Buah zine: Issue 1

Buah zine | Issue 1 | Summer 2018

Teta is the creator and editor-in-chief of Buah zine. All photos were taken by her unless otherwise indicated.

Many thanks to Rasy and Dena Igusti for their brilliant poems. Check out their work!

Endless thanks to the folks who were interviewed.

They've given more depth to what it means to have Indonesian heritage.

And thank you to everyone who has shown support for Buah along the way. This zine wouldn't have taken its physical form without their love and care.

Terima kasih!

Dedicated to Awan, Aki dan Yangti.

Table of Contents Editor's Note............2 Interview: Feby............3 Poem: untitled............6 Interview: Putri............7 Poem: Hex for an Heirloom............10 Photo Series: You Only Wear Batik When............11 Vignette: Naked Arabic............15 Interview: Lona............17 List: Read these books............20 Photo Series: Thank You For Your Duas............21

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Editor's Note Buah zine is a space by and for those with Indonesian heritage who live or have grown up abroad.

Growing up in upstate New York, I absolutely did not see myself reflected in any kind of media I was consuming: books, TV shows, movies, music — my experiences did not have space. With Buah, I hope to create that space to share with others who are similarly unseen.

With love,

Teta Alim Visit buahzine.wordpress.com

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(Photo courtesy of Feby)

Born & raised: Southern California, U.S.A. Currently living in: Bay Area, California, U.S.A. Age: 22

Feby works for an engineering firm in Oakland that does sustainable building design and engineering.

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Interview: Feby Q: What are your interests?

I studied environmental analysis with a policy focus. I was very involved in environmental justice activism, so understanding race in an environmental context. But I was really interested in policy, and how do we create acceptable urban spaces where it’s clean air, clean sources of energy, to communities of color? My senior thesis was looking at decentralized forms of energy as a community-building mechanism, particularly for communities of color. Really interested in that concept.

Q: What was it like for you growing up with Indonesian heritage?

It was quite blurry growing up, mainly because I grew up in a Catholic community and it was predominantly Chinese-Indonesians, IndonesianAmericans. I went to a pretty diverse elementary school, junior high and high school. I grew up with a pretty large Vietnamese and Latinx community. And then, I went to a high school that was predominantly Asian, a lot of East Asians. It definitely wasn't until college that I really recognized my identity as Southeast Asian, or Indonesian-American.

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Q: What kind of lessons did your parents instill in you growing up?

Always wear a jacket because masuk angin is real.

Never leave the house with wet hair. My mom literally always carried minyak kayu putih in her bag.

Like, oh my god, this is so embarrassing. The whole car, or room, could smell!

Other fun, great lessons: making gado gado. I'm super into food; my dream one day is to really interact and commit to Indonesian cuisine. So, growing up, my mom — who I believe is a really excellent cook — really taught me; that was how I learned my culture. That was her form of love.

You know, when I go back home to Indonesia, when I go back to Jakarta and see my mom's family, that's their way to say, "I love you." Like, the act of giving, and specifically, like, "Have you eaten?" I think that's another lesson that I learned from my mom, like unconditional giving. And it's difficult as a person who identifies as an Indonesian-American woman, where is that line between unconditional giving and love, and also self-care and doing things for yourself while not being guilty for that self-care?

Q: Tell me a little more about your background.

I identify as Indonesian-American. My dad considers his hometown to be Surabaya, but he was born in Denpasar, Bali. And my mother is from a rural part of West Kalimantan called Sambas, and there's a lot of ethnically Chinese influence and people there. I grew up definitely identifying as Chinese-Indonesian.

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untitled by Rasy Rasy is a writer based in Brisbane, Australia. Find them on Instagram @rascalities and check out their writing at skinmachine.wordpress.com.

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Interview: Putri Born & raised: Washington, D.C. area, U.S.A. Currently living in: D.C. area, U.S.A. Age: 24

Putri is a communications major in Maryland.

She wants to go into public relations and put the spotlight on others.

Q: What was it like growing up with an Indonesian community in the D.C. area?

Ever since I was young, I was very involved in the Indonesian community. I felt like I had a double life of me at school and me outside of school. My parents put me in Sunday school, I was part of the volunteers at summer camp, at IMAAM camp. So I was very, very involved.

I think that's another reason why I know Indonesian pretty well. And I'm very attached to my culture. I think that my parents have been very good at helping me remember where I came from and not letting me forget it at all. I grew up with a lot of Indonesian friends. To this day, we're still the best of friends. It was really helpful, actually. I think it also helped me be closer to my culture.

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"If it wasn't for the fact that I'm IndonesianAmerican, I don't know who I would be today."

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Q: Tell me more about your experience with whiteness and growing up surrounded by whiteness as a young person of color.

I remember when I was younger — 'til this day, I regret it — but I made my parents get a minivan and I was gonna convince myself that I liked soccer. I was like, I'm gonna like soccer, and my parents are gonna get a minivan, and they're gonna pick me up from soccer practice.

Like, I wanted to be the "typical American child" for so long; I had this identity crisis.

And in high school, I had to pretend that I liked all the things they liked, and I didn't. I remember trying to like country music, but in reality, I friggin' hated it with everything I have inside of me. I would just try so hard, even though my high school was kind of racist. I remember graduation, I was like, "Peace out," I got my diploma and I didn’t stay.

Q: What does having Indonesian heritage mean to you?

Everything. If it wasn't for the fact that I’m Indonesian-American, I don't know who I would be today. I think a lot of my moral values stem from Indonesian culture. I think I follow a lot in my mom and dad's footsteps when it comes to how I want to raise my children...If I didn't have that, I don't know who I'd be today, honestly.

It's just everything.

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Hex for an Heirloom by Dena Igusti Dena is a writer from Queens, New York. She is also co-founder of Short Line Review, a resource for creatives. Find her on Instagram @benabodena and check out her writing at denaigusti.wordpress.com.

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You Only Wear Batik When

by Teta Alim

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Naked Arabic by Teta Alim Before I learned that the Archangel told the Prophet (peace be upon him) "Iqra!" mamak told me to read.

The first books I picked up were in a language that fit over my parents' mouths like muzzles, lodging itself in my throat and pushing Indonesian into a small, dark corner.

I learned English quickly, mamak said, and as English formed a well-fitted cage around Indonesian, the next set of bars would come from Arabic.

When mamak recites the Qur'an, her brassy voice drops to a whisper and she cups the words gently, in a steady rhythm. When bapak recites, his soft voice transforms into a big parade, Arabic words marching with pride.

My recitation is erratic, sometimes a typhoon, sometimes a light shower. Always drowning because Arabic as a third language for me has always confined itself to the Qur'an.

Eventually, the sweeping letters revealed their patterns to me, but I still couldn’t understand or speak it.

God's Truth had always felt a little distant, lost in translation. Arabic was a throne I could only kneel in front of; every time I tried to sit, I'd find nails and blades. And even when I finally learned to read it, they were just empty songs.

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My parents first finished the Qur'an at much younger ages than me, and they would go on to khatam Qur'an multiple times. Mamak probably finished every Ramadan, her recitation as steady as her fasting.

It took me much longer to finish.

"Why haven’t you finished?" mamak would ask every other week. And every time, I would mutter something about being too busy.

"But you can memorize those songs," mamak would say and click her tongue.

When I finally finished the Qur'an at age 21, it was during the last days of Ramadan. I was in a small masjid that was formerly a church, legs crossed and back hunched, slightly rocking on the blue carpet. My butt was going numb from sitting for so long.

There were a few other people around, murmuring, worshipping during this itikaf. I sat far away from everyone, alone with a gold-tinged Qur'an in my lap.

The last surahs left my lips, slipping out in small whispers.

I stared at the final page in the dim light, wondering if God’s Truth could finally mean something to me. Fajr was approaching, and I felt lighter, but I wasn't sure if that was God’s Truth or just years of shame and frustration slowly evaporating.

I looked over the last surah again:

Surat an-Nas (Mankind) 1. Say: "I seek refuge with (Allah) the Lord of mankind, 2. "The King of mankind — 3. The Ilah (God) of mankind, 4. "From the evil of the whisperer (devil who whispers evil in the hearts of men) who withdraws (from his whispering in one's heart after one remembers Allah).

5. "Who whispers in the breasts of mankind.

6. "Of jinn and men."

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Interview: Lona Raised in: Northern Virginia, U.S.A. Currently living in: Charlottesville, Virginia, U.S.A. Age: 21

Lona — a.k.a. MANIIK — is a musician and an undergrad student in foreign affairs.

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Q: Tell me more about your interest in music, how you got involved, and your songwriting process.

I had this moment where I realized I really wanted to try and get more influences from traditional Indonesian music into my music practice. Because I realized I actually did have that knowledge sort of embedded in my brain because I grew up around my parents who played a lot of Indonesian music in the house, whether it was Batak Karo music or dangdut.

I've seen a gamelan orchestra in real life. I'm aware of the scales and how to compose that music, I guess, and I didn't realize it at the time. So, I started working with that.

Now, I make electronic music that is downtempo with a lot of Indonesian influence. What I like to do is find traditional Batak Karo music on YouTube, chop that up, use that as samples, use a lot of gamelan samples, looking into the different instruments and trying to find samples of it on the internet and incorporating that in my music. There are some songs that I write in English, but also Bahasa [Indonesia] and Batak Karo, which has been a really interesting experience.

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Q: You were raised in a religious community. Do you still feel connected to that?

So, the church has never really resonated with me in general. I think there were times where because my parents were so religious and my family's so religious, and my four best friends are also pretty religious, and all my Indonesian friends were religious; for a while, I tried to convince myself that I was also religious. Just because I thought that was going to be the tie for me being Indonesian; at the time, I thought, "OK, if I want to be Indonesian, I also have to really dive into this religion part of it."

But, I'm not really religious. I still participate in the culture surrounding it, as in going to church when I come back, but I'm not super religious.

It's definitely been an interesting thing for me to reconcile because I only recently realized that I don't need to be religious to still stay connected to these other Indonesian people that I know. But for a while, I didn't feel like that. And, for a while, I also felt pretty ostracized because I'm queer and where does that fit in? Because I don't know any queer, Indonesian, Christian girls, so I felt like those things couldn't exist.

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Read these books

Indigenous Species by Khairani Barokka

(screenshot of cover via iBooks)

Apple and Knife by Intan Paramaditha

Pramoedya Ananta Toer's "Buru Quartet" 20

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Thank You For Your Duas

by Teta Alim

(or, that time I visited Aceh in 2017 to see my grandparents' hometowns after Awan — inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un — died. I saw the same lake he saw as a child, a young man, the one he had to leave.)

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Buah means "fruit" in Bahasa Indonesia.

Visit buahzine.wordpress.com for the full experience.