Thursday, October 19, 2006
Au programme télé en Indonésie, ramadan et humour nocturne (MAGAZINE)
Par Nabiha SHAHAB
JAKARTA, 19 oct 2006 (AFP) - Finis les prêches austères des matins du ramadan. Durant le mois sacré musulman, des dizaines de millions d'Indonésiens commencent leur journée sur une émission télévisée où humour et religion font bon ménage.
Qu'ils habitent un village bordé de rizières ou une mégalopole, les 90% d'Indonésiens qui se réclament de l'islam se lèvent actuellement vers 02H30 pour "sahur", le repas avant une longue journée de jeûne.
En même temps ils dévorent "Stasiun Ramadan", ou "STAR", un programme animé par Ulfa et Eko, deux trentenaires venus de la radio.
Un de leurs sketches est inspiré de l'histoire de Cendrillon. Un riche jeune homme est à la recherche d'une femme ravissante, qui a laissé derrière elle une paire de sandales. Vêtue d'une robe de fée équipée d'une paire d'ailes et coiffée d'une perruque brune, Ulfa brandit une baguette magique rose et l'aide dans sa quête.
Hélas, la belle créature avait emprunté les sandales d'une amie, en fait un travesti qui fait irruption à l'écran, maquillé, en débardeur sous sa chemise en batik, prêt à se jeter dans les bras du riche jeune homme. Le public dans la salle explose en éclats de rire.
De telles saynètes, où l'esprit est franchement à la rigolade, étaient encore récemment inconcevables.
Ulfa et Eko affirment avoir les premiers fait exploser le format télévisé des matins de ramadan, même si STAR commence et s'achève par le sermon d'un imam, qui insiste sur le thème du jour, par exemple l'importance d'être fidèle ou d'être attentionné envers l'étranger.
"Les émissions du sahur étaient auparavant plus religieuses, avec des débats et des appels de téléspectateurs", explique Ulfa Dwiyanthi, devenue une célébrité en Indonésie.
Elle affirme qu'elle et son partenaire Eko Hendro Purnomo furent, il y a six ans, les pionniers du divertissement du ramadan, un genre désormais bien installé dans le paysage audiovisuel indonésien, même s'il ne dure qu'un mois par an.
"Nous prêchons notre religion. Nous ne sommes pas différents d'autres prédicateurs, mais nous utilisons l'humour", assure Eko.
L'Indonésie, avec 220 millions de personnes, est le quatrième pays le plus peuplé du monde.
Subekhi, un adolescent de 13 ans, affirme bondir sur la télécommande de la télévision lors du réveil familial à 02H30, pour se brancher sur STAR.
"J'adore regarder Eko, il est très rapide, et Ulfa est marrante. J'ai plein d'amis à l'école qui les regarde aussi", dit-il en regrettant de ne pas posséder de téléphone portable afin de participer au jeu-concours de l'émission, qui permet de remporter chaque matin un deux-roues.
Au moins dix chaînes de télévision sont en compétition à l'heure cruciale du "sahur", rivalisant de cadeaux pour attirer audimat et sponsors.
STAR réunit un tiers des téléspectateurs selon la société d'étude marketing AC Nielsen.
Le programme met le paquet avec chaque nuit, en plus des animateurs, un orchestre, une équipe technique de 70 personnes et un public (payé) d'environ le même nombre.
Chaque émission revient à 100 millions de roupies (9.150 dollars) mais génère un "gros profit" selon Yul Andryono, le producteur. "C'est désormais facile de trouver des sponsors", se félicite-t-il.
La chaîne privée Rajawali Citra Televisi Indonesia (RCTI), qui diffuse STAR, se frotte les mains, même s'il faut payer le double les employés en horaires nocturnes.
"STAR est notre émission +star+ du ramadan", résume Murdjadi Ichsan, porte-parole de RCTI, reçue dans les 33 provinces de l'Indonésie avec un public estimé à 177 millions de personnes.
nsh/seb/
Par Nabiha SHAHAB
JAKARTA, 19 oct 2006 (AFP) - Finis les prêches austères des matins du ramadan. Durant le mois sacré musulman, des dizaines de millions d'Indonésiens commencent leur journée sur une émission télévisée où humour et religion font bon ménage.
Qu'ils habitent un village bordé de rizières ou une mégalopole, les 90% d'Indonésiens qui se réclament de l'islam se lèvent actuellement vers 02H30 pour "sahur", le repas avant une longue journée de jeûne.
En même temps ils dévorent "Stasiun Ramadan", ou "STAR", un programme animé par Ulfa et Eko, deux trentenaires venus de la radio.
Un de leurs sketches est inspiré de l'histoire de Cendrillon. Un riche jeune homme est à la recherche d'une femme ravissante, qui a laissé derrière elle une paire de sandales. Vêtue d'une robe de fée équipée d'une paire d'ailes et coiffée d'une perruque brune, Ulfa brandit une baguette magique rose et l'aide dans sa quête.
Hélas, la belle créature avait emprunté les sandales d'une amie, en fait un travesti qui fait irruption à l'écran, maquillé, en débardeur sous sa chemise en batik, prêt à se jeter dans les bras du riche jeune homme. Le public dans la salle explose en éclats de rire.
De telles saynètes, où l'esprit est franchement à la rigolade, étaient encore récemment inconcevables.
Ulfa et Eko affirment avoir les premiers fait exploser le format télévisé des matins de ramadan, même si STAR commence et s'achève par le sermon d'un imam, qui insiste sur le thème du jour, par exemple l'importance d'être fidèle ou d'être attentionné envers l'étranger.
"Les émissions du sahur étaient auparavant plus religieuses, avec des débats et des appels de téléspectateurs", explique Ulfa Dwiyanthi, devenue une célébrité en Indonésie.
Elle affirme qu'elle et son partenaire Eko Hendro Purnomo furent, il y a six ans, les pionniers du divertissement du ramadan, un genre désormais bien installé dans le paysage audiovisuel indonésien, même s'il ne dure qu'un mois par an.
"Nous prêchons notre religion. Nous ne sommes pas différents d'autres prédicateurs, mais nous utilisons l'humour", assure Eko.
L'Indonésie, avec 220 millions de personnes, est le quatrième pays le plus peuplé du monde.
Subekhi, un adolescent de 13 ans, affirme bondir sur la télécommande de la télévision lors du réveil familial à 02H30, pour se brancher sur STAR.
"J'adore regarder Eko, il est très rapide, et Ulfa est marrante. J'ai plein d'amis à l'école qui les regarde aussi", dit-il en regrettant de ne pas posséder de téléphone portable afin de participer au jeu-concours de l'émission, qui permet de remporter chaque matin un deux-roues.
Au moins dix chaînes de télévision sont en compétition à l'heure cruciale du "sahur", rivalisant de cadeaux pour attirer audimat et sponsors.
STAR réunit un tiers des téléspectateurs selon la société d'étude marketing AC Nielsen.
Le programme met le paquet avec chaque nuit, en plus des animateurs, un orchestre, une équipe technique de 70 personnes et un public (payé) d'environ le même nombre.
Chaque émission revient à 100 millions de roupies (9.150 dollars) mais génère un "gros profit" selon Yul Andryono, le producteur. "C'est désormais facile de trouver des sponsors", se félicite-t-il.
La chaîne privée Rajawali Citra Televisi Indonesia (RCTI), qui diffuse STAR, se frotte les mains, même s'il faut payer le double les employés en horaires nocturnes.
"STAR est notre émission +star+ du ramadan", résume Murdjadi Ichsan, porte-parole de RCTI, reçue dans les 33 provinces de l'Indonésie avec un public estimé à 177 millions de personnes.
nsh/seb/
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
In Indonesia, millions begin Ramadan days with a laugh
by Nabiha Shahab
JAKARTA, Oct 20, 2006 (AFP) - It's 2:45 in the morning and Ulfa and Eko have already launched into another Ramadan working day with their comedy sketch team, entertaining millions of Indonesians tuning in to their pre-dawn show.
When Indonesians wake up early for "sahur", the meal before they commence their daily fast during Islam's holy month, chances are high that they'll also watch this high-profile pair for a giggle and maybe to win a prize too.
For a few minutes at the beginning and the end of the show an Islamic preacher talks on a theme for the day -- such as the importance of not deceiving people, or of being kind to strangers.
But in between, the objective is laughter.
Dressed in a fairy godmother costume, complete with lacy wings and a brunette wig, Ulfa twirls her pink wand, trying to find the owner of a pair of sandals that a beautiful woman has left behind for the son of a rich man.
But the woman borrowed the pair from Tessi -- and there's uproar among the live studio audience when Tessi, a man sporting make up and tottering around in a batik skirt and traditional top, emerges to claim the man's love.
The sketch is typical of those performed on "Stasiun Ramadan", or "STAR", a high-octane variety show that some one third of TV audiences have been switching on for their time slot, according to TV ratings agency AC Nielsen.
"Sahur programs used to be more religious, with talk shows and viewers calling in -- that's about it," says Ulfa Dwiyanthi, known around the country as Ulfa.
"But after we started this comedy program with another television station, it boomed," she says, explaining how she and her stage partner Eko Hendro Purnomo pioneered the rowdy Ramadan genre.
That was six years ago -- now a multitude of similar shows compete to attract the once-a-year audience. With more than 90 percent of Indonesia's 220 million people following Islam, that's a hefty market for stations to exploit.
Thirteen-year-old Subekhi, who rises at 2:30 am for his morning meal during Ramadan, is one dedicated fan who commandeer's the family's remote to switch from one program to another.
"I like watching Eko best, he's very quick... and Ulfa is funny. A lot of my friends at school watch them, too," says Subekhi, who has been watching the programs for about three years.
Subekhi's only wish is that he had his own mobile phone, "so I can try the quiz and win a motorcycle."
At least 10 major Indonesian television stations compete broadcasting the live shows during Ramadan, offering lucrative cash prizes to draw eyeballs and therefore sponsors.
STAR alone gives away cash and a motorcycle daily worth around 30 million rupiah (dollars) -- but far more money is spun back in their direction for their holy month bonanza.
"This is the second year we've reached major success. It's now easy to find sponsors for the program," says Yul Andryono, STAR's executive producer.
Each show, with a regular cast of five, a band, 30 extras, a paid audience of about 70 and a crew the same size, costs around 100 million rupiah. Andryono says they make a "big profit" but declines to give details.
Murdjadi Ichsan, a spokesman for privately-owned Rajawali Citra Televisi Indonesia, the channel showing the program, says: "STAR is our 'star' program for Ramadan. It brings in a lot of sponsors."
RCTI broadcasts across all of Indonesia's 33 provinces, reaching about 177 million viewers.
The cast -- most of whom work on variety shows at normal hours the rest of the year -- is paid twice their normal rate for the early morning shows.
"The extra pay is fair," says Ulfa. "We start working when other people are still asleep. We have to be ready at the station by midnight for rehearsals and makeup."
Only one nationally broadcast TV station is yet to be dragged into the comedy frenzy, offering a purely religious program at sahur time.
"We cannot compare ourselves to other TV stations. We have our own target audience and we consistently try to cater to this segment," says Novelia Imelda, a spokeswoman for the mostly-news channel Metro TV.
AC Nielsen places them at the very bottom of the sahur program ratings.
Eko however believes STAR and other programs, through their comedy sketches with a moral flavour, are still teaching people about Islam.
"We are preaching our religion. We are no different from... other preachers -- but we use comedy to do it."
nsh/sb
by Nabiha Shahab
JAKARTA, Oct 20, 2006 (AFP) - It's 2:45 in the morning and Ulfa and Eko have already launched into another Ramadan working day with their comedy sketch team, entertaining millions of Indonesians tuning in to their pre-dawn show.
When Indonesians wake up early for "sahur", the meal before they commence their daily fast during Islam's holy month, chances are high that they'll also watch this high-profile pair for a giggle and maybe to win a prize too.
For a few minutes at the beginning and the end of the show an Islamic preacher talks on a theme for the day -- such as the importance of not deceiving people, or of being kind to strangers.
But in between, the objective is laughter.
Dressed in a fairy godmother costume, complete with lacy wings and a brunette wig, Ulfa twirls her pink wand, trying to find the owner of a pair of sandals that a beautiful woman has left behind for the son of a rich man.
But the woman borrowed the pair from Tessi -- and there's uproar among the live studio audience when Tessi, a man sporting make up and tottering around in a batik skirt and traditional top, emerges to claim the man's love.
The sketch is typical of those performed on "Stasiun Ramadan", or "STAR", a high-octane variety show that some one third of TV audiences have been switching on for their time slot, according to TV ratings agency AC Nielsen.
"Sahur programs used to be more religious, with talk shows and viewers calling in -- that's about it," says Ulfa Dwiyanthi, known around the country as Ulfa.
"But after we started this comedy program with another television station, it boomed," she says, explaining how she and her stage partner Eko Hendro Purnomo pioneered the rowdy Ramadan genre.
That was six years ago -- now a multitude of similar shows compete to attract the once-a-year audience. With more than 90 percent of Indonesia's 220 million people following Islam, that's a hefty market for stations to exploit.
Thirteen-year-old Subekhi, who rises at 2:30 am for his morning meal during Ramadan, is one dedicated fan who commandeer's the family's remote to switch from one program to another.
"I like watching Eko best, he's very quick... and Ulfa is funny. A lot of my friends at school watch them, too," says Subekhi, who has been watching the programs for about three years.
Subekhi's only wish is that he had his own mobile phone, "so I can try the quiz and win a motorcycle."
At least 10 major Indonesian television stations compete broadcasting the live shows during Ramadan, offering lucrative cash prizes to draw eyeballs and therefore sponsors.
STAR alone gives away cash and a motorcycle daily worth around 30 million rupiah (dollars) -- but far more money is spun back in their direction for their holy month bonanza.
"This is the second year we've reached major success. It's now easy to find sponsors for the program," says Yul Andryono, STAR's executive producer.
Each show, with a regular cast of five, a band, 30 extras, a paid audience of about 70 and a crew the same size, costs around 100 million rupiah. Andryono says they make a "big profit" but declines to give details.
Murdjadi Ichsan, a spokesman for privately-owned Rajawali Citra Televisi Indonesia, the channel showing the program, says: "STAR is our 'star' program for Ramadan. It brings in a lot of sponsors."
RCTI broadcasts across all of Indonesia's 33 provinces, reaching about 177 million viewers.
The cast -- most of whom work on variety shows at normal hours the rest of the year -- is paid twice their normal rate for the early morning shows.
"The extra pay is fair," says Ulfa. "We start working when other people are still asleep. We have to be ready at the station by midnight for rehearsals and makeup."
Only one nationally broadcast TV station is yet to be dragged into the comedy frenzy, offering a purely religious program at sahur time.
"We cannot compare ourselves to other TV stations. We have our own target audience and we consistently try to cater to this segment," says Novelia Imelda, a spokeswoman for the mostly-news channel Metro TV.
AC Nielsen places them at the very bottom of the sahur program ratings.
Eko however believes STAR and other programs, through their comedy sketches with a moral flavour, are still teaching people about Islam.
"We are preaching our religion. We are no different from... other preachers -- but we use comedy to do it."
nsh/sb
Mudspill misery on Indonesia's Java
by Nabiha Shahab
SIDOARJO, Indonesia, Sept 22, 2006 (AFP) - Tarmi stands outside her
uninhabitable home, lamenting her life as a refugee from Indonesia's
latest disaster -- a massive hot mudspill engulfing a slice of East
Java.
"I don't know where to go now," the 62-year-old grandmother says,
taking a break from cleaning whatever she can at her home in
heavily-populated Sidoarjo district. "I cannot live here. There is no
electricity and no water."
Frail-looking Tarmi is among more than 12,000 people who have been
forced from their homes across the district since May, when noxious,
steaming mud began spewing from the depths of the earth at an
exploratory gas well.
Awakened by the mud oozing through their home in the early hours of
the morning, she and her family gathered whatever belongings they
could and escaped to a nearby village.
"The mud rose from here to here," Tarmi says, gesturing a rapid
rise from her ankle to her knee. "The whole village ran."
The Indonesian company responsible for the drilling operation,
Lapindo Brantas -- which has links to Indonesia's welfare minister --
swiftly gave each affected household 5.5 million rupiah (about 500
dollars) in compensation.
Somewhat mollified, Tarmi and her family rented another house
nearby for a year.
But within weeks, that too was swallowed by the mud as the slick
gradually blighted some 435 hectares (1,075 acres) of residential,
industrial and farm land across the district, which is famed for its
organic shrimps.
The sludge reaches a depth of five metres in the worst-hit areas,
with rooftops just visible. Outer villages remain caked in dry mud and
abandoned for safety reasons, with the hastily-constructed dykes
regularly being breached.
Now Tarmi and her family spend their nights camped out on a nearby road.
"I don't know what to do next," she says.
The disaster has international engineers scratching their heads,
environmentalists fuming, politicians ducking for cover and mystics
working nights to stem the some 50,000 cubic metres of mud gushing out
daily.
Rudi Novrianto, a spokesman for the government team which was
formed nearly four months after the accident it firmly blames on
Lapindo, says experts from the United States and the Netherlands have
been called in to examine how the mud can be stopped. Nobody know when
this might be.
At the same time, the national team is working around the clock to
strengthen the dykes, Novrianto says.
"We have patrols looking for any cracks and examining the mud
surface as well as anything suspicious," he tells AFP.
A two-kilometre stretch of the main road connecting much of East
Java to the port town of Surabaya, Indonesia's second city, has been
transformed into a major construction site.
Heavy machinery works overtime to raise segments of the road next
to a threatening wall of dirt some 15 metres (yards) high, as convoys
of trucks dump dirt and pebbles from nearby villages in a frantic bid
to contain the mud.
The executive director of Indonesian environmental group Walhi,
Chalid Mohammad, says that tens of thousands of people have been
directly affected before even considering indirect losses, such as
shrimp farms being ruined if a plan to divert the mud to the sea is
implemented.
"We demand the government deal with the case of Lapindo Brantas and
their holding company as corporate crime," Mohammad says.
Hasan, the head of Kedungbendo village and a wealthy developer, has
resorted to the unearthly in his bid for results: offering a unit in
his housing complex worth about 100 million rupiah to any mystic who
can stem the mud's flow.
Nore than 60 mystics in the past few weeks have tried using their
spiritual gifts to end what the scientists cannot, Hasan says.
He says their nighttime labours would be stopped during the Muslim
holy fasting month of Ramadan, but adds: "If they're really good,
we'll let them keep trying."
An infuriated Hasan says his losses have amounted to more than 10
billion rupiah, with more than a hectare of his land now unusable.
"I have asked Lapindo to take responsibility (for his losses) but
keep getting ping-ponged by them. It is clear what the value of the
land and houses are. I have certificates to back the information," he
says.
"Lapindo should be held responsible and Aburizal Bakrie should
resign," he adds, referring to the welfare minister.
The company -- which says an earthquake in nearby Central Java
could have been to blame for the mishap -- has handed out compensation
to more than 2,600 households.
Some victims like Iva Sasmita, however, are rejecting the offer.
She and her husband moved into their new house in June, lured by
the beautiful location with an expanse of green rice paddies
stretching outside her back garden.
A month later they were forced out by the encroaching mud, which
has swallowed the lush paddies and still lingers outside her back
door. A two-metre high dyke looms across the landscape, filled with
greenish water, and her neighbourhood is deserted.
"I am very worried about the coming rainy season. My house will
definitely not be spared," she confides.
"We are really in a bind. If we don't pay (our mortgage) for 10
days they will seal our house and we will lose our right to any
compensation ... This is unfair. We have paid and what do we get?"
nsh/sb/mc
by Nabiha Shahab
SIDOARJO, Indonesia, Sept 22, 2006 (AFP) - Tarmi stands outside her
uninhabitable home, lamenting her life as a refugee from Indonesia's
latest disaster -- a massive hot mudspill engulfing a slice of East
Java.
"I don't know where to go now," the 62-year-old grandmother says,
taking a break from cleaning whatever she can at her home in
heavily-populated Sidoarjo district. "I cannot live here. There is no
electricity and no water."
Frail-looking Tarmi is among more than 12,000 people who have been
forced from their homes across the district since May, when noxious,
steaming mud began spewing from the depths of the earth at an
exploratory gas well.
Awakened by the mud oozing through their home in the early hours of
the morning, she and her family gathered whatever belongings they
could and escaped to a nearby village.
"The mud rose from here to here," Tarmi says, gesturing a rapid
rise from her ankle to her knee. "The whole village ran."
The Indonesian company responsible for the drilling operation,
Lapindo Brantas -- which has links to Indonesia's welfare minister --
swiftly gave each affected household 5.5 million rupiah (about 500
dollars) in compensation.
Somewhat mollified, Tarmi and her family rented another house
nearby for a year.
But within weeks, that too was swallowed by the mud as the slick
gradually blighted some 435 hectares (1,075 acres) of residential,
industrial and farm land across the district, which is famed for its
organic shrimps.
The sludge reaches a depth of five metres in the worst-hit areas,
with rooftops just visible. Outer villages remain caked in dry mud and
abandoned for safety reasons, with the hastily-constructed dykes
regularly being breached.
Now Tarmi and her family spend their nights camped out on a nearby road.
"I don't know what to do next," she says.
The disaster has international engineers scratching their heads,
environmentalists fuming, politicians ducking for cover and mystics
working nights to stem the some 50,000 cubic metres of mud gushing out
daily.
Rudi Novrianto, a spokesman for the government team which was
formed nearly four months after the accident it firmly blames on
Lapindo, says experts from the United States and the Netherlands have
been called in to examine how the mud can be stopped. Nobody know when
this might be.
At the same time, the national team is working around the clock to
strengthen the dykes, Novrianto says.
"We have patrols looking for any cracks and examining the mud
surface as well as anything suspicious," he tells AFP.
A two-kilometre stretch of the main road connecting much of East
Java to the port town of Surabaya, Indonesia's second city, has been
transformed into a major construction site.
Heavy machinery works overtime to raise segments of the road next
to a threatening wall of dirt some 15 metres (yards) high, as convoys
of trucks dump dirt and pebbles from nearby villages in a frantic bid
to contain the mud.
The executive director of Indonesian environmental group Walhi,
Chalid Mohammad, says that tens of thousands of people have been
directly affected before even considering indirect losses, such as
shrimp farms being ruined if a plan to divert the mud to the sea is
implemented.
"We demand the government deal with the case of Lapindo Brantas and
their holding company as corporate crime," Mohammad says.
Hasan, the head of Kedungbendo village and a wealthy developer, has
resorted to the unearthly in his bid for results: offering a unit in
his housing complex worth about 100 million rupiah to any mystic who
can stem the mud's flow.
Nore than 60 mystics in the past few weeks have tried using their
spiritual gifts to end what the scientists cannot, Hasan says.
He says their nighttime labours would be stopped during the Muslim
holy fasting month of Ramadan, but adds: "If they're really good,
we'll let them keep trying."
An infuriated Hasan says his losses have amounted to more than 10
billion rupiah, with more than a hectare of his land now unusable.
"I have asked Lapindo to take responsibility (for his losses) but
keep getting ping-ponged by them. It is clear what the value of the
land and houses are. I have certificates to back the information," he
says.
"Lapindo should be held responsible and Aburizal Bakrie should
resign," he adds, referring to the welfare minister.
The company -- which says an earthquake in nearby Central Java
could have been to blame for the mishap -- has handed out compensation
to more than 2,600 households.
Some victims like Iva Sasmita, however, are rejecting the offer.
She and her husband moved into their new house in June, lured by
the beautiful location with an expanse of green rice paddies
stretching outside her back garden.
A month later they were forced out by the encroaching mud, which
has swallowed the lush paddies and still lingers outside her back
door. A two-metre high dyke looms across the landscape, filled with
greenish water, and her neighbourhood is deserted.
"I am very worried about the coming rainy season. My house will
definitely not be spared," she confides.
"We are really in a bind. If we don't pay (our mortgage) for 10
days they will seal our house and we will lose our right to any
compensation ... This is unfair. We have paid and what do we get?"
nsh/sb/mc
