12 years in prison and traces of Gerwani
Sekar Ayu
One afternoon in 1965, Manismar sat in a dimly lit prison cell in Solok, West Sumatra, clutching her baby tightly. Her face was bruised, and her fingernails were dark with blood. Just hours earlier, she had been tortured by police interrogators, forced to confess knowledge of a coup attempt in Jakarta—a city far from her hometown.
Manis, as she is affectionately called, is now 91 years old. She is one of tens of thousands of Indonesian women who were detained without trial during the anti-communist massacres of 1965–1966 under Suharto’s regime. Her nine-month-old baby, Elen, was imprisoned along with her. Manis spent 12 years behind bars, raising her child inside the prison walls.
In the early days of her detention, Manis was tortured by Sergeant Major Baharudin Daulay at the Simpang Rumbio detention camp, a former military hospital. Her toenails were crushed under a table leg. Her head was slammed against the wall. Guards screamed at her, calling her a communist spy, a traitor, and a woman unworthy of life. One officer pointed a gun at her head telling her ‘A chicken’s life is worth more than yours’.
During one time of great despair, her baby developed breathing difficulties due to the cold, damp prison conditions. Manis begged to take her daughter to a doctor. A sympathetic guard finally took them. Manis then sold her only ring, a keepsake from her mother, to buy medicine. The doctor who examined Elen offered to take care of the baby while Manis remained imprisoned, but she refused.
‘But I couldn’t be apart from my child,’ said Manis.
After the treatment, Elen gradually recovered, day by day, and returned to her mother's arms.
Other prisoners—mostly her fellow members of Gerwani (the Indonesian Women's Movement), a progressive women's organisation affiliated with the Indonesian Communist Party (PKI)—took turns helping care for Elen. They protected each other, shared the little food sent by their families even when it was not enough for themselves, and sang lullabies to soothe Elen to sleep and drown out the screams of other detainees being interrogated.
Although she did not suffer alone, there were days when Manis’s grief felt a thousand times heavier. One night in 1966, a group of police officers from another station arrived with news that her husband, Zulkifli Husain, had been executed along with five others. His crime? Being affiliated with Pemuda Rakyat, a youth organisation also linked to the PKI. To this day, Manis does not know where her husband was buried. There is no grave, no headstone, no closure—only endless mourning.
Manis also recounted the story of Lasmi, a young kindergarten teacher from Sijunjung, West Sumatra. She was another prisoner who was raped repeatedly by prison officers. One night, with a blank stare, Lasmi bid farewell to her cellmates. She was never seen again.
‘She said she couldn’t take it anymore, then left,’ Manis whispered.
After 12 years of arbitrary detention, Manis was officially released in 1977 as part of a mass amnesty. She chose to return to her hometown, bringing Elen, who was by then entering adolescence, with her.
Unlike the experiences of many former political prisoners, the villagers welcomed Manis back without stigma. There was no mandatory reporting requirement or social ostracisation. Her neighbours remembered her as someone who had once taught the elderly to read and run a kindergarten.
Despite losing everything—her husband, her youth, and her rights as a citizen—Manis refused to give up. She continued her life with quiet resilience. Manis holds the names, faces, and stories of her missing comrades deep in her memory and heart. In many ways, memory is the only form of justice she can still preserve.
Manismar and her role in Gerwani
Born in 1934 in Padang Tinggi, Agam, West Sumatra, Manis was the seventh of twelve siblings and the first daughter in the family. Manis’s father was a conservative kiai (Islamic cleric) who migrated from Malaysia, while her mother was a homemaker. From a young age, Manis felt she was treated differently simply because she was a girl.
She grew up watching her brothers go to school while she was forbidden to do so by her father. Manis was only taught to cook and study religion. However, her determination to get an education never wavered. Every day, she walked 10 kilometres just so she could finish elementary school. This was her first act of rebellion.
Manis continued to resist the patriarchal norms deeply rooted in her family and community. With the secret support of her mother, in 1953, she joined Nasyiatul Aisyiyah, a Muslim women's organisation under Muhammadiyah. Although her father initially forbade her from joining, he eventually relented after being persuaded by his wife and other children.
Starting from her time in Nasyiatul Aisyiyah, Manis began to enjoy the process of self-discovery. She realised that women were not meant only to obey and remain silent. In 1955, she expanded her activism by joining Gerwani.
In her hometown of Ladang Laweh, Gerwani was not viewed as an extreme organisation, contrary to what was later propagated by the New Order regime. Gerwani was well known for its programs that empowered women. Through Gerwani, Manis networked with other women from various backgrounds, including the wives of community leaders who were also members.
Manis’ persistence and active role in revitalising Gerwani, along with her closeness to the community, led her fellow members to entrust her with a leadership position in Gerwani for Solok.
Her work in Gerwani was deeply rooted in the daily lives of rural women. Manis helped mothers learn to read medicine labels, assisted wives in managing household finances, and supported families so they would no longer go hungry.
Her dedication went beyond just women’s and family issues. She began engaging with broader political matters. In 1957, West Sumatra became one of the centres for the PRRI (Pemerintah Revolusioner Republik Indonesia; Revolutionary Government of the Republic of Indonesia) rebellion—a military and civil movement which opposed the central government over development inequality and Javanese dominance.
Amid the nation’s tense political climate, Manis took a firm stand in support of the central government. She led a demonstration of thousands in Solok to oppose the PRRI. With conviction, she voiced her support for President Sukarno and the preservation of the Unitary State of the Republic of Indonesia (Negara Kesatuan Republik Indonesia, NKRI).
Because of this action, Manis was arrested and detained by the police for one year in Muara Prison, Padang. Nevertheless, she never regretted her stance or felt guilty. To her, rejecting a rebellion was not a crime.
Manis spent her days in prison holding on to one principle. She refused to be treated like a criminal and relied on her family’s support to survive. Though bitter, the experience only strengthened her belief that she was on the right path.
‘I didn’t want that prison food. If they gave it to me, I’d say, I’m not going to eat this. I’m not a criminal. I’m just someone who’s been detained. And because of that, I was detained again,’ she said firmly.
After being released, Manis returned to her activism in Gerwani. In 1960, she became the West Sumatra Gerwani delegate for an international women’s organisation conference in China. There, she exchanged experiences with women from around the world and voiced the struggles of Indonesian women: child marriage, domestic violence, and limited access to education.
Upon returning to Solok, Manis established a kindergarten and focused more on social advocacy. At that time, Gerwani in West Sumatra was rapidly growing, and Manis became one of the key figures in building the women’s movement in her region.
For Manis, despite the lies spread through New Order propaganda, Gerwani was not just an organisation—it was a space to create a more just life for the women around her through real, grassroots work grounded in everyday domestic needs.
Manis’ life experience is proof of how women can suffer double victimisation and experience layers of trauma from the events of 1965–1966. As a wife whose husband was murdered, a mother whose child spent her early years in prison, and as a woman facing extraordinary cruelty—despite it all, Manis continued to show resilience and courage. To borrow the words of Pramoedya Ananta Toer, Manis fought, as best she could, and with dignity.
Sekar Ayu is a research assistant at the Centre for Citizenship and Human Rights Studies, Universitas Pembangunan Nasional ‘Veteran’ Jakarta.
