His ability to sing poetry in Hokkian (Fujian) is his trademark. Now 77, Thio still excels at infusing life into his mini puppets through skilled puppeteering and at keeping his audiences on their toes with his well-preserved intonation, accent, verbal style and vocals.

Thio’s world of puppetry cannot be understood without knowledge of Indonesia’s pre-independence political situation.

Born in Demak, Central Java, on Jan. 9, 1933, Thio moved to Semarang at the age of 9, when his father, Thio Thiang Soe, fled the town

after his shop was looted in a riot in 1942. Upon losing his source of income, his father sought to support his family by collecting old documents.

With his family under economic hardship, Thio Tiong Gie could only afford to attend primary school at 14 in Cung Hua Kung Siek, an educational institution specifically for ethnic Chinese.

“Because I joined the school very late, I graduated at 20,” recalled Thio while preparing his show in Solo, also known as Surakarta (Central Java), at the end of September.

Thio explained he became interested in potehi when he found stories on this Chinese traditional art in old documents. Thio, then 25, began to learn how to play such puppets. Having noticed Thio’s enthusiasm, a potehi master of the time, Oey Sing Twe, gave him a set of puppets and mentored him. As he proved to be talented, Thio earned the title of Saay Hu or Too Yan (puppet player) two years later.

“I had a very busy schedule at the time, performing not only in Central Java’s major cities, but also in Cianjur, Sukabumi, Cirebon [West Java], Lampung and Palembang [South Sumatra],” he said.

His potehi heyday ended when president Soeharto banned all Chinese arts outside klenteng (Buddhist/Taoist shrines) in 1967, causing potehi and Thio to fade into oblivion. When president Abdurraman “Gus Dur” Wahid relaxed the ban on ethnic Chinese culture, Thio found potehi had almost disappeared.

“For 32 years, this art of puppetry was buried in a cave, almost forgotten by citizens of Chinese stock themselves. I’m now growing old. I feel obligated to hand down this art to the younger generation to make sure it isn’t lost,” Thio pointed out.

In Semarang, Thio is the only surviving puppeteer to use potehi. The father of seven children with 22 grandchildren and one great-grandchildren still receives invitations to stage shows out of town.

On October 16, for instance, Thio performed for the Dewa Bumi (Earth Deity) celebration in Jakarta, after shows in Sukabumi and Solo.

Thio said he was pleased to accept such invitations even though he had to hire potehi musicians from Surabaya, East Java, as Semarang no longer had any. His primary concern is the near absence of interest in this art among youths in the city. So far, he has had only one successor, Oei Tjiang Hwat, who is now already over 60.

“It’s hard to find young people who are willing to learn how to perform potehi in Semarang. My children prefer to perform barongsai [lion dance], which is more popular and brings in more money from ticket sales,” he added.

The problem is not just the dearth of interest, but also shrinking audiences. To recapture dwindling audiences, Thio has introduced various innovations on stage to make potehi more appealing to the public, using visual effects to spice up fighting scenes and speaking Indonesian instead of Chinese, besides presenting regional and traditional songs.

“I have a fairly large audience when invited, though not as big as in the past,” he noted.

Potehi, according to him, comes from the words poo (cloth), tay (pocket), and hie (puppet). So, poo tay hie later developed into potehi or pocket-like clothed puppets played by hands (like wearing gloves).

This art was brought to Indonesia by Chinese folk who emigrated here 300 years ago. “Potehi was born during the Chinese Sung-Tang dynasty around 3,000 years ago,” said Thio.

In Thio’s hands, the puppets look like living gnomes, adeptly jumping and kicking while wielding spears and swords as in martial arts scenes. Some of the well-known episodes include “Sie Jin Kwie”, “Hong Kiam Cun Ciu”, “Cun Hun Cauw Kok”, and “Poei Sie Giok” (based on history, legends and novels), involving 100 puppets. Thio’s band accompanies his performance with cymbals, a viola-like two-stringed instrument, bongos and a traditional trumpet.

“Potehi episodes are generally long, each taking 10 to 20 days of four-hour shows to finish in a city. But we have frequently had to spend one to two months in the city where we’re invited to perform,” explained Thio.

In his half a century’s puppet playing career, Thio has remained a resident of the city’s blind alley. His small house in a densely populated neighborhood is located on Jl. Petunduhan, Pesantren, Purwodinatan sub-district, Semarang. Thio claimed his income from potehi did meet his family’s needs.

“The rate is fairly substantial, Rp12.5 million for the first seven days of performance. From the eighth day onward, we get Rp 600,000 a day. But the sum has to be divided among crew members, totaling about 20,” he said.

Actually, Thio is not really concerned about the financial aspect. At his advanced age, he is more concerned about who will succeed him when he passes away. His only hope now is his assistant, who is also beginning to age.

“If there’s any youth interested in this art, I’m prepared to teach him or her, ethnic Chinese or indigenous, free of charge. The crucial thing is the art of potehi must live on.”

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