"water for the place, and then for you"

I just returned from a temple ceremony. This is the bi -yearly small one, so there was not a live gamelon orchestra playing there, but rather with an array of some 10 singers taking turns singing the old melodies that are meant to" prepare the way" for the eventual praying which comes at the end.

It started a few days ago with Nyoman, the lovely manager/chef here, and mother of two, asking me if I am interested in coming to a temple ceremony, since I had told her if there ever is anything going on, I would like to be included. I happily said yes, and she told me she will pick me up at 1:30. There was a strange silence in the air, like before a holiday in Israel, where everything has been prepared and now it is the actual event that is about to begin.

I dressed in my sarong with girdle over it to keep it all together (that’s what they do here) and my see-thru white brocade kabiya (long sleeved tight fitted long blouse, that's what they do here) and a cream sash tied on my waist (a symbol of "seriousness"). All the people, including infants, come dressed in sarongs, and the men all in white shirts and little white kerchiefs on their forehead. She picked me up on her motor bike. We drove 5 minutes to her home in the village where the houses are set next to each other like matchboxes with narrow paths in between them, and met her husband (unemployed and caring for the 6 month old baby while she is manager of the resort and chef), 8 year old daughter and 6 month old baby girl (I emphasize the sex since the Balinese need a boy; to do tasks in the temple and to eventually care for the parents in old age…so this means they will probably try for a third child, hoping it will be a son)..

We drove off on two motorbikes, and began a 15 minute ride on a narrow winding road up through the forest on and on and on. When I saw where we were driving I cried a little from the sheer beauty and incomprehensibleness of it all….climbing up the narrow bumpy pock holed path, passing little bamboo huts here and there in the woods, a stream winding along the side of the road, tall beautiful green leaved trees surrounding and shading us, little plots of farmland or a cow under a palm leaf roof…and smiling people and children here and there, an odd kiosk every now and then and high mountains surrounding us. A toot of the horn as we approached each curve to warn anyone coming in the other direction on this narrow path meant for walking or a motorbike. A temple? Here? So touching.

We stopped at a curve in the road where there was a make shift restaurant (bench, table, mortar and pestle from a big rock, some pots, and snacks), Nyoman introduced me to her mother and sister who had prepared this for the villagers who might be hungry before or after the ceremony. There also were the 2 big offerings waiting in baskets on a mat on the ground behind them, that her sister had prepared for Nyman, who was too busy working the past two days, which would be offered at the multiple altars at the temple grounds, and carried on your head until you place them down. They were trays and baskets filled with fruits and cakes and rice and sweets.

We started by taking a few steps down a short path in the woods where there were two small altars; here we asked for the "right" to participate in the ceremony at the temple. Next we climbed up a narrow foot path on the edge of a gorge and stopped at a very big old tree that had the gold block designed material wrapped around its trunk, symbolizing its sacredness. Nyoman said this is a mysterious tree. It is on her father in laws land , and she pointed to the forest we were in and the gorge and said this is his and he has a small hut inside where he stays each day, and goes home to sleep at night. And if someone does something that is wrong, the tree knows it and tells it to her father in law who then becomes sick, and he goes to the healer, who tells him that someone did something wrong on the property, and that that is why he is sick, and he heals him. So we must also make an offering to this tree, since it is the sacred family tree, and remember to say Om santi santi santi Om afterwards, so that way it symbolizes the end of the prayer and tells the gods you are done and they should not follow you around anymore but stay put, otherwise you cannot sleep at night and all kinds of other problems that having a god with you can cause….

And then, to the actual temple grounds right next door. I followed her up two sets of steps that needed special care with a sarong on and a big offering on my head, since they were quite high and steep. And here we entered an area almost the size of a basketball court where there were several altars scattered around. Each one received its offering which was placed on the ground or on the altar itself, and then we sat on the side and mingled. On the side were the singers who had microphones and were singing their slow long minor keyed melody, and when they had had enough they passed the mic to another one that had been trained in this special type of singing. Nyoman is also a singer, as is her mother, and uncle, and grandfather. She pointed out an old woman and said "she is a singer too, but she is now blind, but still sings very beautifully, as does her husband", an old man that allowed the blind woman to lean on him as he lead the way, with his almost toothless smile. I asked if young people still are interested in learning this style of temple song, and she said that very few are, and that the government has decided that it will be taught in school by special teachers, otherwise the day will come when it will be lost. I was grateful that as the hours passed I was able to sit and watch each of the singers, including the blind woman and her husband. There is no differentiation between men and women in these tasks, both are allowed to do it, as is also with being a priest/ess….
Along with hanging out for over two hours, as people slowly made their way in with their offerings and children, and sat down on the ground to chat quietly with each other here and there, there was also a table for giving the bi yearly donation of 30,000 rupias ($4, per family, but more than a days salary here in bali). This would be used to cover the costs of the ceremony and to continue building in the temple. They were grateful to receive a donation from me, the foreigner.

Eventually we were a few hundred people there, men women and children, all sitting randomly next to each other in more or less rows on the ground, quietly chatting, babies being passed from grandparents to parents to nieces, to aunts and uncles. We placed our flip flops on the ground first and then sat on them (so the sarong doesn't get too dirty I think and a bit of a cushion). People kept flowing in with their offerings and the altars and ground surrounding them were overflowing with colorful baskets. Big old frangipani trees draped in gold cloth were the backdrop for the position of the altars as their branches still gave blossoms here and there. Some of the late comers had quite large and impressive offerings, which they placed on the altars after managing their way through all the sitting villagers. I asked if the size has anything to do with their devotion. Nyoman, being the devoted woman that she is, made no remark about status symbols or competition, but rather pointed out that a month before the ceremony, you can ask the gods for enough money to make a very beautiful and big offering in order to acknowledge your gratitude to them for your big income, and then you will see that you suddenly have a lot of money in order to make a very big offering for the temple so you can say thank you to them.

I asked Nyoman how old the temple is. She said it is only a few years old and that it was her grandfather that was the first one to start coming here. He had been sick, and the healer told him he should go walk in the forest and find the sacred place there where he will be healed. He walked around here and saw some rocks piled together, he prayed, and felt healed. Then when other people were sick, they too came to this place, and were healed, and eventually they decided to build the new temple here.

There are 11,000 residents in tejakula, the village, and about 30 temples, and about 50 priests, and one of them is also THE healer, even though there are more here. Priests are initiated if they have been very ill and go to a healer and he tells them that they are ill because they are now supposed to become a priest and if they do they will be healed. There are those that refuse, and they continue to be very ill, having operations on their head (the priestess had two, until she finally agreed, and then she was healthy) etc, until finally they succumb to the demand of the gods, and have a ceremony recognizing that now they will begin to learn to be a priest/ess. Then the oldest priest gives them private lessons for a long time. There are many details and things to learn by memory which is very overwhelming for many of them, but the priest promises them that if the gods have singled him/her out for the task, then they will also give them the ability to learn it all and not to fear, and that is exactly what always happens…

So for hours the chanting went on and the quiet chatting among whoever is sitting next to you on the ground, and then people lit a stick of incense and placed it in the ground in front of them and there was silence; the ceremony was beginning. It had taken the ten priests a while to get everything ready as they sat in the front row facing the altars with all of us behind them. The little hand bell started ringing and went on during the ceremony, which included several of them walking to each altar and flicking holy water on each one with a kind of brush made from green rice stalks braided together and blessed water in a silver pitcher, along with rice thrown on them too. This was in order to first purify the place from any evil spirits before they pray. Next, we all did a little prayer, and then the priests continued to quietly pray and do more or less the same motions again to all of the altars, while everyone else was semi attentive. The man that had collected the donations made a short announcement about how much was contributed and how much things cost and how people are asked to give a special onetime donation of $30 for a new building that is needed there. No comments were made, or complaints heard. It is up to each one to do as he understands. If the temple is important to him and the power that is there is one that is appreciated, then he will want to find a way to contribute, even in payments, as Nyoman pointed out.

The third time around, they collected little cups of water from all of the blessed altars and poured them into their silver pitchers and then came around with that holy water flicking it on each devotee and blessing them. Nyoman pointed out " first there is water for the place, and then water for you" it sounded like a simple statement, but when I thought about it, I was touched, because that really is the priority here; first to revere their surroundings and then to be blessed after having recognized that we are actually just "guests" inhabiting this place for a short lifetime The blessing of each person was done by all the priests going around among everyone as they sat, in the traditional way of putting your palms out, getting water flicked on them 3 times and each time you lick the water, and the fourth time you wipe it on the top of your head, a few more flicks of water on your head while he recites a silent prayer and then a few grains of wet raw white rice are given to each one to place on their forehead (third eye), top of the head (where the skull cap is placed in Judaism) on the tongue, throat and behind the ear and chest with the intention that all of these "openings" be with the intention of devotion to god.

As we repeated the Om santi santi OM at the end, the ending had been recognized and everyone suddenly got up and went to take their offerings back home, offering the contents to family and friends or burning them and placing it at the entrance to the temple. Nyoman made me a doggie bag which I will treat my Balinese family that I am taking into the big city tomorrow. And then I hopped on the back of the motorbike and we drove downhill again on the narrow winding forest path, passing all those less fortunate that don't have a motorbike, and walked all the way up there with their offerings by foot.

This was a typical ceremony. They occur at least once a week for some reason or another and form the framework of the Balinese lifestyle. You work if you don't have a ceremony to go to. The sweeping of the grounds all the time, is the same as the flicking of the water…all the time being attentive that the ground and me are not a place for evil spirits to play frolic, but rather a place where there has been a action of purpose towards being suitable to be inhabited by a god that brings health, security and peace.