Selamat tinggal untuk saat ini OR Selamat tinggal untuk selamanya?
Either way, it’s a ‘hwyl fawr’ through the paradoxical airwaves.
- The furthest I’ve ever travelled
- The longest I’ve ever stayed in the same hotel room
- The second of the above does not appertain to Wallace.
Huge commendation and immense gratitude to Geinor from Theatr na n’Og who is such a visionary when it comes to subject matter within contemporary storytelling. This has been such a gift and I will never be able to fully contextualise the incredible enrichment that working on ‘You should ask Wallace’ has added to my personal life. This enrichment of education continues throughout my life.
The land of flip flops and flip flopping non-commitment.
No solar panels. A shit load of plastic everywhere. Totally disconnected from nature.
I expected. I hoped. I wished. I dreamt.
I found, I despaired, I sank like the bleached corals.
This is not a direct comment on the people of Indonesia. This is a comment on us. All of us. Wherever we live. Whatever we feel. This paradise of an archipelago / Kepulauan Nusantara demonstrates the effect of our direct choices. Each and every one of them.
And despite some comments from scientists to suggest that it’s not as simple as little Greta may suggest. It seems to me that it really is that simple.
“No one is too small to make a difference”
And I really, really felt for all those scientists that have lived and breathed these thoughts and fears for over a quarter of a century. They are heroes in the way they have continued on their quest. They have undertaken the most difficult of tasks in the face of the greatest of adversities. At the head of that specific scientific Wallace line are Trevor Roach and the irrepressible alpha George Beccaloni.
Indonesia of today needs Wallace. Paul Smith, the Director of the British Council summarised it perfectly.
“Wallace is from the UK. Wallacea is Indonesian. It belongs to you. You are the custodians”
And these are some of those newly appointed custodians.
After all, if the hat fits:
Rays of hope cling on to the disappearing timeline. Daeng Serang Dakko really is a maestro. The rhythmic call to nature’s defence are still echoing within me.
This was the only perceivable connection between man and ‘alam’ during my whole stay. And the first time I saw a ‘garden’ in Makassar. This is a paradise offered and gifted as a palette for natural growth and sustenance. But there were secluded places where the gift was received, and nurtured.
And other offerings of sanctuary now receiving the guise of modern forts as an attempt to hold back the sea. This happened now. We were there. King Canute is re-born and re-incarnated on these distant shores.
The land of mopeds, cheap cigarettes, sunsets and ‘mister, mister’. A ‘bule’ abroad.
And on the final day, a chance to seek reflections in the green waters of Fort Rottingdam.
Pagan gods floating in their misery and despair.
If only religions (of all creed) could place nature at the core of the worship. We all need this call to prayer. It is the only cause that merits establishing a deity to offer hope. But hope is disappearing. Fast. Humans are the plague. Evolution has a devious twist to mask our flawed journey.
So, the sun sets.
And so we wait in the airport with a flight delaying our final aspirations and hope. My hair sits on a Makassar floor.
If only Wallace was here. Or perhaps he always is. And we simply need to raise our perception.
During the final performance, a solitary butterfly entered the mall and circled above with the subtle messaging code of a silent, inaudible convert.
During the first performance, the first rain since our welcoming thunder storm followed the Wallace chant of ‘Awan-awan, sepertynia datang’. It was a deluge. It was fitting. It is what it is. It is the Wallace line and we crossed it.