I cannot remember how I got in touch with Sriyono Wiwoho, who lives in the small town of Sukoharjo in Central Java. He struck me as a very cheerful person. He makes a lot of jokes, but behind this cheerfulness is a severe tragedy, which he had kept hidden for years and years. Born in November 1952, Sriyono was only a child when the mass murder exploded and affected several members of his extended family.

It has been about 50 years since I began to keep hidden the dark history of my family, this tragic event. I had been determined to bury it deeply, until the day I die. But with your project of gathering the life stories of the victims and families of the victims, my blood has begun bubbling again: I may be able to seek a bit of justice for the brutality that happened to my family.

Bapak, my father, was a Marxist: a Leninist adherent. And this is somewhat expressed by the birth of my brother who is two years younger than me, in 1954, by giving him the name Marsis. When his nephew in Solo gave birth to her second child, my father gave her the name Retno Leninsih. We lived in the cool and small town of Salatiga. Our parents opened a small restaurant there and bapak gave it the name Warung Sate Cinta Damai [Satay Café: Loving Peace].

We lived happily and peacefully. We were four brothers and sisters. The eldest was Asmoro Rahman Hadi. He was an artist, a journalist and a Lekra activist. His wife, Rahayuni, sold vegetables and was a member of Gerwani [Gerakan Wanita Indonesia, or the Indonesian Women's Movement]. My second eldest sibling is a girl, Mbak [Elder Sister] Sardiyem. She married Sutaryo Sastrodihardjo, a furniture maker who was quite well known in our town. I call him Mas [Elder Brother] Taryo. Because they had a big house, Sardiyem and Sutaryo often let the IPPI [Ikatan Pemuda Pelajar Indonesia, or the Indonesian Students Association] have meetings there. Many of them also stayed the night, cooked and ate at my sister's home. Although Mas Taryo had many PKI friends, he was never active in politics.