Fiction
The Revolutionists
By Elda
Pardede
Only once you have a meaning
And then you die
Sekali berarti
Sudah itu mati
(Excerpt translated
from “Aku” [or I], from Chairil Anwar,
an Indonesian poet)
“You’re not coming?” I asked him and
then pointed my finger to the classroom.
“No, I am not,” he said, and then
walked away toward the canteen.
“Come, on, “I tried to persuade him,
“Just for the requirement.” In our university, we were required to attend 75
percent of the classes of a certain subject. Only then we would be allowed to
take the exam of that subject. Thus, I thought of dragging him to fulfill this.
“No, I am not,” he smiled and waved
to me, “I need coffee.”
Well, I had tried. I always tried to
convince him, but I failed many times. I did not know how to make him believe
that sometimes you had to compromise your idealism a bit—just a bit—to be able to do what you thought was right, later in life…although every time I thought of later in life, the words of Keynes, ‘and in the long run we all dead’[1]
always popped up.
He did not realize that even another
so-called idealist called him stupid. Stupid,
because he did not do what was necessary for life: pursuing a degree? Yes, that
bloody piece of paper that somehow was
very important to determine a person’s life—‘apparently we ain’t so very free in this free world after all’.
But in my eyes, he was not stupid. And I always felt pity that
he wasted his talents—Yes, my dear handsome friend, you did have great talents. While the rest of us in the class did not
dare even to ask questions to those PhD guest lecturers, he just stood up, cool
and calm, and challenged them. It was mostly about the assumption on the
economic theories they used—and they had faith in, by the way, just like a religion—and
you called them ‘Children of Capitalism’.
“Hahahaha….” I always laughed at
this statement because, my friend, did you really think you were a son of
socialism? Try to be a socialist in this world…..in this Hollywood-MTV world…
But I admired him a lot—Yes, I did, you
damned charming guy. He was the only
one who dared to stand up in front of some Professors while they were talking, raise
up his hand, and said, “But, Sir and Madam, the part of our constitution we are
talking about here right now is not about economy, but about social equality.”
What an observation! What a thought! What a critical mind…
Well, he was one of the three that I
always called, ‘The Revolutionists’: John, Paul, and George. (By now you should
have guessed that I was a Beatlemania. And, of
course, my name was Ringa[2]….).
They were great companies when you wanted to talk about anything, from religion
to flirting. They read a lot, they joked a lot, and they talked a lot about how
to change the world.
Change the world…It sounded like a standard lip-service dream of a sexy Miss Universe. But
I was a dreamer too…that was my reason to join them. In my deepest soul, I
joined them, and I was a loyal member…
Somehow, it was a strange
combination. I remember how Paul—he was the handsome and charming one—called
our revolutionist combination ‘The Movement of Some Slow Students plus a Very Good
One’.
Yes, I was the good student. I was a bit ashamed of that, because I felt that
I was different; because I sounded not as revolutionist as them. Furthermore,
they actually joined some kind of political movements. But I had been always a
pacifist. I believed that I spoke more in writing than in front of a microphone.
I was always shy to talk in public anyway…But still, they believed in me, even until now, when I joined the system, and became part of
the system.
Yes, I had been now part of The System:
system that saw you only as a tiny part of a big fat machine that found you
useful only if you were productive. You
just had to finish school early in this system—with good grades, of course. By
doing so you made your parents happy because you were a good child, you made your
teachers happy because you were a good student, and also you made the
university happy because your good grades were a guarantee to get more
grants—for teaching and academic capacity building, they called it—from those
international funding organizations. No time for critical thinking, no
politicking, no time for leadership building, no keeping in touch with your
community, no training to use your heart—if
it existed. You were valued by your productivity, not as being a person, a
human, with a mind and a soul…
But, my dear revolutionist friends sounded
happier about me joining this system than I was. They were very happy, for me…
Yes, I did recognize their disappointment.
I was like them. Imagined ‘when you were young and your heart was an open book’[3],
you believed that after finishing university
you would be able to take part in changing the world. You wished you could, but
you drifted away while you found, university was just as bad as the other part
of the world. It was not heaven. It
was not a room full of people with pure intention to make the world a better
place. I think only Michael Jackson has this pure intention…He did say, “Heal
the world, make it a better place”.
Entering a university for us was
like having a label as ‘Agent of change’. It was there. It was in the air. It
was expected and it was heaven for bright idealistic young individuals. But as
soon as you entered, then you found out that it was just one of the most
respectable forms of hell. You were crushed by the fact that the academic world
was also full of hypocrisy. You saw it slowly but clearly, that most of your
classmates were just as hypocrite as those they cursed as corruptors. Your
fellow students were only interested in money, power, position, and fame, just
like those people…. And you got crushed in the middle, and you could not stand
the waves…
But I still tried to convince them until
the end, to ask them to bend their idealism a bit to be able to reach for
something higher, later in life—and again,
long live Keynes, his words ‘in the long run we all dead’ were able to haunt me
every time I thought about later in life, the long run, or the future!! I was always worried about them. And I was
very pleased to see Paul decided to finish his study. I met him several times
long ago when he was doing his drafts. Still, he said, “I am doing this only
for my parents. They’ve been paying my tuition fees.”
Yes, Paul, that was the reason why you
tried also to find part time job here and there, just to be able to finance
your everyday life—and your cigarettes, of course!! That’s the only thing I
hated about you, you bloody smoker!!
Slowly, George also joined the
chorus. He also finished his thesis, and graduated. I met him several times,
still busy as a revolutionist though!—‘Come on George, you don’t want to get
settled: having a good job, and then earn money, get married, having children,
and live normal, and life goes on…and
on…and on like a wheel? Or you just wish
once to have a meaning?’
But, John, oh, John! He was really
broken hearted, by the system. He
gave up, and he could not stand it anymore. He left his study, to maintain his
purity, his idealism, and his soul.
He could not sell his soul for a degree.
“Not me, my friend. I know you care,
but I can’t do it!“ he said. He could not. For him it was like giving up to The
Devil. Thus John decided to leave. He could not stand it, he could not face it,
and he faded away ‘out of college, money
spent, see no future, pay no rent, all the money’s gone, nowhere to go...but, oh—that magic feeling, Nowhere To Go…’[4].
And I missed them…All the three of them. I missed the
nonsense talking chit-chat in the canteen that actually made the very sense
after all. I missed Paul playing guitar and singing The Beatles’ songs with me—‘Don’t
we just have good taste of music, Paul? Hahaha…‘ It felt more humane compared
to an academic seminar room. Because we,
(yes, I was part of a “we” now) in this academic world were more interested to
have our names on journals and publications instead of helping the needs…….Or
it was just my feeling of romanticism of being young and full of idealism?? And
then later in the old days I regretted that I didn’t do what I could have done?
Like someone said, ‘Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer
thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the
sight of thine eyes…but know thou, that
for all these things God will bring thee into judgment’.[5]
“I am sorry, John,” I later said to myself, “I
am the one who has compromised and followed the system, and now I am almost
buried by the system”.
I was not as strong as I thought. I
was also deeply disappointed, hurt, and crushed. And then one day I saw all of them
in my dreams. I saw their faces: John, Paul, and George. Paul was still with
his charming figure talking at the front to attract his listeners. George was
still busy with his underground political movement. John looked happy, because
he followed his own heart, while I felt like I already betrayed mine long ago.
But John, your words keep me here,
struggling, fighting, and surviving. I remember once you said, “My friend, we
need a person like you, who is a revolutionist, but is also able to enter the
system. Keep fighting, I would like to see you later as a person who can change
the world.”
I was ashamed for what he said. I
did not deserve his words. He was a real revolutionist,
not I. I envied him…He was free like a bird. I also wanted to be free….’and
what it is but fragments of your own self you would discard that you may become
free’?[6]
I was not. I just had to compromise
my heart for a degree—just to be heard, just to be known, just to be
recognized. And I hoped I still do it for helping others later on, never to be swallowed
by the system. Your words kept me
here. Probably, later on in life…’and in the long run we all dead!!’…, until I saw
once that my life had a meaning, and then I would die happily, wouldn’t I, my
friend?
Dedicated to
“The Revolutionists”
Groningen, June 12, 2005 2:34 AM
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