Sihol

The day starts earlier in Indonesia than it does in Holland, so when I wake up in the morning, I like to check my email and Facebook messages first thing to get up to speed. This morning was very special because of a message from Ojak Tampe Silaban, one of the four young people on the Pulang Kampung III team. 

Ojak is full of the unexpected. (Photo by MJA Nashir on the DEL University campus.)

He said that he had given a copy of Rangsa ni Tonun to Sihol Malau, that he had told her in colourful detail about our adventures and that he had spent the night in her house. This message went straight to my heart.

Sihol Malau is the Ompu ni Sihol’s granddaughter, indeed, the one after whom Ompu ni Sihol is named. Several of Ompu ni Sihol’s grandchildren played in the village plain when I took my weaving lessons with her. They wound her weft, scared her pig, the dog and chickens away from her loom, fetched salaon (indigo plant) with me on the hillside, chewed the kemiri nut and spat it in the can when Ompu ni Sihol needed it for her starching solution (she had no teeth). I didn’t know them well. I was 24 at the time and was more focused on my weaving notes than on these children.

But now that granddaughter Sihol has Rangsa ni Tonun, my heart is very glad. I imagine her playing the film and hearing Ompu ni Sihol’s cracking old voice as the origin of the theme song of the film. I can see her open the book that I wrote about the film and find the picture of her grandmother. I can imagine her feelings. How I would love to find my own grandmother in a book!

Thank you, Ojak Tampe, for giving such a good start to my day. I look forward to seeing the photographs that you took.

The day of the launch of the Boat Budaya comes back to me. Saturday August 24. We were crazy busy setting up a stall where we could offer our books and posters for sale, dealing with some last-minute upsets and preparing for the afternoon event in which Ibu Stephanie’s textiles would be officially handed over to Museum Tekstil. Amidst all of that, I went over to the huge Batak house at the corner of the North Sumatran village of Taman Mini to review the exhibition and make sure there were enough copies of the Bhinneka Tabloid (about our activities) on hand for visitors. A young woman came up to me. She introduced herself as Harna. And then time stopped.

Stephanie Belfrage's textiles were displayed beautifully by the Museum Tekstil staff in the Batak house of Taman Mini. (Photo by MJA Nashir)

I looked at her. She looked at me. We were both speechless. Then we hugged each other for a long time. I know Harna through Facebook. She is another one of Ompu ni Sihol’s granddaughters. Legacy in cloth brought us together. After I had presented the book to her brother in 2010 (a gift from the book’s designer, Marie-Cécile Noordzij Pulles), it eventually made its way to her in Medan. She has now moved to Jakarta and made the effort to come to our launch. Meeting her was one of the most memorable moments of the launch.

The meeting took place surrounded by photographs of the Pulang Kampung I the journey when I gave a copy of  Legacy in cloth to Ompu ni Sihol's family.  (Photograph (and photo exhibition) by MJA Nashir.)

Meeting some of the Pulang Kampung Crew

Photograph courtesy Bapak Tatan Daniel

Today I went to Taman Mini (a route embellished by Pulang Kampung posters and banners) and saw in ‘real life’ the places that I had been privy to through Mas Nashir’s photographs on Facebook. I also met the people about whom he had written and many more. I experienced first hand how things “roll along” (I don’t know any other way to describe it) at Anjungan Taman Mini. First this, then that, then the other. As much as the place throbs with life and ideas, it is calm, not harried, and seems to comfortably accommodate everything that comes its way.

We started out on the ground floor of the Malay house seated around a small table. Everybody had his turn to explain his connection with the Pulang Kampung pre-voyage preparations. It was moving because nobody is paid or ordered to do anything. There is no written schedule and no boss. There are only regular meetings and discussions, in-depth sharing that imparts everybody with the sense of schedule and inspiration for the next step. Nobody has ever done anything like this before and the concept is new. The path is being made by walking down it. It defies every manual of business organization. Jeki Simatupang explained the Batak word: marsiadapari: facing every day together. Bataks in villages once had informal meetings in the mornings and this ‘managed’ (poor term because it suggests bosses, hierarchy and schedules) village life. People shouldered burdens collectively, helping first him, then him in the fields or building a house. There was no payment; there was only the sharing of responsibility to achieve shared goals.

Pak Tatan explained his vision of filling the architectural wonders from North Sumatra with creative synergy so that they would not be 'just empty buildings'. His vision and support have built this remarkable crucible in which the concept and project of Pulang Kampung will be launched on 24 – 25 August. He described it in terms of colour: taking the colour of the archipelago and letting it sizzle on the grounds that are his Taman Mini jurisdiction.

He is a quiet and wise man. One feels the space that his being offers to allow things to transpire.

Ojak Tampe joined us quietly. When it was my turn, I referred to him as being one of the special wonders of the Pulang Kampung voyage. He had come all the way from North Sumatra out of conviction that something was going to transpire that would be important in his life. He took the opportunity to explain why. It moved him so deeply that the tears rolled down his cheeks. How could I not feel the privilege of having him aboard? He mourns the loss of his culture and wants to do what he can to fill himself with the knowledge of the ancestors. His path is as unique as it is lonely and difficult. There is no teacher for him and no institution to support him. He was soft-spoken, polite, clear, authentic. Independent of spirit. Infinitely dear. How could I be anything but curious how things will unfold for him? And anxious for them to unfold well.

Ompung Yan Harahap was with us all the time. He said little but he was utterly devoted to what transpired. His wily person jumped up to fetch water, and cassava chips; he was a kind of bridge between everybody and all activities, the oil in the machine. Nashir had said that he reminded him of Pak Jerry and I had to agree. A painter (our meeting took place beside one of his paintings that brought the feeling of Samosir Island to the table) and logistical genius devoting himself to ensure that things stay on track.

Ompu Yan Harahap beside eda Ani Simanjuntak

These were the members of the Pulang Kampung crew that I met today, a hodge-podge mixture thrown together by passion and fate – and especially Mas Nashir. Mas Nashir said very little at the meeting; he just let it happen, but I and everyone around the table knew that this magical crew had coalesced around his magic, his film clips, his writing, his simple, golden heart.