SAKENAN FESTIVAL ON TURTLE ISLAND
IN THE AGE OF DEVELOPMENT
he
ancient temple Pura Sakenan on Turtle Island is one of the
holiest on Bali. Perched on a picturesque promonontory on the small
island's northern tip, the complex of pagodas, towering shrines and
ancient trees has been a worshipping site since at least the 10th century,
when the Kingdom of Dalem Kesari in Belanjong, South Sanur ruled the
coastal waters. The present temple was built by Dang Hyang Niratha,
the priest-architect who introduced classic Javanese-Hinduism to Bali
in the early 15th century. Pura Luhur at Uluwatu was built
at the same time, in the same style, using the same coral material and
it was here that Niratha achieved moksa, oneness with the godhead,
in a magic ball of fire.
The
Pura Sakenan temple festival has always been a main event on
South Bali's religious calender. For the pious it is an important pilgrimage
: for teenagers it is a dating place par excellence (above
the din of screaming priests one could always discern the gentle rub
of lurex on lurex).
As most of the gods of the coastal temples between Sanur and Kuta are descended from Ratu Dalem Sakenan, the mighty god of the Sakenan temple, the sight of multi-hued processions ferrying gods and gamelan to the island, gliding through the moonlit mangroves on brightly-painted boats, has long been one of the most poetic on the island. The South Bali Villages with pagoda shrines on the island traditionally send their gods, gamelans and devotees on the Friday afternoon, the eve of Hari Raya Kuningan, the most 'golden' day of the ceremonial season. These villages provide the priests and support services for the pilgrims who arrive in the tens of thousands on Kuningan Saturday : in exchange the royal families of these villages are each awarded a piece of land just outside the temple's walls on which to camp.
The climax of the three day event is the Saturday night ODALAN (festival) when the temple, deserted of day-trippers, devotees asleep under festooned pagodas, celebrates with wildly, truly, madly Bali dances and wierd trance rituals.
27th
September 1997, Hari Raya Kuningan, the first Sakenan Festival since
the new causeway connecting the Turtle Island Development Corporation
to the mainland
n
1990 I met Edwin Suryajaya, heir to the Indonesian company that markets
Toyota, at a Batujimbar party. He said, rather cockily, that "he
had plans to turn turtle island into an integrated resort". Breathlessly
I explained the magic and significance of the Sakenan festival to the
South Balinese as I watched his eyes glaze over with indifference.
"We'll move the temple" he chirped (within six months his bank had folded and ASTRA corporation, the country's oldest and biggest family-run empire, was on its knees, never to recover).
Over the past fews years I've recorded in my column the various milestones in the selling of Sakenan and have over the past 18 months slept with the hum of the giant dredger a perpetual reminder of the developers' march against the truly romantic and the unique. In Jakarta one smoggy day I met a brace of brash Brisbane architects who had just completed a sunshine coast clone masterplan : I gave them the sign of the cross, cursed their rickshaw and was off.
Tonight
I approached the bright lights of the temple festival reflected in the
tidal flats with severe trepidation. Chaos reigned in the new carpark.
There was no recognition at the ticket booth. Dutifully I trudged around
the new "Bay of Capri", past the grave of the red sand beach
(soon to be South East Asia's longest mall) where Bali's witch masks
have traditionally been "empowered" (with other-worldly life
force), and into the temple grounds ....... where all was in place,
in form and in the mood. In fact never has the temple looked more beautiful
and the festival been fashioned more fierce. Over the evening there
were more air-borne priests, spread-eagled, nostrils-flaring, and more
pendet dancers tripping the light fantastic than ever before. Among
the dancers were priests and priestess, young and old from the thirty
temples that 'support' Sakenan : for an hour they wove around the temple's
grassy inner court carrying sandalwood burners and tall woven offerings,
showing off their snake hip wiggles and 'free programme' antics as the
shrines were one by one given their six-monthly waft and 'cleanse'.
After the quirkish pendet performance a 'circle' of priests formed in front of the seven-tiered meru to the god of holy Mt. Agung. While a mask dance entertained the audience of revellers, shrieking with mirth in one corner of the temple, the priests gathered for the most solemn 'kedatengan' (lit. 'arrival') ritual. One by one the gods of the holiest temples of the land descended into the entranced priest's bodies: the god-in-priest of Ratu Mayun of Kepaon, 'grandson' of the god of Sakenan, soon raced off to his pagoda adjacent the magic circle, only to be appeased by a mouthful of incense sticks, a bottle of "Fire" brand arak and a choir of youths chanting an ancient pre-hindu hymm. A grandstand of all stars shrieked and swooned as the god of Uluwatu spate his siblings in full cry; two ancient androgynes in nefertitti night-gowns battled it out on the 'padang'. Bevies of beauties fanned the flames.
It
was an incredible night : of contrasts and contradictions : the mask
dancers making an impassioned plea for respect for the environment as
the multitudes rained plastic cups on the land fill; the blue laser
from the fake Mt. Agung at the new TAMAN
FESTIVAL theme park slashed across the night sky as the god of the
real Mt. Agung hosted the best trance circle in living memory. To cap
the evening Nyoman Wisura, son of the great composer, Nyoman Kaler of
Mogan, danced the frenzied spooky RANGDA witch dance at 2 a.m. as lovers
and exhausted priests claimed their nocturnal nests under the pagoda
shrines.
Next year will be very different. With the causeway proven accessible the devotees will be numbered in the hundreds not tens of thousands. The whole festival will be stage-managed by a battalion of priests with walkie-talkies and tourists in hot pants will be flung down the steps (probably by me). The contribution box will be burgeoning, the feud between the families which traditionally run the festival will move into hyperspace and artshops will line the approach. The traditional sunset retreat - miles of devotees, umbrellas and shoulder-borne god effigies threading west through the tidal flats - may be gone forever and, for most of the year, the picturesque temple just a back drop for lateral condominia.
But in Bali, you can't keep a good show down.
Love as long as your Visa lasts, and beyond...
This month the Stranger looks at the Balinese tradition, now prevalent in the palaces, for taking european wives:
....... the Balinese culture is sustained - nay - the Balinese thrive on these palace mega-events where high style, logistic prowess and feudal fervor are doled out in equally generous portions ...............
Farewell my Lovely: an obituary.
Little Agung is dead, murdered in a village mêlée on Christmas Eve. The December pin-up boy who never made it to the end of his month, was to be married on January 1, now the date for his cremation.
Simple Pleasures: Head for the Hills.
What a relief to have Bali back to the gentle pace of yesteryear. No megaprojects pounding the earth, the world's tallest Garuda is on hold and the dredge at Turtle Island has been turned off.
Royal Cremation
for Jero Bongkasa, May 1997
The full-scale royal cremation of the Prince of Bongkasa,
I Gusti Agung Gede Oka, on the 18th of May, 1997, was a magnificent
affair. Family in white, guests in black, and battallions of war veterans
in the peacock colours of their regiments.
Jero Dalem
Kepaon, June 1997
My balinese mum's trusted lady-in-waiting, admiredby all
the village for never having missed a day's temple duty in 60 years.
R.I.P
for K'tut Tantri, August 1997
Ketut Tantri, a Scottish-born American woman, and the author
of Revolt in Paradise, was Bali's most notorious Stranger.
Nothing
if Not Practical - Burning Bodies and Batteries in Space Age Bali
"El Nino, El Dorado and Elle Mac Pherson" &SHY may sum
up the hysteria of these uncertain times &SHY but the Balinese go
on with their ceremonies and devotions oblivious to rising collossii
and camel parks.