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Book Review

Ni Wayan Murni
Kabar Magazine

Travel, Experience, Taste, June-July 2006

Treasures of Bali, A Guide to Museums in Bali
written and edited by Richard Mann
Gateway Books International, 2006

I witnessed this book’s strange birth. The quintessentially English publisher Richard Mann stayed at my Villa a couple of years ago, researching and writing ‘Bali off the Beaten Track’. He came up to me at breakfast one morning and said, ‘Murni, I’ve woken up with the idea of writing the first ever guide book to all the museums of Bali. It’s never been done before.’

Shortly afterwards Richard met Nyoman Gunarsa, probably Bali’s most famous living artist, who is also chairman of the Bali Museums Association. That evening Richard caught up with me in my restaurant and reported his evident excitement, ‘Murni, do you remember my museums guide book idea? You won’t believe it, but Nyoman Gunarsa supports it and wants me to publish it.’ It was a curious coincidence that that both men, from opposite sides of the world, had the same wish at the same time.

That was a year ago. It has been a lot of work, but the book has now appeared and is glorious. There are twenty-one museums in Bali, some are private, like the most popular one, Neka Art Museum in Ubud, which is encyclopaedic in its range of paintings, and others are government run, like the little known Museum Gedong Kirtya in Singaraja, which houses a collection of 6,753 traditional lontar palm leaf manuscripts. The museums are all over the island, although most are concentrated in the Ubud area, which is not surprising as Ubud is the cultural heart of Bali. The major museums have twelve pages each and the smaller ones have one page each.

I am not aware of any guide book that even mentions the wide range of museums that exist here. It is a great contribution. There is a helpful list of details for each one: address, telephone, fax, e-mail, web site, opening hours, facilities and how to get there. Every museum has a floor plan and there are useful maps at the end of the book showing how to find all the places featured. The cover is a beautiful painting from the Kerta Gosa Museum.

Richard has visited all of them several times and has composed a narrative describing their collections. Numerous stunning photographs illustrate examples from the collections. In some cases there are interviews with the museums’ owners, which outline their various philosophies, perspectives and aims.

Of course, most, if not all, of the museums do not sell their art works. With your appetites whetted by seeing all this beauty and wanting to own a piece of Balinese culture yourself, it is great that the book also contains details and descriptions of Bali’s leading galleries, which sell antiques, paintings, textiles, sculptures, masks and other treasures. I am very proud that this book features my own shop in Ubud among them.

Treasures of Bali

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Ubud is Just Getting Better and Better

A look at Bali’s Artistic centre, past, present and future.

Ni Wayan Murni
Hello Bali, January 2005

In the early Thirties, Miguel Covarrubias came to Bali, and said, “Undoubtedly Bali will soon enough be spoiled for those fastidious travellers who abhor all that which they bring with them.” Well, Ubud hasn’t been spoiled. Ubud is just getting better and better. Covarrubias got it wrong.

I am a Balinese baby boomer. When I was growing up in Ubud, just after the Second World War, our lives were hard. We didn’t have much. Not being able to afford pure rice, we added corn, jackfruit and sweet potatoes. Our protein was from rice-field eels, dragonflies or frogs.

Now, in Ubud, there are 24-hour supermarkets. A brand new one has just opened close to my restaurant. It has everything – well, nearly everything; it doesn’t have rice-field eels and dragonflies but it does have frogs!

When I was six, we were lucky to go to school. It was hard. Now all kids go to school. That is good. Many children go to university and some go abroad. Computer classes are available in Ubud for local children. That is progress.

There is progress for tourists too. Ubud has always welcomed tourists. There are excellent courses for them: cooking, batik painting, silver jewellery making, woodcarving, stone carving, gamelan and yoga. There are nightly entertainments and five dance groups perform regularly.

Ubud was a leafy place in my childhood. Tall lychee trees lined the main road. Where Ibah Hotel now is, mango trees grew and where Ary’s Warung now is, there were jambu trees.

Monkey Forest Road was a dirty, muddy track with rice fields on each side. Every day you would see farmers carrying produce on their shoulders and ducks on the way to the rice fields. At night you would hear frogs croaking and see fireflies flashing.

Nobody, apart from the Royal family, owned a car; most people walked. If you were lucky, you had a bicycle. I, and a group of friends, had bicycles. We cycled over pot-holed roads down to Sanur to sell our wares to cruise ships. In the evening we cycled back.
Now many families have cars. In fact, most do, and Ubud has a traffic problem. I was the first woman driver in Ubud. Originally only men drove cars. One small step for women! That was in 1976.

There have been other advances. Many activities were reserved for men; even painting, for which Ubud is famous, was traditionally a male preserve. When Puri Lukisan Museum opened in Ubud in 1972, all the exhibits were by men. Now there are many women artists and Seniwati Art Gallery, started in 1991 by Mary Northmore, is dedicated to women.

Gamelan music was exclusively male. In the last twenty years or so, several women’s gamelan groups have formed. My own group plays all over the island.

Our traditional ceremonies bring the arts together; their purpose is to please the gods and men. In my young days, there wasn’t the money to create lavish displays. Now, in Ubud, there are frequent ceremonies: maybe six gamelan groups, numerous dancers, shadow puppets, thousands, dressed in the finest Balinese textiles, attend our ceremonies.

Over my lifetime, and especially recently, there has been rapid development. When I opened my restaurant in 1974, there was no electricity – not until 1978. It was hard to keep beer cold but candles and kerosene lamps created an atmosphere beyond compare. Now, reputedly, there are over 300 restaurants in the area.

In 1974 there were only two hotels: the Tjampuhan and the Menara but everyone stayed at the Tjampuhan. Now there are many wonderful hotels and fabulous villas. There are hundreds of shops – including my own.

However, the time has now come to limit development; we don’t need any more shops, hotels, restaurants or supermarkets and we should concentrate on our strengths and our traditions.

In November we had a very successful Writers and Readers Festival and I am pleased that it is planned to make this an annual event. In December there was the Global Healing Conference at ARMA, which Desmond Tutu attended. We also launched the 50th anniversary of the book Dancing Out of Bali by John Coast at Murni’s Warung, where the star of the book, dancer Ni Gusti Raka, danced and signed copies.

I believe that for the future, we should focus on events such as these, and, of course, the temple ceremonies and exhibitions.

Murni
Ubud, Bali

Ubud is Just Getting Better and Better

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Ni Wayan Murni
Natural Guide to Bali, 2005

Dances are offerings to the gods and ancestors – staged to please and entertain the deities at religious ceremonies to which they have been invited by the priests. Visitors to Bali have a very good chance of seeing one and they certainly should.

Dances also accompany rites of passage, which mark a turning point in a person’s life, such as baby ceremonies, tooth-filings, weddings and cremations. There are exciting dances at exorcism ceremonies, held to rid the place of disruptive forces. Sensational dances are performed at times of crisis, such as epidemics, famines and plagues. At these events dancers, and sometimes even spectators, fall into trance.

Some dances have a story, often based on the old Indian epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabarata. It is almost impossible for the first time spectator to follow the plot. Boys dance girls’ parts, girls dance boys’ parts. You cannot tell which are which. Both wear heavy make-up. The same person may dance several roles and scenes change with the barest of announcements. It‘s best just to sit back and enjoy the extreme beauty of the movements, the expressions and the dazzling costumes. Lose yourself in the subtle, intricate, wonderful, percussive sounds of the gamelan orchestra.

Dances are classified into the sacred and the secular. Sacred dances are for the gods and secular dances are for humans. Sacred dances are sub-divided into the very sacred and the ceremonial. The very sacred (wali), like the pendet, gabor, baris gede and the masked dance, topeng pejegan, take place in the holiest, inner court of the temple (jeroan) and the ceremonial dances (bebali), like the Ramayana and gambuh, take place in the middle courtyard (jaba tengah). Sacred and ceremonial dances usually take place when the priest is conducting the rituals and the temple is milling with people. At the same time, a shadow puppet performance (wayang kulit) may also be going on.

Secular dances take place in the outer part of the temple or even outside. Popular examples are the legong, kebyar and the lively solo baris tungal. New dances tend to fall into this category, and although often created initially for Western consumption, the Balinese quickly adopt them as their own. Examples are the famous kecak (monkey dance), which was choreographed by Walter Spies and Katharine Mershon in 1931 for a German movie “Island of the Demons” – they based it on old Balinese trance dances; the oleg tumulilingan (bumblebee dance), created by local choreographer, Mario of Tabanan, for the Peliatan dance troupe’s tour of Europe and America in 1952; and the new genggong (frog dance), a favourite among children.

Balinese dances are not about individuals. The story is not the important thing. It’s the rhythm, the atmosphere and the feeling for space. The characters exist in their own formal, spiritual world. There are stock characters, who represent respected or not so respected qualities. The king and queen are nearly always refined or halus. The king’s ministers may or may not be refined. The witch and the monster are coarse or kasar. They all have their own stylized movements, their own dress and speak in Kawi, an old language that few understand. The only individuals are the clowns, who improvise, joke, and explain to the audience in Balinese what is happening on stage.

The gestures in Indian dancing tell a story, but not in Bali. Faces are like masks. Emotion is underplayed. Gestures are purely abstract, although a few have dramatic meanings. Shading the eyes with the hand indicates weeping. First and second fingers pointing at the end of a stiffly extended arm is a gesture of anger or denunciation. Eyes move quickly from side to side to stress the rhythms and accents.

The best place to see dances and listen to the gamelan is in their proper setting, in one of the many temples. The temple, private or public, will be packed with people in splendid Balinese attire. White-clad priests will be intoning mantras, ringing bells and muttering prayers. Ladies will be carrying offerings of fruit and flowers on their heads and placing them on special pavilions. The moon and the stars will illuminate the proceedings.

Many hotels and restaurants put on tourist dances. These can be enjoyable, but lack the magical, natural beauty of a temple. Many tourist villages also have shows. The best are in the Ubud area. I am from Ubud, so I would say that, wouldn’t I? But, it’s true. The dance troupes in Ubud Palace and Pura Dalem are of international standard and frequently go abroad. There is a policy of rotating them as much as possible to prevent them getting stale

There are dances four times a week in the beautiful Pura Dalem temple, next to my shop, Kunang-Kunang II. The temple is softly lit by small lamps of coconut oil, in the traditional way. There is a great kecak, fire and trance dance on Mondays and Fridays at 7.30 pm, a barong and kris dance on Thursdays at 7.30 pm, and a dramatic jegog bamboo orchestra (with dances) on Wednesdays at 7.00 pm.

Murni
Ubud, Bali

Another Day Another Dance

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Buddhas in Bali

Ni Wayan Murni
Hello Bali, February 2005

Visitors to Bali see Buddha images everywhere. They are often moved and inspired by them but wonder what they mean. They all look alike, but are subtly different.

Bali is predominantly Hindu but has long had a connection with Buddhism and, following contact some 2,000 years ago with various Indian influences, is the last surviving Hindu-Buddhist civilisation in Indonesia.

Inscriptions dated 9 AD have been found, which mention Tantric and Mahayana Buddhism. There are stone statues and references to Buddhist monks and monasteries.

Some time between the 14th and 19th centuries, the Buddhist monasteries came to an end and eventually the various Hindu and Buddhist sects, whose beliefs were similar, merged into Bali-Hinduism.

Buddha was born into a royal family in Lumbini in south Nepal in the sixth century BC. He lived a life of luxury, married and had a son.

One day he met an old man, then a sick man, then a dead person. They represent suffering. Later he came across a wandering monk with a shaven head, dressed in a yellow robe, begging for alms. He saw tranquillity in the monk and decided to renounce the World and live the same way.

When he was 29, he left home in the middle of the night, on a horse, and travelled to a forest where he fasted. Some images show him in an emaciated state with his ribs showing. He decided that suffering was not the right way and enunciated his doctrine of the Middle Way: moderation in all things.

The earliest human Buddha images were made in the first century AD in Gandhara, a kingdom encompassing parts of Pakistan and Afghanistan. Greco-Roman art had a great influence there, which is evident in the Buddha’s toga-like robes, wavy hair and young features.

Buddha’s physical characteristics indicate his qualities and episodes in his life.

The bump on his head, the ushnisha, indicates supreme wisdom; the hairy mole between his eyes, the urna, supernatural vision; his short, tight, curly hair his renunciation of the World; and his long pierced earlobes his nobility. Indian royals wore heavy earrings, which stretched their ears. Sometimes the ushnisha takes the form of a flame, which symbolizes illumination.

Buddha’s skin is always unblemished and he wears a monastic robe, either open, leaving the right shoulder bare or draped over both shoulders.

In Bodh Gaya, Bihar, in northeast India he meditated for 49 days under a bodhi tree. During that time, Mara, the god of desire, tried to tempt him. Finally Buddha asked the Earth goddess for help by touching the earth with his right hand. She roared, “I am his witness,” and defeated Mara. At that moment Buddha overcame desire and attained Enlightenment, which Buddhists call Nirvana. Buddha images show him sitting in the lotus position, right hand extended down, palm inwards, middle finger touching the ground, left hand in his lap.

After a while, Buddha gave his first sermon to the World. It was in the Deer Park at Sarnath in northern India and is called ‘Setting the Wheel of the Law in Motion’. It marks the beginning of Buddhism as a faith. Images show Buddha, hands at his chest, each forming a circle with thumb and forefinger with the ends of the fingers of the left hand resting against the palm of the right.

Buddha then travelled around India, preaching, meditating and performing miracles. Images show him walking, right hand raised, arm bent, palm outwards, fingers pointing upwards, in the gesture of fearlessness.

The meditating Buddha is tranquil, back straight, in the lotus position, hands in his lap, right hand resting on his left, palms upwards, fingers extended, thumbs touching, eyes half-closed and with a hint of a smile; suggesting that he understands everything.

When he was 80, probably in 483 BC, Buddha died in a grove of trees near Kushinagara in northern India. He lay on his right side, head resting on his right hand, left hand on left hip, a peaceful expression on his face and accompanied by some of his disciples. The reclining posture always refers to his death; his final release.

Buddha images are usually on a throne shaped like a lotus, a symbol of purity and perfection. Just as the lotus has its roots in mud and filth and can grow into a beautiful flower, so can a person who follows the Buddha’s path reach Enlightenment.

Following his death, Buddhism spread to many countries and many Buddha forms came into existence. Perhaps the most popular is the Laughing Buddha. He is represented as a monk with a bald head, big smile and large, prosperous belly. He keeps a bag full of treasures beside him, and beams, “Don’t worry, be happy!” but is this man really a follower of the Middle Way?

Murni
Ubud, Bali

Buddhas in Bali

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Book Review

Ni Wayan Murni
Hello Bali, July 2006

Healing Performances of Bali
Angela Hobart
Berghahn Books, 2005

As far as I know this is the first book of its kind. It is a study of the traditional healers whom we in Bali do not often speak about but all visit from time to time. I met Dr Angela Hobart on one of her many trips here and was delighted to learn that she speaks High Balinese. This is rare for a Westerner as it is not an easy language. It is, however, a vital attribute to carry out research into this arcane area properly.

There are many types of traditional healers in Bali, who are mostly consulted at times of illness or trouble. They are a bridge between the seen and the unseen worlds and are highly esteemed by us. Whereas Western trained doctors cure illnesses from natural causes, traditional healers or ‘balian’ cure illnesses from supernatural causes. They communicate with the spirits of the unseen world through trance.

They are also consulted on the causes of family problems. We believe that such matters have specific causes and the balian can ascertain them. Angela Hobart sets out a number of case studies and explains the rituals and mechanisms at work. She also examines the wider healing processes of whole villages through a discussion of the roles of the Barong and Randa masked figures during religious ceremonies.

Balian advise how to rectify mental or physical problems. There is no conflict between the work of a balian and a scientifically trained doctor. If we suspect our illness has been caused by the unseen world, we go to a balian and if we suspect it comes from the seen world, we go to a doctor. As Angela Hobart points out, they refer patients to each other. She sets out a table of their separate roles.

Balian often prescribe herbal medicines, provide amulets for the patient to wear and hand out protective drawings with sacred syllables on them. Angela Hobart says that knowledge about traditional medicine is dying out. It is a lot easier to go to the pharmacy and get a pill than make up concoctions of roots and leaves mixed with egg white and honey.

Many people are sceptical about traditional healers but balian do have successes. Patients believe in them and that goes a long way. Angela Hobart explains that they can shift a patient’s consciousness and change his attitudes, so that he engages more fully with his family, enemies and community. After a session the patient or victim of bad luck sees things differently. He’s on his way to being cured. She gives various examples of successful treatments.

Even in the West placebos work in mysterious ways in curing various illnesses. A person’s beliefs and hopes about a treatment can have a significant biochemical effect. It seems to be a case of mind over molecules. Changed behaviour and attitudes, how one feels, and how one acts, can even affect one’s body chemistry.

I am pleased that Angela Hobart has written this interesting book and highlighted the balian’s role in Bali. Few tourists who see the lion-like Barong parade through Balinese villages to the sounds of the gamelan orchestra appreciate the forces at stake, but if they read this book, they will. I also hope that it is read by those who may be able to support the role of the balian in Balinese society.

Murni
Ubud, Bali

Healing Performances of Bali

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Dancing Out of Bali and Dancers of Bali: Gamelan of Peliatan, 1952

Ni Wayan Murni
Hello Bali, August 2006

The lady bumblebee has long wings, which she stretches out in all directions. The dance was choreographed by Mario, the famous dancer from Tabanan, for John Coast’s tour of Europe and America in 1952.

The show caused a sensation and so did the dance. The lady bee flits and flirts from flower to flower. A young male bee appears and they dance around each other and finally lightly embrace.

It is very touching and was the first time that a woman had lifted her arms above her shoulders. It raised eyebrows. The dance is now firmly established in the repertoire and just called ‘Oleg’.

The show featured other dances and music too. The group, who had never been out of their remote village of Peliatan, near Ubud, left Indonesia on 21 August 1952 and flew the 8,000 miles from Jakarta to London in four days.

The next day they danced at The Winter Garden Theatre in London’s West End. It was a full house and there were rave reviews. Little 12-year old Raka, the lady bumblebee, was a star overnight.

In September, they flew on to New York. The Fulton Theatre, Broadway, was sold out for seven straight nights. Everyone courted them. Richard Rodgers, who put on South Pacific with its famous Bali Hai song, came to the show. Ed Sullivan televised parts of the Bumblebee Dance and the Monkey Dance to an audience of 30 million. The American comic actor Joe E. Lewis commented to Ed Sullivan, ‘I think they were on something’.

Then they were off to Boston, Philadelphia, Newark, Washington, Cleveland, Cincinnati, St Louis, Chicago, Las Vegas and Los Angeles.

After the tour John Coast wrote Dancing Out of Bali, which tells the story of how he brought the troupe of 44 dancers and musicians from Peliatan to London’s West End and New York’s Broadway.

I remember hearing about a white man in the Fifties, Tuan Coast, living in the area where I was going to school, near Denpasar. I used to see him driving about in his battered old jeep. I had no idea what he was doing, but I do now.

Every person I know likes the book. It is a great introduction to anyone visiting the island and describes many aspects of Bali’s culture and beautifully depicts Balinese ceremonies, dances and music.

Laura Rosenberg, John’s companion and my great friend, arranged for Dancing Out of Bali to be reprinted in 2004 to coincide with the 50th anniversary of the English edition.

She has now persuaded World Arbiter to reissue the original Columbia Records LP Dancers and Musicians of Bali. You can read the book while listening to the music.

The performances are the first modern recordings made of a gamelan orchestra. It is lively, loud and frenetic; 66 minutes 16 seconds on a digitally restored CD, originally recorded in September 1952. The 6 minutes’ Kebyar composition, which accompanied the Kebyar Duduk dance, is very different from the version used today and therefore historically interesting.

The gamelan was under the direction of Anak Agung Gede Mandera. His family continue the tradition today in Peliatan.

There are 9 tracks:

Overture – Kapi Radja (melody from North Bali), Angklungan (an experimental piece), Oleg Tumulilingan (bumblebee dance), Baris (warrior dance), Gambangan (an ancient melody), Kebyar, Gender Wayang: Angkat-Ankatan (music for shadow play) and Legong (both versions – the New York studio recording and one (live) from Winter Garden Theatre, London).

There is a 24 page booklet of detailed notes, photographs and bibliography. Laura Rosenberg writes a note on John Coast and the John Coast Foundation (www.johncoast.org ), which was formed to further his dream of disseminating and preserving traditional Balinese culture.
I heartily recommend both the book and the CD.

The CD:

Dancers of Bali: Gamelan of Peliatan, 1952
Under the direction of Anak Agung Gede Mandera
Produced by John Coast
World Arbiter

The Book:

John Coast
Publisher: Periplus Editions
Date: 1954, reprinted 2004
ISBN: 0794602614
Pages: 256
Order Number: BOOK2

Dancing Out of Bali and Dancers of Bali: Gamelan of Peliatan, 1952

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Book Review

Ni Wayan Murni
Hello Bali, September 2006

Perfect Order
Recognizing Order in Complexity
J. Stephen Lansing
Princeton University Press

Perfect Order Recognizing Complexity in Bali. If someone mentions ‘Bali’ one of the first images that will come into your mind will probably be rice terraces. The first Austronesian colonists introduced rice to the coastal regions of Bali several thousand years ago, but it was by no means certain that rice cultivation would expand into the rugged interior of the island. Ancient Balinese farmers had to find ways to move massive amounts of water through kilometres of solid rock. Water is necessary for wet rice agriculture. They had to perfect a new engineering system constructing canals, tunnels and aqueducts and they did.

Having done that they had to devise a workable and fair scheme for sharing the water. Those farmers downstream are at the mercy of the farmers upstream as they control the water flow. It was done through the subak irrigation societies, which are first mentioned in the 11th century, and the network of water temples. The subaks are very democratic societies and everyone who owns a rice paddy must belong to one.

The Dutch and their successors, the Indonesian government, did not understand the power of the water temples. It was not until well into the 1980s that the role of the water temples in setting cropping patterns and controlling irrigation was appreciated, thanks largely to the American anthropologist Stephen Lansing. The Green Revolution, which had its benefits, caused chaos in Bali as the water temples were ignored totally. Pests got out of control.

In this book Stephen Lansing describes his field research over a number of years. He and his team interviewed and videotaped many farmers in the subak organisations in the area around Pujung, which is not far from Ubud, where I live, and describes various conflicts that arose. He tested the decisions made using computer simulations and found that the decisions made were the best that could be made in the circumstances. He was intrigued, however, about the human element. After all it is very tempting for greedy farmers upsteam to keep more water for themselves and grow more rice. What is to prevent them doing that? He discovered that if they did it would result in more pests so it would not be in their interests to do so.

Stephen Lansing has a vast knowledge of Bali and has written many papers and other books about Balinese life. He writes in the clearest language and goes off on various tangents from time to time – always fascinating subjects such as human sacrifices, rat cremations, witchcraft and how they abolished caste in Pujung.

The supreme water temple is Ulun Danu Batur on the rim of Mount Batur. This is the second most important temple in Bali where Dewi Danu, the Goddess of the Lake resides. She refused to accept marriage and subordination to her brother and founded her own temple where she could be independent. It is a unique temple in many respects.

Stephen Lansing has spend a considerable time researching it and writes an intriguing chapter describing the forty-five deities of the temple, the trance mediums, who are ideally opposite-sex twins, the twenty-four male priests, half of whom are regarded as female, and the twenty village Elders, the four most senior of which may go through a ‘marriage’ ceremony to each other, but have not done so for the past century.

I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to get a good understanding of matters that are not generally apparent to the ordinary person, whether they are Balinese or just visiting Bali for a short time.

Murni
Ubud, Bali

Perfect Order Recognizing Complexity in Bali

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Book Review

Ni Wayan Murni
Hello Bali, October 2006

The Ethnomusicologists’ Cookbook
Complete Meals from around the World
Sean Williams
Routledge, 2006

The Ethnomusicologists’ Cookbook Complete Meals from around the World. You will make friends and influence people with this book. You will be able to invite friends to amazing dinner parties at which you can serve food from all corners of the World and impress them with your knowledge. The World is divided into nine sections: Africa, East Asia, South Asia, Southeast Asia, Middle East, South and Central America, North America, Oceania and Europe. Each section has between three and nine contributions, forty-seven in all, mainly from eminent ethnomusicologists and those, like me, interested in food. Each contribution is a complete meal for six people. That should keep you going for about a year without repeating yourself.

Start off somewhere exotic like Tonga. After 3½ hours you could be serving ‘Otai’ a coconut fruit drink to welcome your guests, followed by ‘Ota Ika’ a tasty dish of raw fish seasoned with lime juice, onions, garlic, chili pepper and tomatoes, and ‘Lupulu’ which are baked packets of taro or spinach leaves containing corned beef, fish or chicken (the Tongans like corned beef the best), Puaka Ta’o, baked roast pork and sweet potatoes, finished off with tropical fruits, ice-cream and fruitcake.

For your next dinner party go to Estonia and try the recipes for cucumber salad, beet and herring salad, sauerkraut, blood sausage and creamed semolina on fruit soup. All good peasant fare. Helpfully drinks are also recommended: Saku brand beer and juniper berry soda. Have some bread too. Bread is sacred in Estonia and giving the heel to a young woman will ensure that she has large breasts.

Take your friends on a trip to Namibia and treat them to ‘Braaied’, grilled goat or lamb chops, ‘Mahangu’, sorghum or maize meal porridge with a spicy tomato sauce, ‘Ekaka’, fresh spinach and Oshikuki, doughnuts or pumpkin fritters. These recipes are from Minette Mans’ 88-year old Namibian mother.

I was flattered to be asked to contribute the Balinese section. I provided my family recipes for ‘Base Genep,’ which is a spice paste used in many dishes, ‘Babi Kecap’, pork in kecap sauce, which is eaten during the Balinese ceremonies of Galungan and Nyepi, ‘Lawar’, spicy green beans, which accompanies all ceremonies, ‘Nasi Putih’ steamed rice, ‘Krupuk Udang’, shrimp crackers, ‘Tahu Goreng’, fried tofu, and ‘Pisang Goreng’, banana fritters. We serve most of these in my restaurant in Ubud, which Sean Williams frequented every day during her visits to Bali in the 1980s.

Every contributor was asked to write a bit about the role of music and food in their society. The links between music and food are strong and it is interesting to compare them. This is the first book of its kind and may be responsible for creating a new subject which Sean Williams calls gastromusicology. She is a Professor of Ethnomusicology at The Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington, and has studied Indonesian and Irish music since the 1970s. She contributed the recipes from Sunda, West Java and Ireland.

Not only are there anthropological essays with each contribution but there is also recommended listening. So you can entertain your guests with CDs of music from the gastronomic region of the moment. Further, there are recommended reading lists and internet sites to allow you to go into greater depth on your own and really impress your friends. Not just that but we were all asked to contribute a proverb. Mine was ‘Nasi sudah menjadi bubur’ (literally ‘The rice has already become porridge’) or ‘There’s no use crying over spilt milk’. From Bolivia: ‘The angrier the cook, the spicier the dish’. Northern Ghana: ‘Eat the same food every day so you know what killed you’. Egypt: ‘An onion from a dear one is worth more than a goat’. Judeo-Spanish Morocco: ‘She went to buy cilantro and came back nine months pregnant’.

Sean Williams has thought about it all. She’s aware that there are vegetarians and vegans out there and people who keep kosher. For them there’s a helpful chapter called ‘I’m not eating that!’ It gives dietary modifications. She’s also created a special page on her web site which has more information about the meals and printable shopping lists so that you don’t have to copy down all the ingredients before you go out shopping (http:// academic.evergreen.edu/w/williams/cookbook.htm).

The one criticism I have about the book is the lack of colour photographs (apart from the glorious cover). I rather think they are essential for a cookbook, but I understand that they increase the printing costs enormously. Sean Williams’ web site, however, contains colour photographs of the dishes, which at least is some compensation.

Finally, I must mention the great tag line on the back cover: ‘It’s Chapati and I’ll Fry if I Want to!’. Alternatives, also from Indian cooking, which almost made it, were: ‘My Pappadum Told Me, ‘Oh, You Beautiful Dal,’ and ‘Paperback Raita.’

I recommend this book warmly to delight body and mind and all the senses.

Murni
Ubud, Bali

The Ethnomusicologists’ Cookbook

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Book Review

Ni Wayan Murni
Hello Bali, November 2006

Shop Smart: Bali & Lombok,
edited by Jane Marsden, 2006

I often get asked by people writing books if I would be happy for my restaurant and shops to be reviewed. Of course I say I’d be delighted. Shortly after that I’m told that the cost is so many millions of rupiah per square inch. These so-called reviews turn out to be advertisements masquerading as independent critiques. That is very common. So, the first and most important thing to say about this new book, Shop Smart Bali & Lombok, is that it does not have any paid advertisements in it. There are over 1,000 contributed by just seven long term residents of Bali.

What about the content? Although it holds itself out as a shopping guide, which it primarily is, the book is actually much more than that. It contains useful introductory sections to life in Bali and Lombok with sections on history, geography, art, religion, festivals and celebrations. So for a very short visit to Bali or Lombok this maybe all you need. Throughout the book various hotels are mentioned and described, so it could also suffice as a guide as to where to stay.

Not every shop in Bali – or Lombok – is covered but all the main players and some lesser known, are profiled. Each area has a good introduction. It is then divided into smaller areas or streets with details of shops, hotels and restaurants, and maps showing where they are. This part of the book would be very useful if you were in one of those areas and wanted to walk around and have a view of what was available. As well as detailed profiles of places, it also cross-refers to the other section. The other section (482 pages) is the heart of the book, where shopping is classified according to the type of goods and services.

There are twenty seven categories and some are quite esoteric.They range from antiques and artifacts to stonecarvings, supermarkets and tailors and textiles.

Each category has an introduction and good tips on how to shop for that particular item. When shopping for antiques and artifacts: take frequent breaks to eat, drink and think. When buying pearls: a fake pearl can be detected by biting on it; an imitation pearl will glide across your teeth, while the layers of nacre on a real pearl will feel chalky and gritty. If you are looking at pictures, check out the hidden details – whether a canvas has been properly mounted, whether a drawing or pastel has been done on acid free paper so it won’t discolour with age. Shopping is a pretty exhausting business in Bali, which can be very hot, so the final section will be very welcome to most people. It’s the Après-Retail Details – a small selection of bars, clubs and restaurants, which are subject to the same standard of meticulous and independent reviews.

I know I will use this book myself and therefore have no hesitation in recommending it to others. It is the only one of its kind in Bali and Lombok.

Murni
Ubud, Bali

Shop Smart Bali & Lombok

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Book Review

Ni Wayan Murni
Hello Bali, December 2006

Balians: Traditional Healers of Bali
Edited by Bradford Keeney, PhD
Ringing Rocks Press, 2004

Balians, dukuns, traditional healers, shamans or witch doctors, whichever name you like to use, are a subject that never fails to arouse interest. This new book looks at some of Bali’s better known healers.

Bradford Keeney begins the book by recounting an incredible story. He and his crew arrived in Bali in 2000 to interview and photograph a number of Bali’s balians. The first problem was that their photographic equipment and luggage did not show up at the airport, then when he turned in for the night he woke up to a huge explosion and the sound of rocks and sand sliding down the outside of his room and a thunderous stomping of feet on the roof. He was terrified and called for help but nobody heard him. Bradford Keeney wondered what he should do.

He remembered that balians make magical drawings, so he decided to change the nature of the project and publish a book about these magical drawings. His guide could collect them and he could leave Bali immediately. Instantly the terrible noises stopped. His guide then took him to Mangku Alit, Bali’s top balian, who went into a trance and contacted the god for all shamans, Jero Gede Macaling. Later the luggage turned up without explanation. It was a good omen.

They visited various balians, all of whom confirmed approval of the project. The book contains interviews with six balians, Mangku Alit, Jero Sekar Manik, Jero Tapakan, Jero Mangku Srikandi, Mangku I. Made Pogog and I Gusti Gede Raka Antara. They are not terribly revealing. There is no analysis or explanation such as undertaken by Angela Hobart in Healing Performances of Bali, reviewed in July 2006. The interviews are short and reveal little beyond explaining that the Balinese visit them when they want protection. The balians go into trance and get the reasons for any misfortunes. Often they prescribe magical drawings. The vocation usually runs in the family.

The book’s strength and interest lies in fifty five magical drawings. There are also pages of wonderful black and white photographs, and although many do not appear to have anything to do with the subject matter, it’s not important. The drawings are in a unique Balinese style, probably influenced by Indian Hindu art. They are powerful and wildly surreal in appearance: deformed bodies, disembodied heads, multiple limbs, half human, half animal, snake like protuberances and tails, and flames emanating from heads, knees and feet.

Balians can be of the right or the left side – those on the right side use their powers for good. The drawings depicted in the book are all of the right. They are not frightening; they are just very strange. A page is devoted to each drawing and facing it is a brief description, how it is prepared and its purpose.

The magical drawings are usually drawn on white cloth with Chinese ink. They can also be engraved on gold, copper or tin plate, or even clay fragments. Some are worn in your pocket or belt for safety; some are attached to the entrance gate of a compound to stop evil forces or robbers from entering; and some are placed above the bedroom door to give long life or above the bed for protection. One is drawn on a betel leaf and spat at a person who needs protection from witches. Another is drawn on a turmeric root and swallowed to stop you being poisoned The most intriguing are those than can make you invisible or help you fly. Some protect animals; some prevent mice coming in; and some protect crops against disease.

The drawings are not art for art’s sake: they have a serious purpose and function. Indirectly they lay bare the innermost concerns of the Balinese. They remind me of the elegant, energetic, expressive drawings of the remarkable I Gusti Nyoman Lempad, who lived from 1862 to 1978. It would be good to know if he was influenced by them as he was known to be interested in sorcery.

The magical drawings of the balians were shrouded in secrecy. This book reveals a bit of that secret knowledge and provides us with a great opportunity to see them. Most people never get the chance.

Murni
Ubud, Bali

Balians: Traditional Healers of Bali

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Book Review

Ni Wayan Murni
The Times, Lombok, July – August 2007

Revolt in Paradise
K’tut Tantri
Reprinted Gramedia, Jakarta, 2006

Revolt in Paradise is a classic and it is good to see it in print again after a long absence. It is rather hard to classify this book: maybe autobiography, perhaps historical novel, possibly adventure story. On the face of it, it purports to be autobiographical: the story of a British-born American woman’s fifteen years in Indonesia in the 1930s and 1940s. Doubt has been cast on its accuracy and indeed the author begins the book by saying, ‘It is always difficult to be completely honest about oneself’. This does not matter. It’s a great story.

The story is divided into three parts. The first part tells of her time in Bali. In 1932 in Hollywood she saw the film Bali,The Last Paradise and shortly after set sail from New York on a cargo ship. She was an artist and made for Bali immediately after arriving in Java. Like all visitors at that time she stayed in the Dutch owned Bali Hotel in Denpasar. She felt, however, that this was not Bali but Holland, part of the colonial masters’ country, and determined to leave as quickly as possible and live in a Balinese village. Such a thing was unheard of in those days but she hated the Dutch attitudes. She took off in her car, driving herself, and decided to stop when she ran out of petrol. The car happened to halt outside a Rajah’s palace and although she does not mention it, I have it on good authority that it was the palace of Bangli.

She was accepted as one of the family and given a Balinese name — K’tut Tantri. K’tut is the fourth-born child — the Rajah already had three. In this section she describes what it was like to live with a royal family. She describes the various ceremonies she attended and trips she took. She also tells of run-ins and arguments with the Dutch authorities. They did not approve and schemed to deport her, but never succeeded. Her analysis is not terribly profound — the Balinese are all wonderful and the Dutch are all terrible. She herself is heroic and brilliant at all things. She formed a very close relationship with the Rajah’s son Agung Nura. My informant tells me that she formed an even closer relationship with the Rajah himself. Agung Nura was active in the independence movement, which K’tut Tanri later joined.

She found palace life a bit restrictive and unrepresentative of real Bali life and moved out and as she put it, ‘bought practically the whole of Kuta beach’. Here she put up a hotel in partnership with some Americans. This is a delightful section of the book despite the fact that she fell out with the Americans. The accounts of her relationships with her staff are endearing and clearly affectionate. The first hotel in Kuta seems to have been very popular. It was not a financial success, however, and she ran into difficulties with the Dutch authorities. Europe was at war. Germany invaded Holland and Japan invaded Indonesia — they landed in Bali first. The Dutch did not fire a shot in defence and fled to Java. It was no longer safe. K’tut Tantri left for Surabaya in East Java. The hotel was demolished by looters permitted by the Japanese.

The second section of the book recounts her time in Japanese occupied Java. The Dutch quickly surrendered. She was able to negotiate travel passes with the Japanese and helped the underground resistance movement against the Japanese. She narrates stories of arms smuggling and tales of derring-do. K’tut Tanti always plays a starring role. Finally she was caught and imprisoned for more than two years until almost the end of the war. She was tortured and the descriptions are quite harrowing.

The third and final section of the book describes the long independence struggle and her part in it. After the war the Dutch wanted to come back to Indonesia as overlords. The English helped them and bombed Surabaya, which was unarmed and did not have air-raid shelters, for three consecutive days. The blood of hundreds was shed. Women and children died. It was a turning point for K’tut Tantri and she determined to help the Indonesians again. She broadcast twice nightly in English from secret radio stations run by the guerillas. By this means she brought the struggle to the attention of the World and became known herself as Surabaya Sue. She also helped spread the word in an English language magazine called The Voice of Free Indonesia. She met and wrote a speech for President Sukarno. There were more cloak and dagger escapades until she went to Australia and toured the main cities publicizing Indonesia’s case for freedom. Finally six years after the War ended world opinion forced the Dutch to grant Indonesia her independence.

The book ends there; K’tut Tanti drifts back to New York. After all the excitement it is rather an anti-climax and the reader is left dangling wanting to know more. Whether or not it is all true, it’s a jolly good read.

Murni
Ubud, Bali

Revolt in Paradise

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Ni Wayan Murni
Appreciating Calligraphy Batik

The Times, Lombok

August – September 2007

Calligraphy batiks do not get much press. The beautiful books on batik and the exhibitions abroad concentrate on Javanese batik, especially from the north coast of Java and the courts of Yogyakarta and Solo in central Java. The batiks from these areas are indeed magnificent and their history and evolution fascinating, but the calligraphy batiks, mostly associated with Sumatra, also have a wonderful story to tell.

I have been collecting textiles for over thirty years and have bought, traded and sold thousands of batiks. Recently I have been appreciating these mysterious and powerful textiles more and more and I think I am beginning to understand them. The most common are men’s headcloths about a metre square and rectangular cloths about a metre by two metres. They tend to be blue or less commonly red. I have examples of both in my collection.

They all have Arabic script; hence they are called calligraphic batiks. The Arabic writing is usually the basmallah or the shahadah. The basmallah is said before any big project: In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful. The shahadah is the main tenet of Islam: There is no God but Allah, and Mohammad is His prophet.” The cloths are sacred and worn at rites of passage ceremonies. They are also powerful protection against harm.

Soldiers wear them. The red cloths symbolise courage and deflect bullets. Dead soldiers killed in battle were covered in the red batik shrouds on their way to the graveyard. Adam Malik, Indonesia’s first Vice-President after Independence, was covered with such a cloth during his lying in state before burial.

It is likely that these textiles were inspired by textiles from Islamic countries. Arabic calligraphy goes back at least a thousand years in Egypt and the Middle East, and Arab trade with Jambi in Sumatra had started by at least the 13th century. Indonesians on the haj pilgrimage to Mecca would have seen the basmallah and shahadah.

Ottoman Turkey had close links with Aceh and Jambi and Turkish influence is particularly evident in these batiks. The motif called tughra shows this most clearly: it is the formal signature of the Ottoman ruler as used on official documents formed by three central lines with two loops which appear like a rooster. It had supernatural power.

The dominating impression is of perfect symmetry and balance and reminds me of Mughal and Moorish architecture. Typically there are three borders, the middle band containing diamonds. An outer border of white lines provides an artificial fringe. The centre field is the main part, normally full of geometric designs and Arabic calligraphy. Sometimes birds, lions and horses in stylized calligraphic designs appear.

In Islam the Koran is the actual Word of God. Mohammad was not divine; he was the messenger. The Words of God are important and revered. The writing itself has immense significance even if it is not understood. The most pious act a Moslem can do is to read or write the Koran. Beautiful and skilful calligraphy allows those who cannot read or write and those of us who are not even Moslems to appreciate the perfection, presence and power of God.

Murni
Ubud, Bali

Appreciating Calligraphy Batik

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How to make Batik

The Times, Lombok

September – October 2007

 

How is batik made?

I wrote in last month’s Murni’s Corner about Calligraphy Batik, which is an outstanding example of one of the many styles of beautiful batik made in Indonesia. I have been collecting batik for decades and selling it since I was a girl. I sell it from my shop, Murni’s Warung Shop in Ubud, and in recent years all over the world from my web site www.murnis.com, You see batik frequently as locals in most of the islands wear it on a daily basis and people love it. I am frequently asked How is batik made? I think that you may be surprised at the time and effort it takes. But, first, what is batik?

 

What is batik?

Batik is a method of dying cloth by applying warm beeswax, mixed with paraffin, resins and fat, to it to repel the dye. The cloth is usually cotton but can be silk, The pattern is left unwaxed. When the cloth is put into the dye, the waxed parts aren’t dyed and are left uncoloured. The wax is then removed by gently washing it in warm water. The cloth is rewaxed and dipped into a different dye, so that there are more and more colours. If there are three colours, the cloth is dyed six times, three times on each side.

Generally lighter colours are dyed first to enable overdying with darker colours. Sometimes the dyes seep under the waxed borders and create interesting spider webs and attractive fuzzy outlines, which are so attractive.

One side or two?

Silk is only dyed on one side. It’s not necessary to dye cotton on both sides, but we like to dye both sides in Indonesia. It has to be done very carefully and takes more time. It is called two-sided batik. The pattern is then very clear on both sides.

The alternative is to wax the whole of the underside. That is called one-sided batik. The pattern is still visible but less clear and the textiles are not regarded as so good. So, how is it made?

 

Canting

The finest, and still the most sought after, batik is hand-drawn batik, using a canting to apply the wax. A canting is a pen with a bamboo handle. It is a Javanese invention, probably in the 17th or 18th centuries. The wax painting is done by women, usually at home, often in bad light. The melted wax is poured into the pot at the end and carefully released out of the nozzle bit by bit on to the white cotton.

Slow work

It’s very slow and requires a calm state of mind and a lot of concentration. A complicated pattern could easily take six months or even longer. That was all very well in the18th century, but at the beginning of the 19th century the Europeans discovered batik and loved it very much. They didn’t want to wait. They wanted it and a lot of it, and they wanted it cheap and quick.

Problem: competition

The batik makers had another problem: competition. In the 1830s inexpensive machine-printed batiks were beginning to flood the market from Europe. It was cheap and quick. To meet the challenge the batik makers in Java experimented with stamps to apply the wax instead of the canting. Initially they tried stamps made from tubers, but they didn’t last long, then wood, but they weren’t fine enough.

Invention of the batik stamp

Finally, they invented the cap, made of red copper, which is still used today, and they are collected as works of art in their own right. In fact I sell a lot of them. The pattern is formed from thin metal bands, secured to a frame, to which a handle is attached. The structure was inspired by European wood-block printing stamps. The original caps were small and were first used around 1845. They are bigger now and tend to be about 20 cm by 20 cm.

The cap process was revolutionary and enabled a batik maker to wax many cloths a day, maybe up to eight. Men saw the commercial possibilities and muscled in to do this new kind of work. Previously women made batik. Now, men make most batik cap textiles, whereas batik tulis, using a canting, is done mostly by women. The invention was a great success. The tide of imported foreign textiles to Indonesia was stemmed.

Using a batik stamp

It is hard and unhealthy work. The cap printer stands at a padded rectangular table on which the textile is stretched. Beside him stands a round, flat-bottomed basin containing warm wax on a small stove. The wax is filtered for impurities. The batik maker presses the cap on to a filter pad and absorbs the wax. He then applies the stamp on the cloth at exactly the right temperature. He places the edge of the cap on the cloth first to make sure that the position is correct. Then he presses it firmly on the textile to leave the wax imprint and repeats the process until all the cloth is covered. He may use several caps depending on the pattern.

One of the problems that took a long time to solve was how to overlap the wax so that patterns were regular. It was not until 1930 that the problem was solved: pins were soldered to the corners of the caps to ease the alignment. The batik maker just had to check that the location marks on the stamp matched the marks already on the cloth. Then the pattern would be perfect. Some batik makers use stamps for larger areas and the canting for fine details, so both techniques are applied to the same textile. They are called combinasi.

Affordability

Cap-printing has now made it possible for everyone to afford batik textiles. Interestingly there was a surge in demand for batik canting following the availability of cap batiks. Those who could afford it preferred it.

Which is better: canting or cap?

Customers often ask me which technique produces the better batik. I like both very much, but for me, batik cantingis more pleasing, more delicate, more charming and has more life than the batik cap.

In my opinion batik stamp patterns are too perfect. They don’t have those interruptions, small mistakes, variations and drips of colour that make the designs of a canting interesting, individual and alive. Hand-drawn batiks are unique works of art, which demonstrate great technical skill. Using a stamp removes the creative aspect from the process. Having said that it is sometimes difficult to tell which are tulis, that is hand-drawn, and which are cap. The hand-drawn batiks can be so perfect that they look as if they were done with a cap.

To me, the irregularities of batik canting give the piece feeling; they literally put you in touch with the lady who made a unique work of art; they are tactile signatures.

 

Murni
Ubud, Bali

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One of my earliest memories is of watching a shadow puppet performance in our village temple in Ubud at night. I must have been about five years old and was totally mesmerized. That was a long time ago but the art is still as strong as ever and I am still captivated by it. I collect the puppets and have an old set of over a hundred in a big wooden box. One of the challenges is identifying the characters, but there are clues, which I shall reveal. I sell old ones as well as new ones from my shop, Murni’s Warung Shop in Ubud and also from my web site www.murnis.com. They are very popular as unusual decorative items.

 

Shadow puppets are an old art form and were mentioned in a Balinese inscription dated 896 AD. A Balinese royal inscription of 1053 mentions a performance. They are instructive, entertaining and religious, and have had a profound effect on Balinese arts. They bring together dance, drama, literature, visual art and music. The puppeteer or dalang has to be an expert in all these arts: it is a one man (or woman) show, and very impressive.

The puppeteer sits cross-legged behind a large, white cloth. A flickering coconut-oil lamp casts shadows on the screen. The puppets are made of flat buffalo or cow hide and two assistants sit on either side of the puppeteer and hand him the puppets. I always like to go behind the screen and have a look. The stories concentrate on scenes from the epics, especially the Mahabarata and the Ramayana. We, the audience, know the stories well and can start watching a performance at any point.

The puppets are made of cowhide with a tapering buffalo horn or wooden handle. Each puppet is chiselled, coloured and has a conventional headdress, which provides instant recognition. The style has hardly changed in hundreds of years. They have long necks and arms, and toes that are not in the correct position. The eyes and headdress are the most important parts of the puppet, because the eyes reveal expression and the headdress indicates status.

Noble characters, like royalty, have light bodies, straight noses, flat teeth in slightly open, slightly smiling mouths and slit, almond-shaped eyes. Their legs are close together. Examples are Arjuna and Karna. They speak in high voices. Noble princesses are small and slim, large breasted, with flowing hair, narrow waists and slender hips.

Less refined males have neat moustaches. Further down the scale, there is more facial and body hair and eyes become round. They speak in louder, deeper voices. Examples are Bima and his son Gatotkaca, whose mother Arimbi was a demon. At the bottom of the scale are the coarse characters, like the ogres, who have hairy, muscular, red or brown bodies, thick hands, pointed teeth and bulbous, round eyes.

Body colours represent values in Balinese society, for example, white represents purity, green fertility and black evil. The gods have their own colours. Wisnu is green or black, Siwa is white and Brahma is red. Some attributes are restricted to certain characters. Bayu, the god of wind and his sons, Hanuman and Bima, have a large, lethal thumb-nail. Only these characters, and Tualen, wear a black and white chequered poleng sarong. All the monkeys in Rama’s monkey army are black, except Hanuman, who is white.

The Kayonan is the most important puppet, in the shape of the tree of life. It is also a palace. The dalang waves it to indicate the start of the story. It swoops, trembles and flutters and brings the puppets to life and indicates scene changes and the end of the performance. The dalang speaks in Kawi, which few understand. For the benefit of the audience, four clowns translate and comment in Balinese. The clowns are the most popular characters and can be very funny.

There are usually four gamelan instruments called Gender Wayang, which comprise the gender or xylophone, the rebab or two-stringed lute, the drum and the gong. The dalang directs the music and also sings songs. The music announces entrances, supports the dialogue, creates a benevolent atmosphere, and adds excitement to dramatic scenes.

If you can, I would recommend that you try and attend a performance in Bali. Even if you don’t understand much, you will certainly enjoy the atmosphere and marvel at the skill of the dalang.

Murni
Ubud, Bali

Ni Wayan Murni is the owner of Murni’s Warung, the first real restaurant in Ubud, Murni’s Warung Shop, Murni’s Villas and Murni’s Houses. Her web site www.murnis.com is Bali’s leading on-line resource centre. She has been the co-author to a new book ‘Secrets of Bali’ to be published later this year.

What to Look for in Balinese Shadow Puppets

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The Art of Chewing Betel

The Times, Lombok

November – December 2007

Bloody Mary is the girl I love.
Bloody Mary is the girl I love.
Bloody Mary is the girl I love.
Now ain’t that too damn bad!Her skin is tender as Dimaggio’s glove.
Her skin is tender as Dimaggio’s glove.
Her skin is tender as Dimaggio’s glove.
Now ain’t that too damn bad!Bloody Mary’s chewin’ betel nuts.
She is always chewin’ betel nuts.
Bloody Mary’s chewin’ betel nuts.
And she don’t use Pepsodent!
Now ain’t that too damn bad!My grandmother did it, my mother did it and my aunt did it. They were not alone. According to the Encyclopaedia Britannica a tenth of the World’s population did it. It goes back at least 2,000 years and in the old days everyone was at it, men and women, young and old, rich and poor, peasant and royalty. It’s not practised much or even known about much in the West. Now ain’t that too damn bad! But it’s very common, almost universal, here in Asia, or at least it was.

 

Every morning my grandmother used to tear off a leaf from the betel pepper tree in her garden, smear it with lime paste and top it off with tasty thin slices of the areca nut. Those are the three basic ingredients. Some people, and it varies from country to country, add cardamom, cloves, nutmeg, black pepper, coriander or dry ginger to taste. Tobacco is a recent addition. Then you roll the whole thing up into a bite-size quid and place it in your mouth between teeth and cheek and start chewing. Very soon your saliva turns bright red and becomes copious. You can’t swallow it and that is why until recently the pavements in Asian countries used to be splattered with blotches of red spittle. Of course, it was undignified for members of royalty to spit and they had spittoons.

 

With the introduction of cigarettes men began to stop chewing betel, at least in Bali but also in other places. It was actually made illegal in Thailand in 1945 and now it tends to be older women who indulge. My generation don’t usually chew betel and it’s a habit that’s dying out. But I do love the equipment and collect betel sets. I have been collecting the sets and implements comprised in the sets for ages and from various countries. Each country has interesting variations. I have put some of them on my on line shop at www.murnis.com and also sell them from my shop in Ubud.

 

We all call it betel nut chewing but that is strictly incorrect because it’s the areca nut from the palm family and not the betel nut which is chewed. We should call it betel chewing. Before describing the implements I should explain why people chew betel. There are several reasons. The main one is social: offering a quid of betel is a sign of hospitality. Another reason is that red lips are a sign of beauty.

Betel was especially useful before the introduction of lipstick. It was also thought to be a cure for bad breath and to make people strong. It lessens the appetite which is helpful when food is short and undoubtedly it produces a mild high and is addictive. Its central role in Balinese culture is evident in the use of the three main betel ingredients in almost all offerings and ceremonies, the colours symbolising the colours of the three main Hindu gods. The areca nut symbolises Brahma, the Creator, betel leaves symbolise Wisnu, the Preserver and lime symbolises Siwa, the Destroyer.

 

The best betel equipment was owned by royalty, often made of gold, and was part of the standard royal regalia for rulers in South East Asia. Much time and effort was put into their creation and beautiful, artistic pieces were the result. A person’s standing was clear from the materials and decorations of his betel set. Betel sets were exchanged as gifts between foreign rulers and given to loyal retainers as rewards for services rendered.

 

The most basic set would just be a geometric receptacle, such as a box, tray or basket, divided into compartments to hold the ingredients and equipment. It would be made of local materials, such as bamboo, rattan or wood, and would be elegant as well as functional.

 

The most elaborate sets are hand-made containers for each individual ingredient. In Thailand there are gorgeous silver containers for betel leaves in the shape of a leaf. In Laos they are shaped as a horn of plenty. Local materials are used – silver in the Shan States and Thailand, lacquer in Burma, horn in Sumatra and beads in Timor. Perhaps the greatest variety in the region is in the lime containers – wonderful dark clay bird-shaped containers from Cambodia, pots with a hole in the top from Vietnam, and bronze stupa-shaped containers from Thailand. Where metals are used, they are often skilfully engraved, especially the small elephant, turtle and bird boxes from Cambodia.

 

The implements are equally beautiful. The range of cutters for the nut is mind-boggling. There are iron and steel cutters with handles of gold, silver, bronze or brass in wild, fantastic shapes from India and in the shape of birds or horses from Bali. Sturdy brass mortar and pestles were made to pulverize the nut for toothless people like my grandmother. Spatulas with cute horn handles of seated figures from East New Guinea were fashioned to smear the lime on the leaf. Royal spittoons were made in gold and heavily decorated. It’s polite to spit in a spittoon. I used to live opposite the royal palace of Ubud and remember that a servant would bring up the rear of a royal procession carrying betel nut equipment in a bag. It ain’t too damn bad!

Murni
Ubud, Bali

Ni Wayan Murni is the owner of Murni’s Warung, the first real restaurant in Ubud, Bali. Murni’s Warung Shop, Murni’s Villas and Murni’s Houses. She has been dealing in antiques for over 30 years in Bali and exhibited part of her collection in the United States in February 2007. Her web site www.murnis.com is Bali’s leading on-line resource centre. She is co-author of a new book ‘Secrets of Bali, Fresh Light of the Morning of the World’ by Jonathan Copeland.

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A Danish expat living in Lombok and Bali in the 19th century has been almost completely forgotten, yet he was one of the most influential people in Balinese history. He is Mads Johansen Lange, a blue-eyed, blond haired Dane, who is buried in Kuta in a small Chinese graveyard on a road named after him, Jalan Tuan Langa, in a forgotten tomb guarded by a fine Dalmatian statue.

Lange was born on 18 September 1807, which gave the impetus for this book to be published on the 200th anniversary of his birth. It is amazing that it is the first book in English on Mad Lange’s life. Peter Bloch, who is Danish and living in Bali, produced it with the help of veteran Leonard Luras and Gustaaf Scouten.

At the age of 26, Lange, his three younger brothers and Captain John Burd, a friend, sailed for Hong Kong in 1833 and never returned to Denmark. Lange soon went to Bali and Lombok looking for opportunities. He picked Lombok as the base for his trading ventures, possibly because rice production was extremely high there and much greater than in Bali. It was high because of fertility from ash deposits from the huge Tambora eruption in 1815. The book has some wonderful old maps and many black and white photos of Lombok from Dutch archival sources.

There were two rival kingdoms: Mataram-Lombok to the north and the more powerful Karangasem-Lombok to the south. Karangasem-Lombok welcomed him and Lange became their trusted adviser and harbor chief and was granted a virtual monopoly of all trading in Lombok. He was there until 1839, so the subtitle of the book could have equally well referred to Lombok.

It did not take long for competition to arrive — in the shape of George Peacock King, born of English parents living in Bengal, who allied himself in 1835 to the rajah of Mataram-Lombok. There was enough business for both of them, but a succession of land and sea fights between the two rajahs culminated in defeat for Karangasem-Lombok in 1839 and Lange escaped to Bali with nothing but his life, a few personal items, his horse and ship. Gustaaf Scoutten is a talented painter and beautifully illustrates many of the dramatic episodes from Lange’s life.

In Bali the Rajah Kesiman gave him land on the beach in Kuta to build a house, factory and warehouses, from which he traded on a large scale and did very well from the start. In his flamboyant style Lange visited all the rajahs personally, arriving on his horse, which was twice the size of the local animals. They were impressed by his respect for local customs.

Lange, the ultimate ex-pat, lived in Bali style, with a well-stocked wine cellar, billiard table, chamber orchestra, two wives, concubines, children, servants and slaves. There were also Danish Dalmations.

Lange performed a useful role mediating between the Dutch and the South Balinese rajahs and was instrumental in getting two important — although fudged and misleading — treaties signed with the Rajah Kesiman in 1841 and 1842, under which the Rajah appeared to recognize Dutch sovereignty and give up Balinese customary rights to take possession of shipwrecked cargo.

The Dutch found him so useful that they offered him citizenship of the Dutch East Indies in 1844, which he accepted. There were contemporary accounts by visiting Europeans, who knew Lange, and extracts of these are contained in the book.

He was a broker in the lucrative slave trade and imported Chinese kepeng coins. Lange’s business grew. He owned or hired (it is not clear which) between nine and twelve ships in the 1840s. His ships gathered rice, coconut oil, animals, cotton, tobacco, coffee and other goods from neighboring islands, which he sold to visiting traders from his warehouse. There are many fine old Balinese photographs in the book.

Lange played a pivotal role as a shuttle diplomat between the Dutch and the Balinese in the wars of Dutch invasion of 1846, 1848 and 1849. The book contains lengthy details of the invasions. The Dutch navy blockaded the island between 1848 and 1849. Lange worked hard and brokered an historic truce, a treaty which was signed by the two sides in his house on 15 July 1849, and gave the Balinese freedom for many years to come. The Dutch were pleased and made him a “Knight of the Dutch Lion” in December 1849.

The good times came to an end. Lange’s business was badly hit by the blockade. The rice harvest suffered from the wars — which a plague of rats made worse — and exports practically ceased. A smallpox epidemic in 1850 disrupted life and some of his employees died. Then there was a water shortage. Meanwhile the Dutch were building up Singaraja in the north as the main port.

Lange was planning to leave Bali for good and sail to Denmark in 1856 when he was invited to a banquet at Denpasar Palace by the new rajah. Upon returning home he was violently sick, coughed up blood and his lips turned blue. He had been poisoned and died two days later on 13 May at home at the age of 48. He had been in Bali 18 years.

Christian Peter Lange, his nephew, came to Bali in 1847 to help his uncle and inherited the business, but failed to make a profit, sold up and returned to Denmark in 1863. Kuta declined after Lange’s death and did not revive for many years.

This book has been beautifully produced and can be enjoyed as a coffee-table book, leafing through the wonderful photographs and illustrations, or as a more scholarly work, usefully filling a gap in our knowledge of a remarkable man.

Mads Lange
The Bali Trader and Peacemaker
Produced by Peter Bloch
Bali Purnati Center, 2007
Hardback, 176 pages

Murni
Ubud, Bali

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Introduction to Palaces of Bali

by Richard Mann

Gateway Books International, 2012

“A Secret Worth Sharing”

It is a big surprise to discover that the small island of Bali has so many kingdoms. The plethora of palaces encouraged an intense rivalry between them as they competed to produce the best buildings, decorated with the finest paintngs, stonework, textiles and woodcarvings. The kings staged the grandest ceremonies with hundreds of dancers and musicians in dazzling costumes. This glittering outpouring of artistic talent amazed the outside world when early visitors reported what they had seen. Clifford Geertz, one of the leading anthropologists of the 20th century, described the pre-colonial Balinese kingdoms as ‘theatre states’.

The royal palaces had neither military nor economic control over the villagers. The villagers, were, after all, the military. What control they did exercise was essentially based on consent and moral authority. There was an unwritten contract under which the kings organised huge, theatrical ceremonies and the villagers helped with the preparations and participated in them. These elaborate state rituals derived from the sacred texts. A court’s prestige was measured by and its power depended on its ability to carry out grand ceremonies. The palaces were out to impress.

When we researched the nature of royal power for our book Secrets of Bali, Fresh Light on the Morning of the World, we discovered that the relationship between the rulers and the villagers was one of mutual dependence. We also found out that the kingdoms were defined, not by borders, but by their centre, similar in concept to a mandala. Move closer to the centre, and you move closer to power and influence.

It is amazing that so much has been written about Bali yet so much remains to be written about this incredible little island. Search the internet and there’s barely a mention, yet, as Richard Mann reveals in this book, there are, in fact numerous palaces still belonging to the old royal families and they are inhabited by accessible people, who will welcome you into their homes. It is a secret worth sharng.

Ni Wayan Murni and Jonathan Copeland

Introduction to Palaces of Bali by Richard Mann, Gateway Books International, 2012

If you would like to buy the book, please email murni (at) murnis.com

The Palaces of Bali

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by Ni Wayan Murni
Saveur, 13 March 2012

Like every girl in Bali, I was taught how to make banten, food offerings, at an early age. We make thousands of different offerings; it’s a key practice of Balinese Hinduism, which is influenced by veneration for the dead and the spiritual forces of nature.

We use offerings to please the gods and our ancestors and to placate malevolent spirits. We make offerings to certain animals, trees, and objects. The biggest are created for holidays, for weddings and other rites of passage, for full and dark moons. These are made mainly by professionals, Brahmin women who specialize in the constructions required for a cremation, say, or for a tooth-filing ceremony.

Some, called ajuman, are carried in baskets or bowls. Others, called gebogan, are formed around a banana tree trunk. Fruit, grilled chicken or duck, coconut, rice, palm leaves, and flowers are attached with bamboo skewers in rings of decreasing size to form a pyramid shape. The whole thing – which can stretch nearly five feet high and weigh more than 40 pounds – is carried on the head of a woman to a temple. It’s a spectacular sight, a procession of gebogan-carrying women. The offerings are presented to the deities, who partake of their essence. Afterward, worshippers can take them home to enjoy foods that have been touched by the gods.

More Info

When in Bali, Indonesia, stay at Murni’s Houses and Tamarind Spa (Jalan Raya, Ubud; 62/361/975-165), where you can obtain instruction on creating traditional Balinese food offerings.

Visit her restaurant, Murni’s Warung (at the bridge, Campuan, Ubud; 62/361/975-233), and her shop next-door called Murni’s Warung Shop (62/361/972-146).

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