A fate that was impossible to be unproblematic. The story of the East and West's convergence on the far continent is what attracts my attention the most in Asia. I wonder what the untouched indigenousness of far continents meant for the white man. Certainly, every conquered distance was like an exotic gem to be brought back to the West. Who can say that it isn't still that way today? I am attending the UBUD authors festival in Bali, Indonesia, as an invited guest. As one of the rare Hindu islands of Pacific Asia, the aestheticism that has pervaded daily life not only inspires awe but also stimulates many questions. At first glance, black and white, the contrast between good and evil, which appears as a motif in Hinduism, evolves into a motif of settling accounts as you listen to the authors. Nigerian Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka signaled at what has been stolen from his country while discussing “compassion and solidarity,” the main theme of the festival. He says official apologies from states have no meaning, and with a unique irony states, “Can an apology bring back what has been stolen from my land Africa?” The encounter between the East and West was always problematic. The most visible sign of this was the centuries-old colony issue. Neither books written today nor apologies extended officially can overcome the malice left over from ancestors. Institutions that provide compassion have not been able to clear history, either. The ongoing settlement of accounts stands as a never-ending conscious pain between the two worlds. Perhaps the poet is right: The East and West shall never meet. Perhaps that is the reason why the guilt-ridden white authors of the far continent attracted my attention the most out of the dozens of authors invited to attend the UBUD authors festival. What is the explanation for their weak disposition even after having lived together for so long? Just like African stories, the white man's life in Asia has been stifled by the accumulated anger of the natives.
It is almost as if the authors and thinkers of the different races that sit around the same table in this far away part of the world are expressing inappropriateness when speaking to each other under the shadows of baggage from the past. There are white Australians, New Zealanders and authors and poets that came from several different unfamiliar islands at the festival. There are natives that speak English like their mother tongue and people from a range of places from Singapore, Sri Lanka, Burma to the Philippines that have different appearances and skin tones. The one feature that they all have in common is being Asian. But balances ruined by whites many years ago have left Asia constantly questioning some of its values.
I felt a similar way when I visited the British Museum in London once. Seeing the world as an area open for conquest and everything created in foreign lands as a prize has taken away compassion from the story of humanity. It is understandable how this kind of experienced history has shaken the feeling of justice.
Is it possible for them to keep wealth alive without shaking the feeling of justice in the lives they built with what they took from the world? I am not talking about keeping what has been produced in their homeland. I am talking about protecting reality in bilateral relations without being submerged in authenticism.
In a place where reality is subject to so much intervention, it is inevitable that the balance will shift in favor of the powerful. But the conscience created as a result of the balance lost in nature inevitably becomes a test and consequence for future generations.
This is what the lives of the Asians with Western roots I met here look like to me. It is understandable that even if centuries pass by, there will always be a black author asking them questions, a human rights defender always holding them captive and a victim always showing the way.
Because even if justice disappears from our lives, it will always be an innate reality of our existence.
