It is hard to know what to expect, confronted by a book promising a chronicle of jaman edan, the months following the fall of Soeharto in May 1998, written by an expatriate. Many Indonesians, myself included, often become defensive when reading an account about aspects of the country from a foreigner’s or an expatriate’s points of view. A generous dose of sense of humor, a preparedness to be exposed, an anesthetized sense of identity, primed with readiness to learn about oneself, are definitely necessary prerequisites before even opening the book.
Having psyched myself into that mode, taking a deep breath I began reading Jakarta Jive. And I was pleasantly surprised. It is an expatriate’s account, true, but the author does not speak from a platform outside the world he describes, nor is he flying around looking down giving supercilious running commentary. He tells it as he explores the world, entering as he is, boots and all.
Jeremy Allan is no dollar-earning expat, immune from the economic crisis of the late 1990s. He was in fact, caught in the whirlwind of krismon, the local term for the monetary crisis, buffeted left, right and center, and all the while, gasping, kept his eyes and ears even his heart, open.
The reader benefits from Allan’s observation, as well as his trials and tribulation, which he describes in his raconteur style. And not less important, as he paints a particular angle of Jakarta life, the picture develops depth beyond the initial visible aspects, simply because Allan keeps his refreshing boyish curiosity over a well-developed, mature humility. His own willingness to learn is disarming to any defensive soul with residual nationalistic fervor.
It does not mean, however, that Allan tones down his flare when depicting or commenting on events around that time, which often reflect deep-seated sentiments long in existence in Indonesians of various ethnic groups. And if you are an adherent or at least an aficionado of Jungian philosophy, it is easy to believe that these sentiments may have been subliminally passed on for generations.
If Jakarta Jive were a painting, the background color would be Allan’s interactions with a number of characters. These characters keep recurring and become his informants as well as the bouncing boards of his own ideas. These multi-directional communications spark up a colorful, insightful and often painful stories, which make this book hard to put down.
We make the acquaintances of Monica, an ethnic Chinese economic-student-turned-professional-photographer-cum-social activist, whose determination to find the truth behind the reports about the famous mass-rapes, is worth a special write-up. We also follow Allan’s and his partner Siti’s experiences with their housemate Adam, an American academic specializing in Javanese gamelan music. Adam’s curious adoption of Javanese aristocrat manners inevitably caused tension and difficulty, not only with the house staff, but with Allan and Siti themselves. This was told in tones ranging from humor to exasperation. There are also touching stories about a young couple, Heri and Yani, Pak Trisno, Pak Ade, Pak Tatang, Inem, while his loyal friend Farid Baskoro is never far in the background.
When asked how he came to write this book, Allan recounted how after he had been involved in street demonstrations and witnessing the riots of May 1998, he had found it difficult to explain to his Canadian radio reporter friend what had been going on, in several sentences. This reductionist attitude common among international journalists chasing a hard-hitting story - in turn pursued by deadlines - had driven him to write Jakarta Jive.
What Allan has written is certainly not an academic thesis on the socio-political background of the fall of Soeharto. However, it has sociological elements without being ponderously analytical. In some parts, it is unpretentiously hard-hitting. And what is more, it is extremely readable.
– Dewi Anggraeni The Jakarta Post 8 Dec 2001