THE
PEOPLE
THE ANCIENT SURVIVAL: THE BALI AGA
At
one time the island was populated by pure Indonesians, an ancient
people who filed and blackened their teeth. They lived in small
communities, family clans ruled by a council of Elders who acted
as the priests of their religion.
Their
cult centered in the worship of the powerful spirits of nature,
and especially those of their ancestors, with whom they continued
to live, a great family of both the dead and the living. Occasionally,
by means of mediums and sacrifices, they brought their ancestral
spirits down to this earth to protect them. They buried their
dead or simply abandoned them in the jungle to be carried away
by the spirits, and it is possible that they even ate parts of
the bodies in order to absorb the magic power inherent in their
ancient headmen,
The
pure descendants of these people, calling themselves Bali
Aga or Bali Mula, the " original " Balinese, still live,
isolated and independent, in the mountains where they found refuge
from imperialistic strangers. Hidden in the bills of East Bali,
near Karangasem, lies the village of Tenganan, where the most
conservative of the Bali Aga preserve the old traditions with
the greatest zeal. Tenganan is a rabidly isolated community, socially
and economically separate from the rest of Bali, almost a republic
in itself. It is shut off from the world by a solid wall that
surrounds the entire village, which is meant to keep outsiders
away, and is broken only by four gates, each facing one of the
cardinal points. Of these gates, three open to the gardens and
plantations of the village, but the main gate is so narrow that
a stout person has difficulty in squeezing through. Such is the
obsession for isolation in Tenganan that there is an official
specially appointed to sweep the village after the visits of strangers,
to obliterate their footprints.
We
became acquainted with I-Tanggu, a youngish man with fingernails
four inches long, who was the perbekel of Tenganan, the representative
of his village with the Dutch Government. We were surprised to
find him quite sociable. Once we played bost to him in Den Pasar
and from then on we were often invited to visit Tenganan. Unlike
the rest of the villages in Bali, there is hardly any vegetation
around the Tenganan houses, which are all exactly alike and are
arranged in tows on each side of stone-paved avenues. In the central
place is the council house where the Elders meet, a long shed
about ten feet wide by some seventy feet long, strongly built
and apparently very old. Farther along are other buildings for
public use, the purpose of some kept a secret. The most curious
are the unique mill for grinding kemiri nuts to obtain oil, and
the wooden Ferris-wheel, usually dismantled, in which the women
revolve for hours in a strange rite. The dwelling of I-Tanggu'
is just like all the others: a small gate reached by a flight
of steps leads into a court in which are the sleeping-quarters,
the kitchen, and a long house for relatives and for storage'.
There is also a small empty shrine where the spirits may rest
when they visit their descendants.
The
people of Tenganan are tall, slender, and aristocratic in a rather
ghostly, decadent way, with light skins and refined manners. The
majority of the men still wear their hair long. They are proud
and look down even on the Hindu-Balinese nobility, who respect
them and leave them alone. They live in a strange communistic
or, rather, patriarchal-communalistic system in which individual
ownership of property is not recognized and in which even the
plans and measurements of the houses are set and alike for everybody.
The village of Tenganan owns communally enormous tracts of fertile
and well-cultivated lands that fill every need of the village
and make it one of the richest in the island. I-Tanggu' told me
this legend of how the land came to belong to the village:
" Hundreds of years ago, long before the Hindu-Javanese set.
tled in, Bali, the powerful king Bedaulu lost his favorites horse.
Broken-hearted, the king sent the men of whole villages in all
directions with orders to find the stray horse.
The
Tenganans went eastward until, after days of travel, they found
the corpse of the horse. The king asked them to name their reward,
but their spokesman said they wanted only the land where the horse
was found; that is, the area covered by the smell of the carcass.
Although the horse bad been dead for many days under the tropical
sun, Bedaulu considered this a modest request and sent an official
with a delicate sense of smell to measure off the land, starting
from the place where the horse lay. Accompanied by the chief of
Tenganan, he walked for days, but no matter how far the two went,
the smell seemed to follow them. Finally the official was exhausted
and could go no farther; he said be considered the land already
covered enough, and e Tenganans were satisfied. When the official
left, the chief pulled from under his clothes a large piece of
the rotten flesh of the horse."
I-Tanggu'
told me the story as we went up to the top of a bill to look at
one of the remains of the famous horse; the penis, " which
had turned to stone." On the summit, under a large tree,
was the relic, a long river stone shaped like a phallus by the
action of water. Passing people had left offerings on top of it.
I-Tanggu' also said that the people of Tenganan are not permitted
to work their vast lands with their own bands, but hire other
Balinese to do the agricultural work for them. The aristocratic
communists of Tenganan go to the plantation only to make tuak,
beer from sugar palms. I
On
the way down the hill, I was allowed a glimpse of the sacred temple
of Tenganan, of which we had heard mysterious reports. It was
a small enclosure under a great banyan tree surrounded by a low
wall of uncut stones roughly piled up. Inside were a few mounds
of the same stones, reminiscent of altars, and in one of them
there was a larger stone with what appeared to be a natural cavity.
I could not go into the enclosure because no outsider is ever
permitted to enter it. I-Tanggu could not divulge the purpose
of such a primitive " temple " and could not even name
the deities worshipped there, but be added mysteriously that there
were three of them It seems extraordinary that this pile of stones
is the only sacred, " essential " place of worship for
the Tenganans, who are expert carvers and fine artists.'
just
outside the village I bad seen a regular Balinese-style temple
with fine roofs and elaborate carvings, but this, I-Tanggu said
with contempt, did not mean much to them and was more for the
use of their Balinese guests and coolies, perhaps as a concession
to the official cult of the island, so that they would not be
considered as savages, people without a " proper " temple.
The
clubs of virgins (seka daha) and of adolescent boys (seka truna),
who are still untouched by the magical impurity supposed to come
from sexual intercourse, are an interesting feature of Bali Aga
villages not to be found among the Hindu-Balinese. In Tenganan
a ceremonial meeting is held for them once a year. The virgins
wear golden crowns covered with quivering flowers of beaten gold,
and are dressed from the armpits to the ground in bright silk
scarfs which they bold between jewelled fingers, often tipped
with -four-inch artificial fingernails made ' of solid gold. They
appear dancing the redjang, arranged in line from the smallest
baby, a year old, perhaps, to the grown girls who on past occasions
have failed to obtain a husband. They dance accompanied by the
gamelan selunding, an ancient, rarely beard orchestra that has
great iron sound-plates, struck energetically by the old men of
the village with oversize wooden hammers. This dance could not
be more archaic and simple: standing in a double line, they fling
the scarfs slowly away, first to one side, then to the other,
half turning the body each time. In the long intervals between
movements they stand motionless with down cast eyes until a change
of position is announced by the orchestra. This is the whole dance
a slow-motion version of the stilted feminine dances of Java,
giving, one an unearthly feeling of. suspended movement, and bearing
no relation to the exuberant vitality of the Balinese dances we
were accustomed to see.
Soon
boys in their best clothes and wearing krisses begin to Appear
and form a group at the other end of the dancing-space, watching
the girls. When enough boys have gathered, the music stops and
the audience, mostly women, shows a lively interest. The music
begins again, playing the theme for the abuang, a dance in which
the boys express their preferences. One by one the girls step
to the front to show. Them selves in. a short posed dance with
their eyes on the ground and their arms tensely outstretched.
Each of the marriageable girls has her chance, but the boys are
shy and at first nobody takes up the challenge. It is only after
the girls have danced a second or third round that one of the
boys overcomes his shyness, walks up to his favourite girl when
her turn comes again, and takes his place in a stately dance.
If she is pleased, she will continue to dance with him until the
bar of music is over, but if she dislikes the boy, she leaves
the floor line while the crowd laughs at the rejected and goes
back into rejected suitor.
Marriage
restrictions are peculiar in Tenganan; their isolationist law
allows no one to marry outside the village, and even there only
within certain rules as to family and caste. There was, for instance,
the daughter of the priest who was already past marriageable age,
but who could not find a husband since there were no unmarried
men of her class. This continual inbreeding perhaps accounts for
the decadent and aristocratic type of the people. A Tenganan who
marries outside the village or breaks one of their taboos is thrown
out of the village; such exiles have formed a small village of
their own just outside the main gate, but they are never again
admitted into the mother community.
The
Balinese have often accused the Tenganans of cannibalism, which
is of course indignantly denied and about which the Tenganans
are extremely sensitive. But people from Karangasem and even renegade
Tenganans tell naive stories like this:
In
olden days there were celebrations in which aged men were sacrificed
and eaten, and once there were none left in Tenganan. For a long
time the couneil bad planned to rebuild the ba16 agung, the assembly
hall, already in ruins. The wood for the pillars bad been cut
by the old men years before and was dry and well seasoned. But
when the work was started and the time came to put up the pillars,
the workers could not proceed, because nobody knew which was the
bottom and which the top of the logs. In all Bali it is forbidden
in a construction to stand a log " upsidedown " - that
is, in the opposite direction from which it grew. Work on the
baM agung was interrupted and there was worry and confusion, until
a young man announced that, if they swore to stop eating their
old men, be would find a way to locate the right end of the logs.
After long deliberations the council agreed and presently the
young man produced his own grandfather, whom he bad kept bidden
for years in a rice granary. The old man measured each log, tied
a rope in the exact centre' and had it lifted up; the end closer
to the roots was heavier and the log tilted in that direction,
so the council could proceed with their work, and old men could
continue to live.
I
have been told by Balinese that in Tenganan today a corpse is
washed with water that is allowed to drip into a sheaf of unhusked
rice placed under the body. The rice is then dried in the sun,
threshed, and cooked. After the burial a human figure is made
of the cooked ricewhich is served to the dead man's descendants,
who proceed to eat it, each asking for some part - the bead, an
arm, and so forth - a funeral dinner that may well signify the
ritual eating of thecorpse to absorb its magical powers. This,
of course, is pure hearsay which I could not verify through my
Tenganan friends.
The
Balinese
also believe that human beings were sacrificed in Tengenan to
make dyes for their famous ceremonial scarf's, the kamben gringsing,
a cloth that, because it is supposed to be dyed with human blood,
has the power to insulate the wearer against evil vibrations and
is prescribed at all important Balinese rituals. These scarf's,
in which the warp is left uncut, are much in demand by the Balinese.
The kamben gringsing is a loosely woven, narrow scarf of thick
cotton with intricate designs in rich tones of rust-red, beige,
and black against a yellowish background. The process of dying
and weaving is unbelievably long and complicated, and over five
years are required from the time the cotton is prepared to the
finished scarf, according to Korn. The threads are left in each
of the dyes for months, macerated in kemiri oil for months to
fix each colour, and then dried in the sun for months after each
stage. The design is obtained by the double ikat " process
(ikat ,"to tie") : that is, the threads swarp and weft
are patterned previous to the weaving. To do this warp and weft
are stretched on frames, and groups of threads are tightly bound
with fibres at certain points before they are dipped into the
dye, so that the tied part remains uncolored to produce the design.
This is repeated with each colour, the part already dyed also
protected by the fibred binding. When the threads are
finally colored and ready to be woven, the design of the weft
is fitted exactly into the one on the warp, and a mistake spoils
the work of years. Taking into consideration the laboriousness
of the dyeing, the painstaking, difficult weaving, and the myst6ry
that
surrounds the secret process, it is easy to understand why the
popular mind has endowed the kamben gringsing with such extraordinary
powers. In Tenganan the scarf's are an essential part of ceremonial
dress, and I-Tanggu told me that if he sold his he would lose
his place in the village council. Only the finest scarf's are
worn in Tenganan; imperfect ones or those in which the dyes fail
to produce the required tones are sold to outsiders.
In
North Bali, on the slopes of the Batur, above Tedakula, is the
Bali Aga village of Sembiran, where even the daily language is
different from that of the rest of Bali. There, as in Tenganan,
the " temple " is a group of rough stone altars surrounded
by a neglected fence. It is bidden in the jungle near the edge
of a deep ravine, a dangerous haunted place, where not even the
people of Sembiran would venture alone. In Sembiran the dead are
not buried; after washing the corpse, it is wrapped in new cloth,
carried to the edge of the ravine, and deposited on a bamboo platform
with offerings, consecrated water, and the belongings of the deceased.
There it is left for three days; if, after that, it has not disappeared,
this means that the spirits did not care to take it, so it is
thrown unceremoniously into the ravine to be eaten by wild beasts.
There
are many other mountain villages that have resisted the influence
of Hinduism. Although not as extraordinary as Tenganan and Sembiran,
they are equally conservative Bali Aga, like Trunyan on the shores
of Lake Batur, where the largest statue in Bali is kept, that
of Ratu 'Gede' Pantjering Djagat, powerful patron guardian of
the village. There is Taro, the home of Kbo Iwa', a fearful giant
of pre-Hindu days who was so great that there was never enough
food to feed him and he went about eating people. To provide him
with a place to sleep, the villagers of Taro built the longest
council house in Bali. He is supposed to have carved all the ancient
monuments and sculptured caves with his own fingernails. In the
highlands between the Batur and the Bratan, the Gunung Agung and
the Batukau, there are many Bali Aga villages, and in some, like
Selulung, Batukaang, and Catur, there are remains of ancient and
primitive monuments; stone statues and small pyramids, some of
which are purely Indonesian in character, while others show early
Hindu, perhaps Buddhist influence. In the Bali Aga villages there
is much that
remains of the ancient race who once inhabited all of Bali, but
who were to become the fascinating Balinese of today.