Dragon Village at Tasikmalaya, West Java

If you are tired of life in a metropolitan city with its sky scrapers, you should take a few days off to stay in the Dragon village within Neglasari village, Salawu sub-district, Tasikmalaya, West Java.

This 1.5 hectares village is still 'green' and not influenced by modernization. Some 311 people live in this village. You will have to take several hundred steps to cover the villages over 500 meters. You will see hundreds of high ebony trees, large green paddy fields and the long Ciwulang river. In addition, you will feel the cool air and sounds of river waterflows in the distance.

To Do

While taking these steps, you will be amazed by local green houses made of various bamboos and woods. These houses roofs are made of Nipah leafs, palm leafs or reeds and feature bamboo or wooden raised floors.
   
This moslem village in a fertile valley still maintains it‘s long traditions; For instance, the homes must face the north or south, and the mosques, city hall or bale patemon, and paddy granaries, must face the east or west. For years, they never added/reduced the number of buildings to remain 111 buildings total. Additionally, the traditional leaders fuse the government's electricity and prohibit their residents from using electronic appliances. All daily activities are performed manually.

Local inhabitants in the Dragon Village are famous for their simple and harmonious life. They are also known for their friendliness to domestic and foreign tourists. In addition to farming and raising livestock, they also produce handicrafts for souvenirs.
   
The inhabitants still maintain the Hajat Sasih ceremony during Islamic holidays in asking for blessings and safety from their ancestors, Eyang Singaparna, and as gratitude to the Almighty God for what they have.
   
In addition to Hajat Sasih, they also have rituals performed on Tuesday, Wednesday and Saturday. During these days, you are not allowed to visit the village because all its residents perform such rituals.

To Stay

This is where you could also go in seclusion, enjoying your stay in local green homes and taking a bath in cool Ciwulan river water. You could also enjoy quiet nights in your room with only a Vayer lamp.

Get There

To reach the Dragon Village, you can take an airplane from Jakarta to Husein Sastranegara airport in Bandung.  From there, you can rent a car or use public transportation to Tasikmalaya or Garut.
 

Tips

Although you are not allowed to listen to your iPod, you could hear birds sing, waters flow, winds blow, insects and frogs and see many shaddy trees. To stay overnight, you have to ask for permission from local officials a few days in advance.

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The Masterpiece Of Indonesia

Jepara itself is the name of a region in Central Java, Indonesia which is the center of the Jepara craftsmen. Currently, nearly 80 percent of residents of Jepara still pursue carving activities that is believed to have been there since the time of Majapahit (A big Hindu Kingdom in Indonesia) in the 13th century. Jepara carving continues to grow, both in the design, function, and aesthetics.

If you are an art lover and love beauty, the uniqueness of Jepara carving art may be one of your admirations. Jepara carving art is the best in Indonesia and becomes one of the leading export commodities of Indonesia. Jepara carving applied in furniture provides value added so that most Indonesian furniture can compete, and even is more superior than those made by other countries such as Vietnam.

Therefore, to meet the demand for such a large community inside and outside Indonesia, today the craftsmen begin creating three types of quality of Jepara carving art, usually called Class I, II, and III. This is done so that Jepara carving can be more popular in the community and can be purchased by various status of economic level of society. Nevertheless, for high quality carving wood, today the craftsmen of Jepara still use teak wood for the best result.

Among the current competition of export commodities, Jepara carving still exist because of their uniqueness. There is no similarity between the Jepara carving products. Because it is the art of man made or not done with modern machinery, Jepara carving art might be similar but never be same or identical. Thus, owning Jepara carving furniture and handicraft means collecting high value and aesthetic artwork.

source : http://goodnewsfromindonesia.org

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Barong Dance, A Part of Balinese Culture

Theater and dance is an integral part of Balinese culture. Balinese dances are famous all over the world and the Balinese themselves take them very seriously. Birthdays, weddings, and temples festivals are all occasions for dramatic performances and dance is inextricably linked with the Balinese religion. The commercial performances for tourists that are today offered on a daily basis in several places of Bali do, of course, not have the same religious significance and atmosphere of a dance that is performed at a real temple festival.

Barong is probably the most well known dance. It is also another story telling dance, narrating the fight between good and evil. This dance is the classic example of Balinese way of acting out mythology, resulting in myth and history being blended into one reality.

The story goes that Rangda, the mother of Erlangga, the King of Bali in the tenth century, was condemned by Erlangga's father because she practiced black magic. After she became a widow, she summoned all the evil spirits in the jungle, the leaks and the demons, to come after Erlangga. A fight occurred, but she and her black magic troops were too strong that Erlangga had to ask for the help of Barong. Barong came with Erlangga's soldiers, and fight ensued. Rangda casted a spell that made Erlangga soldiers all wanted to kill themselves, pointing their poisoned keris into their own stomachs and chests. Barong casted a spell that turned their body resistant to the sharp keris. At the end, Barong won, and Rangda ran away.

Somebody can die or get seriously injured in a Barong dance. It is said that if Rangda's spell is too strong, a weak soldier may not be able to resist it, even with the help of Barong. He may end up hurting himself with his own keris.

The masks of Barong and Rangda are considered sacred items, and before they are brought out, a priest must be present to offer blessings by sprinkling them with holy water taken from Mount Agung, and offerrings must be presented.

For Photos Galleries you can visit erwin stolz gallery

Regularly scheduled dance performances are available throughout the year.

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Tari Pendet ( Pendet Dance ), Beauty - Intractive

Tari Pendet or Pendet Dance

Pendet is a traditional Balinese dance, in which offerings are made to purify the temple or theater as a prelude to ceremonies or other dances. Pendet is typically performed by young girls, carrying bowls of flower petals, handfuls of which are cast into the air at various times in the dance. Pendet can be thought of as a dance of greeting, to welcome the audience and invite spirits to enjoy a performance.

Traditional Balinese dances are the oldest form of performing arts in Bali. Traditional dances can be divided into two types, sacred dance called Wali and entertainment dance called Bebalihan. Wali (sacred dance) is usually performed in some ritual ceremonies only because it has strong magical powers and only can be performed by specific dancers. Bebalihan are usually performed in social events. In addition to entertain, Bebalihan also has other purposes such as: welcoming guests, celebration of harvests, or gathering crowds. Bebalihan has more variations than Wali.

Pendet is the presentation of an offering in the form of a ritual dance. Unlike the exhibition dances that demand arduous training, Pendet may be danced by anyone. It is taught simply by imitation.

Younger girls follow the movements of the elder women, who recognize their responsibility in setting a good example. Proficiency comes with age. As a religious dance, Pendet is usually performed during temple ceremonies.

All dancers carry in their right hand a small offering of incense, cakes, water vessels, or flower formations. With these they dance from shrine to shrine within thetemple. Pendet may be performed intermittently throughout the day and late into the night during temple feasts.

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Kebaya - Indonesian Traditional Dress for Woman

History of Kebaya

There is much speculation as to where the kebaya could have originated from. There are some who say that the kebaya originated in the Middle East, while others argue that it may have come from nearby China. Derived from the Arabic word kaba meaning “clothing” and introduced to Indonesia via the Portuguese language, the term kebaya has come to refer to a garment whose origins appear to be a blouse. It was first worn in Indonesia at some time during the 15th and 16th centuries. This garment is similar to what is described as a “long, fitted, flared kebaya known as kebaya panjang6, worn in the 16th century by Portuguese women arriving on the south-western coast of Malaysia, situated across the Malacca Straits from Sumatra, in northwestern Indonesia.

Many sources also cite Chinese influences on clothing of the time, one source c

omparing the kebaya to an open-fronted long-sleeved tunic worn by women of the Ming Dynasty. The introduction of this kind of dress were accredited to two major occurrences of this time; the emerging influence of Islam and the arrival of the Europeans to the archipelago. Whether it was Arabia or China that brought us the wonderful kebaya, there is no denying how quick the use of this garment was made uniquely Indonesian and spread from one island and ethnic group to another which its own regional variations. This quick diffusion of the use of the kebaya was also linked to the spice trade that was happening during this time in history.

Origins of the Kebaya

After Dutch colonization, the kebaya took on a new role as the formal dress for the European women in the country. During this time, the kebaya was made mostly from mori fabric. Modifications made to this traditional costume later introduced the use of silk and embroidery to add design and color. The most dominant form of kebaya worn on the islands of Java and Bali today, can be visibly traced to the kebaya worn in Java and Sunda from the late 19th - early 20th century onwards.

Many of the easily recognizable features of today’s kebaya – a tight fitting blouse that enhances the torso of the woman; the fold-back collarless neck and front opening; long sleeves; and the type of semi-transparent fabric – are evident in the kebaya of the past centu

ry. Traditional kebaya required the torso of the women to be wrapped with a long piece of cloth called a stagen. Women of higher social status would have help in wrapping their torso with the stagen however women who were not so fortunate to have help could dress themselves by tying the end of the stagen to a post and literally wrapping themselves into it.

The semi-transparent kebaya blouse was then worn overtop of the stagen. This blouse was fastened with a brooch rather than buttons and buttonholes. It was customary to combine the kebaya with kain – a length of unstitched cloth worn on the lower part of the body, often (and incorrectly) referred to in the English language as sarong. This kain was wrapped around the body with the pleats being placed at the front of the body. Traditinally this kain was dipped in a cornstach solution and then carefully folded by hand into pleats and pressed to produced the crisp look that was desired.

Indigenous Dress in the Making of a Nation

Considering the enormous historical – political and social – shifts that have occurred in Indonesia during the last century, the form of the kebaya, has remained relatively unchanged. Its function and meaning however, in contrast to its form, has seen major changes in colonial and post-colonial Indonesia, operating to meet different groups’ political agendas, social needs and aspirations. The kebaya has come to symbolize the emancipation of women in Indonesia through a representation linking the kebaya to the 19th century “proto-feminist” figure of Raden A. Kartini.

During the 19th century, and prior to the Nationalist movement of the early 20th century, the kebaya had enjoyed a period of being worn by Indonesian, Eurasian, and European women alike, with slight style variations. During this time distinguishing class and status was important and produced variants of the basic costume. The kebaya of Javanese royalty were constructed of silk, velvet and brocade; Javanese women belonging to the commoner class wore figured cottons; the kebaya worn by Eurasian women was of white cotton trimmed with handmade European lace during the day, and of black silk in the evening; while the Dutch women preferred a shorter white kebaya. It was even possible for Dutch women planning to travel to the Dutch East Indies to purchase their kebaya in the Netherlands prior to leaving.

Bali’s Kebaya

In Bali, the kebaya has a much more recent history. The Dutch, whose occupation of Bali began as late as 1849 in the north of the island, and whose direct rule did not begin until 1882, are believed to have enforced the wearing of the kebaya. At the time Balinese women’s breasts were uncovered, except for formal and ceremonial occasions, during which a sabuk might be wound tightly around the upper torso, covering the breasts but leaving the shoulders and arms exposed. The women of Buleleng, the regency of northern Bali, therefore would have been some of the first to adopt the kebaya.

Other sources however, do not locate the kebaya being in use until the early 1920s by which time it was in full use in other areas of Indonesia. It is via the royalty and the palaces that the kebaya appears to have been disseminated out into the community. New dress codes adopted by members of the royalty returning to Bali from Java were passed down through the caste system. Yet despite the fact that clothing is often used to separate class, there seems to be no evidence of the time to indicate that there were any rules delineating styles of kebaya according to caste. Differences in kebaya cloth were more likely to be an outcome of differences in wealth.

Emerging as National Dress

By the 1920s however, and with the full emergence of the nationalist struggle in Indonesia, European women stopped wearing the kebaya because it was identified with typical Indonesian attire. For the European colonizers the Kebaya had become associated with Indonesian nationalism.

During the period of the Japanese occupation of Indonesia (1942-1945), educated Indonesian women prisoners-of-war chose to wear kain-kebaya rather than the western dress allocated to them as prison dress. A different set of political conditions produced a reversal of meaning. In this situation the women employed a cultural code (of traditional dress) to assert their political position, differentiating themselves from their European women that were also prisoners-of-war.

During the Proclamation of Independence by President Sukarno on August 17, 1945, the only woman in attendance, Ibu Trimutri was wearing kain kebaya. This image helped transform the kebaya from mere traditional dress, elevating it to the status of national dress for Indonesia women.

From the Palace to the Street - Popular and Traditional Images

While the kebaya is worn by a wide range of women from the former President Megawati to the jamu street vendor, the kebaya could never be claimed to operate as a social leveller. Women who sell jamu (traditional herbal medicine), from young to old, and right across the islands of Java and Bali are wearing kebaya. Today, in Indonesia the image of a woman wearing kebaya sells a variety of products from traditional herbs to Betadine to fried chicken. As an icon the women in her traditional clothing - kebaya - sells tradition and all the purity and goodness belonging to Indonesian cultural traditions. Perhaps she also evokes an element of nostalgia for urban consumers. Traditional as a way of life, is often less about the differences between rural and urban settings, than about socio-economic and class distinctions. For women 50 years and older, whose occupations and way of life come to distinguish them as traditional, traditional clothing of kain-kebaya is their choice of daily dress. These women, the majority of whom belong to the lower socio-economic group, often work in traditional settings such as markets, are employed as house servants or work in the agricultural sector.

Today’s Kebaya

If we try to define what a kebaya is, it may prove to be difficult as it is constantly changing to reflect the changing times and fashions that Indonesia is experiencing. Nonetheless, it is possible to make some generalizations about the kebaya. Most Kebaya are made from a lace brocade. Most kebaya fabric uses a floral motif either printed or woven into the textile and its length can fall somewhere from above the waist to below the knee. It usually, but not always, has long sleeves. It is usually fastened at the front, and if not, then gives a semblance of doing so. Some variations of the kebaya will use a batik sash, which is coordinated with the kain, draped over the shoulder as an added accessory.

Although women in the market can be seen wearing kebaya, we can also see exquisite variations of them in government gatherings and parties and high society social functions. The beauty of this national dress is undeniable. Some of the most influential women in Indonesia are married in kebaya that can be described as “works of art” with their hand embroidered detailing and beading. Designers such as Ami Amianto have helped to promote the kebaya not only as a important part of Indonesian clothing history but as a very beautiful item of clothing that Indonesian women are proud to wear.

So the next time you see a women wearing a kebaya you will understand that she is not just wearing a functional piece of clothing but she is also wearing a symbol of Indoneia’s cultural history which represents national symbolism and high fashion too!

This article was written by Gene Sugandy, with research from the following sources:

Reading the Kebaya by Victoria Cattoni

Kebaya - Wikipedia

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Guardians of the Sacred Forest

“The mountains may not be destroyed, the valleys may not be damaged, What is long may not be cut short, what is short may not be lengthened, We must remain faithful to the ways of our ancestors." – Traditional Baduy verse

Written by Irfan Kortschak


For tourists, journalists, and anthropologists alike, the very idea of a people who live deep in the forest, excluding all outsiders, has a powerful fascination. A ‘Keep Out’ sign exerts an allure as powerful as the locked cupboard at the end of Bluebeard’s corridor, and for no better reason than that outsiders are not welcome. In our hearts, perhaps, each of us secretly believes we are special, and will be welcome at spectacles and events closed to ordinary mortals.

It was this fantasy that had led me, clambering up and down steep, slippery footpaths, past dry rice fields and through light secondary forest and bamboo glades, to a rickety looking bamboo bridge that creaked and swayed gently in the breeze. I sat, scowling and biting my nails, and wiping the sweat from my face with a hand filthy with mud.

I couldn’t cross this bridge, and not because it looked too rotten and fragile to bear my weight. At any rate, a fall would not have been the catastrophe in might have been elsewhere. The water in the stream was clean and pure, unsullied by the household waste that turns the banks of rivers elsewhere in Indonesia into fly-infested eyesores. But I scowled at the babbling brook, in no mood to be impressed by its song. For me, the river was just the boundary that separated the territory of the Inner Baduy from the outside world. On the other side, where I couldn’t go, lived a community whose members are required to maintain a stringent degree of ritual purity. And they didn’t want me anywhere near them.

It was nothing personal, nothing that I’d done. It was what I was, a foreigner, a city dweller, a luxury lover. For the Baduy, outsiders in general and foreigners in particular are a polluting influence, and are permitted to enter only rarely, by the grace of the custodians. Unsullied by the presence of outsiders, the sacred forest is protected by the ritually pure guardians of the sacred forest, at the centre of which lies the Arca Domas, an ancient megalithic site about which little is known.

Precisely because the Baduy turn their back on the world, refusing to explain or justify themselves, they exert a powerful attraction. Peering in through the cracks in the forest, outsiders strain to make sense of the incomprehensible by projecting their own fantasies and fears. For believers in magic, the Baduy are powerful wizards; for environmentalists, they are noble savages; for the religious, they are unrepentant pagans. Confused observers variously describe them as a lost tribe, aristocratic Hindu refugees, or the Amish of the East. Meanwhile, the Baduy continue to live their lives, entirely indifferent to whatever outsiders choose to believe.

While much remains a matter for conjecture, some facts are known for certain. Members of the innermost community live in one of three villages, Cikartawana, Cibeo, and Cikeusik, located on the forested foothills around Mt. Kendang, southeast of Rangkasbitung, in the province of Banten.

The beliefs of the Baduy require villagers to cultivate subsistence crops without hoe, plough, or irrigation, practicing slash and burn agriculture and rotating the use of land. The Inner Baduy may not alter the course of a stream or level land for any purpose. While the men fish, hunt and gather fruit and honey from the forest, they do so in the least intrusive and destructive fashion possible. Also, the Inner Baduy refrain from the use of manufactured goods of any sort. They produce all their own household and personal items, their own tools and agricultural equipment, using materials they gather or grow. They dress in plain cloth that the women spin and fashion into clothes. Men wear a white headdress and shirt and a black sarong with vertical white stripes, while women wear a black sarong and bodice. Only certain basic materials, such as raw iron used for fashioning knives and raw cotton used for weaving, are imported from the outside world. The inner Baduy do not ride horses or vehicles of any sort. When they travel abroad, they walk, always, no matter how far.

According to those who have made friends with them, the Baduy believe that they are the direct lineal descendents of the first people to occupy the earth. As the home of the first people, the land they are born from is a living mandala, a representation of the entire universe. In order to prevent devastation and calamity throughout the world, they strive to live here in harmony with the earth and in conformity with the laws prescribed by their ancestors. There are no schools, no medical facilities, and no government officials of any kind.

Surrounding the holy sanctum is a buffer zone where members of the outer Baduy community live. Comprising almost eight thousand individuals living in sixty-seven villages, members of the outer community speak the same archaic dialect of Sundanese as do the insiders, to whom they are related by ties of blood, marriage, and ritual. The taboos and rules that govern this group are considerably less rigorous than those regulating the inner group, although the use of vehicles, machinery, electricity and chemicals within their territory is still forbidden, as is the cultivation of commercial crops. Members of this group may travel in motorized vehicles when journeying outside the area, however, and have far more frequent interactions with the outside world. While some outer Baduy wear a few items of mass-produced clothing, such items are always plain black or dark blue.

***

On my walk to the river’s edge, I had been accompanied by Katamsi Nurrasa, my guide from Jakarta, and Sarmin, a member of the outer Baduy community. For the last several days, I had been staying at Sarmin’s hut in the village of Cijengkol. Like all Outer Baduy dwellings, his home consisted of a raised platform with a slatted floor and walls made of woven bamboo, divided into five sections: the veranda, the guestroom, the storeroom, the storage space above the fireplace, and the main area, which also functioned as a bedroom. The roof was made of sago palm leaves and thatch palm. The sparse furniture was made from bamboo, cut from the forests. All kitchen utensils were also hand-made, with the exception of a few basic cooking implements. There was no electricity, no running water, and no bathroom.

Katamsi went across the bridge to Cibeo, to ask the representative of the Pu’un, the spiritual head of the community, if I might visit. While Katamsi was also an outsider, he was Indonesian and had been visiting the Baduy for more than five years. Over time, he had made many friends in both the inner and the outer community. A retired marine engineer with decades of experience of traveling the world, he had a deep respect and affection for the Baduy. To a large extent, the community had accepted him.

Without a good guide to explain the taboos and mores of Baduy society, it is virtually impossible to visit this area. At best, the unprepared traveler can visit the tourist gateway at Ciboleger, where Jaro Daina, a member of the Outer Baduy appointed as the official mediator between the community and the outside world, holds office. From there, accompanied by one of the many aggressive local guides, you can walk to Gajebo, a frequently visited Outer Baduy village located far from the inner community. I shuddered slightly at the memory of the paths littered by the frequent school groups and the slightly furtive offers of coca-cola from villagers who may or may not have been genuine members of the Baduy community.

Seated by the side of the river, Sarmin, my Baduy host, began to talk. Like most members of the Baduy community, he was reserved and sparing with his speech. While not appearing to be disturbed by the presence of outsiders, neither are the Baduy particularly welcoming. On my trip in, when I had passed through outer villages, the inhabitants barely glanced up from weaving, fashioning knives, and other tasks unless I approached them directly, when they answered my questions shortly and without fuss. While Sarmin was hardly loquacious, this was the second time that I had stayed with him for several days. He was beginning to open up a little.

I told Sarmin that I’d heard that the Baduy were forbidden to use cash. When he replied, he spoke simply, and looked me straight in the eye. Unlike people in the cities, the Baduy are not shy about eye contact, even with people they barely know. “No,” he corrected me, “There are lots of rich Baduy. We sell knives, cloth, honey, fruit, and other things from the forest to outsiders. There isn’t much to spend our money on. We just save it.” He looked away, and added nothing further. It is not in the nature of the Baduy to volunteer information about themselves, and they are not embarrassed by silence.

I prodded a little. With little on which to spend their cash, Sarmin admitted that some villagers accumulate significant savings. He added that outsiders in the surrounding areas often borrowed money from members of the Baduy community to fund their consumeristic lifestyles, offering up plots of land as security. “A brother of mine lent a man near here fifty million rupiah to hold a wedding for his daughter. He couldn’t pay it back.” The Baduy celebrate weddings with the simplest ceremony imaginable, a shared meal and a few words. In the villages outside their community, poor farmers mark the same rite of passage by hiring a band, staging puppet performances, holding a feast. When the villager couldn’t repay the loan, he surrendered a block of land to the brother. Members of the Outer Baduy often grow some cash crops on these newly acquired lands outside their traditional territory, although most maintain their simple lifestyles.

There are exceptions, however. Sarmin talked of a former member of the Outer Baduy community, Haji Kasmin, who had a driving ambition to attain a formal education, something forbidden by customary law. “He was a rebel. He had to leave,” said Sarmin. Curious about the ‘rebel Baduy,’ I later asked people in the nearby villages, outside the community, for more information. They laughed: everybody knew Haji Kasmin. After leaving the community, he had converted to Islam and gone on to achieve considerable success in the business world, eventually being appointed as a member of the national parliament. In fact, there was little shame or disapprobation attached to his departure – Kasmin remained a frequent visitor to the Baduy territory, and played a valuable role as a defender of Baduy interests at the national level. While the most prominent of those who leave the community, Kasmin is hardly unique, and a significant number of others have also left to assimilate into the surrounding villages. “Life here doesn’t suit everyone,” Sarmin said, adding with some understatement: “It’s very simple.”

Katamsi returned from his walk to the inner villages, puffing slightly with exertion. Katamsi is softly spoken and polite to a fault, but he shook his head and spoke without mincing his words. “No, I’m sorry. You won’t be able to cross the bridge.” I was crestfallen, but there was no point in arguing or pleading. It was the law.

Apparently, it was a particularly sensitive time. It appeared that the annual Kawalu festival and the ceremonies that accompany it had just ended, several days earlier. As is customary at this time, members of the inner community were busy preparing to walk to Serang to offer forest produce as tribute to the Governor of Banten. Katamsi explained that Kawalu was a village cleansing ceremony held at harvest time. During this time, Katamsi said, the inner area is completely closed to outsiders. “The Pu’un set up a band to go around the Baduy villages, house by house. They check that people don’t have things they shouldn’t have. Stuff like plates and crockery with patterns on them, or battery operated torches,” Sarmin chimed in. “If they find stuff like that, they take it away. They give the family a warning or some kind of punishment. Depends on what they find.”

In the inner Baduy community, infringements of the law often mean expulsion to the outer community. Sarmin told a story of one inner Baduy member who had seen a bus pass by in the area outside his territory. On an impulse, he had succumbed to temptation, and taken a ride. “He just wanted to see what it was like. Then he went straight to the Pu’un and told him. The Pu’un said he and his family would have to move to the outer community.” He was not shamed or shunned, and he retained friendly relationships with his old community – but they felt he had forfeited the right to live with them. His conduct had placed him outside the inner circle.

The three Pu’un, one each from Cikartawana, Cibeo, and Cikeusik, are the spiritual leaders of the entire Baduy community. Their word on matters of taboo and ritual is law. While the position of Pu’un is usually hereditary, they are leaders in matters of ritual only. While they have many special responsibilities, they have few extra priveliges, and no extra luxuries. After ensuring the purity of the community during the Kawalu ritual, the Pu’un conduct the annual pilgrimage to the Arca Domas, the primordial megalithic site deep in the sacred forest. As the three Pu’un and their assistants are the only people ever permitted to set foot in this forest, and only at this time of the year, practically nothing is known about the site and the rituals conducted there. When I pushed Sarmin for details, he just looked away, not even bothering to shrug.

On Katamsi’s visit to the inner zone, he met an old friend, Naniek, a member of the Inner Baduy and the son of a former Pu’un. Naniek joined us on the walk back to Sarmin’s village. On the way, he asked me where I lived. I told him my address in Jakarta, certain it would mean nothing to him. To my astonishment, he said: “Oh, yes. Near the Hilton Hotel, isn’t it?” I stared at him, this man of the forest in his home-spun rags, holding a bamboo staff. I couldn’t believe that he could possibly know anything about Jakarta’s premier five-star hotel, but he nodded in a positively blasé fashion. “I often go to Jakarta,” he said, then grinned widely for no apparent reason, displaying teeth that had obviously not benefited from modern dentistry. When I asked why he made these trips, he just shrugged. Katamsi chuckled. “He just visits for the fun of it.” Still not quite believing, I asked how he got there. “I walk,” he said, as though it was the most obvious thing to do. Pushed, he said that he made the 120-kilometer journey on foot in two days or three days, following the railway track and sleeping in public places or the houses of acquaintances. Katamsi backed him up. “One day I came to work. My office is on the 25th level of the Menara Batavia building. Naniek was sitting on the floor of the lobby. The receptionist was having a fit. Naniek wouldn’t use the lift, so he walked up the stairs. He didn’t want anything in particular, he’d just come to say hello.” Katamsi and Naniek laughed at the memory of the flustered receptionist, and at Katamsi’s valiant insistence that he would walk down the stairs to accompany Naniek back to the street.

As we wound our way through the hilly terrain, Naniek and Katamsi found further sources of amusement, laughing at stories of outsiders who come to the inner community in search of spiritual advice or magical solutions to their problems. Again, Naniek shocked me with his blasé manner. “President Soekarno used to come here quite often. He walked in,” he said casually. He seemed to find it perfectly natural that the head of state should find the time for these ventures into the forest. There is a historical precedent – Javanese nobles would often boast of their special relationship with the men of the forest, which they felt was a source of magical power and potency.

In the modern era, the attempt of some powerful individuals to fit the Baduy into their own world view has backfired hilariously. Naniek spoke of one particular case: “When Soeharto came, he flew into the region by helicopter, but it couldn’t land in the forest. He wanted the Pu’un to meet him, but they wouldn’t come out. The Pu’un don’t go out of the forest.” Remembering the almost fawning respect nearly every Indonesian showed the former strong man, it struck me as amazing to meet people who declined an invitation to meet him. “The Baduy aren’t rebellious. We showed respect. The Pu’un sent a member of the outer Baduy to meet the president. But the Pu’un didn’t go,” Naniek said. Then he grinned broadly again.

Smiling, Katamsi added his story of a distraught teenage girl who had asked him to take her to Cibeo only several weeks previously to seek the solution to some adolescent love crisis. “She was looking for a potion or charm. She wanted something to make her boyfriend take her back,” he said. Many of the visitors, it seems, seek charms, potions, or other instant cures for their problems. If anything, the Baduy seem slightly embarrassed by this insistence that they possess powerful magic and sorcery. Instead, they insist that they merely live simply and modestly, in the forest, the way their ancestors did.

We arrived at Sarmin’s village before dusk. Naniek continued on his way, unperturbed by the impending darkness. As night fell, the shrill screech of cicadas, the wind rustling in the bamboo leaves, and the dogs’ howling prevailed. I thought about Naniek’s stories and the irony of the frustrated, the ambitious and the broken-hearted turning up here and begging for help. It may have been misguided, but I understood why outsiders – kings and presidents, artists and back-packers – have been drawn to this refuge for centuries. There is magic here, but I wondered if outsiders could walk in, wrap it up and take it away in their pockets.

At the bridge, earlier in the day, I had been disappointed that I hadn’t been allowed to visit the Baduy’s inner sanctuary. By the end of the day, I’d realized that I shouldn’t have even tried. After all, their villages and the forest they guard remain sacred only because they are undisturbed. Living according to their stern and austere code, the Baduy guard the secret glades well. A consecrated community rather than an isolated tribe, they are not ignorant of modern civilization. Rather, they deliberately reject it. That is their gift to us. We have much to learn.

About the author

Until the beginning of 2006, Irfan Kortschak was employed as the Editor-in-Chief of Garuda Indonesia’s Magazine and other publications for more than two years, a position which has involved the writing of feature articles; the collection, compilation, and editing of feature articles by Indonesian and expatriate contributors; liaisons with the Editorial Board and other officials of Garuda Indonesia Airlines; interviews with central and regional government figures, tourism industry operators, and others; and the training and supervision of a team of journalists, photographers and designers. In this capacity, he traveled throughout Indonesia and abroad, to destinations in South-East Asia, East Asia, the Middle East, Europe and Australia to write and take photographs for feature articles.
This article remain the copyright of the Author (Irfan Kortschak). Under no circumstances should the photos or text be used without the express written permission of the Author (Irfan Kortschak). He can be reached at irfan@wayang.net

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The Search For God through Art Group Expression

A cultural event initiated by the Jakarta Art Movement (JAM) conveys themes of spiritualism in an urban community

This February, the Jakarta Art Movement (JAM), an art community initiated by groups of artists and curators in Jakarta, is cooperating with the Indonesian National Gallery to present an art exhibit entitled “The Second God”, which will also feature a seminar and workshop.

The JAM community, which comprises 15 groups and over a hundred individuals, consists of painters, sculptors, architects, illustrators, installation artists, graphic artists, photographers, film makers, video artists, fashion designers, interior designers, and digital graphic artists from Jakarta, Bogor and Tangerang.

Some of the members also work in the formal sector as executives, accountants, secretaries, or in other jobs not directly associated with art. Through group dynamics and interaction with the curators who presented the exhibition topic, they discussed and responded to the topic. The final output was produced by the artist groups, in a wide variety of forms.

The topics in this exhibition depart from issues in urban society - idols in the urban world and the quest for God, categorized into three zones, each packaged in a major theme - “The Second God”; “Art Today”; and “Technology, Human Identity and Spirituality.”

The artists in JAM uphold the credo that art is open and liberating, multidisciplinary, and diverse. Art works should be produced through an aesthetic built from interaction and dynamics within the group. In creating their works, they respond to, and collaborate with, one another.

For example, consider the artist and architect Ario and the Ario group from Tarumanagara University, and their work entitled “Cyborg Worship”. They chose to enter the first category/ zone in the exhibition, dealing with technology. Ario built a female robot using the approach of creating a sculpture, while robot builders in the group from the Tarumanagara University Robot Laboratory helped with the technical aspect.

They comment cynically through this work by creating a mystical altar for worship of machines and robots as a symbol of humankind’s domination of nature – or is it the machines that are dominating both nature and humankind? This is a very elegantly constructed collaboration.

We also see the Ancol Plus group, consisting of Kadi, Arifin, Aung and Sapon, who also chose to place their group’s expression in the technology zone, with the title “Welcome To The Abyss”. They painted - on the floor of the National Gallery – images of cliffs and gullies, full of technological instruments such as computer machinery and complex chips.

These artists are seeking to convey the criticism that humans nowadays no longer believe that anything is created by nature, but rather that everything is created by humans themselves. This work is unique, because the painting is enormous, 13 meters by 8 meters, and when seen from certain angles it appears to be entirely real. In the West, this type of work is referred to as 3D illusionist painting.

Another group, Keiza and Friends, which comprises a fashion designer, a photographer, a video artist, a model, a choreographer and a graphic designer, criticizes human behavior and humanity’s creations in zone B: human identity. They produce clothing designs made from eletronic waste and the trash generated by human consumption, especially plastic and metal, as a special carnival and performance art that raises the issues of humankind and its ambiguity.

In another group we see Tiga De Studio, a collaboration between graphic artist Nanda and Hery, an installation artist, with a work entitled “In God We Trust”. They chose zone C, the search for spirituality in this century. These artists have built giant letters and life-sized dolls, which will be placed in the front courtyard and terrace of the National Gallery.

Meanwhile, the group Tato and Agus present a work entitled “Man and The Racing”, which combines painting, digital photography, video art and sculpture. They believe that humankind has already met its fate of competing with the machines that it has created, and that human civilization is built upon servitude to technology. This work, 12 meters by 5 meters, will be placed in Hall A of the Indonesian National Gallery in the first zone/ category.

This exhibition aims to present new ideas, especially about group expression and the diversity of art. The show is also a cultural statement and reflection on society in Jakarta, with plans to include a seminar featuring experts from diverse fields such as doctors of information technology, experts on art in urban zones, doctors of sociology and philosophy, practitioners of spiritual paths and students of religious practices in urban society.

source: garudamagazine

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A Night of Dayak Culture

For thousands of years, the Dayak people — with more than 400 sub-ethnic groups — have inhabited the island of Borneo, the Indonesian portion of which is known as Kalimantan.

In recent times, however, the 740,000-square-kilometer island’s natural resources have attracted m ultinational mining and logging companies, which have brought with them many modern influences.

Since the colonial era, a number of companies have set up production sites on the island. The colonists, in favor of the foreign newcomers, often enforced regulations that restricted the traditions of the local people.

“I remember my grandfather once said that he wasn’t allowed to go to school unless he cut off his dangling earlobes,” said Gregorio Leo Oendoen, one of the founders of the Dayak Youth Community in Jakarta. It is a tradition of the Dayak tribe to put weighted earrings in their earlobes when they reach puberty. The older a Dayak man or woman is, the heavier their earrings are made, and as a result their earlobes become elongated.

“It is a sign of patience and wisdom gained during the years,” Gregorio said.

Hundreds of rumah betang , wooden long houses, were also destroyed because the colonial government believed they were places of wild orgies and incestuous sex. As a result, many Dayak families were displaced and forced either to conform to the modern lifestyle or move to the island’s interior. Sadly, Gregorio said, cultural misunderstandings continued to this day — a common insult, orang Dayak , implies someone is mentally retarded. Today, most of the younger Dayaks have forsaken their cultural traditions in pursuit of a more contemporary lifestyle.

Tattoos that were an important part of the Dayak identity have become a dying art. “It took me weeks of going upstream [on an educational expedition to learn about the Dayak] before I met a man or a woman with tattoos,” said Aman Durga Sipatiti, a tattoo artist who specializes in tribal tattoos and piercings.

Dayak professionals in Jakarta, concerned with the growing indifference of the younger Dayak toward their own culture, founded the Dayak Youth Community in 2002.

“At first, I didn’t care much about our cultural traditions,” Gregorio said. “But, when I visited the Dayak Kayaan Mendalam [a Dayak community] in West Kalimantan, I became attracted to their way of life. They respect the forest as their main natural resource, work hard and lead a humble lifestyle. I came to realize that money is not everything.”

On Sunday and Monday, the Dayak Youth Community will hold a gala event, “A Night With the Dayak,” at the auditorium of the Goethe Institute, Jakarta. “Natas Banyang,” a ritual ceremony of ancient Dayak traditions, will mark the opening night, followed by a toast of “tuak” (rice wine) among the guests and participants.

The Dayak Children’s Choir, whose members range in age from 6 to 18, will sing traditional songs and there will also be a dance performance that represents the life cycle of the Dayak people.

“For the people of the Dayak, land cultivation is the core of their livelihood,” Gregorio said. “That’s why each stage [of cultivation] is marked with a dance celebration.”

The Mandau dance, which symbolizes the clearing of the land, will be performed by a group of women; the Bahuma dance describes the happiness and enthusiasm of the men in plowing the fields; the Menugal dance describes the joy of the women when planting the seeds; the Hudoq is a mask dance, performed after planting the seeds, which is aimed at driving away bad spirits that may cause a bad crop.

“The faces of the masks represent the pests that may attack the crops, such as rats and locusts,” Gregorio said.

Traditionally, the dance was performed to please the goddess of rice paddies, Hunai Parai Avaang, so she would bless the upcoming harvest.

In addition to the dance performances, the event will also feature a live demonstration of hand-tapping tattooing by Aman Durga Sipatiti. Hand-tapping is a traditional method of tattooing in Indonesian, Polynesian and Maori cultures, and uses a thin wooden stick fitted with a needle at one end, covered in ink, which is tapped with another stick into the dermis layer of the skin.

The patterns of Dayak tattoos include the Bunga Terung (rosette), which signifies bravery, the Garing tree (the mythical tree of life) and a Hornbill bird for protection against evil spirits.

“It’s quite an intense, spiritual and philosophical experience,” Durga said.

Hand-tapped tattoos take three times as long as a modern tattoo, during which both the tattoo artist and the client must maintain full concentration and a soul connection, according to Dayak lore.

The event will also feature a photo essay by Rani Djandam, a Dayak anthropologist, which describes the “Ngamuan Gunung Pirak,” the wedding ceremony of the Dayak Ma’anyan tribe of Central Kalimantan. There will also be an exhibition of traditional beading and a demonstration of the intricate hand-weaving techniques of the Dayak Sintang tribe.

Tenun Sintang — the hand-woven textile of the Dayak Sintang — was discovered by Pastor Maessen, a Dutch missionary, in 1968.

“He visited a house and the wife cleaned a chair for him with a piece of old cloth, covered in vibrant colors and patterns,” Gregorio said. The cloth was a very old hand-woven piece of material, owned by the woman’s grandparents. The pastor helped the local people to revive the dying trade. Today, Tenun Sintang is one of the most coveted textiles in the country.

“Pastor Maessen himself will also attend this event,” Gregorio said.

“Our organization aims to be a cultural ambassador for the Dayak people,” he added. “Therefore, we hope that with this event, more people will be able to appreciate Dayak culture and traditions and the younger generations of Dayaks will again be proud of their roots.”


‘A Night With the Dayak’
Goethe Institute
Jl. Sam Ratulangi, No. 9 - 15
Menteng, Central Jakarta
For more information on the programs, visit www.dayakyouthcommunity.org

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The Sumba Culture: Fascinating, Mysterious

Writer and photographer Alessandro Gandolfi looks into the culture of this Indonesian island that bursts with spirit.

"The ratu? He's sitting over there, trying to figure out if this will be a nice funeral," says a solemn onlooker.

Lying on the bloodied ground are a dozen disembowelled hens, and like an Etruscan haruspex, the elderly ratu – the great priest – solemnly explains to latecomers: "Yes, the entrails say that the one today will be an excellent funeral."

David Danggalolu and his wife Albertina died within a few days of one another, both from illness. A tragic event, which in small Mgambadeta, at the centre of western Sumba, must be honoured with the necessary pomp (and with the sacrifice of at least fifteen buffaloes).

That's why eighteen-year-old Umbu, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, who two minutes earlier smilingly explained that he loved listening to America R&B, doesn't give a moment's thought to unsheathing his parang and slitting the throat of the first buffalo of the day.

Sumba is one of the 18,000 islands in Indonesia. Twice as large as Balì and 400 kilometres farther east, Sumba was frequented by the Portuguese and then the Dutch, traders of the sandalwood. Sumba's isolation has allowed it to be better preserved: its slow rhythm, life marked by the agricultural cycles, the uncontaminated beaches, the raising of horses and the extraordinary megalithic tombs—it is one of the most fascinating and mysterious cultures in all of Indonesia.
At the tourist office of Waikabubak, a starting point for exploring the western zone, about fifteen people in khaki uniforms seem surprised by the presence of a tourist. A woman, Miss Anisa, came to sit in her office and says, "The best part of the island is the western part, Sumba Barat, more fertile and culturally richer than Sumba Timur, the eastern part."

"Here in Sumba, people still have the warriors' temperament," says André, a Frenchman who for several years has been making water wells in some local villages.

The ikat, Sumba's typical cloth so desired by tourists (its characteristic is the dying of the threads before the weaving), often depicts scenes of combat and warriors on horseback gripping long spears.

At the beginning of the planting season, from mid-February to mid-March, the warriors return to combat. Today, they do it during the Pasola, one of Indonesia's most famous festivals: a simulated battle during which groups of horsemen challenge and hit each other with long spears, the hola, from which the festival takes its name.

Pasola, the horsemen's festival, is also derived from another legend: Thousands of years ago Umbu Dula from Wanukaka left his village to go fishing but never returned. After
a while, his wife Rambu Kaba married another man, Tedo Gai Parana from Kori. Umbu Dula, however, wasn't dead: upon returning suddenly to the village, he burst into a rage, but Rambu Kaba didn't want to abandon her new husband and therefore Tedo Gai Parana had to pay Umbu the wife's price: buffaloes, horses, jewellery, weapons and nyale, the sacred sea-worms. To ensure peace, the people of Kori invited those of Wanukaka to a simulated combat, the Pasola, which, ever since then, has been celebrated every year in February and March, exactly when the sea is filled with nyale, the appearance of which is a good omen for the future harvests.

Every year the government tries to keep the situation under control, but participants are often wounded or even killed on the field of festive battle. This was, in the end, the purpose of many battles in the past: not so much to square away accounts as to let human blood flow in honour of the ancestors, thus guaranteeing a good harvest.

"Do you see that stone slab over there?" says an elderly man during Mgambadeta's funeral.
"It's the tomb of our warrior Rato Dapaduu, who was killed while fighting against the Dutch. And his pistol has been buried along with him."

"Sumba is an island where the tombs are usually in the centre of the village in front of the dwellings to remind the inhabitants that death is the most important event of all," says André.

Funerals last entire weeks and the poor go to many lengths so as to be able to offer a worthy burial for their loved ones, thus keeping the tradition alive. The sacrifice of buffaloes and pigs sanctions the deification of the deceased, and the sacrificed meat is offered to those present in sumptuous feasts.

One of the most beautiful tombs of the island is at Pasunga, about twenty kilometres east of Waikabubak, and it is said that when it was built at the beginning of the last century, 150 buffaloes were killed.

Julius, the 40-year-old head of the village, explains that in 2000, when his father died, 24 animals were killed (more than 15 pigs, 7 horses and an indefinite number of dogs and sheep).

The buffalo horns still ornate the outside walls of his hut. Julius usually gets up at five in the morning and like everybody else goes to work in the rice fields. Today he lives peacefully together with his people, but a long stele on the main road reminds us that, deep down, these people remain warriors at heart.

Twenty years ago there was a conflict with the nearby village of Tamu Au, in which several people died and the head of the enemy chief was buried under that stele.

"We danced for many days, it was a great battle. Since then we haven't had any kind of relations with the people of Tamu Au," Julius says.

The kampung along the southern coast of Kori are among the most fascinating in Sumba. They offer a spectacular view of the nearby beaches frequented by the fishermen, whereas the houses of Paranobaroro and Wainyapu with their straw roofs tower beyond the forest. Raised from the ground, the Sumbanese dwellings have a raised first level with the floor made of bamboo, and a long veranda (the animals live underneath).

Ann McCue, a sixty-something Englishwoman, has lived her entire life divided between Washington and London, but in 2002, when she happened to come to Sumba on vacation and witnessed the Pasola, she fell in love with the island. She returned several times, until a year later she remained definitively.

"I decided to help these people, and I understood that there were two priorities: water and education," she says.

Ann founded "Project Hope – Sumba," which aims to create new wells, schools in the more depressed areas and courses for teachers.

"One out of two children of Sumba abandons school after only three years and is forced to work with his or her parents," Ann explains.

But she also admits that "many of them seriously want to improve. And then, here there's truly a lovely community, social relations, friendship, all of that which cannot be found in England anymore."

Ann thinks for a moment, sips her iced tea and smiles:
"Write down that here in Sumba, in order to improve things, even just a few people can really make a difference".

MapMore on Sumba
Fly to Bali and once there take a ferry. Sumba is one of the islands of Nusa Tenggara that stretches out to the east of Bali. In Sumba, the dry season is approximately from March to October. Waikabubak, the capital of West Sumba, is the ideal starting point for exploring the western part of the island by car or motorcycle.

Places to Stay and to Eat
The Manandang Hotel and the Artha Hotel. In the city, you can eat excellent lotek – rice, vegetables and peanut sauce. In Sangkuring, a warung nasi (rice restaurant) can be found on your right as you leave town heading east along the Bhayangkara.

Source :www.garudamagazine.com

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Taking a Peek at Lombok

Text by Taufik Darusman Photos by Jan Dekker

Dubbed as "unspoiled Bali" or "Bali's sister island", Lombok is (almost) everything Bali is not. But that is precisely what prompts many to visit the island.

While it takes only 20 minutes of flying time for Garuda Indonesia's Boeing 737-400 to bring you from Ngurah Rai airport in Bali to Mataram, the capital city of Lombok, the two islands are actually worlds apart.

Lombok's quite and undeveloped environment stands in marked contrast to that of Bali's, beckoning travelers seeking a relaxed pace and spectacular natural beauty.

Most well-heeled tourists tend to gravitate towards Senggigi, a 10-kilometer strip along the coastal road north of Mataram, where most star-rated beach resorts and nightlife action are found.

Lombok is just as large as Bali and offers many tourism sites that suit all kinds of visitors. And the right time to visit Lombok is May, when the climate is perfect: bright, sunny days amidst lush greenery.

The population of Lombok, which forms part of the Province of West Nusa Tenggara, is no more than three million. As such, many with no hidden interest or pretense actually wish to see Lombok remain as is: quite, natural and pure.

But such thoughts may not be fair to the local community, which can make strides only if the tourism business grows. On the other hand, that can only happen if physical development in the forms of infrastructure and other public facilities takes place.

Lombok is not a place that offers surfing, diving and snorkeling opportunities only, but also beautiful woven textiles like songkets and ikats that can be used as a sarong, wall decoration and tableware. Check out the traditional hand weaving village in Puyung, Central Lombok, if you're a collector of fine textiles.

Lombok is also gaining fame for its pottery that comes in all shapes and sizes. Its popularity is such that many of it are now shipped throughout the world. Look no further than Banyumulek (West Lombok), Penujak (Central Lombok) and Masbagik (East Lombok), the three villages most famous for making pottery.

Many of their traditional handicrafts deserve to be taken back home as souvenirs, namely wooden masks, ketak grass baskets, wooden boxes embedded with fragments of sea shells, or bamboo- and rattan-based items.

Lombok now appears to be entering a tourist boom of sort. As Bali is seen overcommercialized over the past few years, marked by unbearable congestion and less open, natural spaces, many tourists now nod towards the charms of ‘undiscovered' Lombok. With this new interest comes the development of a number of posh boutique resorts on the island, serving quality food and drinks just as Bali was decades ago.

Emaar, the Dubai-based property company, is reportedly set to develop a new town in Central Lombok by investing US$600 million. Its main feature is a 7km natural waterfront that complements a marina, golf course, luxury residences and five-star resorts managed by The Ritz-Carlton.

If after overexposure to the beach, sand and sun begins to work on your nerves, make time to visit Mataram. The city is beginning to display signs of a metropolitan in the making in the way of a shopping mall well-stocked with general consumer and electronic goods. In Mataram one already can find branch offices of national and foreign banks as well as fast food outlets such as KFC.

It may take five to ten years before Lombok achieves what Bali has attained: "the world's most favorite island resort" as voted by readers of Travel+Leisure. But this is
perhaps all the more reason for you to visit Lombok now

Places to Visit

1. The three little islands that make up Gili Islands offer good diving, snorkeling sites, sandy beaches and some nightlife.
2. The volcanic Mount Rinjani, the third-highest in Indonesia, features many trekking routes.
3. Kuta has some of the best surfing spots in the world, and beautiful beaches.
4. The Narmada Park houses a Hindu temple and a famous fountain as well.

Places to Stay

1. Holiday Resort Lombok
2. Novotel Coralia Lombok
3. Qunci Villas
4. Sheraton Senggigi Beach Resort
5. Tugu Lombok
6. Vila Ombak

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Wayang Kulit, the Art from Nusantara

The Indonesian word 'wayang' is derived from a word meaning 'shadow' or 'ghost'. These intricately cut and perforated shadow puppets are made from buffalo hide. 'Kulit' means 'leather' or 'skin'. 'Wayang Kulit' has a documented history of existence of at least 800 years in the Indonesian archipelago.

This was an open air performance under the stars. A temporary bamboo platform had been constructed in the village square. It had a raised stage on which the puppeteer and musicians of the 'Gender Wayang' orchestra sat cross-legged. A fine cotton screen, called 'kelir', separates the dalang from his audience. This screen represents the universe and the light from a bronze oil lamp, called 'blencong' just in front of the dalang throws magical flickering shadows onto it.

There is no hiding the mechanics of the show as in Western theatre since the bamboo platform had no sides. The audience is free to sit either facing the screen, or can watch the dalang at work.

Before a play begins, the dalang undertakes several ceremonial acts and rituals to assure a successful performance. With great reverence, he taps three times on the wooden box containing all his puppets in order to wake them up. Figures of deities representing good and evil (sometimes over one hundred) are ranged in their prescribed place to the left and right hand sides of the screen. When quiescent, the puppets are spiked into the soft flesh of the trunk of a banana tree at the base of the cotton screen. This represents the earth.

The dalang underscores the action and the rhythm of his chanting while sitting cross-legged by tapping loudly with quickening tempo on the wooden puppet box at his back with a little bronze knob held between the toes of one foot. He also uses this device to conduct the small Gender Wayang orchestra of xylophones and gongs sitting behind him, all the time maintaining a number of different body rhythms as he manipulates the puppets.

The dalang is a highly venerated artist with exceptional powers over the elements at his command. He is a complete performer who excels in many things. He displays enormous physical and mental endurance. He is an orator with a prodigious memory who must be able to repeat many lengthy texts word for word but also improvise entire interludes ranging from ribald jokes to philosophical conversations. He is a scholar of literature and yet keeps himself abreast, not only of national events, but of everyday happenings in the district including the latest gossip and scandal. He must know all his figures, about one hundred or more, their nature and symbolic importance, and have such vocal dexterity as to give each its proper tone and pitch at times creating the illusion of conversation. He deftly composes scenes on the fly, all the while paying particular attention to the artistic arrangement of his figures. He poses them in stances appropriate to their character and situation and in keeping their relationship to each other. He has to compose and sing songs as well as direct the orchestra that accompanies him. Besides all this, he is a poet-playwright who shares new wisdom in a way that satisfies public taste.

So what is the effect of all this? When the puppet is pressed up against the cotton sheet, its shadow is sharp and steady. Where it curls away from the screen a little, the shadow rapidly softens. The flickering light from the uncertain oil lamp causes these indistinct portions to quiver and waver. Sometimes puppets are presented to the screen from behind the lamp instead of entering from the wings. When this happens, they seem to magically materialise out of the very air itself as soft indistinct forms darken, gathering form and substance as they near the screen. The effect is ethereal and utterly mesmerizing.

The compelling visual appeal of a Wayang Kulit show might easily be explained by the physical laws and properties of light. The spiritual and metaphysical dimensions of the shadow play are much harder for a Westerner to describe.

The shadow play is magically powerful. At times the dalang appears to be in a trance. It is commonly believed that the audience is protected from evil influences during a Wayang Kulit performance. Its vast repertoire of tales covers all aspects of life. As well as having an educational role in society, its stories provide spiritual guidance for the people. It is as though this translucent screen with its play of light and shadow is the interface between two realms of existence - a small rectangle in the fabric of the world mediated by the dalang from where spirit beings from other planes of existence impart the wisdom of the ages to mankind. Wayang characters provide types to be emulated, giving the young an idea of what qualities to strive for.

The balmy night air was sweet with the scent of clove cigarettes. The audience, from the very young to the very old, including one white man, was held spell bound by the skills of the dalang and the stories he told. Little children, cradled in their parent's arms, stared wide-eyed at the screen, transfixed by its magic. As the night wore on, they valiantly fought a losing battle against the relentlessness of sleep, their heads occasionally jerking, wanting so desperately to stay awake.

Exciting battle scenes are usually staged shortly after midnight. These are truly fantastic to watch and is technically one of the more exacting test's of the dalang's dexterity in manipulating his puppets. Some fight scenes require the physical engagement of characters, up to six at a time, and in others, opponents use a combination of weaponry and magical powers to achieve their ends. These sequences are rich with special effects. Cutouts representing balls of fire, lightening or tempest might be used. With a trick of light and shade and a deft exchange of the puppet, characters were made to transform before a wide-eyed audience into mystical beings, a garuda, a snake. There were moments of enthralling, almost cinematic action, which I thought compared favorably with the most exciting fast-paced fighting sequences from Hong Kong Kung Foo movies that you could imagine. Characters lunged at each other, their staccato jousting movements under scored by the rapid tapping of the brass knob between the dalang's toes. They wrestled back and forth across the screen, or were thrown bodily into the air to spin 360 degrees before being slammed into a dead stop against the screen by another puppet entering the fray from the back. As delicate as they look, the leather puppets are remarkably robust, and during fight scenes, are thrown roughly about the screen. At times the oil lamp is set swaying to heighten the chaos of the battlefield. This was better than television!

At other times the story demanded large formal chunks of dialogue spoken in Kawi, an ancient Javanese tongue derived from Sanskrit which nobody but the dalang understands. Such sequences are characterised by courtly speeches delivered with astonishing vocalisation. The dalang can modulate his voice from strong and powerful delivery to the very softly spoken. Sometimes shadow plays are broadcast on the radio without any imagery. The figures jerk forward ever so slightly when speaking and with restrained refined and measured gestures, use their outstretched hands to accent words. The technique is beautiful to watch. During these lengthy passages in ancient Kawi, the audience stretched weary bodies and moved about. Teenagers stood up and picked their way through the crowd to perhaps buy some roasted peanuts from the vendors gathered around, or a drink, or to chat with their boyfriends and girlfriends.

But it is the clowns such as, Semar, Bagong, Petruk, and in Bali, Togog and Bebrodesan, which are most loved by the audience, educated and illiterate alike, and with whom the Indonesian people most readily identify. They are cohorts allied to either the good or wicked. Since the clowns figures speak the everyday language of the people, they are also used to interpret the events within time-honoured stories told in ancient tongues. Witty, crude and forever trading crass insults and innuendoes, the buffoonery of these characters allows the dalang to launch into marvelous ad lib comic sequences that embellish stories with topical village gossip, political intrigue and scandal which can leave the audience clutching their stomachs in hysterical laughter.

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The Origin Of Keris

The origin of the Keris still remains a mystery. Javanese temple bas-reliefs are rich of warrior representation, but with edged weapons that have more to do with the Indian world than with the specificity of the Malay Keris.

This chapter will attempt to summarize the latest scholarship knowledge about the Keris and its origin.

And now Keris is use for complementary fashion in Indonesia specially in family kingdom.


For more information please visit http://old.blades.free.fr/keris/introduction/origin/history.htm

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Batik, Traditional Fabric of Indonesia

It would be impossible to visit or live in Indonesia and not be exposed to one of the country's most highly developed art forms, batik. On your first visit to a batik store or factory you will undoubtedly experience an overwhelming stimulation of the senses - due to the many colors, patterns and the actual smell of batik. Only through repeated visits and a bit of study will the types of designs and their origins become apparent.

The word batik is thought to be derived from the word 'ambatik' which translated means 'a cloth with little dots'. The suffix 'tik' means little dot, drop, point or to make dots. Batik may also originate from the Javanese word 'tritik' which describes a resist process for dying where the patterns are reserved on the textiles by tying and sewing areas prior to dying, similar to tie dye techniques. Another Javanese phase for the mystical experience of making batik is “mbatik manah” which means “drawing a batik design on the heart”.

A Brief History
Although experts disagree as to the precise origins of batik, samples of dye resistance patterns on cloth can be traced back 1,500 years ago to Egypt and the Middle East. Samples have also been found in Turkey, India, China, Japan and West Africa from past centuries. Although in these countries people were using the technique of dye resisting decoration, within the textile realm, none have developed batik to its present day art form as the highly developed intricate batik found on the island of Java in Indonesia.

King Kertajasa East Java 1294-1309Although there is mention of 'fabrics highly decorated' in Dutch transcripts from the 17th century, most scholars believe that the intricate Javanese batik designs would only have been possible after the importation of finely woven imported cloth, which was first imported to Indonesia from India around the 1800s and afterwards from Europe beginning in 1815. Textile patterns can be seen on stone statues that are carved on the walls of ancient Javanese temples such as Prambanan (AD 800), however there is no conclusive evidence that the cloth is batik. It could possibly be a pattern that was produced with weaving techniques and not dying. What is clear is that in the 19th century batik became highly developed and was well ingrained in Javanese cultural life.

Some experts feel that batik was originally reserved as an art form for Javanese royalty. Certainly it's royal nature was clear as certain patterns were reserved to be worn only by royalty from the Sultan's palace. Princesses and noble women may have provided the inspiration for the highly refined design sense evident in traditional patterns. It is highly unlikely though that they would be involved in any more than the first wax application. Most likely, the messy work of dyeing and subsequent waxings was left to court artisans who would work under their supervision.

Javanese royalty were known to be great patrons of the arts and provided the support necessary to develop many art forms, such as silver ornamentation, wayang kulit (leather puppets) and gamelan orchestras. In some cases the art forms overlap. The Javanese dalang (puppeteer) not only was responsible for the wayang puppets but was also Tambil Miring Designan important source of batik patterns. Wayang puppets are usually made of goat skin, which is then perforated and painted to create the illusion of clothing on the puppet. Used puppets were often sold to eager ladies who used the puppets as guides for their batik patterns. They would blow charcoal through the holes that define the patterns of clothing on the puppets, in order to copy the intricate designs onto the cloth.

Other scholars disagree that batik was only reserved as an art form for royalty, as they also feel its use was prevalent with the rakyat, the people. It was regarded an important part of a young ladies accomplishment that she be capable of handling a canting (the pen-like instrument used to apply wax to the cloth) with a reasonable amount of skill, certainly as important as cookery and other housewifery arts to Central Javanese women.

Selection and Preparation of the Cloth for Batik
Natural materials such as cotton or silk are used for the cloth, so that it can absorb the wax that is applied in the dye resisting process. The fabrics must be of a high thread count (densely woven). It is important that cloth of high quality have this high thread count so that the intricate design qualities of batik can be maintained.

Applying wax with a canting to create BatikThe cloth that is used for batik is washed and boiled in water many times prior to the application of wax so that all traces of starches, lime, chalk and other sizing materials are removed. Prior to the implementation of modern day techniques, the cloth would have been pounded with a wooden mallet or ironed to make it smooth and supple so it could best receive the wax design. With the finer machine-made cotton available today, the pounding or ironing processes can be omitted. Normally men did this step in the batik process.

Strict industry standards differentiate the different qualities of the cloth used today, which include Primissima (the best) and Prima. The cloth quality is often written on the edge of the design. A lesser quality cloth which is often used in Blaco.

Batik Design Tools

Although the art form of batik is very intricate, the tools that are used are still very simple. The canting, believed to be a purely Javanese invention, is a small thin wall spouted copper container (sometimes called a wax pen) that is connected to a short bamboo handle. Normally it is approximately 11 cm. in length. The copper container is filled with melted wax and the artisan then uses the canting to draw the design on the cloth.

Canting have different sizes of spouts (numbered to correspond to the size) to achieve varied design effects. The spout can vary from 1 mm in diameter for very fine detailed work to wider spouts used to fill in large design areas. Dots and parallel lines may be drawn with canting that have up to 9 spouts. Sometimes a wad of cotton is fastened over the mouth of the canting or attached to a stick that acts as a brush to fill in very large areas.

For close-up pictures of canting.

Wajan


Wajan is used to melt the waxThe wajan is the container that holds the melted wax. It looks like a small wok. Normally it is made of iron or earthenware. The wajan is placed on a small brick charcoal stove or a spirit burner called an 'anglo'. The wax is kept in a melted state while the artisan is applying the wax to the cloth.




Wax

Different kinds and qualities of wax are used in batik. Common waxes used for batik consist of a mixture of beeswax, used for its malleability, and paraffin, used for its friability. Resins can be added to increase adhesiveness and animal fats create greater liquidity.

Blowing into the Canting keeps the wax flowing freelyThe best waxes are from the Indonesian islands of Timor, Sumbawa and Sumatra; three types of petroleum-based paraffin (white, yellow and black) are used. The amounts mixed are measured in grams and vary according to the design. Wax recipes can be very closely guarded secrets. Varying colors of wax make it possible to disguise different parts of the pattern through the various dying stages. Larger areas of the pattern are filled in with wax that is cheaper quality and the higher quality wax is used on the more intricately detailed sections of the design.

The wax must be kept at the proper temperature. A wax that is too cool will clog the spout of the canting. A wax that is too hot will flow too quickly and be uncontrollable. The artisan will often blow into the spout of the canting before applying wax to the cloth in order to clear the canting of any obstructions.

Cap

Cap utilize copper string to make various designsCreating batik is a very time consuming craft. To meet growing demands and make the fabric more affordable to the masses, in the mid-19th century the . cap. (copper stamp - pronounced chop) was developed. This invention enabled a higher volume of batik production compared to the traditional method which entailed the tedious application of wax by hand with a canting.

Each cap is a copper block that makes up a design unit. Cap are made of 1.5 cm wide copper stripes that are bent into the shape of the design. Smaller pieces of wire are used for the dots. When complete, the pattern of copper strips is attached to the handle.

The cap must be precisely made. This is especially true if the pattern is to be stamped on both sides of the fabric. It is imperative that both sides of the cap are identical so that pattern will be consistent.

Sometimes cap are welded between two grids like pieces of copper that will make a base for the top and theApplying wax with cap bottom. The block is cut in half at the center so the pattern on each half is identical. Cap vary in size and shape depending on the pattern they are needed for. It is seldom that a cap will exceed 24 cm in diameter, as this would make the handling too difficult.

Men usually handle the application of wax using cap. A piece of cloth that involves a complicated design could require as many as ten sets of cap. The usage of cap, as opposed to canting, to apply the wax has reduced the amount of time to make a cloth.

Today, batik quality is defined by cap or tulis, the second meaning hand-drawn designs which use a canting, or kombinasi, a combination of the two techniques.
Dyes

Traditional colors for Central Javanese batik were made from natural ingredients and consisted primarily of beige, blue, brown and black.

The oldest color that was used in traditional batik making was blue. The color was made from the leaves of the Indigo plant. The leaves were mixed with molasses sugar and lime and left to stand overnight. Sometimes sap from the Tinggi tree was added to act as a fixing agent. Lighter blue was achieved by leaving the cloth in the dye bath for short periods of time. For darker colors, the cloth would be left in the dye bath for days and may have been submerged up to 8 - 10 times a day.

In traditional batik, the second color applied was a brown color called soga. The color could range from light yellow to a dark brown. The dye came from the bark of the Soga tree. Another color that was traditionally used was a dark red color called mengkuda. This dye was created from the leaves of the Morinda Citrifolia.

The final hue depended on how long the cloth was soaked in the dye bath and how often it was dipped. Skilled artisans can create many variations of these traditional colors. Aside from blue, green would be achieved by mixing blue with yellow; purple was obtained by mixing blue and red. The soga brown color mixed with indigo would produce a dark blue-black color.

Design Process

The outline of the pattern is blocked out onto the cloth, traditionally with charcoal or graphite. Traditional batik designs utilize patterns handed down over the generations. It is very seldom that an artisan is so skilled that he can work from memory and would not need to draw an outline of the pattern before applying the wax. Often designs are traced from stencils or patterns called pola. Another method of tracing a pattern onto a cloth is by laying the cloth on a glass table that is illuminated from below which casts a shadow of the pattern onto the cloth. The shadow is then traced with a pencil. In large batik factories today, men usually are in charge of drawing the patterns onto the cloth. Click here to see the step-by-step process of making batik.

Waxing

Once the design is drawn out onto the cloth it is then ready to be waxed. Wax is applied to the cloth over the areas Applying wax with a Cantingof the design that the artisan wishes to remain the original color of the cloth. Normally this is white or cream.

Female workers sit on a low stool or on a mat to apply the wax with a canting. The fabric that they are working on is draped over light bamboo frames called gawangan to allow the freshly applied wax to cool and harden. The wax is heated in the wajan until it is of the desired consistency. The artisan then dips her canting into the wax to fill the bowl of the canting.

Artisans use the wax to retrace the pencil outline on the fabric. A small drop cloth is kept on the woman. s lap to protect her from hot dripping wax. The stem of the canting is held with the right hand in a horizontal position to prevent any accidental spillage, which greatly reduces the value of the final cloth. The left hand is placed behind the fabric for support. The spout does not touch the fabric, but it held just above the area the artisan is working on. To ensure the pattern is well defined, batik is waxed on both sides. True tulis batik is reversible, as the pattern should be identical on both sides.

The most experienced artisans normally do first waxings. Filling in of large areas may be entrusted to less experienced artisans. Mistakes are very difficult to correct. If wax is accidentally spilt on the cloth, the artisan will try to remove the unwanted wax by sponging it with hot water. Then a heated iron rod with a curved end is used to try and lift off the remaining wax. Spilled wax can never be completely removed so it is imperative that the artisans are very careful.

Applying wax with a copper capIf the cap method is utilized, this procedure is normally done by men. The cap are dipped into melted wax. Just under the surface of the melted wax is a folded cloth approximately 30 centimeters square. When this cloth is saturated with wax it acts like a stamp pad. The cap is pressed into the fabric until the design side of the cap is coated with wax. The saturated cap is then stamped onto the fabric, leaving the design of the cap. This process is repeated until the entire cloth is covered. Often cap and canting methods are combined on the same piece of cloth.

Better quality batik may be waxed utilizing canting in one part of Indonesia and then sent to another part of Indonesia where the cap part of the process is completed. On better quality cap fabric great care is taken to match the pattern exactly. Lower grade batik is characterized by overlapping lines or lightened colored lines indicating the cap was not applied correctly.

Dyeing

After the initial wax has been applied, the fabric is ready for the first dye bath. Traditionally dying was done in earthenware tubs. Today most batik factories use large concrete vats. Above the vats are ropes with pulleys that the fabric is draped over after it has been dipped into the dye bath.

The waxed fabric is immersed in the dye bath of the first color. The amount of time it is left in the bath determines the hue of the color; darker colors require longer periods or numerous immersions. The fabric is then put into a cold water bath to harden the wax.

Dye BathWhen the desired color has been achieved and the fabric has dried, wax is reapplied over the areas that the artisan wishes to maintain the first dye color or another color at a later stage in the dying process.

When an area that has been covered with wax previously needs to be exposed so that it can be dyed, the applied wax is scraped away with a small knife. The area is then sponged with hot water and resized with rice starch before it is re-immersed in the subsequent dye bath.

If a marble effect is desired, the wax is intentionally cracked before being placed in the dye bath. The dye seeps into the tiny cracks that create the fine lines that are characteristic of batik. Traditionally, cracks were a sign of inferior cloth especially on indigo color batik. On brown batik, however, the marble effect was accepted.

The number of colors in batik represents how many times it was immersed in the dye bath and how many times wax had to be applied and removed. A multicolored batik represents a lot more work that a single or two-color piece. Numerous dye processes are usually reflected in the price of the cloth. Nowadays, chemical dyes have pretty much replaced traditional dyes, so colors are endless and much more liberally used.
Special Treatments to the Batik Cloth

Prada or Gold Cloth

For special occasions, batik was formerly decorated with gold lead or gold dust. This cloth is known as Prada cloth. Gold leaf was used in the Jogjakarta and Surakarta area. The Central Javanese used gold dust to decorate their Prada cloth. It was applied to the fabric using a handmade glue consisting of egg white or linseed oil and yellow earth. The gold would remain on the cloth even after it had been washed. The gold could follow the design of the cloth or could take on its own design. Older batiks could be given a new look by applying gold to them. Gold decorated cloth is still made today; however, gold paint has replaced gold dust and leaf.

Batik Designs

Although there are thousands of different batik designs, particular designs have traditionally been associated with traditional festivals and specific religious ceremonies. Previously, it was thought that certain cloth had mystical powers to ward off ill fortune, while other pieces could bring good luck.

Wedding Batik

Certain batik designs are reserved for brides and bridegrooms as well as their families. Other designs are reserved for the Sultan and his family or their attendants. A person's rank could be determined by the pattern of the batik he/she wore.

In general, there are two categories of batik design: geometric motifs (which tend to be the earlier designs) and free form designs, which are based on stylized patterns of natural forms or imitations of a woven texture. Nitik is the most famous design illustrating this effect.

Certain areas are known for a predominance of certain designs. Central Javanese designs are influenced by traditional patterns and colors. Batik from the north coast of Java, near Pekalongan and Cirebon, have been greatly influenced by Chinese culture and effect brighter colors and more intricate flower and cloud designs.

High fashion designs drawn on silk are very popular with wealthy Indonesians. These exceptionally high-quality pieces can take months to create and costs hundreds of dollars.

Kawung

Kawung DesignKawung is another very old design consisting of intersecting circles, known in Java since at least the thirteenth century. This design has appeared carved into the walls of many temples throughout Java such as Prambanan near Jogjakarta and Kediri in East Java. For many years, this pattern was reserved for the royal court of the Sultan of Jogjakarta. The circles are sometimes embellished inside with two or more small crosses or other ornaments such as intersecting lines or dots. It has been suggested that the ovals might represent flora such as the fruit of the kapok (silk cotton) tree or the aren (sugar palm).

Ceplok

Ceplok DesignCeplok is a general name for a whole series of geometric designs based on squares, rhombs, circles, stars, etc. Although fundamentally geometric, ceplok can also represent abstractions and stylization of flowers, buds, seeds and even animals. Variations in color intensity can create illusions of depth and the overall effect is not unlike medallion patterns seen on Turkish tribal rugs. The Indonesian population is largely Muslim, a religion that forbids the portrayal of animal and human forms in a realistic manner. To get around this prohibition, the batik worker does not attempt to express this matter in a realistic form. A single element of the form is chosen and then that element is repeated again and again in the pattern.

Parang

Parang DesignParang was once used exclusively by the royal courts of Central Java. It has several suggested meanings such as 'rugged rock', 'knife pattern' or 'broken blade'. The Parang design consists of slanting rows of thick knife-like segments running in parallel diagonal bands. Parang usually alternated with narrower bands in a darker contrasting color. These darker bands contain another design element, a line of lozenge-shaped motifs call mlinjon. There are many variations of this basic striped pattern with its elegant sweeping lines, with over forty parang designs recorded. The most famous is the 'Parang Rusak' which in its most classical form consisting of rows of softly folded parang. This motif also appears in media other than batik, including woodcarving and as ornamentation on gamelan musical instruments.
Washing Batik

Harsh chemical detergents, dryers and drying of fabrics in the sun may fade the colors in batik. Traditionally dyed batiks should be washed in soap for sensitive fabrics, such as Woolite, Silky or Halus. Fine batik in Indonesia is washed with the lerak fruit which can be purchased at most traditional markets. A bottled version of this detergent is also available at batik stores. Be sure to line dry batik in a shady area and not in direct sunlight.
Modern Batik

Modern batik, although having strong ties to traditional batik, utilizes linear treatment of leaves, flowers and birds. These batiks tend to be more dependent on the dictates of the designer rather than the stiff guidelines that have guided traditional craftsmen. This is also apparent in the use of color that modern designers use. Artisans are no Modern Batiklonger dependent on traditional (natural) dyes, as chemical dyes can produce any color that they wish to achieve. Modern batik still utilizes canting and cap to create intricate designs.

Fashion designers such as Iwan Tirta have aggressively introduced batik into the world fashion scene. They have done much to promote the Indonesian art of batik dress, in its traditional and modern forms.

The horizon of batik is continuing to widen. While the design process has remained basically the same over the last century, the process shows great progress in recent decades. Traditionally, batik was sold in 2 1/4 meter lengths used for kain panjang or sarong in traditional dress. Now, not only is batik used as a material to clothe the human body, its uses also include furnishing fabrics, heavy canvas wall hangings, tablecloths and household accessories. Batik techniques are used by famous artists to create batik paintings which grace many homes and offices.

Fine quality handmade batik is very expensive and the production of such works is very limited. However, in a Modern Batikworld that is dominated by machines there is an increasing interest in materials that have been handmade. Batik is one of these materials.

During your stay in Indonesia, take advantage of your time here to learn more about the fascinating world of batik. Have a batik dress or men's business shirt made for you by a seamstress or tailor. Visit batik factories in Jogjakarta, Surakarta or Pekalongan to see for yourself how the intricate process is conducted or ask questions of batik artisans giving demonstrations in stores such as Sarinah or Pasaraya in Jakarta. You will come away with sense of wonder over the time, effort and patience put into the creation of each batik cloth. You too may soon grow to love the distinctive waxy smell of batik and your batik acquisitions will provide many memories of your stay in Indonesia. Your support of the batik industry will also ensure that this art form grows to even greater peaks.

Source : Living Indonesia

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