Shadow Puppet Priest

While speaking about the recent villas that have

gone up in the area, I mentioned that I heard that the family that do the shadow puppets have built a workshop a 5 minute walk from my house. Amerta said that it is his friend, and If I am interested we can go visit him tomorrow and I can learn all about the shadow puppets. Excitedly I agreed and he called him up to plan a 9 a.m. visit. I thought we were going to the new workshop but instead we drove through the forest up to his house.

When we met, I had to laugh, because, as usual, everyone here has so many "different hats" that they wear. Here was the priest that I had been sitting next to during the masked dance performance the last two days at the temple. And now I was at his home and seeing him as just a person, sitting on his little bale (free standing porch) and he is also the shadow puppet maker and performer. He didn't speak a word of English and never made any eye contact with me, and I assumed it was because I was a woman, but no matter, amerta translated all of my questions and shared all of the conversation with me during the visit.

I was surprised to slowly realize the depth of this profession. The Dalam (storyteller/puppeteer) needs to be an artist; cutting out the character from cowhide with all of the intricacies like in lacy paper cutting, painter; knowing how to paint each puppet, singer and vocal artist  that can imitate numerous voices and sounds of multiple characters, historian; knowing by heart all of the mahabarata tales to recite, since he is the only puppeteer for the whole play, and able to understand the effect of the shadow of the puppet in order to perform behind a white sheet that is lit from behind by a live fire, while two gamelon players accompany the two hour performance.

The puppets are also sold as symbols of characters you wish to strive towards, and are hung on the wall over ones bed. So even though all you seeing during a performance is the shadow, the puppets are all hand painted in the same ancient artistic style of  typical Balinese painting. If someone has changed their name, or is happy to finally have a son after many daughters, he can hire the shadow player to do a performance and then everyone is invited at 8 in the evening for the show…again quite the causal affair with people walking around and talking during the outdoor performance in someones back yard.

As we sat there chatting, he opened up the sacred chest where the puppets are kept and showed them to me. In an attempt to try and get a feel for what it is all about I found a spot of sun on the wall where we were and tried playing with them a bit. My attempt was to reach the most perfect shadow of the intricate patterns of the puppet, which was of the palace, so I held it straight on its wooden pole and played with the closeness to the wall of it to get a very exact shadow. After a few moments the priest took the same puppet and started gently shaking it so the shadow appeared very alive and excited. I laughed as I realized that my need for aesthetics had nothing to do with the inner vitality that was the essence of even a palace puppet! What was being portrayed was life, not some piece of art. The story telling was passing on life lessons from the Gods and not trying to give a pretty performance.

Villagers who were told that they need water blessed by the shadow puppet, would come to his house in order to fulfill the required ritual needed to heal someone or something. He has been a puppeteer for over 30 years and has passed on this skill to two of his sons. The older one has commercialized it and does performances for resorts and foreigners. The younger high schooler is so skilled that he has won prizes in his accomplishment of outstanding Balinese shadow puppeteer. His father, the priest, is the only official holy shadow puppeteer in the area. Amerta pointed out that I should notice the older sons voice, and how it" is from the inside". And sure enough when the older son spoke, I had to laugh at how that kind of inner resonance is necessary for the almost ventriloquistic quality needed for the many characters portrayed.

Only once the priest began wrapping up the puppets in their holy cloth and replacing them into the old chest that doubles as the stage during performances, did he start speaking in English while he held each puppet up and began to converse with me behind the guise of each character.

going shopping

I gave my corset to the grandmother here after I saw her walking around on a hot day after a ceremony at the temple,  with just a bra and sarong on, and realized that once upon a time she was young and thin….and that just like my body has widened and dropped, so has hers, and the small bra she was wearing was now big enough to just cover her nipples and not much more. I had seen her return from the ceremony and wondered how she must feel that none of her clothes fit her anymore, and she has never gone out to buy larger ones, like I have had to do upon turning 61 and being less active and my body spreading. She is so generous to me and such a lovely woman, that I figured it's easier for me to go into the city and buy another corset and blouse for the temple ceremony, than it is for her. I wasn't quite sure how I would approach this attempt of mine to get her dressed in a respectable fashion without insulting her or trying to control her. But as usual, their antennae work amazingly and things are always sychronious. Just after the thought had crossed my mind she came into my house (a rare occurrence) to bring me some hot fried banana fritters for breakfast that she had just made. I decided it was an omen and invited her into my bedroom and showed her my corset and with sign language got her to put it on on top of all of her clothes just to show her that it is an option. We struggled together to get it hooked up and zippered up and then took out my largest white kabiya (lacey temple blouse) and put that on top too and she had a look in the mirror and gave a sign of approval! I was so happy. We were like two schoolgirls playing dress up alone at home.

And now I needed a new corset! I try not to go shopping too often since it throws me into a different reality of the modern world instead of allowing me to continue as nature girl in the forest on dirt paths alone with the roosters and sea. But I walked over to the main road and caught a bemo, (vw van used for public transport) and off I went. I am becoming more and more Balinese so the odd behavior is becoming less obvious to me, since it is no longer odd, but there a still a few things that manage to surprise me still. One was that next to the driver was a woman who tried to communicate with me, but I couldn't understand the language and just smiled. 15 minutes later another woman alighted and the woman up front spoke to her also, like she did to me, and suddenly I realized there were 3 sleeping kids in the back seats behind me and that she had been asking me if I can have a look if her kids are okay. The van is probably a 1970 model and makes so much noise, that even if the child had woken up none of us would have known. And sure enough, the woman next to the back seats is suddenly lifting up a startled 3 year old and passing her over to her mother in the front sea, as her 2 sleepy looking brothers intuitively also rise their heads from the backseat to see where they are. Later an old woman climbed on board and plopped herself down on the nearest seat to the permanently open pint size door that one must crawl through in order to alight. The only problem was that a 10 year old boy was already sitting on that single seat. But for her it made no difference. I think for all Balinese it wouldn't really make a difference. It seems that being physically close or even crunches together, is perfectly fine. A kind of "we're all in this together" approach to life.

I got off at the big department store where I had bought the corset last year. It is the only place in the north of bali that a westerner, or anyone that is not a typically Balinese  petite size, can try and find a bra or girdle. I happily went over to the lingerie department confident that I would find the same corset again so that I could wear it to the ceremony in another few days. Unfortunately, they were out of my size. Not one to take no for an answer, I decided to just try squeezing my already overweight body since last year, into an even smaller size. The size A cup didn't make matters any easier. But finding a zipper corset and not just the bra hook kind at least insured that the hooks wouldn't just be pulled out of place within an hours time of use. Needless to say, trying them on in the hot small changing room with no mirror, left me struggling for about 30 minutes! I was surprised no one came to find out why I was still inside for so long with just 4 corsets to try on. Just as I went to pay for it and asked if they had the same in white, the young salesgirl said that their other store has them and even larger cup sizes!  So…off I went again to their other outlet some 15 minutes away.

As I entered the lingerie department full of optimism of finally buying a corset my size, I caught the eye of the young saleswoman and pointed to a corset and to my big breasts and asked her to give one to me please. "Oh, Sorry mame. We all out of big size."  I have gotten used to just standing there in silence when I am told that what I want is not possible. Somehow that approach seems to work magic and what was impossible a moment before, slowly becomes possible. Probably because I am so sure that if the idea came to me, it must mean that it exists in the universe, and now all I have to do is find a way of manifesting it here and now for me.

So back to the dressing room again with the same small sized one I had almost bought before, just to make sure it fits, but this time the dressing room attendant apologized and said that it is not allowed to try on the lingerie. I stood there in disbelief. And again, just stood there….partly trying to comprehend what I was going to do, and partly because it just didn't make any sense. But how do you convince someone in a language you do not speak? After a moment or two of a stalemate I decided I would just try it on in front of everyone in the department, without a changing room. I would just put it on top of all of my clothes, like I did with the grama at my house. Once I started they all joined in, trying to push and squeeze and hook and zip, all three of us, on top of my own bra and blouse at the cash register. When they realized that we weren't getting to far like that they agreed to let me go into a dressing room and try by myself.  And a few minutes later off I went with two new 38A size corsets, when I am a 40 C….okay….just imagine you are in the Victorian age and hold your breath.

Now to get back to my village. I walk out of the department store onto the main road and just assume I will find transportation. The few people I ask respond that there is no public transportation from here in the direction I want since it is one way. Wondering where to go now,  one of the bemos going in the opposite direction spots bewildered me, and as I yell out to him from across the busy road that I need the terminal, he says fine. Happily I cross the road and join the other 5 people already inside. I repeat my destination, and he agrees, but is driving in the opposite direction. I wait a while and see we are going further and further from my destination, instead of closer and closer. I again clarify where I want to go and he again reassures me, in Balinese of course, that yes, yes, he will take me there. What follows is a half hour detour in order to bring all kinds of people all kinds of places. I laughed. Good thing I wasn't in a hurry, and could just enjoy the back road tour of the city.

Once I am dropped off at "the terminal"….a fancy name for the curb on the main road in the direction I need to go, someone approaches me and asks where I am going. "Tejakula". "Yes, right here please sit down" and points to another old vw van that is empty and parked and being filled with the smoke from the burning leaves from the adjacent lot. Sitting in a suffocating smoke filled empty van and waiting for another 6 people to show up, is not what I feel like doing so I move up along the curb to a smokeless area and wait there. While I am staring into space, a man on a motorbike with a black mustached big smile stops besides me and speaks in Balinese. I smile. Didn't understand a word. He continues and gestures to his motorbike. I realize that I was actually not looking forward to another long hot noisy van ride to the village, and was day dreaming about how nice and fast it would be on a motorbike instead. So this must be my man!

I tell him "Tejakula"  "How much?" "20" (that's the price for the van…so I knew he wouldn't agree but a good starting point….$2 for a 45 minute ride)  "40". "no, 30" "40" "35" and I take out the 35,000 rupias and put it in his hand as we both continue to smile at each other. All the onlookers want to know how much he is taking to go to Tejakula. He laughingly tells them" only 35,000" …and off we go.

The bike ride is great fun….he is a good driver. The view is lovely, and a nice cool breeze. Having just learned the word for "if it is not a bother" the day before in my Indonesian lesson, I decided to take advantage of it and practice it with an idea that just came to my mind; that we will be passing by the special temple by the sea, and since the next day is a big ceremony, it is a good omen to stop and pray there today. And so using that new phrase I ask if we can make a 5 minute stop at the temple that we will soon be passing. He agrees and as he parks the motorbike and I ask him to help me off with the helmet so I can go buy a basket of flowers and incense for the offering as I pray, he is smiling his big Balinese smile.

It is like a "drive-in" temple. There is a little stall selling the flowers and incense for 20 cents, and some priests standing there under a small shaded area with a table and whoever wants to just sits right down, says the 4 short one liners with clasped hands and flower petals, and is then anointed with the holy water and off you go on your motorbike again. The part where the priests sprinkle water on you also includes dripping water onto your right hand three times and each time you sip it. I was so surprised to taste the delicious sweet flowery water at this temple. When I told my friend about it he explained to me that it is water that has stood overnight with the flowers and mantras on it and indeed has very special power. I returned to my driver and found that he too had been blessed as I saw the few wet grains of uncooked rice stuck onto his third eye symbolizing he was a witness to the blessing.

Next we stopped for gas. I wanted to show him my appreciation for stopping there for me and noticed that a woman was selling small slices of watermelon for 20 cents a slice, and bought two.  After filling up off we went again and soon I was back in my village, grateful for the angel that had offered me the motorbike ride.

Two more stops now. One to find material for a kabiya, and the other, a seamstress that will be willing to make one in only 2 days time. As I walk along a side road in the village, a big smiling face approaches me, and I realize it is one of the gamelon women I played with in the orchestra. As she babbles away to me, and me just smiling and not understanding a word, we can feel our friendship and happiness. I sign language her and baby Indonesian talk tell her that I am looking for material. Off we go a few shops down and suddenly I am in the living room of another one of my favorite gamelon women, who just happens to live right there and sells material. I am greeted by her and her 5 grown up daughters. I am so thrilled that finally I can speak English. Three of them speak fluent and are very kind and helpful and happy to meet and host me. I pick out a lovely white lace material and am then wisked off to their seamstress that will only take $5 to sew it for me. As we walk through the narrow winding paths of the village, we suddenly turn into a long narrow entrance way that brings me to a third gamelon woman friend! She is the seamstress. I am so happy! Finally I have found trustworthy kind helpful friends that I don't have to be on guard that they are trying to get more out of me just because I am a tourist. I always thought she is a rather plain looking older woman, non descript. But suddenly with her waist length black hair let down, instead of in a bun, she looks so exotic and beautiful. We smile, she quickly puts her hair in a bun and begins to measure me. I am surprised that she takes measurements of bust, hip, length, arms, and waist, in a minute, and only later takes out a notebook and jots down the numbers. How she remembered them all I have no idea. And then I am off again, invited to pick up the finished product just in time for the holiday celebration.

I love the way it all works out in the end…..how all the right people show up at the perfect time and my wishes come true.

Together and Alone and Finding meaning

My day unfolds in a satisfying way for me. I am awoken by some force just in time to go to the marketplace . The dark sky at 4:30 feels safe and gives a sense of morning and not evening. The road is still quiet except for a few others walking to the market and some trucks now and then. I like the market at this hour…not too full of people, but full of fresh produce and fish and flowers. Shopping in the dark gives it a special feeling, as if hidden, in another world. After returning home and putting the purchases away it is just before the first light of dawn and the short walk through the forest to the sea  is like a passageway to the new day. All of the roosters, dogs, cows pigs and birds are singing out announcing the new day in joyful harmony.The shore is empty of people and perfect in its' natural state.  There I sit and enjoy the colors of the clouds, the sea, the rising sun and the fishing boats coming or going. Each morning the shore offers me different choices of seating  arrangements; sometimes on the sand, or on a big rock or on the leaves, or a tree trunk…depending on the tide from the night before. After meditating and doing qigong with the strong and full energy of this place I am ready to return home and start the day in the house. I have had 4-5 hours of my quiet time alone. I put the rice up to cook and sweep the house and take a shower. I cut a small part of banana leaf in order to prepare the 18 rice offerings that I will place around the surroundings in gratitude and recognition of the nourishment we receive each day in order to come closer to serving god.

Making the rounds throughout the house and on the grounds gives the alone time I need for giving attention and intention to each area that nourishes us; in the kitchen the fire, water, rice. In the bedrooms; a good nights sleep. In the clinic; the nourishment received by being a channel for healing others and supporting the family. In the living room the nourishment of our togetherness. Outside; the nourishment from the symbolic altar and the connection with a loving higher power.

Sitting down with fresh papaya from the neighbors' tree afterwards is a satisfying and pleasurable breakfast. Then whatever I have for the day; into the village to arrange or buy something, or help out with broom making, or preparing offering items…a time of handicrafts and creativity and peace.

 By now I am ready to prepare a hot meal of rice, tofu, and some vegetables along with nice spicy sambal. The food is delicious. I love it. The chili peppers, eggs, coconut oil, coconut, and some of the spices, comes straight from the garden. It takes a few minutes to stir fry or steam the food and then I sit out on the porch eating with my fingers the food in my bowl as I look out at the flowering trees, grass, and fruit trees that surround the house.

  By now the kids are around and it is time to play, laugh, have some fun either making mandalas on the floor on the porch, or playing with plastilina, or any other creative endeavors that arise. Their happiness and original ideas always surprise me. It is a pleasure to spend time with them. Slowly I am filling in the space of their mother who no longer lives with them. It is nothing I would be able to replace but in spite of limited verbal communication, our mutual love for each other nourishes all of us. It is a joy to spend time hoola hooping by the sea, walking through the forest, making snacks, collecting glass shards and shells, or whatever. Sometimes we even prepare the offerings together with them collecting the flowers from the garden and helping make the little banana leaf cups that are then filled with the flowers.  I love watching how they mimic their mother and father, as they have witnessed them doing these actions for years.

And then it is again time to sweep the house, take a shower (which is actually just pouring cold water from a big plastic cup onto me in the tiled bathroom. So refreshing and simple. Then again making the rounds of the offerings to give thanks for a day lived in peace,, health and harmony.

Amen.

my payment

I just had a conversation with my friend who has just divorced his wife of 16 years because of her adultery. He is raising their three children alone. He explained to me that he believes this is payment for faults he committed in a "different season of his life" in a former incarnation, that were from the dark side of life. So now he must pay for that, and if he can remain calm and patient and grateful for what he has, and do his best, he may be able not to have to be reincarnated again, but will be One with God when he dies.

I am amazed how strict and disciplined he is and together with that very loving and caring. How is it that he doesn't feel like a victim working a whole day and then having to take care of children and a household alone? What does he do to find the strength to continue day after day?

"Time makes the difference. As the time passes it becomes easier. Now it is only 7 months since it happened that I came into our bedroom and saw her with another man. It is the mind that tries to play tricks on me and makes an endless movie again and again of that scene whenever I lay down to sleep. The emotions have calmed down already but the insomnia is difficult for all of this time. It is easier just to keep busy and water the garden or pet my dog, rather than lay in bed and be inundated with the painful mind. But I know that as time passes it becomes easier. And I try and just remember that I must take care of my children."

"if I am a "6" then if I look to one side of me there are people who are 5,4, 3, 2…so being a 6 is good for me. If I look to the other side maybe there are people with 7,8,9, 10 and then I feel not so good. So I try to be grateful that there are people that are worse off than me; physically and to realize how lucky I am that I am not so ugly, and my body is strong and healthy. And all I ever have to remember is that this is from another "season" of life that I don't remember, and that everything is just as it should be."