Nevertheless, the excessive reactions of the government and apparatuses in Indonesia are not merely negative for the 1965 case. The more they react neurotically, the more publicity this incident will get, and the more people will be curious about it. After all, isn't it ridiculous that the government should spend so much effort in disbanding peaceful discussions, but not in tackling real violence committed by radical organisations such as the FPI? And why does the government never carry out proper investigations about the 1965 incident? Why is the government not concerned about people bluffing after committing brutal acts of killing (as shown in Oppenheimer's first film)? Anyone with a conscience will be able to see that the Indonesian government's actions have cast itself in a negative light: they only prove that the government has something to hide by irrationally prohibiting many events that are about to discuss 1965. Indeed, after the genocide of the people, the genocide of memories usually follows. This is what we are trying to prevent. But we cannot do this alone. We need your help. We need your participation. Please spread this magazine to whomever and in whatever way you can. { SOE TJEN MARCHING } VICTIM TESTIMONY Christina Sumarmiyati Teks: Soe Tjen Marching Christina Sumarmiyati (bu Mamiek, that is how she is called g by many people) was born in Sleman, Yogyakarta on 5 July I 1946. I started interviewing her in early 2014 via Facebook still remember the applause when I talked about women s emancipation while dancing as crazy Srikandi, the female warrior figure. I also played in ketoprak 1, and I usually acted as an elderly woman who could say whatever I wanted - this was great for me because I could speak my mind and utter any social criticism. I was indeed really active in the organisation IPPI (Ikatan Pemuda Pelajar Indonesia or the Indonesian Student Youth Association). This organisation was affiliated to the PKI. I became the coordinator in my town and I recruited many new members. We held arts events and took part in eradicating illiteracy. My father was the leader of the BTI in our town so our home was always busy with visitors from our organisations. In November 1 965, my father was arrested. I knew I would be too so I moved and never came home. They kept looking for me but could not find me but they started threatening my family. They worked together with the head of our village that called me and said that if I did not see him immediately, the soldiers would take away my mother and younger siblings. decided to come to the office of the /illage head who asked me to report twice a day at 8 am and at 4 pm. But this was mpossible because I went to university in fogya which is about 25 km from my town. 5o they asked me to come early in the morning at 6 am. After reporting to the tillage head, I went to my campus and then had to report again at 7 pm. After doing:his for a few weeks, I was still arrested after the celebration of Mother's Day on December 22, 1 965. This prison I was put in was actually: amiliar to me because I had done /oluntary work here as a kitchen attendant during the training of the organisation D emuda Rakyat, which ended on September 30, 1965. I had knowledge of:he ins and outs of this place and i even mew some of the guards here. When there was excess food in the kitchen I always shared it with the soldiers' families so was able to sneak in my father's clothes along with some money. Some of the soldiers here were quite nice:o me by returning my favour to them when 'd worked in the kitchen and gave me their eftover food too. Of course if other soldiers: ound out, we could be in trouble so they 3 n ly communicated with me using sign anguage to let me know where they left:he food and I could pick it up after they /vent home. I usually shared the food with Dther inmates especially with the children jf Gerwani women who'd followed their mothers into the prison. BHINNEKA. / SEPTEMBER 201 5 * Christina Sumarmiyati hen a Priest distributed ommunion in the prison, I did not waste this opportunity. I said to the Priest that I was a member of PMKRI (The Indonesian Catholic Students Association). I said, "I've been a member of IPPI, but now I am a member PMKRI and I have not been expelled by my university. I still have the right to study at my campus." I mentioned the name of my dean. Indeed, I did not tell them that i was a member of IPPI when i applied to university. Thanks to the help of that priest, I was released on April 16, 1966. Soon after my release, I looked for that priest and asked him to give me a recommendation so that I could go to college again. But that letter was not sufficient. I had to get letters from the police and the District Military Command as well as the head of the village, district, county and province stating that I was not involved in the G30S rebellion. Of course this was not easy but I was determined to get the letters from all of them in order to go to college again. After I was able to go back to my university, I also applied to become an elementary school teacher to help my family's income. I rented a simple room in Yogya and I had to juggle my teaching and studying. For two years I did both these tasks with hardly any rest. I had to wake up very early in the morning and went to bed early too. But I felt very happy because everything went according to my plans. I also got a scholarship from the priest who had helped me in prison. One night when I was fast asleep, there was loud banging on the door. Still not fully conscious, I opened the door and saw six men pointing guns to my face. It was around 2 am then and they grilled me with thousands of questions. They asked my full name and after I answered them truthfully, they were still not happy, maybe because they were actually looking for someone else. They accused me of lying and that I had protected guerrilla fighters. My 3 housemates had woken because of the noise but they were all very frightened as well so they kept quiet and just watched. The soldiers searched the house and found grenades and bullets. "Whose are these?" they asked me. "They belong to a guest who left the stuff here. " "Where is that person now? " "I don 't knoiv. " Actually, the grenades and bullets belonged to me. They were given by a friend of mine who was in the army but supported our struggle. He was formerly also a member of Pemuda Rakyat (The People's Youth) so of course I could not tell them his name. Indeed, after I heard that many of our friends had disappeared, I decided to participate in the guerrilla politics. I never told any of this to the officer so I firmly stood by my answer, "I don't know." But because of this, my clothes were ripped off and I was ordered to climb the top of a round marble table in the house. Naked, I was bombarded with various questions, but I kept answering, "I don't know." In the end, they were blazing with anger and burnt my hair on my head as well as my pubic hair. I screamed the name of Jesus then lost consciousness. After I awoke, they ordered me to get dressed and then handcuffed my hands and took me to the office of the district military. I was put in a cell with a man who was also handcuffed like me. In the afternoon, they took us to their office to be interrogated about the political guerrilla without opening our handcuffs. I remained silent. And when they asked about my political activities, I replied that I did not have time for that because I was really busy studying at university as well as teaching. This answer drove them crazy and they gave me a choice to confess or to be placed on top of that man. I answered, "None, because there was no option for me to choose." Instantly, they stripped both of us naked and lifted our bodies by force. We were placed on top of each other and at once I was in a complete darkness and could not remember anything else afterwards. I found myself back in my cell, still with handcuffed arms. Soon after, I had a horrible fever for 3 days. The officers decided to send me to Wirogunan Prison which was also in Yogya but not far from the district prison. After the doctor in Wirogunan prison said that I was cured, I was sent back to the district prison and was interrogated again and tortured again. So they only cured me to enable them to torture me again. If there were new inmates, they often called me and questioned me in front of them to match my answers against them. They tried to force me to admit that I was a political activist but I kept saying no. Then eight men came and stripped me naked. They held my shoulders, competed for my body and forced me to kiss their penises one by one. Their hands greedily pushed my head on their crotches. After all that, they were still not satisfied. They dragged me to the middle of the room, then laid me down on the floor and trampled on me. I tried to get strength by remembering the martyrs, especially Catherine and Saint Maximilian Kolbe. that, my hair was shaved. I was depressed, did not say anything and had no menstruation about 8 months. For one year, I was also not allowed to see my family but perhaps this was better because when my family finally came to meet me, my hair had grown so I did not look too horrible. Shortly thereafter, I was asked to work at the Commander's home to care for his ailing mother who had asthma. She really liked me massaging her. One day, the commander's daughter lost her ring and I was accused of They tried to force me to admit that I was a political activist but I kept saying no. Then eight men came and stripped me naked. BH1NNEKA/ SEPTEM8ER 2015 ' ' Christina Sumarmiyati stealing it. Of course I denied this accusation and I pretended to be sick. I told them I felt dizzy and I made myself vomit. The ring was eventually found but I still pretended to be sick because I no longer wanted to work there. I was finally returned to the prison because they considered me to be unhealthy. Of course this made me happier as I did not have to deal with further accusations from them. In prison, we sewed, embroidered and made fake buns to sell from our hair which was falling out. Sometimes we deliberately cut our own hair to create a bun in order to get additional food because the food ration was only 50 ears of corn. In 1971, I was moved to Semarang where a good friend of mine died - a young activist named Girilyantini who was a former member of I PPL She was still very young with a tremendous fighting spirit. I just tried my very best to survive because I did not want to give up to the savagery of Soeharto. I remained silent when interrogated although because of this I was more severely tortured. But later I found out how my friends who were more experienced than me could avoid severe torture. They were not silent but pointed to those who had died. After 2 weeks in Semarang, we were dispatched to Plantungan, the former hospital for leprosy patients in the Dutch colonial era. At the Plantungan prison camp, several of the women started dating the soldiers. Of course, this made many of us anxious especially when the commander approached young girls and I knew what he wanted - to make these girls spies. However, many of us were determined to fight to our death. In any way, we also tried to prevent these young girls from being used by the guards who lured them through dates to arts events and religious activities. Finally, we were also played off against each other especially between the young and older women. On October 16, 1976 during heavy rains, we were moved to Semarang. But in this prison, we were more at ease because all the officers were female. So we had no worries of being raped and after being moved to Semarang, the Amnesty International team arrived. Shortly thereafter, we were released on September 27, 1 978. Being released from the prison for us meant facing different problems - we were stigmatised as immoral, cheap, atheist women. I was certainly not young anymore after spending a dozen years in prison. Even the women political prisoners who returned with severe disabilities due to torture had failed to touch people's hearts because they had been brainwashed by Soeharto. Many women came out of prison only to see that their families and homes had been possessed by other people who did not want to have anything to do with the expolitical prisoners. Alone, without a job, insulted and condemned by everyone around them - this is what they had to cope with outside of the prison. Shortly after my release, my parents talked about wedding plans, I was shocked and rejected them spontaneously. It turned out that he was also an ex-political prisoner. In fact, his entire family (father, mother and siblings) had been taken away by the soldiers. His father died on Buru Island. For this reason, he had been in touch with my family for some time Finally, I understood my parents' choice for me and agreed to marry him. OUR CHILDREN } I worked by selling anything I could - herbs, kerosene, whatever. I also raised my children to be independent. I asked them to deliver merchandise and gave them a salary to pay for their English courses. So I said, "The course was paid by your own money" to motivate them to work harder. Eventually my business was running well and I began to track down my old friends. I wanted us to work together and encourage each other. I am determined to continue seeking justice for the female ex-convicts of Soeharto for I am burning with anger for what happened to us. On May 6, 1 980, our first child was born - Diana Gabriella Asti, and on May 5 1 982, my second child was born - Benny Putranto. I decided to get sterilised after the second child. We have always been open to my children about our pasts sc they knew who their father and mother are - the former political prisoners whc were persecuted by Soeharto. I did not want my kids to hear about us from other people. » Edited by MARY FARROW BHINNEKA / SEPTEMBER 201 5 V X ^ Christina Sumarmiyati BHINNEKA / SEPTEMBER 201 5 VICTIM TESTIMONY 14 ii c S 13 { EX-WOMEN PRISONER } Torture > Slur Sexual Harassment Text: Soe Tjen Marching My meeting with ex-women prisoners in Yogya started with Christina Sumarmiyati (Bu Mamiek) who was born in Sleman, Yogyakarta on July 5th, 1946. In her house, Bu Mamiek often meets with women victim of '65. As soon as she found out about my visit to Yogya and my plan to interview political prisoners, Bu Mamiek offered to introduce me to women in the community. I suggested that we interview women who would most benefit from having their stories published in Bhinneka magazine and we decided to go with story of women fighting for their own rights. I hope that readers can assist in spreading these women's stories and their efforts. H ARTITI I was born on July 7th, 1937, but the person who submitted my ID card to the authorities changed the date to July 7th, 1942. I joined Gerwani (Indonesian Women's Movement), because Sukarno suggested that we (as citizens) become active members of an organisation. At that time Gerwani was very active and their members were friendly and welcoming. My husband worked for a railway company and was active in the labour union. On October 26th 1965 my husband was captured and was accused of being a communist even though he had never joined the PKI (Indonesian Communist Party). I tried to look for him at the CPM (Military Police Corps) station, but they would't tell me the whereabouts of my husband. One of the officer said "That's Aidit's whore, looking for her husband". I replied “Does that mean alt women who are looking for their husbands are whores, including your wife, sir?". He was furious and threatened me, "I'll shoot you". My mother, who was the head of the community, was then imprisoned in early November. She also did not know the reason why she was being help captive. Not long after that, I was taken in. I was taken to Ngupasan police station and interrogated, "Are you in Gerwani, were you in the nude rank? Did you participate in mutilating the generals' penises?". It just happened, the sister of the Police Commander, who I knew quite well, was also held captive. The Commander said, "Whatever it is, you have to reply that you did not mutilate, nor join the nude rank”. I did what they said and because of that, they treated me a little better. Then, I heard that my husband was in Wirogunan but had disappeared. I wanted to know his whereabouts so I started looking for him. I wanted confirmation on whether or not he was alive, or if he'd been killed, and where was he killed. But, there was no answer. Nobody told me anything. BHINNEKA / SEPTEMBER 201 5 BHINNEKA / SEPTEMBER 201 5 After four months in Wirogunan I was moved in the Fort Vredeburg in Yogya. That's where I met Bu Mamiek. In the fort many people died of food poisoning after eating rotten gaplek. I was so stressed. I was transferred to Wirogunan for a week and after that, moved to Ambarawa prison in Semarang, Central Java. Then I was taken to Semarang. I was imprisoned for a total of five years. I was released in 1970, but under scrutiny. I did not dare return to my village in Purworejo and resided in Yogya. Even when sleeping, the head of neighbourhood would spy on me. It was difficult to find a job. Luckily, I sew. I ended up offering to sew dresses for people. Now I run my own business selling pillow-cases, dutch wives cases, sheets and hand stitched embroidered table cloth. If you want to make an order please call (+ 62 ) 0857 4304 7826 MARIA GORETTI SUMILAH I was taken on Friday Kliwon (an auspicious day in Javanese calendar), 19th November 1965, because I was dancing the genjer genjer (a dance related to the Communist Party). My mother was selling tongseng curry satay and I was helping her clean up. Suddenly, a truck came and picked me up. They were looking for a woman who was also named Sumilah, but she was much older and worked as a teacher. Instead they got me, the little Sumilah. Yes, they just took me. I was 14 years old at that time. I was loaded into the truck and then imprisoned in Wirogunan. Everything I had on me was taken away: money, necklace, ring, earrings - most of them were gold. Then they started searching for a mark. I didn't understand but later on I realised that they were looking for a Gerwani mark on my body. After that I was interrogated in a place called Jefferson. I was stripped naked and beaten up. I was molested until I fainted. I only had my father's handkerchief with me. When I regained my conscious I was still naked and I found the handkerchief soaked in blood. I asked them if I could go to the bathroom to wash the handkerchief. Instead, I was beaten up again. I told them I didn't know anything but they forced me to confess that I'm a Gerwani. When I asked for my cloth they told me to stand up and spread my arms and they started to look for the mark again. They beaten me up again and burnt my breasts with a cigarette butt. I still remember the pain and humiliation from when they abused me. I was moved from prison to prison. In Plantungan I met Bu Mamiek. In 1979 I was released but my youth was gone, all those years were spent in prison. My parents then betrothed me to an ex-political prisoner. We have two children, a girl and a boy, Maria Arumdiwati and Yohanes Bayuaji. I never told my parents what had been done to me in prison. They pushed me to reveal what happened but I refused to tell them anything. This is the first time that I've told my story. After hearing Bu Mamiek tell me about the sexual abuse that she had also endured I felt relieved, I felt as though I could share my story too. A few years back when I was attending a friend's funeral I met Sumilah, the teacher. Apparently Sumilah the teacher was also captured, but she was only imprisoned for four years. I got 14 years in her place. We shook hands, "I'm Sumilah". Now I run a satay stall selling curry tongseng. The stall is called “Sate Bu Milah”, it's in Prambanan close to Pegadean (auction house), near Prambanan market and trans bus stop. Please drop by my stall when you're in the area. THERESIA KADMIYANTI I was educated as a teacher and and taught at Melati kindergarten. Actually I started the kindergarten in my own house and it was under the Gerwani's wings. My dream was to improve education in Indonesia. However, that dream was shattered because i was imprisoned in 1965. Why was I impisoned? Because I joined in on cultural activities with Lekra (Institute for the People’s Culture) and S* ST BHINNEKA / SEPTEMBER 201 5 Mantan Tahanan Perempuan BHINNEKA / SEPTEMBER 201 5 I performed the Genjer genjer dance. The authorities were also searching for my father but he ran away and hid. But, when he heard that I had been captured, he gave himself in. After that, my second eldest sibling was also captured. My mother went helter-skelter and our family finance were ruined. All my younger siblings had to quit school. I was first held captive at the end of 1965 and imprisoned in Bantul. I was interrogated in camp and stripped naked. My private part was brutally fondled, I can not retell it in more detail. It's too upsetting! I was released in 1 969. A lieutenant who was a bit kind let me go, his name was lieutenant Kabir. He probably released me because he knew my father and older sibling who had also been imprisoned. I quickly helped my mother with what I could.! sold boiled sweet corn in the market more than 10 km away. I walked to the market. I had to leave home 3 o'clock in the morning. Now I produce handmade bags and wallets. If you're interested, please contact Bu Kadmi (+ 62 ) 0851 0261 8771. YOSEPHINA ENDANG LESTARI I was taken on November 27th, 1 965. 1 didn't know why I was taken. It was midnight and drizzling rain. Some men from Bupetra (military subdistrict commando) arrived and asked if I could give them information about the PKI. I was then taken to the sub-district office. My older sibling asked them, “What about tomorrow morning, it's very late now". But they insisted that I had to leave right away. There were many young men but I was not afraid, because! did not feel guilty. We were all gathered together, mostly men and just two women. The women were asked to strip naked - they were looking for the hammer and sickle mark. Of course, there wasn't one, but they still interrogated me and asked,' "You want to tumble the legal ruling government, don't you? Admit it! Do you own weapons? Why do you have callous palms?" I was forced to sign a blank paper. Without even knowing my crime I was imprisoned for 14 years. When I was released I was lucky that my family warmly welcomed me back. I met my husband in Jakarta. He was also an ex- political prisoner, from Buru. We got married in 1981. Now, I'm selling plastic to wrap food in. If you want to order, please contact me on (+ 62 ) 0877 3914 0301 Translated by ATI KRISJANTO, reviewed by CATHERINE COYNE BHINNEKA / SEPTEMBER 201 5 WHY DID THEY TAKE MY FATHER S LIFE? { TOGA TAMBUNAN’S Introduction In 2010, while visiting the '65 political prisoner victims in Tigalingga, one of the districts in Dairi regency, I was introduced to Basri Bako, who told me his life story. While recounting his story, I could feel his soul pulsing and see the unfolding layers of emotion while he wiped off the tears rolling down his cheeks. I could feel his deep bitterness and suggested that he give witness in writing for the sake of human rights. Moreover, until now, the mass media has not revealed enough about the massacre of the victims linked to the '65 tragedy in Tapanuli - North Sumatera. Aside from his note, he attached his hand-written copy of an article on his father, published in a tabloid (SIRA) from his region (Dairi-Tapanuli), in 2012. At the same time Soe Tjen Marching was collecting essays on the theme "Half a Century 1965 Genocide". I submitted Basri Bako's notes along with the copy of the SIRA article At the end of April 2015, Basri Bako sent his simple write-up entitled ”A Short History of My Family's Life Before and After 1965". His story was written on note paper, half folio. He wrote in big characters and the contents consisted of a list of chronological events. His inner turmoil was not reflected, which was very different from when he spoke to me directly during our meeting. BH1NNEKA, / SEPTEMBER 201 5 ' ' Why did They take My Father's life? Why did They take My Father’s life? S. BHINNEKA / SEPTEMBER 201 5 basri bako s Testimony O n Thursday, May 2,1951.1 was born in Tigalingga, a village in North Tapanuli, as the second child of four. My father is Humala Bako and my mother is Fatimah Pasi. Father was born in 1924 and in 1946 he married my mother. Since there were often riots in Pardomuan, father packed up his family and moved to Tigalingga. In this village father worked as a belasting (tax) collector. My father was strongly against the PRRI (Revolutionary Government of the Republic Indonesia) uprising in 1955. He believed it was better to stay united with Bung Karno's government in NKRI (The United Nation of the Republic of Indonesia), even though at that time propaganda to support PRRI was very aggressive and filled with hatred towards Bung Karno. His life was threatened by PRRI in the midst of hostilities between central government troops or Republic of Indonesia to eradicate the PRRI rebel troops. Together with several of his best friends, who had the same views, father moved to Sidikalang. For his own safety, he often spent the night in military housing, armed with a pistol to protect himself. My father was strongly against the PRRI uprising in 1955. He believed it was better to stay united with Bung Karno's government in NKRI In 1957 I began my first year in elementary school. During that same year, father often went to Tarutung, the capitol of North Tapanuli district where he became a Member of Parliament; however, I do not know which faction he belonged to. Even though he adored Sukarno, father did not agree with PP10 which implied that Chinese descendants should be cast out. He sympathised with the Chinese and that stance differentiated him from the others, who tended to support PP10. Probably because of his fervour and his ability to state his opinion clearly and simply, the people’s forum appointed him as the delegation head, which consisted of eight community leaders, to conduct discussions with the North Sumatera regional government and to push for the establishment of Dairi regency as a separate regency from its head in North Tapanuli. Due to that agenda, father became much busier. In 1960, when I was in my third year of elementary school, we moved to Sibolga. That move came about because father was promoted as the head of PKI (Indonesian Communist Party) Tapanuli regional committee and the headquarters was in Sibolga. The delegation's efforts succeeded. In 1964 the Home minister, at that time, Sanusi Harja Dinata, announced law no. 1 5, 1964 about the formation of the Dairi regional regency second level autonomy commencing on January 1, 1 964. The days following that, father became even busier in Sidikalang, which was assigned as the capital of the Dairi regency. He had to prepare the regency governance, governing tools and the concept for the establishment of Dairi regency. After R.N. Maha was elected as regent and Walmantas Habeahan became the regional area secretary, father returned to Sibolga. That was prior to the event, which by its perpetrators is called G.30.S (the September 30th movement). Bung Karno referred to it as Gestok (the October 1st movement). In early October 1965, Sibolga's military began arresting citizens who were known as leaders and members of PKI, but my father managed to escape arrest. With his friends, Tokli Rambe and R. Boru Sitorus, he hid in the mountains for about a month. However, our family was held hostage in his place, and we were detained inside the Sibolga's DPRD (Regional House of Representatives) building, close to the Simaremare post office. another one with a fractured skull. Somebody said that women were raped. All of our family members and my parents' close relatives in Sibolga, totalling nine, were all held prisoner. Nobody was left behind at home. After a period of time, I was allowed by one of the officers to go home and get rice. I found our house ransacked. Books were thrown all over the place and everything left behind was randomly scattered around the house. Then, I heard someone moaning in pain; when I went out of the house to see, Pipin Silalahi was being kicked by an officer and other people until he collapsed. My tulang (uncle) was also beaten until he could no longer move his arms and legs although he still looked alive. Since he could not move, they just dragged him. Pipin Silalahi was my mother's brother, whom I refer to as uncle. I ran to the prison to inform my mother and when she requested help for uncle Pipin to be taken to a hospital, nobody wanted to help; instead, my mother was also beaten. In that place of detention, there were a number of local residents with broken legs. Babies were crying. There was a prisoner with his eye ball hanging out of its socket and In that place of detention, there were a number of local residents with broken legs. Babies were crying. There was a prisoner with his eye ball hanging out of its socket and another one with a fractured skull. Somebody said that women were raped. 77 BHINNEKA / SEPTEMBER 201 5 * Why did They take My Father’s life? Why did They take My Father's life? BHINNEKA / SEPTEMBER 201 5 Not long after that, I again heard someone moaning in pain. It was my father; several people were beating him while they dragged him along. It turned out, he was captured in Batu Lobang, an area on the way to Tarutung. His body was covered in blood. A pistol was discharged next to his ear. He was asked to strip off his shirt, and then one of the officers threw it at us and mocked "Take this for a keepsake". Father was imprisoned in that battered condition and he was in a coma for a month. They just left him without giving him any treatment or medicine. I brought him food, whatever we could give, just to keep him alive. Each time I brought food, before I met my father, the guard would slap me. When father regained consciousness one morning, he said, "Tomorrow, my son, do not bring me rice anymore, because tonight at 1 0 o'clock we will leave; we will be taken away to who knows where”. I passed the message on to my mother and we all cried. The next morning, we heard news that the night before dozens of prisoners were loaded onto several trucks and their eyes were covered with black cloth. Each truck was filled up with prisoners. After that, we never heard any more news from father. His life along with the others were taken away. All of them just disappeared. I was still in my second year of secondary school. His body was covered in blood. A pistol was discharged next to his ear. He was asked to strip off his shirt, and then one of the officers threw it at us and mocked “Take this for a keepsake”. After those events, we were ordered to leave Sibolga and return home to our village in Dairi, without any transportation money. We were just boarded onto an oplet (mini bus) and told to leave. In that mini bus, the conductor continuously hit my head as he told me to move every time a new passenger got on, until my head was aching and swollen. The mini bus stopped at Balige whereas Dairi was still a long distance away, so we just stood by the roadside near a rice field. It was seven in the evening. The surroundings were quiet and dusk was turning into darkness. We were all stunned and did not know where to go or what to do. An old man who was passing by and heard crying, approached us and asked, "Why are you all here? Who are you?” After mother told him briefly what had happened, the old man took us to the community house, and brought us porridge and cassava. My swollen head was rubbed with some kind of medicine. The next morning, the old man helped us get on mini bus no.1 7 heading to Sidikalang and at eight o'clock in the evening we arrived in Sidikalang and immediately headed to my grandfather's house on my father's side. Grandfather was divorced and remarried, and since grandfather's wife did not want us inside the house, we were only allowed to stay under the house which was on stilts. Grandfather had a big argument with my step grandmother about that but in the end, he took us to my mother's younger sister's house; however, her husband, my uncle, was afraid to accommodate us. Grandfather then decided to take us back to his house. For two years we lived there under the rule that we had to run into the bush every time we heard a car coming. When my father's mother, who had already remarried, heard that we staying at grandfather's house, she immediately came to pick us up and bring us to her house. Once we were in grandmother's house, we could once again enjoy the delicious taste of rice, even though only half a portion per person, and then to fill up our stomachs we ate sweet potatoes. Over the last two years we had not touched any rice. My mother did her best to support us by cultivating the land my father inherited from his parents. My father was first in the line of inheritance. We, the four siblings, helped mother cultivate the land. Flowever, our farming efforts were stopped by my father's step brothers, as the second and third in line of inheritance. They told us that we did not have any right to the land as we were a communist's children. Father's stepbrothers sold the land to a criminal organization and that's how they managed to get rid of us. They even had the heart to drag my sister to the Sidikalang's court of law - she was accused of occupying land as a squatter and thus, taking over other people's land. She lost; the land hoodlums won the case. In 2013, I went to Sibolga and set aside some time to visit Haposan Siregar's parents, one of the persons who was detained in 1965. I only met Haposan's wife, who did not know the whereabouts of her husband after he was taken away by an officer. She only heard news from several people that all of the people who were taken during the G30S event, those who were taken out of the prison by officers, had been killed in a gruesome manner; some of them were killed on the bridge facing Barus and the others on the Aek Raisan bridge facing Taruntung. At that time, people passing the road on those bridges saw dried blood smeared all over the place. As I mentioned earlier, my father was the one who fought for Dairi's regency status, though until now, during each Dairi regency anniversary, my father's name is never mentioned. I do not intend to start a feud with anybody, I only want to know, dear people with high status, why was my father's life taken away? Where was he killed? Wasn't my father a member of the Regional House of Representatives from a legal political party? If my father was suspected to have a criminal link, or to have...dear people with committed a political crime, why has it not been investigated and brought to a court of justice? status, was my father's life taken away? Where was » Translated by ATI KRISJANTO and reviewed by PATRICK he killed? Wasn 't my father a member HOUTERMAN the Regional House of Representatives from a legal political party? VICTIM TESTIMONY MY SCHOLARSHIP WAS REVOKED BECAUSE I AM A DAUGHTER OF A COMMUNIST NINUK SETYA UTAMI Mas 1 Suprih (Prih Setyo Widodo) was still in my mother's womb when my father was taken away by soldiers. My other brother Haryono, better known as Tavip, was not even six months old yet. Tavip was a name given by Pakde 2 Parto, our neighbour who was taken to Nusakambangan in the following days - "I named him Tavip from the words 'Vivere Peri Coloso' because he was born in a dangerous year." My father Soetardjo, also known as Inthuk, was arrested by RPKAD (The Indonesian Army Special Forces) my mother pronounced it 'erpekad 1. Just like our neighbours and other family members who had been arrested, my father did not know what he did wrong. My father, who was a tailor, did have several customers who joined the PKI 3. However, because of this, my father was also considered a communist or a PKI member. My mother was traumatised every time she saw men in uniform with the exception of her brothers in law who were medical personnels. Pakde Minto and Pakde Karno were known more as Chief Assistants of Medicine rather than soldiers. After my father was arrested, the slight glimpse of military uniform frightened my mother - "When the arrest happened I was held at gun point. They ordered me to squat. I held mas Tavip. My body was shaking. I did not dare to cry and did nothing when the RPKAD soldiers ransacked our home, took our rice, eggs and clothes. They took all our gold too.” o ur father had already been arrested and our neighbour, Pak 4 Parman, who was a cadre of the PKI was dragged out of his house. My mother said that later on, his legs and hands were tied to a horse and dragged around the road passing our house several times. My mother still remembers how Pak Parman screamed in pain when the horse ran passed our home for the first time. Later, he moaned softly. Finally, he made no sound at all. His body was destroyed because he had been dragged to death. After witnessing such a horrific incident, my mother was depressed and had to be hospitalised. The two daughters of Pak Parman are still alive, both were married off to army personnel by his brother. "People said they were marriages of convenience for their safety," said mother. Pak Parman’s daughters (Mar and Pling) were only infants when their father was killed. They were eventually adopted by a soldier named Hadi. THE NECESSITY TO STEAL When I was in Elementary School, my father told us about his imprisonment while sewing. Father said that at the beginning of serving his time in prison, the room was so full that every prisoner sat on top of each other even while they were asleep. "Every bone in my body felt broken,” he said. The toilets were also crowded with people. □ ay by day, there was more space in the prison because hundreds of people died from hunger, pain or torture. People fought over the clothes of those who died. People who survived were tortured continuously. Pakde Prapto's back was bent as a result of beating. Pak Prapto (Suprapto) was known as a Chief of the PKI in Talang Village, Sukoharjo (Central Java). Pakde Harto was the eldest sibling of my father and he was never arrested. Pakde Harto soon moved from Talang Village to Baron, Solo, when the massive capture of people who were accused of being involved in the murder of generals in Jakarta took place. A close friend of my father who was also a former political prisoner told me that the prisoners ate lizards, cockroaches, grasshoppers and other insects or animals they could find to fill their stomachs. "Roastedrat was delicious, but the most delicious was stolen chicken, as long as we were not caught," said my father's friend who biked everywhere. BH1NNEKA / SEPTEMBER 201 5 BHINNEKA / SEPTEMBER 201 5 rt c "Stealing was a must for every prisoner to overcome their hunger," my father told me. They even had to steal the plants they had planted themselves to survive. Those who were caught were beaten severely, being stepped on, or anything the warden wanted to do to them. One time, a prisoner wanted to commit suicide so he let himself be caught stealing food. Unfortunately he was brutally tortured before he died. The letter regarding the release of political prisoners from temporary custody mentions my father's number - 8887/A7/Djateng. I assumed that the number was my father's prisoner number. The letter also mentions the start date of the custody in Nusakambangan on November 20 th 1 965. However, there was no information that my father was sent to Buru Island - “Maybe they thought I was someone else. Indeed I was sent to Buru Island and suddenly was sent back to Nusakambangan.” There was indeed a lot of administrative mess at the time, even though it concerned the lives of people. Roasted-rat was delicious, but the most delicious was stolen chicken, as long as we were not caught. PROSTITUTION My mother and father often told me about our neighbours or their family members who were tortured to death. One of them was Pak Atmo Ledung. He was shot in Bacem Bridge. His wife, Atmo Ledung, became a widow and tried to make a living for herself and her children by giving massages. Once I asked her to massage me and she mumbled, “Your mother is much luckier than me.” My mother told me that when their husbands were detained, some members of our extended families had to become prostitutes to earn money. '"A 1 was not your uncle's son. 'X' had to marry a soldier so her kids could eat. One of your aunts had to become prostitute after her husband was captured.”