In the Shadows of Yogya Mall
I called Rawamangun, East Jakarta, my home for several years. As a token of my late grandfather’s service at the Customs and Excises Office, he was granted an official residence on Bujana Trita Street, just a stone’s throw away from a vibrant football stadium. Our story took a turn when I entered kindergarten, and my family embarked on a new chapter, migrating eastward to Bekasi some 27 years ago.
During our time in Rawamangun, my family, particularly my late grandmother, developed a fondness for two bustling malls. Arion Mall, situated across from the Jakarta Velodrome, and Yogya Mall, nestled near the Klender commuter line station, became our favorite haunts. These vibrant shopping destinations held a special place in our hearts.
Even after our move to Bekasi, some habits die hard. With her unwavering loyalty, my late grandmother insisted on continuing her shopping excursions at Arion Mall and Yogya Mall. “I know these malls like the back of my hand — the shops, the shopkeepers,” she would say with a smile. However, over time, Yogya Mall began to hold a more prominent place in her heart, thanks to its proximity to our new home.
Around 25 years ago this month, I was transitioning from kindergarten to elementary school. I went to a school 15 minutes away westward from home by motorbike. Thus, although I lived in Bekasi, my school was still a part of the Greater Jakarta Area. However, although I was young, May 1998 etched itself into my memory. I recall a shift in the air of Jakarta — an unsettling, threatening, and uncomfortable aura.
One fateful day, I observed my mother and aunts adorning our yard with Indonesian flags. Another time, I witnessed them affixing handmade posters to the fence, bearing the words “Pribumi,” symbolizing the indigenous Indonesians. During my daily motorbike taxi — ojek — rides to school, I encountered individuals clutching televisions, air conditioners, and other electronics, frantically running through the streets. Simultaneously, a colossal plume of smoke billowed into the sky along Kalimalang Street.
Then came the day when I found my grandmother in tears, trembling, and drenched in sweat within the confines of our home. The fragments of her words still echo within me.
“I was shopping.”
“A security guard yelled, instructing us to leave the mall immediately.”
“I panicked and looked for the exit.”
“I turned my head, and the mall was engulfed in flames.”
That fateful date was 15 May 1998 — the day Yogya Mall fell victim to looting and was consumed by fire. According to the Joint Fact-finding Team for the Events of May 1998, this act was part of a purportedly state-sanctioned, nationwide campaign of violence that spanned from 13 to 15 May 1998.
Today, we gather to honor the victims, their families, and the courageous human rights defenders, commemorating the May 1998 tragedy. In Jakarta, crowds flock to the hallowed grounds of Pondok Ranggon public cemetery, where those who lost their lives during this period found their final resting place.
The passage of time has taken its toll on many surviving family members, rendering them aged and fragile. After 25 years of tireless struggle for justice, ignoring the faint traces of weariness would be disingenuous. However, fatigue does not equate to surrender. One mother, speaking during her poignant address, proclaimed that she and others continue to demand that “the President hold the alleged perpetrators accountable by bringing them to trial.”
Regrettably, despite the passage of a quarter-century, the government has yet to display the ability and willingness to establish an effective mechanism for accountability. The Attorney General’s Office persistently deflects the National Human Rights Commission’s investigation, rendering the judicial process unattainable.
In a disheartening twist, the government embraces those accused of perpetrating the atrocities, granting them influential positions of power. This brazen act sends a chilling message that undermines the pursuit of justice and reopens old wounds. Even more distressing is the fact that new instances of human rights violations continue to surface, painting a bleak picture of a government that refuses to learn from its past mistakes. Such disregard for the rights and dignity of its citizens highlights a concerning pattern of negligence and impunity.
