t.wijaya

T. WIJAYA
Learn to Cook History

As an Indonesian, I learn how to cook history. Making preserved fish and soften their bones to that the protein from planktons will make my brain healthy. My brain is advertisements of anxiety. My chair of mind is swaying in the ocean, and the submarines in the shallow sea smell the aroma of my cuisine which are politics bills. There is actually no history inside our kitchens. The holy pans and plates have been kept in the fridge for 15 centuries. The ancient caves hide our appetites, and leave the frozen tougue of buffaloes.
God also like the garlic from Acun’s garden. Whether it is salted or not, is still talks by the truth, including about volcano’s eruption and the storm at the dining table. Before the knife and the fried tempe*), the new president squeezes the napkin. Then from the belly of the grimy house a river of oil springs out. It is expensive, really, to serve the garlic for God. He said that the preserverd fish is too sour and spicy!
Our mounths are sour and spicy. From sucking the rain. Inhaling the dew. There are no more gardens to be planted with mango and lanseh trees. Merely oil and oil. The dessert produced by our kitchen are animation movies and a broker’s menu.
As an Indonesian and a cook of a poor family, I must live in Bandung. Not in Aceh. Not in Atjeh. Not in the banks of the Musi*). Bandung, my stylish joyful prophet, located just a few kilometers from Jakarta.

2005

*Tempe; meal, made from fermented soybean
*Musi; name of a river in South Sumatra

T. WIJAYA
Almost Closed Off, 16 Land Cases

This morning there are no houses in cigarettes kiosks. Heading to Legal Aid office. Merely being helped bay Malay music inside a basin filled with soap water. My city in the eyes of a giant TV screen, this maid is pregnant with untracked history just like the untracked price of rice. Beside her, 16 land cases in South Sumatra tell me that I can’t afford to buy a state, therefoce coffe farmers plant the seeds on my face. My shirt is only worth 5 cents.
Yesterday they were working in an instant food factory, now their socks are holed and salted fish are baked upon their backs. The children of the swamps are sleeping with me. Their dreams are frozen like a can of Pepsi.
I hope the banks will transform into nice. Military will not be a new religion and the newspaper are able to become rivers, modest houses and apartements for the people. We can’t be farmers any longer! Said them. The Malay music becomes more appealing inside the basin of soap water. Stone! Iron! Let’s have a discussion. The angel opens my mouth, who is your God? I am being fled into a vinegar bottle.

1995

T. WIJAYA
Nyanyikan Terus

Seperti nyanyian yang membesarkan saya bayi. Tidak buru-buru. Pelan. Bertahap. Sehingga perih saya menidurkan jasad, yang selalu cemas atas kematian. Beri saya banyak jam; saya ingin menjaga catatan yang dirobek waktu. Saya gemetar seperti seekor semut pada ketinggian itu.
Nyanyikan terus. Nyanyikan terus. Nyanyikan terus.
Saudara, tidak perlu bertukar jasad. Kita memang satu dari ruang bukan kuasa mereka. Biarkan mereka menantang Tuhan. Nyanyikan terus. Nyanyikan terus. Saya bayi membesar, dan menyusui kerinduan akan ribuan pohon yang menyambut kelahiran itu.

2008

T. WIJAYA
Sembunyi

Wajah-wajah tanah memberi senyum. Aku terkejut dengan pakaian yang kubeli sendiri. Wajah-wajah itu bagai angin menembus kemeja dan celana pendekku. Kulitku terkelupas, seakan surga telah menipu. Darah tipis yang deras mengucur dari celah kulit dagingku. Sudah seharusnya, sapa mereka. Wajah-wajah hutan terus memberi senyum. Aku berendam dalam kolam, jejak kaki mereka.
Ibu, jangan sembunyi. Aku tahu kau lari dari kampung itu. Tembok-tembok yang kau bangun sebenarnya sederhana. Hitam. Hitam. Lalu putih. Kini, aku penggemar berat suara-suara daun. Wajah-wajah laut memberi senyum. Tidak memaksa pisau-pisau membelah keinginan berada paling ramai di laut. Sisik-sisik di kulit mereka tidak amis. Jemarinya menyelamatkan punggungku yang dingin. Sultan, bisikku.
Wajah-wajah sungai mengikutiku hingga pesawat menghempaskan rodanya ke aspal bandara.

2008