multi sensory

the other day i had just returned from the temple with 1000 people, they had all come to pray and see the masked dance performance of the Ramayana tale, that is performed twice a year. it is the 5th time i have seen them perform. it is still just one huge multi sensory experience that is hard to describe, but i will try my best.

first there is a temple, which is a big courtyard where women bring offerings with incense sticks burning in them as they place them on the altar so the priests can bless them. then they sit down on the ground, randomly, but pretty squished together in kind of rows, in order to pray. the priest is ringing his bell and chanting, at least one gamelon orchestra of 20 some instruments is playing non stop, a man is singing chants of praise into a microphone, everyone has lit an incense stick and stuck it in the ground in front of them ( without burning the persons shirt or sarong that is sitting an inch away from you), and random acts of clasped hands in prayer are being made by everyone of all ages as they take a flower petal from the small bundle they all have for praying with. there is no real beginning to it all, people coming and going non- stop, and joining in pretty much at any moment, as long as the priest has not said the final blessing of "om, shanti shanti, shanti om" at which time there is total pandemonium as the women walk forward again to the altars to retrieve their blessed offerings and place them on their heads, while the rest of the family is pouring out the narrow entrance gate or in this case, staying to see the play.

the above scenario continued during the 2 hour long performance, in addition to some 20 men in colorful old wooden carved masks and elaborate costumes, along with the storyteller with his microphone, the actors themselves speaking at times inside the masks, 1000 people talking and moving about but pushed together like sardines as we stood to watch the play which was taking place in the middle of the courtyard with people on all 4 sides. no scenery, no backstage, with the actors entering and exiting somehow from amongst the jam packed crowds, the music was now the main element for the telling of the drama with a drummer and some gamelons and gongs being played by 6 men that changed every now and then when someone got up to take his child somewhere, or had to go. no one could go to the toilet, because there isn't one. non stop smoking of cigarettes, kids and people walking "on stage" if they wanted to stand next to their friend or whatever, managing not to bump into the actors as they moved about.

the priests, the praying, the crowds, the storytellers, the streets, the filing in of devotees, nothing makes any sense, and it is all just going on. i am no longer seeing the strangeness of anything....men with babies, the sounds of the music beating like a heart, people calling my name, what language are they speaking, how do i know them, they know me from gamelon, all smiling and asking where i am going...and commenting later...kids, men women, you are beautiful, the orchestra...

the first time i experienced this, i was in shock at the impossibility of what i was experiencing....how can this be going on all at once and everyone and everything is fine?! this time i decided to focus on things that i hadn't noticed before. watching the man who was the storyteller, anonymously sitting among the crowd; his facial expressions, the different voices he used, his chain smoking inbetween lines, and all known by heart, and there are 2 others there too, not far from him, mouthing word for word the story, and when he is tired, they will continue.

and this time i wanted to see who was behind those masks! who were these amazing actors, that remain anonymous? no applause, no one really cares who they are, they just want to see the well known characters of the tale acting out the story they all know by heart, but are busy filming it on their cell phones and cameras. there was even a very old man that was holding an i pad and filming the whole drama. it was so incongruous seeing him, toothless, frail, holding this modern shiny silver ipad at eye level for 2 hours, so that later at home he can watch this again and again.

i came early and decided to stand near where the actors exit so that i could watch them as they take off their masks.they were all ages, and all sweating underneath the heavy costumes and mask in the heat of the afternoon. they were all sizes and shapes. and they had all inherited the task of playing their specific role. a duty they do in service to the village. no recognition, no reimbursement, no ego. just learning minute finger and toe movements, which make up most of the character of the role they are playing. oh, the one that just took off the mask is the man that runs the photo copy shop! ah, and that one with tatoos all over his body is that young guy i saw at the video game hall. and that one looks just like the grotesque mask he is wearing! and that one has the longest fingers i have ever seen on anyone, and they are all barefoot, performing on the ground that we were just praying on.

all in all there are about 20 different things going on at the same time, and i think i am the only one that thinks this is sensory overload! i have a feeling that the balinese live in this type of intensity. they live "in the round", not in a straight, linear, frontal world, but rather 360 degrees. i kept trying to figure out how the actors would exit next to me, when we were all jam packed together without any space to move to let them pass, but suddenly they did, without a word said, just like the 10 priests just kind of floated through the 1000 devotees sitting next to each other without any space to move, and the priests just went to each devotee and sprinkled the water on him and gave him the wet rice to place on his forehead as a sign of being a "witness" to the ceremony, and smiling the whole time even though they have been doing this for 2 days straight, from early in the morning till late at night.

trying to figure out what the actors gestures mean, or what the storyteller who is reciting in an ancient language, is not even an option for me... i gave up on that...but just to see these men and who they are and how they do this, that was my true wish. and then this evening, i showed up for gamelon practice, and suddenly in the community open air hall where we practice, there was music and storytelling going on...and as i got closer i realized that the actors i had seen the day before were now here, without costumes, without masks on , rehearsing for the next performance in 3 days time. i was mesmerized. my wish had just come true! here they all were, right next to me, for me to really see what it is all about, behind the scenes, without costumes and masks and the crowds.

what surprised me most was that every single hand or foot movement was perfectly timed, known by heart, accompanied by a specific musical note. unbelievable. the raised shoulders, the growling, the aggresive actions, the drama, the fighting, the accusing, the arguing, the insults, the winners, the losers, the good, the evil, were all here. there was an outlet for these feelings...in the drama. the villagers could feel the feelings, and the actors could act them out in a safe place for all to see. and here is that hip earringed wild looking man that said hello to me at the play, and he is now one of the actors. and here is the one that had the wiry hands and feet and made those silly movements, and he is just some young guy that i probably passed on the street, again, like with the orchestra, no real director, or producer, just everyone working together, volunteering their time and energy so that the village can experience the tale. and again i realize that probably everyone i pass on the street everyday is either an actor or musician or dancer or storyteller, or whatever,,,just that they are all anonymous. there are no stars, no applause, no recognition, no autographs, no ego. and while they are rehearsing their children are imitating them on the nearby badminton court, or beating the gong in the band. and as i walk up the steps, an old man comes walking down them, imitating the dancing actors wiggling his fingers and feet in this tale that has been passed from generation to generation, without any improvisations. what did surprise me was to see a woman there, amongst all of the men, and i thought that possibly she is the one to inherit the art of it to pass on to her son, if no other son was born in the family, just so that it will not die.

after i had watched the 4 hour play that was performed over 2 days at the temple, i realized that i no longer have any sense of anything; visual, audio, time no longer existed, front, back, left right, the people driving their motorbikes on the wrong side of the road, people speaking to me in either indonesian, english, or whatever, had turned into one big multi sensory experience that had been an overload for my system in the past but this time i just became part of it all, something that is apparently normal for the balinese..