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.
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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.