Bronwyn Duke
‘Panas-panas tahi ayam’ is an Indonesian saying meaning something or someone who ‘like chicken shit, is only hot for a short time’. Some would say this is an apt description of Australia’s response to the executions in Indonesia of Myuran Sukumaran and Andrew Chan on 28 April 2015, along with six other prisoners. The heat in the bilateral relationship caused by the executions will soon cool off and diplomacy will return to normal.
Others, including the Indonesian media would argue that the issue was never really ‘hot’ at all and the flurry of newspaper articles on the topic was nothing more than Australian media hype. Did these executions matter in the context of the Australia–Indonesia bilateral relationship? Did Australians and Indonesians for that matter, really care? And if they did, so what?
In Australia, on the night of the executions, shivering in Melbourne’s autumn weather, a handful of people held a candle-lit vigil in front of the Indonesian Consulate. Over the course of the night the numbers rose and fell, dropping at one point to just two shivering women and a rotund, leaf-eating dog. They might have been few in number, but these people were passionate.
‘I just couldn’t sleep’, said one woman, pacing up and down. ‘I kept thinking about it.’
An older lady sat silently, a rug pulled up over her knees, staring at the flickering candles. Later when she spoke, she talked of the last executions that were carried out in Australia, and the response from the public. She described what it was like in America during the anti-Vietnam war protests. So much unnecessary and unforgivable murder.
Not so very far away, in sweltering Jakarta, a group of people similarly disturbed by the looming execution gathered in front of the presidential palace, also lighting candles and expressing their opposition. ‘Jokowi is not God’, read one placard. As in Australia, opposition to the executions has come from all sectors of the community – celebrities, human rights activists, students and the ordinary person on the street.
Migrant Care, an Indonesian group that advocates for the rights of migrant workers, sent their support to those holding the vigil in Melbourne. ‘We send greetings of solidarity for all our friends in Australia from all of us, the friends and networks in Indonesia who agree that the death penalty should be stopped in all cases. We cannot express our sadness. The news that Jokowi will execute the prisoners has cut our hearts to pieces.’
Mary Jane
Komnas Perempuan, the National Commission on Anti-Violence against Women, took up the case of Mary Jane Veloso, a Filipina convicted drug smuggler whose execution was set for 28 April 2015. After visiting Mary Jane in Wirogunan prison in mid-April, Komnas Perempuan declared her a victim of human trafficking and began an all-out campaign to bring the inconsistencies and injustices in her case to the attention of the president.
For the activists involved in this case, there was a high level of emotional investment in the campaign, ‘I haven’t slept properly in three weeks’, said Yuni, one of the staff members. ‘I cry when I think of her. Since meeting her on Friday, I keep imagining her face, wondering if I will see her alive again and if Jokowi really will execute her’.
The meeting with Mary Jane was emotional for everyone involved. Yuni says, ‘When I told her, “We are from Komnas Perempuan and we have written a letter to the president to ask for clemency on your case” she hugged me and cried’. At Komnas Perempuan’s request, Mary Jane scribbled out a personal letter to Jokowi. She wrote to him, begging for clemency, on a page in Yuni's notebook. While she wrote, Yuni noticed Mary Jane was wearing blue sneakers with flowers on them identical to ones Yuni has at home. ‘I truly beg of you that you save me from the death penalty and give me the opportunity to be together with my children’, wrote Mary Jane.
Yuni has not just suffered the emotional weight of feeling responsible for Mary Jane’s fate, but has also endured personal attacks for the stance she has taken.
‘I’m being attacked by school friends on the internet for defending Mary Jane. They say I'm pro-drugs. I’m still getting text messages and stuff online. They say I’m sick in the head, I’m not patriotic, I’m crazy, and that I’m a lackey for the West’, said Yuni. ‘But I’m not afraid. I believe in what I am fighting for. I am convinced that the death penalty in Indonesia must be abolished....and that's going to be a difficult task’.
At the press conference held by Komnas Perempuan on the day the executions were scheduled, former chairperson Yuniyanti Chuzaifah broke down in tears as she spoke to reporters. Yuniyanti is a hardened activist, having headed up the institution for the previous five-year period, but she was unable to contain her grief in the face of what she considered to be a legal injustice; the taking of an innocent life sanctioned by the state.
For these activists there has been a temporary reprieve, with Mary Jane’s execution being postponed literally at the eleventh hour. The postponement came as the result of a request from Manila after the surrender of Mary Jane's alleged recruiter. Komnas Perempuan immediately issued a statement expressing their appreciation for Jokowi’s decision, but went on to express their ‘deep condolences to the families of the eight men who were executed’. For them, Mary Jane’s case is concrete proof that the struggle for the right to life is an issue that transcends borders and citizenship.
On the day after the execution, life in Melbourne seemed to go on as normal. The sun shone and people went about their daily business, drinking coffee and rushing to work. However, for those personally involved, both in Australia and Indonesia, those who closely followed the case, met the prisoners, worked alongside them, fought for their right to life, and supported their families, these executions will not be so easily forgotten. It is our shared humanity that crosses all borders, that doesn’t discriminate as to race or religion, which will be the driving force behind the abolition of the death penalty. The pain we feel now will be remembered long after the ‘shit has cooled’.
Bronwyn Duke (bronnyduck@gmail.com) is a translator and writer recently returned from working in Indonesia for the National Human Rights Commission on Anti-Violence against Women. She is published in Australia, Indonesia, Japan and the United States, including articles for Inside Indonesia, The Drum, and The Japan Times. Bronwyn holds a Master of Arts (Asian Studies) from Murdoch University focusing on women and development.
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