Ceremonies of Bali

Proceeding to a ceremony at Goa Lawah

Ceremonies are the supreme markers of life in Bali, they mark life's and death's passages, temple anniversaries twice a year, and defeat evil spirits at the spring equinox, before the purified new year arrives, in a silence more silent than Sabbath in Jersualem. Our driver was eager to find us a ceremony---first we were to attend a tooth filing, but it was rescheduled. At the age of 15 young people undergo a filing of their canines (which Wayan said was excruciatingly painful while other writers say it is not) surrounded by enormous pomp and circumstance. 

We were in luck, though: the brother of the king

Cremation tower

of Ubud would be cremated on the 14th of May. This is one of the most expensive and elaborate ceremonies on the island. Without cremation the spirit does not become free of the body. A cremation is enormously expensive, so bodies are buried sometimes for years as families save up for the cremation. In the case of the Royal Family absolutely no expense is spared: not the expenses of the villagers of the kingdom who will carry the floats on their shoulders, nor gifts for them, nor the construction of the enormous tower and bull and serpent Naga, nor musicians and priests. Because it is so expensive a few other bodies are cremated at the same time.

Blessing the tower and bull

In a fever of excitement Wayan arrived at 8:30 in the morning, while in Ubud the ceremonial tower already stood tall and brilliant as priests prayed, their wives burning incense, bells ringing. The tower was at least 10 meters high and made of wood, and it would be carried by the villagers of the Ubud region who owed the king their allegiance--he had paid for their temples, he had granted them favors. The Ubud kingdom turned out in their finest. Even more beautiful was the bull into which the body would be transferred for the actual burning. Throngs pressed into the palace

The bull

gates (where dancing took place only for invitees) and hawkers clung to us with sarongs and trinkets. We burned with exitement among the infectious crowds. We roamed Ubud before we finally took our seats which Wayan had arranged for us, at a restaurant where he was well known. We were facing the parade, as if on an elite viewing stand, where the villagers, 100 at a time carrying the heavy floats, almost weeping with the effort, would collapse, put down the weight of Naga and Bull and finally Tower and pass their burden on.

Villagers carrying the floats

After the burning

We sat at our viewing stand, next to Mr. Carlo, a Milanese who'd been coming to Bali for 45 years and had a house by Klungung. A sudden downpour as the orchestra approached put everything in doubt. The orchestra members in their turbans and black checked sarongs dispersed, crowding with their brown smiles into the restaurant. Yet the show went on. Amid thunder and sheets of rain the village men took up their burden with a shout and hustled toward us, putting it down in front of us, fainting with the effort. Boxes of water were broken open and rushed to the young men. The priests sprinkled water with rice sheaves and 1-2-3- GO the men shouted as a new crew pushed up the load, and trotted on to clamorous bells and drums.

Ceremony at Besakih

We missed the actual burning at the cemetery, not believing that it would be possible in the downpour, but in fact petrol was poured and poured and the bull now carrying the body exploded in flames. We arrived there after a museum visit, as the ashes were being prayed over. A stench of rotting flesh hung in the air. Someone carried a duck, and I did not see what happened to it, but later I understood.

Waiting for the Malasti procession

The next day we happened on a Malasti ceremony, in which the statues of the temple are carried to a purifying place before they are returned to the temple, which was happening as we were stopped on the road. Ominous chanting started up just as we arrived. Young girls danced in the road at the entrance of the temple. A woman held a terrified white duck, stretching its neck to face the oncoming procession. The clangorous orchestra started up. Parasols and

high flags shaped like palm fronds glittered with gold and bright colors. Little platforms with wooden statues had been cleansed in the river. Upon arrival the priest stabbed the duck in the neck, head, wings and feet to the ominous roar of medieval chanting. The

Malasti procession

procession circled the duck's plonged spasms of agony, the pure white feathers drenched in its own blood, its beak streaming like a red baton, a long, cruel death. They finally kicked the duck aside.

Back in the car, in a voice of studied neutrality, I asked Wayan about animal sacrifice. In fact every single ceremony includes animal sacrifice. Yesterday's white duck, at the end of the cremation, being so passionately videoed by the men present, had been hidden from me. But animal sacrifice is everywhere and incessant. In three days' time there would be a cockfight as well, the cocks fighting to the death, another constant. Everywhere in Bali roosters strut under woven baskets, waiting their turn to die.

Watercolored Rooster-so far, so good for him

Wayan didn't know why. I later read in the wonderful book on Bali by Miguel Covarrubias that it is to appease the evil spirits, who want blood.

Wayan told us that it is usually white ducks or black chickens, but a friend who owns a B&B in Seminiyak said that every kind of animal is sacrificed all the time, a detail normally omitted from tourist information or the usual rhapsodic description of Bali. I asked Indra, a Balinese masseuse who grew up near the most sacred temple at Besakih, about it. "I know!"she cried out, her face suddenly pained. "Why do they do that?"

Blessing at Tanah Lot - for a price

Another kind of blood is given in Tanganan, a bali-aga village with practices that pre-date the arrival of the Majahapit Hindu kingdom in 1343, when it took over the island. Men still fight, with bare torsos, using stiff fronds of a certain succulent bordered by sharp thick spikes. They strike each other and draw blood. It is painful. Only the master of ceremonies decides when they have had enough. 

So it seems the evil spirits of Bali have withstood time. The nearby island of Nusa Penida is said to be the home for these denizens of a black and white checkered universe. I have meditated there and it is in fact a strange place.