The Kraken

The Kraken

I've been asked by a reader to write about the corruption, collusion and nepotism that exists in Indonesia, better known as "KKN" here (Korupsi, Kolusi dan Nepotisme). The Indonesians have a penchant for acronyms: KKN (pronounced "kah-kah-end"), is even used as a verb, "We have to KKN with so-and-so to win this project".

I am new to Indonesia and I do not profess to fathom the intricacies of politics and culture in this multi-ethnic land which I've grown to love. The intrigues, rumours and gossips related to the alleged sins of the Suharto regime have been well-discussed elsewhere and I have nothing to add to that, as I am not an insider. All I can offer are my own personal impressions and I tend to view things metaphorically, within the grand sweep of history.

I first heard the expression "KKN" during the height of Krismon (Krisis Moneter--monetary crisis) of 1997-98. The three-syllable and vowel-less acronym "KKN" sounds very strong when pronouned the Indonesian way. Visually, the twin letters 'K' look like a pair of open jaws--hungry ones at that; and when people say "kah-kah-end", sprinklings of saliva shoot out from their mouths.

What the triple letters of K-K-N conjure up in my mind is the image of the KraKeN--that multi-tentacled mythical seamonster much feared by ancient seafarers.

This metaphor seems apt because Indonesia, with its 17,000 islands, as Pramoedya Ananta Toer likes to point out, is a maritime nation. It's most glorious period in history is during the height of the Majapahit empire when almost the entire Malay archipelago was under its dominion. "Nusantara" or "Nusa Antara" (The World in Between), lies between two mighty oceans--the Indian ocean and the South China Sea. For centuries it has been the meeting point between Chinese traders from the Far East and Arab and Indian traders from the West, driven by the confluence of trade winds.

The richness of Nusantara--spices, timber, coffee, tin and oil--are immeasurable. The former regime--the Kraken--devoured them hungrily. It's tentacles reach into every nook and corner of its realm. But back then before the storm of Krismon hit the Nusantara seas, no one bothered to stop the Kraken. The Kraken ruled the waves.

The seas then were filled with schools of fishes just picking on the bits and crumbs left behind by the Kraken. It was very safe just to hide within the slipstream of the marauding Kraken. Food was aplenty. The few who did stray away were swallowed alive or banished to some watery grave.

Only when the storm left the clumsy Kraken stranded on dry land, did these slipstream fishes started scrambling for the safer depths of the ocean. The Kraken tried to persuade, almost nostalgically, that Badai Pasti Berlalu (the storm will surely pass). But alas, so did the receding waters, leaving the Kraken to rot under the merciless sun.

The Kraken is no more. But the slipstream fishes have developed sharp teeth over the years of living off the Kraken's spoils. They are still there, piranha-like, harrassing the smaller fishes.

Sometimes when they open their mouths to speak, you are reminded of the twin 'K's of KKN--those gaping jaws ready to devour. For a brief moment, their voice would be inaudible and all you see are the hollows of their mouths and the glint of their teeth, moist with saliva. And then you begin to shudder at the memory of the mighty Kraken.