Last week was a special Hindu ceremony day – Ćivaratri or Shevaratri – celebrated by Hindu people throughout Bali and in Lombok too.
I had been told that it was – ostensibly – a whole day to say sorry to the gods for all my bads, and to not eat or sleep from 7am until the following 7am. A concert and prayers were to be held at the temple all night.
I was dubious of my own ability to participate in such a big ask so had in my mind Plan B and C to boycott or escape the proceedings if necessary.
As the day wore on and lunch and dinner were consumed with gusto and a snoring afternoon siesta was enjoyed by many throughout the village, I discovered that the fastings were actually reserved for those who were “strong” in “such matters”. (And most of us were not of that ilk).
Kick off time for the evening concert was delayed due to a power outage occurring just after sunset (a common and inconvenient time for blackouts).
When it came back on at nine we rode the motorbike the 300 metres (image is everything) to Made’s temple and joined the 300 odd villagers (a great many of whom are Made’s family) to watch the ceremonial concert.
Small food stalls set up outside the temple took care of the appetites of kids and other slackers.
To me the concert was like an open-mic night or a local school fete. But the local singers, tiny tot dance troupes, poets, wannabe magicians and reggae bands were joined in the line-up by some very beautiful and mesmerising traditional Balinese dancers. It was the very first time I’d ever seen Balinese dancing. I’d avoided the tourist performances in Ubud, so to see it in Lombok as the only white person in the whole crowd was certainly special.
A version of the traditional Balinese genjek dance, a vigorous and loud song of story about ‘life and other stuff’ (Made’s uninformative explanation), was also performed by a group of enthusiastic topless men. And an alluring Balinese gojek dancer lured men from the crowd (who were jostling for the opportunity) and challenged them to come up onto the stage and match her in grace and seductiveness – much to the amusement of the men’s wives, children, family and friends.
At 12 midnight there was an intermission and those who felt like it went into the temple proper to pray and give more offerings.
Soon after that the power went off again and everyone sat patiently chatting and laughing in the darkness for about 30 mins. When the lights came back on the concert resumed with the most popular act of the night, a local hypnotist. This act had the eyes of the entire audience glued to the stage and very often the crowd was in absolute stitches as they watched their friends up on the stage engage in silly behaviours.
My Indonesian and certainly Balinese is nowhere near good enough, so I was pretty much completely in the dark both during the black out and for the whole night really!
The concert went on and on and I could see how easy it was for everyone to go the distance of the night-time at least without falling asleep!
For me, when some local guys in a heavy metal band started playing at about 2am – again much to the delight of men, women and children of all ages – I made my apologies to the cousins and opted to go home to bed. I was not the first to leave and was not thought of any less for being amongst the pikers.
Hindu ceremonies may well be steeped in tradition and held with deep spiritual respect and regard, but the Hindu people sure know how to keep things light and have a good time!
Yesterday was a touch of a different culture-slash-religion. Made and I went along to the wedding “reception” of my landlord and lady’s daughter. A Muslim wedding. As per usual, my understanding evolved in a slowly unfolding manner.
The fancy hand-delivered invitation stated 9-11am. So when Made announced to me that morning that we would go at about 10am I was a bit surprised and duly explained to him that “in my country” it would be considered extremely rude behaviour to turn up an hour late for a wedding!
I knew the actual exchange of vows had already occurred at the groom’s family’s place a few weeks prior, but I thought another ceremony of sorts was to happen today with the bride’s family. And as it was scheduled for two hours I figured we could attend for the duration without getting too bored. But I was to learn that in fact yesterday was only a reception, in the literal sense of the word.
The family had gone to huge expense (they are relatively well-to-do) and a lot of pomp and ceremony with lavish settings and dresses and beautiful oh-so-tasty food, a gift of a pretty pink hand fan for all the female guests, a formal sign-in book requiring everyone’s signature, satin lined gift receiving table and donation baskets, a live band and a video man. The bride and groom and each set of parents sat on thrones on the little stage the entire time. As each guest arrived and signed and gave their gifts they were led to the food buffet, and then ushered to seats to eat their breakfast on their laps (with no cutlery as is the local way). Thus this is what we did. Then after a bit of time to sit and chat and just watch the regal wedding party alternate between sitting quietly or standing up to receive their guests, we too headed up to the stage to pay our respects. Quickly we gave our congratulations and well wishes to the six of them, stood together to have our group photo taken and then we headed off. That was it. The wedding party sat back down to watch guests eat and upload selfies onto FB pages, and waited for the next lot to visit them on the stage.
So now I understood why Made had wisely said we could go an hour late. The reception involved basically only that – guests arrived throughout the two hours, gave gifts, ate messily and well, said their selamats, smiled for the professional photographer and left. No more connection or interaction with the bridal party than that. And the heavy base electronic Sasak music continued throughout. I defy any westerner to have even a remote liking for this awful music from Lombok loved by the Muslim people.
Endang, my landlady and the mother of the bride, has a Hindu grandmother and a lot of her family are Hindu. The Muslim faith is not strict here and women are respected in their choice to wear a hijab or not. Yesterday at the wedding reception there were women without hijab and unless you knew them, it was not possible to tell if they were Muslim or Hindu.
At Made’s temple concert last week some locals and family members of the Muslim faith also attended that important Hindu ceremony (it was, after all, more like a party really!). One of the Muslim men even got up on the stage to do the traditional Balinese dance with the beautiful gojek dancer and he gave her a run for her money!
It is interesting and enriching to live in a country where culture is so completely and deeply synonymous with two religions. Every aspect of life is laced with or determined by religious traditions and beliefs.
Yet the people from each religion are tolerant, inclusive, integrative and, mostly, simply ok with the other.
I know in Australia we live, work, learn, play and socialise with people from all religions or beliefs, but we generally do so without thinking about it or without knowing.
Here it is both a very conscious and peacefully accepted daily duality.