Homage to Harian

Today Ojak Silaban posted pictures of Sihol and her children on Facebook. I look at the beautiful children. Sihol’s grandmother would have been proud of them. I remember weaving with her one afternoon when the sound of church bells came wafting over the rice field. Ompu ni Sihol sat up and took notice. Someone had died. It was a child. We walked over and visited the mourners and I saw the deep sadness in Ompu ni Sihol’s face. I do not know how many of her own children she had buried, but only one son had survived. How thrilled she would have been to have had these healthy, smart, great grandchildren!

The ‘Back to the Villages’ expedition with Rangsa ni Tonun had to include Ompu ni Sihol’s village in Harian Boho to pay homage to the woman who had provided ‘The Weaving Song, the theme song of the film. I had taped her in 1980 while she sang and reeled yarn to demonstrate the use of the iraniran, or Batak reel. Thirty years later, Suarasama made a musical arrangement for it and performed it for our film.

On 16 September, 2013, our boat sailed toward Harian Boho and we docked at  the empty marketplace.

See how barren the hills have become. They used to be covered in forest growth.

Se

MJA Nashir took these beautiful photographs of our approach to Harian Boho and our boat at the dock.

It wasn’t market day and the morning market was over, too. The last time Nashir and I had been there was 2010. We knew our way to the coffee-tent, but it was a very hot day and there was almost nobody there. That had been one venue that we had considered for showing the film. There was no need to say anything to each other. We knew it wouldn’t work.

We started to climb the path to Ompu ni Sihol’s village. It was a path that I used to love to walk in the cool, verdant forest. It took me through rice fields first and then along a stream. I had had to wind my way around megaliths and huge tree roots. How I wish I could have given my team that experience, but the modern path is flat and paved and straight. And so hot under the tropical sun! So many of the Batak villages have used heavy equipment to shift the rocks and have poured concrete mortar between them to make flattened stretches that are easily negotiated on foot and by motor vehicle. Modern, maybe, but no longer delicious.

We finally found Ompu ni Sihol’s village, deserted and empty. Her son’s house is still standing and he was there with his very young granddaughter. 

Ompu ni Sihol's son's house. It was once a traditional Batak house but had been cut down to make a modern bungalow. 

Ompu ni Sihol blind son was there with his granddaughter.

He was blind. This wasn’t a good place to show the film, either. I was suffering from the flu and I wasn't much use because I could only think of lying down. We sat together on the front veranda of the house and Nashir saved the day.

MJA Nashir evaluates the situation.

He began to play the soundtrack of Rangsa ni Tonun that starts out with Ompu ni Sihol’s quavering old voice. Her son recognized it immediately, noticeably. We all watched his face. Then Nashir found his digital copy of my tape recording of her from 1980 in his computer and he played it for the old man.

Ompu ni Sihol's son enjoyed listening to his mother's voice. (Photograph by Febrina Pakpahan)

The blind man sat back with a smile. He remembered his mother and the day. He enjoyed it. Playing that soundtrack was the best way to present Rangsa ni Tonun in Ompu ni Sihol’s village.

And then we took our leave. I made sure that I snapped photographs of her house this time. 

Ompu ni Sihol's house in 2013.

Who would believe me that she had lived in such a little, impoverished hut? The lean-to beside her hut is no longer there, but the stones on which she balanced her earthenware pots and dyed her yarn are. I tried to picture the village as it had once been. I found it hard to do. 

Ompu ni Sihol's house in 1980.

Bits and pieces of memory came back. We wandered over to her grave. I remembered the rice fields with the church on the other side. I had forgotten how lush the trees beside the village were. 

 I rejoiced in being able to catch a glimpse of how the Batak villages in Harian Boho must once have been. I could see that now although I cannot remember having seen that thirty years ago. There was still bamboo growing atop the rocks surrounding the village. The stages of decay have been slow and have left traces.

Then we left the desolate village and made our way back under the merciless tropical sun to the boat.

Tenaga Surya (Solar Energy) in Tano Batak

The Boat Budaya relies on solar energy devices. When the sun sets and the boat is not moving, there is no electricity (the generator only works when the boat is moving). That is when we blow up the Luminaid cushions and place them beside us as we eat so that we can see the food in the pot. At night we dangle one or two from the roof or place it on the floor so that there is a bit of ambient light if anybody has to get up in the night.

Sunning the Luminaids while waiting for the Boat Budaya
at Tabo Cottages (Photo by MJA Nashir)

Our Boat Captain, Mr. Siregar, is very fond of the lights. He and his two assistants always borrow one at night so that they have one in the bridge where they sleep. Recently, the captain asked me if he could have one. I told him about our goal of sharing information about solar energy and how it could transform Tano Batak. The Captain was enthusiastic. He wants to share the information with his future passengers and perhaps even order a few more. We are all dependent on our Luminaids. The handy handle allows us to carry it easily and hang it everywhere, including the door of the toilet.

Yesterday the Regent of Samosir Island visited us and I showed him our array of solar equipment. He, too, was immediately taken with the practical value of it. There are parts of Samosir where there is still no electricity and solar energy would alleviate many problems. I gave him one of our Luminaids. The reporters who had accompanied him on his visit to the Boat Budaya all immediately wanted one as well.

We use the WAKAWAKA lights regularly as well. The WAKAWAKA light is more powerful than that of the Luminaid, so we use it differently. It is useful as a flashlight to light up a path in the night or to read. Sometimes we fix our Wakawakas in the roof of the boat and let the light shine down on what we are doing.

I am struck by how technically oriented Febrina is and how quickly she adapts to life with solar energy, how experimental she is. She tries to charge two cell phones at once, tried to charge her camera battery, tries to charge while the solar cell is sunning. She is never without her light. Last night, I noticed that she had accidentally pressed against the on-button in the night in her sleep, and I felt like a caring Mom when I turned it off for her gently so that her sleep would not be disturbed and her batteries would not run down.

It is the rainy season, so we have to be careful to grab the sunlight when we can. It makes us conscious of the presence of the sun. We need a safe place to lay out our solar cells and we do not have such a place on our boat.

Yesterday, when the crowds of photographers climbed aboard to witness and document the boat races, we had to forego our sunlight because we did not want to risk losing our solar equipment. The hardship this entails is that we can’t charge our cell phones. In the back of my mind I am designing a Boat Budaya that will better accommodate our needs. It will have a protected place atop the roof where we can sun our cells. And perhaps that part of the roof will be made of glass so that we can tell at a glance if we have anything charging.

I had brought a Wakawaka for myself on this journey, but I gave it to Pak Jerry when we were still in Jakarta. As a driver, he immediately knew that it was indispensable for him. He can charge it on the dashboard while driving and he has it at night when he has to guard the car, sleep under awkward circumstances where there is no electricity, or charge his cell phone. Really, the instruments are ideal for Indonesian chauffeurs.

Ompu Okta was enamourned of the Luminaid. She loves its soft light. She has a bare lightbulb hanging above her loom at home and it bothers her eyes when she weaves at night. Time and again she asked to me to give her a Luminaid and I promised that I would give her one when we visit in her kampong.

Beyond that, I have given one to Pak Dian Sidauruk. He invited us to his home in Simanindo two days ago and impressed us with his lifestyle. He had chosen to make his home a model of tidiness, cleanliness and efficiency. He lives in a Batak house and has outfitted it so that it has the conveniences of a modern home. He is a remarkable man and immediately saw the benefits of solar energy lamps. He works with NGOs and is a leader. I know that he will make good use of the lamp and will share his knowledge of it with everybody who visits.

MJA Nashir took this photograph in Medan when we showed our

 film at the Suarasama Culture House. The luminaid 'cushions' 

are on the floor in front of our posters for the Pulang Kampung projects. 

The final scenes of Rangsa ni Tonun are displayed on the screen. 

The cushions provided just the perfect amount of light for watching the film.

I like selecting the places where I will donate the lights. Donating the lights is like donating my books and our film. They are seeds. We plant them and we hope they will grow. I think of Dirk and Sineke van Uitert back home, who donated these lamps. I know that they would agree with my selections. I also think of the idealist, Wibo Teerlink, who introduced me to the lamps and who sold them to us for a good price. I wish that they could all be with us. They would feel proud and fulfilled to see the good use to which their kind donations are being put.

The Boat Budaya is Ready

Tuesday evening, 3 September, was one of the highlights of our journey. Through Suarasama, the makers of our film's music, we were invited to meet a group of Batak men and women who are planning to present ende2 (Batak songs) in Tiara Hotel on 21 September. We have now been invited to exhibit Stephanie Belfrage’s textiles and our film and books on the same evening. It will be an evening strongly connected to I.L. Nommensen, who made the first Batak Christian songbook. Our film, of course, was only possible because he invited Guru Sinangga ni Adji to commit his oral text to paper. If our first event of Pulang Kampung III, in Jakarta, was with Suarasama on the stage of Taman Mini, our last event will be with them as well, in Medan. How deeply satisfying.

Green Garden Restaurant, Medan where we met with the organizers of the Buku Ende musical performance planned for 21 September.
(Photograph by MJA Nashir)

(Photograph by MJA Nashir)

On the way to the dinner party, I received a phone call from the office of the Bupati (Regent) of Samosir telling me that a boat had been reserved for our purposes. That evening we floated and sailed among new friends interested in Batak culture and history. We finally have our Boat Budaya. For months I have wondered through what channels the boat would finally be realized.

I am excited. Later today, we will board it in Tiga Ras, a bay on the east side of Lake Toba, once the location of one of the great Batak markets. (I cannot hear the name Tiga Ras without immediately thinking of Sitor Situmorang who first told me about the great Batak markets, and also the first time I visited with Pak Sidauruk and his wife, way back in 1980.) We will make every effort to first visit Febrina’s tulang near Merek, then pick up Lasma in Simalungun, and then descend to the shores of The Great Lake to see our Boat Budaya. This morning, at breakfast, I received a text message letting me know the mobile number of the Boat Budaya’s skipper.

Pulang Kampung III has been Launched! Horas!

MJA Nashir and I are now in Medan. Pulang Kampung III has been launched and is now behind us. We are in the lovely home of Bintang Sitompul whose sweet mom, Marisi Sidjabat, insists on looking after our every need.

Preparing the launch was hectic. Too few hands, too much work. Many stresses and too little sleep. Nevertheless, many dreams came true.

A high point was the presence of Pak Sudi Silalahi, Minister of the Secretary of State. He launched our journey and blessed us at the end of the ceremony when he enshrouded each of us in an ulos. We have wanted to give him a copy of our work since 2011 when he kindly granted us an audience with him. Now we were finally able to hand over the newly produced cassette of book and film, I tried out the umpama that Tulang Panusunan Simanjuntak taught me:

Mardongan jarijari na sampulu

Pasampulusadahon simanjunjung

Hulehon hami tu hamuna,

Bapak Sudi Silalahi na burju,

Ulaula ni pingkiran dohot tangannami.

I had Nashir join me on stage for the presentations of our work because if ever a product was the result of collaboration, this was it. This was surely the culminating high point of the last 3 years. The Taman Mini stage became the focus of energies that were combined during the making of the film. The launch was whole and complete.

Suarasama was able to attend and was willing to perform. They played the Weaving Song, the theme song of the film, among several other pieces. The remarkable sphere that they created charmed everybody. As ever, I was deeply, deeply impressed by the quality of their work and counted myself so lucky to have had their participation in our film.

Ompu Okta boru (our weaving star) and Ompu Okta doli (our narrator) as well as Ompu Rido (who played the role of Si Boru Hasagian in our film) were able to attend. This sounds simple. But Pak Jerry’s role in all of this was heroic and he regaled us in quiet moments with the story of his heroism cutting through miscommunications and bad weather, managing on sleep deficit, and exercising his considerable powers of persuasion, to get the group to Jakarta. We were happy that they were among the first to receive the printed copy of our work.

Febrina Pakpahan, Lasma Sitanggang, Paul Manahara Tambun and Ojak Tampe Silaban, our four youth, were able to be present (another chapter in Pak Jerry’s saga) and help us celebrate ulos. They received the first copies of our work as a sign of the future of Batak culture that we hope they will always actively defend.

This is a clip of a well-done program about my work. The only shortcoming is its focus on me alone, whereas nothing has been done, and nothing could have been accomplished by me alone.