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| AsiaViews, Edition: 05/VI/February/2009 |
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| Amir, the maestro |
| At the age of 93, Amir Pasaribu is not only the healthiest man in Indonesia but also the most important composer of integrity in this land. |
In the 1950s Amir Pasaribu was known as a modern composer as well as one of the foremost music educators and thinkers of the time. For a time he taught in Suriname. During those years he severely criticized the spread of Hawaiian style bands and American pop music culture in Indonesia. Amir felt that they caused serious orchestras and the music arts to lose the public’s interest. His writings are still relevant today.
Read Tempo’s report on visiting Amir in Medan and writing about his life and thoughts. The pianist Ananda Sukarlan managed to recover the scores of Amir Pasaribu’s music which were scattered in various journals of the 1950s such as Siasat, Mimbar Indonesia, Zenith and Pudjangga Baru. He then played Amir’s compositions to Amir himself. Read about the maestro’s moving reaction upon hearing his own music again.
***
Jakarta 1952
“It is utterly shocking,”
THIS was how the writer Pramoedya Ananta Toer in the September 1952 edition of the journal Pudjangga Baru, described the dismissal of the respected musician and composer Amir Pasaribu from his position as Head of the Arts Section of the Radio Republik Indonesia (RRI) studio in Jakarta. The situation arose as a result of a clash of personalities between Amir and Maladi who headed RRI at the time. According to Nurman Pasaribu, Amir’s son, his father was engaged in several polemics at the time, among others regarding the national anthem, Indonesia Raya, as well as Amir’s struggle for better copyright protection and royalty payments through the Liga Komponis, a musicians’ organization led by him. “As a consequence not only was he dismissed from his position but all his music was blacklisted,” said his son. “The government then was so reactionary, especially if we bear in mind that they were not even capable of lowering the tax on authors’ fees a mere 15 percent.”
The dismissal of course, did not kill off a composer of Amir Pasaribu’s caliber who was not only highly productive but also deeply respected in the Indonesian music world.
***
AMIR Pasaribu, who has attained the ripe old age of 93, certainly succeeded in surpassing the usual life expectancy in Indonesia which is around 60 years of age. He was also an example of a man who poured all the strength of his soul into music. Music is the lifeline that leaves him fresh and healthy even after nearly a century.
Meanwhile in the district of Medan Johor in the province of North Sumatra, together with Amir’s grandson, Ben Pasaribu, a lecturer of ethnomusicology at Medan State University, Tempo met the grand old man of Indonesian music in a white T-shirt and sarong. With the assistance of his nurse Lasmini, Amir moved shakily to the wheelchair placed alongside his bed. To his right stood an electric piano covered with a traditional Batak ulos cloth. Slowly, Lasmini pushed his chair into the living room where the walls are covered with photographs of Amir’s family and various awards that he had won during the course of his life. Ben then introduced Tempo to him. Amir’s eyes immediately moved to the journalists; a smile slowly emerged from his lips and the atmosphere became warm.
Seated in front of us was Amir Pasaribu: composer, pianist and cello player; critic, teacher and Indonesia’s first music intellectual. “Physically, I’m still very healthy,” said the artist who was born in Kota Siborongborong, North Tapanuli on May 21, 1915 in a firm, clear voice. He is still full of enthusiasm for life. There are clean lines on his face. Since 2002 Amir has had problems walking as a result of high levels of uric acid in his joints. He is only able to walk with the help of Lasmini who has been nursing him since 1995.
Amir Pasaribu’s three sons, Nurman, Irman and Erwin (two other sons died in Suriname)—all the result of his marriage with his late wife, Siti Noerana Oemar—live in the Netherlands. Occasionally his children and grandchildren come to visit Amir Pasaribu. “Yesterday his granddaughter Lili who lives in Chicago came to visit. At the moment Mbak Lili is holidaying in Bali,” Lasmini said. The two-room house is only inhabited by Amir and Lasmini. “There will only be lots of people when he has his birthday in May,” she added.
If he had followed the traditions of his family Amir would have never ended up a composer. He was the third son of Radja Salomo Pasaribu, a member of one of the elite families of North Tapanuli. “At the time my father was warden of the prison at Siborongborong,” said Amir. Later he became Assistant District Officer at Pahae. “What I remember of the time is that at the age of 4 I already used to go fishing in the small rivers along the road near the Assistant District Officer’s office,” said Amir laughing. How he still manages to remember him is a riddle, but Amir particularly remembers a groom who often accompanied his father at the time.
He received his introduction to western music through the Dutch pastors of the Europeesche Lagere Fraterschool (European Christian Brothers’ Primary School) and the Hollandsch-Inlandsche School (Dutch School for Natives) both of which were elementary schools in Sibolga. Amir also attended lower secondary school at the Meer Uitgebreid Lager Onderwijs Padang (Padang Further Expanded Lower Secondary Education School) before being moved by his father to Tarutung where he was to meet Meneer Bosch who taught him to play the viola. According to Amir’s grandchild, Gonny Pasaribu, who lives in Holland, when he was young Amir spent many hours practicing his music at school often till late at night.
Franky Raden, an ethnomusicologist says that Amir was fortunate to have been born into a Tapanuli family whose culture is so strongly linked to the diatonic tones of church music. “While attending the school of the Radja of Balige, he was already learning how to play the harmonium at the Batak Christian Protestant Church,” said Franky.
It appears that the influence of two of his teachers, namely Brother Paulus and Brother Gustianus, was so great that he decided not to pursue his studies at the law school in Jogjakarta, as his family had fervently hoped. Instead he attended the Hollandsch-Inlandsche Kweekschool or the Dutch Teachers’ Training College for Natives at Gunung Sari in Lembang, Bandung, where he then became a piano teacher.
An interesting bit of information from Franky about his choice is that originally Amir wanted to go to the Algemeene Middlebare School—a type of upper secondary school—in Jogjakarta where he hoped to take Western Classical studies. “However, while sailing to Java, Amir met some students of the Teachers Training College in Lembang and they enticed him to go to their college instead telling him that there he would have three pianos, a tennis court and the Eurasian women’s dormitories just close by,” said Franky.
It was here that Amir met his future wife, Siti Noerana, a Minangkabau-born French-language teacher who was to bear him five children. According to Gonny, they shared a love of music and foreign languages. It somehow does not seem strange that during his lifetime Amir was to be able to speak English, French, German, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Russian, Czech, Mandarin, Japanese and Sranantongo ( a language of Suriname) besides of course, the regional Minangkabau language of his wife.
Amir says that he was able to return to Medan and teach. With the support of his teacher, Ronggur Harahap he opened a school for music as well as languages: German, French, English and Dutch. “So that the Dutch would not make any problems for us,” said Amir with a laugh. Although he only had a salary of 25 cents there was a piano at the school so that he could give the pupils piano lessons.
Amir and Noerana married in 1939 and moved to Jakarta. Until the birth of their children they stayed in Menteng at Jalan Lombok 55 in a pavilion. The Japanese occupation were bitter times for Amir who was forced to teach at the Japanese teachers training college and also work at the Keimin Bunka Shidosho or Japanese Cultural Center creating propaganda songs. Amir was also required to play the Japanese anthem, the Kimigayo, for the radio.
After the Japanese surrender, the Republic of Indonesia was established. The social life of young intellectuals then was extremely intense and interesting. Amir used to have discussions with Ismail Marzuki; with Kusbini and the composers of the Kweekschool (Teachers Training College) in Muntilan; also with R.A.J. Soedjasmin, Binsar Sitompul, Liberty Manik, and Cornel Simanjuntak. The last shared a room with Amir and died young with a bullet in his chest in 1947. “During my time it was Binsar Sitompul and Cornel Simanjuntak who were at the forefront. And as for Soedjasmin, he had his own route through the police and the Palace,” said Amir.
Amir wrote a lot in those days. According to Franky Raden, Amir wrote not only reviews of musical events; he also composed many solo piano or viola pieces, piano and viola pieces, piano and cello pieces as well as pieces for string orchestras. Amir’s music was unique because it originated from local musical traditions such as the joget Melayu (a type of Malay dance) which is similar in style to a canon, or polyphonic music with its multiplicity of echoing sounds. It was Amir who faithfully used the pentatonic scale in expressing the rhythms of the gamelan. “Amir was a purist so that for him music was absolute music. He had no interest whatsoever for vocals,” said Franky.
Amir really wanted Indonesia to have quality music education available. Gonny noted that after independence Amir diligently lobbied the government of the new republic that Indonesia have a conservatory or serious formal music academy. After leaving RRI in 1952, Amir was commissioned by the then Minister of Education & Culture, Muhammad Yamin—whom Amir had known since his student days at the students’ boarding house at Jalan Menteng Raya 31—to go to Europe, Russia, China and Japan to explore the possibilities of building a conservatory. Amir also brought a bevy of European music masters to Indonesia to train his juniors, as well as importing Petroff pianos with the support of the Czech embassy where he had a lot of friends. In 1954 he was appointed the Director of the Indonesian School of Music in Jogjakarta—now it is known as the Music Section of the Indonesian Institute of Arts—where he succeeded in creating a formal curriculum for music teachers.
Suka Hardjana, the clarinet player, first came to know Amir when he attended the music school established in 1952. Suka Hardjana joined its staff in 1957. At the time Amir Pasaribu was the director of the school. Suka Hardjana remembers Amir as being extremely disciplined and firm in his convictions regarding classical western music. “He even looked like a western composer. Every day he wore a bow tie. He always looked so neat and tidy,” said Suka.
What he was doing during the 1950s till he left for Suriname in 1968 is not entirely clear. According to the poet Sitor Situmorang who is nine years younger than Amir, he frequently used to stroll from his house in Jalan Besuki to the Pasaribu home. As they were both Bataks far from Tapanuli, their families slowly came to know each other. However, that did not mean that they spent their time talking about the old homeland of their ancestors. In Jakarta their business was the arts but even that they did not discuss too seriously because Sitor has not much knowledge of music. “We just used to chat as friends,” said Sitor. “And where did you like to hang out?” “Oh just at each other’s homes. He had no money and neither did I.”
Was Amir ever involved in politics? “Absolutely not! I was involved in politics. Amir not at all,” said Sitor. Amir was very broadminded and liberal. He was also not forever trying to teach those junior to him like Sitor, how to think. He never shut his door against those with views differing from his own. Sitor admired most his composition for Patrice Lumumba, the hero of the Congo who was killed by the Belgian colonists which Amir composed for the poem by Njoto entitled Kesumba Merah (The Red Kesumba Flower). Sitor himself once wrote a poem about Lumumba. “You see how anti-imperialist he was!” declared Sitor.
When he was asked what would have happened to him if he had not gone to Suriname, Amir answered spontaneously, “Shriveled up!” which in the Batak tongue means “to be destroyed”. “Even had I stayed, there were no channels in society here at the time supporting music,” he said. Pianos were hard to come by and even if one did find one, it was never well-tuned. “In practice music in Indonesia at the time was simply gasping for breath,” Amir added.
Gonny has noted that since the decree banning Amir’s music from being played came out in 1952, that decree which also forbids the publication of Amir’s music, has never been revoked. Amir was so disappointed with the music situation in Indonesia that he looked for a means of going abroad to study. Amir then accepted the offer of the Sticusa or Foundation for Cultural Cooperation (a Dutch cultural institution) to become head of the orchestra in Paramaribo, capital of Suriname. A number of Indonesian artists including Sitor Situmorang had already received Sticusa scholarships. “If he had not he would certainly have had it,” said Sitor. What Sitor meant was that Amir would undoubtedly have been detained as a political prisoner by the Old Order regime. So, Amir left, taking his whole family with him, namely his wife and five children, to a Dutch colony far away in South America. Nurman denies that the September 30 happenings had anything to do with them leaving at the time.
Amir said that he agreed to teach the cello to high school students in Paramaribo. He was also asked to head the philharmonic orchestra there which to Indonesian ears sounds really impressive. “But the reality was that the previous head of the orchestra had become so old he was nearly half dead and there was only one student for the cello who was also already bent with age.”
Nurman remembers that in Suriname his father also taught piano and cello at the Cultureel Centrum Suriname (Suriname Cultural Center). Amir had become an expatriate employee of the Dutch government and because every year pension payments were deducted from his salary, at the age of 94 he is still receiving a pension from the Algemeen Burgelijk Pensioenfonds (General Civil Pension Fund) in the Netherlands.
According to Nurman, while they lived in Suriname their family always had a very close relationship with the Indonesian embassy staff in Suriname who in turn were very close to the Suriname citizens of Javanese origin. At the request of the Indonesian Consul General then, Bambang Saptodewo, Amir composed a march to help unite the Javanese in Suriname, with the title Mars Satria (The Knights’ March).
Amir’s expertise in foreign languages also meant that frequently people asked for his help. “Whenever Japanese or Korean sailors were nursed at the hospital in Paramaribo, my father was always asked to accompany them as an interpreter,” explained Nurman. Amir also worked as an interpreter at the notary firm of Oostvriesland in Paramaribo. Now, whenever his children visit him in Indonesia, what he most appreciates is when they bring him European magazines and pocket books, novels in various languages.
Once Suriname achieved independence in 1975 the Dutch Cultural Center was dissolved. Amir, who continued on in Suriname, earned a living by giving private piano lessons, playing piano duets with the viola player Harry de la Fuente at the Klub Sosialita in Paramaribo, and accompanying the Maranatha church choir as well as accompanying the ballet school with the piano. In Suriname Amir and his family went through sad times. Amir’s wife passed away at the age of 65; two of Amir’s children died there. All three are buried at the Elizabethshof cemetery in Paramaribo.
According to Nurman, his father had occasion to fall in love and live with a lady in Suriname but the relationship did not last long as his father seemed to prefer being on his own. Who would have thought that Amir would have had the opportunity to live such a Bohemian life as a bachelor. “He lived like the father of Julio Iglesias, surrounded by pretty women. He used to speed around Paramaribo in a Renegade jeep, once even overturning the jeep, but fortunately without sustaining any injuries.”
Nevertheless in 1990 Amir’s friends sent word to Holland where his sons Nurman, Irman and Erwin lived that they should pay more attention to their father who was then entering the twilight of his life. “Especially, friends from my mother’s old Qur’an study group,” he said. From there came the idea to send Amir back to Indonesia where he had lots of relatives prepared to care for him.
Amir returned home after 27 years of wandering the world.
***
IT’S a great pity that Amir’s music is better known in music schools rather than being the popular choice of his people. Franky says that Amir’s music can only be played by those who can read musical scores. It’s not surprising that Amir’s music has been the music of generations of pianists. Amir’s compositions were often played by the late pianist Charlotte Sutisno who was a graduate of the Amsterdam Conservatory and whom Amir trusted with his compositions during his Radio Republik Indonesia days. Through Charlotte’s hands Amir’s score passed on to her students: Latifah Kodijat, the pianist Iravati Soediarso and the late Ida Luhukay-Pasaribu.
“My father’s music was recorded by Emile de Vries (from Olieslager’s jewelry store in Jalan Nusantara—now it’s the ABN bank) and that digital recording of his music is what Ananda Sukarlan used as his reference,” said Nurman.
The pianist Jaya Soeprana considers Amir’s music very impressionist. He says that he was not much influenced by it (having learnt more from the puppet master Ki Narto Sabda). Nevertheless Jaya feels that spiritually Amir was the teacher who strengthened his resolve to compose. “The Indonesian people if they are so inclined actually have the capacity to produce composers no less gifted than those of any other nation. If Rudy Hartono (badminton champion) had his Tan Joe Hock (an earlier badminton champion who was the first Indonesian to win the All England badminton championship in 1959), then I had my Amir Pasaribu,” said Jaya.
And like Tan Joe Hok on the badminton court, Amir refused to surrender to life. He still has many dreams although they are a little difficult to put into practice. “I am shackled by my musical abilities in a practical sense, for even if I compose a piece it is not expressed concretely; for example by a choir or an orchestra. I have to beg for help left and right first,” said Amir. He remains silent for a moment. “I have no cello,” he says. Lasmini whispers to us that Pak Amir really wants a cello.
Tempo had difficulty convincing Amir to play the piano but Lasmini was able to persuade him. “Sir, Sir, they want you to play the piano so a photograph can be made,” said Lasmini. Amir ceased to resist. He directed his hands to turn around his wheelchair. Lasmini pushed his chair in front of the piano. “Only these fingers can still play the piano,” he said. He indicated his index finger and his middle finger on each hand as still being able to press the piano keys. We became silentl as we listened attentively to the soft, slow notes of the piano. Amir only played for five minutes.
“Enough,” he said.
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| By Kurie Suditomo, Sita Planasari (Jakarta) and Soeta |
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| Tempo, No. 26/IX/24 February – 02 March 2009 |
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