Richard Jernigan -> Indonesian music,dance and religion (Sep. 29 2012 6:59:21)
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Bill, your post in the folk music thread evokes memories. One of my more interesting musical experiences was at Parang Tritis on the shore of the Indian Ocean just south of Yogyakarta. A significant part of the Sultan's magical powers result from his periodic sexual liasons with the Goddess of the Sea which occur here. A posh hotel sits on a high cliff above the beach. Looking south over the sea there's no land between here and Antarctica. The surf crashes loudly. At night the beach is fitfully lit by occasional torches. After dinner in the large outdoor pavilion, there was a dance performance. Beautiful young women performed gracfully on a marble floor strewn deeply in rose petals. The musical accompaniment was by about twnty people playing western stringed instruments, violins, violas, cellos and basses, but all plucked pizzicato all the time. Bows were never used. The scales and harmony were largely European, with occasional excursions into Javanese. Though the music was clearly European at some time in the past, none of the melodies were familiar to me. After this performance was done, more traditional Javanese instruments were brought out. All artificial light was extinguished, leaving us in flickering torchlight.. An unusual feature were some large, deep voiced log drums. The players wore masks, as did the dancers. A chant began in Kawi, the archaic dialect of Javanese that narrates the Sanskrit dance dramas. Fairly soon it became clear that this dance performance depicted some of the occult features of the Sultan's connection with the sea goddess. Much of the performance had for me an aspect of mystery and even menace. My Javanese companion said that when she heard the Kawi chant begin, chills ran down her spine. After the performance I asked my guide and translator friend to find someone who could tell us more about the performance. One of the musicians seemed glad to oblige. He told us that the sea goddess drama was performed only at Parang Tritis. But what I found fascinating was his account of the string orchestra, utterly unique in my experience. It was descended from a Dutch trained string orchestra, who played dance music for the colonists of the Dutch East Indies. At some point after the Dutch departed the orchestra abandoned the bow. As older players dropped out and new ones came in, they evolved their own music. He said there was no other band like it that he knew of. As to religion, when touring the Sultan's palace in Yogyakarta, the Sultan's splendidly uniformed servant pointed to the ceiling of the pendopo where the coronation of the Sultan took place. It was yellow at the center, green on the periphery. "Like us," the official said,"Hindu on the inside, Muslim on the outside." But on the two occasions I traveled by auto from Bali to Central Java, I was warned by my Javanese friend, guide and translator, that in East Java I was likely to encounter a more "fanatik" form of Islam. All went well, but I was the recipient of some harsh stares and groups of people falling silent as I entered shops and restaurants in smaller and medium size towns. In response to a glance from my friend and guide, I suggested, "I suppose they're not used to seeing foreigners." My friend, fluent in five Indonesian languages, Spanish and Russian, an honors graduate in English from the University of Malang, a native of the cosmopolitan port city of Surabaya, responded, "They have seen plenty of foreigners. They may not especially look forward to the experience." All went according to the law of hospitality and I enjoyed the trips, but I didn't feel the warmth and friendliness of Bali or Central Java in personal interactions. Checking out of a five star hotel in Nusa Dua in Bali, I was presented with an outrageously inflated bill. I complained to the desk clerk. He said the charge was for an extra guest. I showed him the written confirmation for Mr Jernigan and Miss Lia (my Javanese friend). He responded, "You can't expect to just bring anyone in off the street." At least twenty years before I had learned never to show even impatience, much less anger in southeast Asia. I replied calmly, but without a smile, "I have known this woman for seven years. She is the book keeper for the most famous restaurant in Nusa Dua. I am paying for her younger brother's university education." I even went so far as to stand up straight and look down my nose for about a second, but adopted a more accommodating posture before it became an insult that could not be ignored. This brief assertion of status failed to produce the intended result. "I am not interested in your personal finances. Do you have marriage documents?" "No, because we are not married." "Then you must pay the fee." I had plenty of time and decided to waste the afternoon of the hotel staff. Maintaining southeast Asian equanimity and good manners, I spent 2 1/2 hours working my way through four levels of staff. At last, a polite, but distant man in a nice suit and tie invited me into his well furnished office. Closing the door, he said, "This hotel was recently bought by a fanatik Muslim, a good friend of Suharto's family. If I do not charge you the fee, i will lose my job. I ask you as a favor, please sign the bill, but complain to your travel agent in Honolulu. I believe he may be able to get you a refund." That was how it turned out. I had used the Honolulu travel agent, a gay man who owned the business, for years. He was scandalized by my story, got my refund, and said he had broken off dealings with that hotel. He asked if I had been mistreated elsewhere. I said that everywhere else in Bali and in Central Java we were treated with friendliness and even affection. I never learned whether it was the man in the nice suit and tie who authorized the refund in the privacy of his well furnished office. One learns not to rely upon assumptions and to adapt to local attitudes. RNJ
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