Cembengan at PG Madukismo

Yesterday (24 April) I attended parts of the Cembengan ritual celebration at Pabrik Gula Madukismo, a factor that processes sugar and spiritus (a kind of alcohol) located in Bantul, on the outskirts of Yogyakarta, just south of the ring road. The factory is in fact owned by the kraton, but Cembengan is very much a rakyat affair, and a legacy of colonialism.

The ritual is meant to insure a good harvest of sugar cane and the proper functioning of equipment in the processing (gilingan) into refined sugar. A sugar cane bride and groom are symbolically married, a buffalo head is decorated and buried near the factory, various offerings (including flowers and burnt honey) are given and prayers in Javanese and Arabic offered. Various performances also happen before or after the ritual. A machinist I spoke to said the ritual appeases spirits of the land associated with rice plants and disturbed by the transformation of sawah to sugar fields. My colleague Wisma Nugraha Christianto describes this ritual (known by different names in other parts of Java) as a conscious effort of Dutch colonials to insure that Javanese workers invested in their work, treated the machines (which were given lofty Javanese names) with respect and were conscientious and docile labourers.

Madukismo has only been operating since the 1950s but the ritual of cembengan is very much alive. The factory is one of the largest in Java, with over 500 permanent employees (and a larger number of seasonal labourers) producing 40,000 tons of sugar annually.

This year there was a lively pasar malam complete with stands (where I purchased a copy of an Enthus Susmono VCD) and a ferris wheel, various cultural performances (ketoprak, wayang kulit, campursari, band) staged over a period of 4 or 5 days and a festive procession. I attend the start of the procession, which featured a number of floats on agricultural themes, a small jathilan troupe, a colonial army marching platoon with gongs and drums, a host of people in Javanese costumes and so on. One of the participants spoke with pride about how the buffalo head is decorated in HIS village before being transported to the factory. There was a real sense of popular participation.

The wayang performance by Seno Nugroho (Yogya's most popular puppeteer) was a major event. Invited guests sat in rows of folding chairs underneath a canopy. Behind the screen there was a buffet dinner for them. Thousands watched the wayang from a distance and on large projection screens. I was tired and only managed to stay until the end of the Limbukan (which ended after 12 midnight!). In the opening jejer Duryudana spoke with force against the inadequacy of his senior advisors - blaming Astina's problems on their ineptness and holding up Amarta as a model of development. One sensed behind his words Seno's passion for reform and justice. But the audience seemed more interested in the Limbukan. One of the nicest moments was an interaction between Seno and his own daughter - a sinden-in-training who sung one song. They joked about her payment for participation. There was clearly lots of affection there, and also the hint that she was more than just her father's daughter but also an aspiring artist.

'Sum: Cerita dari Rantau' at Teater Garasi

Last night (23 April 2009) I was invited to attend a dress rehearsal for Sum: Cerita dari Rantau (Sum: A Story of a Journey), a 40-minute solo monologue by Teater Garasi actress B. Verry Handayani in collaboration with writers Andri Nur Latif and Joned Suryatmoko. The play concerns Sum, a TKW (Indonesian female worker) from Indramayu who was physically and sexually abused in Saudi Arabia, and also relates the experience of other TKW in Malaysia, Korea, Hong Kong and elsewhere. Supported by a number of LSM (non-governmental agencies), the work toured around Yogyakarta in 2008 and is being remounted for a tour around rural Java, including Indramayu. It is a work of documentary theatre, based on interviews conducted by the actress herself. Photos of TKW (not necessarily ones of the women depicted in the play) adorned the set, as did newspaper clippings on the topic of TKW.

Verry proved to be a very capable mimic, assuming a variety of postures and accents ranging from an elderly relative of Sum (speaking in a mixture of Cirebon Javanese and Indonesian) to a pompous airport official on why TKW need to have their own arrival terminal in Jakarta. This was interspersed with commentary in her own voice, and a few moments of audience interaction. A live guitar provided musical accompaniment.

The LSM connected to the project are concerned that TKW often depart without full knowledge of working conditions and the hazards they face as vulnerable, isolated women. After one of the Yogyakarta performances, a woman told Verry that the performance had moved her to reconsider her decision to be a TKW. After each performance, there will be a chance for the Teater Garasi team to dialogue with spectators and reps from the LSM or local government will assist with questions.

The portrait of Sum was perhaps not as psychologically nuanced as desired, but the work raises important sociological problems. After the rehearsal, one of the Garasi members watching wondered how it would play to a pesantren audience. Would devout Muslims feel affronted by the depiction of Saudi violence? And how might this stage work be channelled into meaningful social action?

Gamelan Buskers

Yogya has a long history of busking musicians - guitar players on Malioboro, siteran on Prawirotaman and the like - which has provoked some comment from ethnomusicologists. Yesterday (23 April 2009) as I was coming back home to Miliran after picking up Hannah, I was surprised by the sounds of a small gamelan on the streets. It was a busking outfit - consisting precisely of two male musicians, a kendang player (who also sung a melody) and a saron player, probably the smallest unit that might legitimely be called a gamelan. I stopped them and asked how much it cost to get them to do a melody so that I might photograph them. The kendang player answered 'seiklase' (whatever you wish to donate) and promptly launched into a piece. Possibly this was their only piece - it was the same song they were playing as they arrived, and the one they played as they left. A different relation existed than with siteran players. There was no suggestion that they would like to sit down as they played, no hint that possibly I might request a song. They showed little enthusiasm for the work (and it was work for them, not personal expression) but they were competent musicians. I shot a 2 minute video of their playing with my digital camera, something perhaps to be used for teaching or lecturing at a later date. Sadly, I didn't get their names.

Makutharama by Surwedi

I spent a long weekend (18-20 April) visiting the fieldsite of Bp. Wisma Nugraha Christianto. Pak Christ, a lecturer in Sastra Nusantara at UGM, is working on his PhD on eastern Javanese ayang kulit with a focus on the arts management of Ki Surwedi (b. 1964), one of the province's most admired puppeteers. We saw Ki Surwedi perform on 18 April at a hajatan in Gresik, and spent most of 19 April and the morning of 20 April in his company.

Ki Surwedi, who owns three sets of puppets (2 in East Javanese and 1 in Solonese style) performs in a mixture of Solonese and Surabaya style. We arrived as the ngremo dance - performed by two rather solidly built women in male costume and pencilled mustaches - was going on. This, according to Surwedi, is a modernized (garapan) version of this dance, choreographed in Malang. The dancers alternated singing poetic verses (parikan) with movement. Normally, according to Pak Christ, they dance on a separate panggung (stage) but as the hajatan took place in a densely inhabitted perumahan (housing complex) there wasn't space for this, and they performed on a small stage extension in back of the gamelan.

Then followed the main performance of the classic lakon Makutharama. Surwedi began with a mantra or kidung, removed Semar and Bagong from behind three kayons, and then launched into an opening jejer.

The lakon was a very condensed version of the standard story - a wahyu was announced as falling in the mountains of Astina, various parties vie for it, Arjuna wins the divine favour, which turns out to be in the form of sage advice. There was a brief Limbukan (an innovation introduced from Solo in the 1990s) and a longer goro-goro (also a Solonese import), both with a campur sari band mixed with gamelan. (Suwendi explained that while the dancers, gamelan players and sinden are regular members of his crew, he hires in campursari as he is convinced this is a passing fad and doesn't want to take permanent responsibility for the musicians.) I found some of the Solonese material to be uninteresting - but really enjoyed the lively music accompanying battle scenes and the banter of the punakawan in the quickly moving scenes after the goro-goro. Movement was interesting too - with more emphasis on dance than in Yogya or Solo.

A highly intimate atmosphere prevailed throughout the performance. Rather than rows of seats, there were rows of tables where people sat (and came and went) throughout the night. Food was offered (a whole cow's worth of meat was purchased for the hajatan), the host offered many kind words while at the same time being respectful of our desire to watch the show.

Pak Christ has been investigating how Ki Surwedi maintains a network of followers and supporters and a reasonable price (about 5 million rupiah - exclusive of camursari and soundspeakers) for his shows. One of the ways he does this is maintaining excellent social relations among fans - encouraging arisan to hire him; meeting with fans in 'perkebunan' (gardens) before shows rather than arriving just in time to perform or hanging out in hosts' houses; drinking together with fans and friends; opening his house/sanggar to all to play gamelan etc.

Surwedi understands wayang to be under attack by Islamic modernism and is convinced that as long as kepercayaan (belief in supernatural forces) is strong, wayang will exist. I found him outspoken, intelligent (he started two S1 programmes but didn't complete either) and resourceful - very much in tune with his 'market' and able to react to new interests and demands.

Anoman Duta

Last night (11 April) I attended the monthly wayang kulit performance at Sasono Hinggil, a large hall in the southern alun-alun. These all night performances (lasting til 4am), sponsored by a variety of agencies, are broadcast live on RIR Yogyakarta. Admission is ticketed (8000 rupiah for first class seats and 6000 for second).

This year Sasono Hinggil is hosting a Ramayana series, with different dalang performing every month.

Last night Ki Hadi Sutikno presented Anoman Duta (Anoman, the Envoy). The alun-alun is very lively on Saturday nights, with lots of young people on motorcycles eating and drinking at warung. But Tikno does not have a huge reputation and the hall was perhaps half-full

While the puppets and keprakan were Yogya style, many of Tikno's sulukan and other aspects were Solonese. The wayang was very classical - following a traditional structure (Limbuk and Cangik even stood in front of the gapura as Rama went inside) and using customary language. Puppet movement was controlled and precise rather than strong or flashy. Tanceban were particularly elegant - and there was a nice use of shaking to bring life to arm and body movements.

Hadi Sutikno won the prize as best Yogya dalang at the wayang festival in December 2008, and while there was little in the way of excitement or passion (even Rahwana systematically asked his siblings and courtiers one by one to support his interest in Sinta), the storyline was clear and there were some nice dramatic touches. (I liked particularly the binding of Anoman by Indrajit.)

Also present at last night's show were Ki Enthus Susmono (plus entourage), Ki Seno Nugroho, Toro (Tikno's son) and his family. A number of Yogya dalang were keen to talk with Enthus, and a free-wheeling discussion was held for the whole of the goro-goro section in an adjacent hall/warung.

Topeng Monyet

Itinerant troupes of the monkey show or topeng monyet, also known locally as ledhek kethek, continue to roam the streets of Yogyakarta. I hired a company of one trainer plus monkey today as an entertainment for my daughter, and a chance to compare the show today with the shows I regularly sponsored between 1988 and 2002.

The acts were much the same as before - carrying various props, putting on a reog mask - but the showman, a young man named Pariyana, did not utter any of the customary narration, and instead sung a wordless melody as he pounded on his drum.

The tricks were much simpler too - no acrobatics from the monkey - but there was much more physical contact between the monkey and me (as the adult) - a wink from the showman indicated that this was part of the show, and that there was no physical danger involved. (The last time my daughter watched the show the pattern was similar - with a different sponsoring adult being targeted.)

The fee - 6000 rupiah - was similar to the past - but the audience (three young girls watching outside our fence plus my daughter and me) much smaller.

Quo vadis topeng monyet?

Ramayana Ballet

My visiting professor friend provided me the excuse and motivation to make the trip out to Prambanan to see the Ramayana Ballet on Tuesday night (7 April 2009). I last saw this sendratari more about 20 years ago (if memory serves)- the ballet itself, a national project initiated by President Sukarno, has been running since 1961. We saw the so-called full version, all episodes condensed into a single 2 hour dance drama. (It is also performed over 3 or 4 nights.)

Dancing remains at a reasonably high level. Costumes are fresh. Blocking is clean. The temple backdrop remains stunning. And particularly the garepan for gamelan is lovely - dramatically exciting, precise, and supportive of the story.

Most of the audience the night we attended seeemed to be school kids from Jakarta on a study tour. They arrived in buses and left a huge mess outside the theatre (remnants of nasi kotak) . They received a long talk in Indonesian before the show about the Ramayana, and were generally well-behaved for the duration of the performance.

Some of the highlights for me included Marica (a lovely Cakil dancer - energetic and humorous), the golden deer (great choreography, imaginative costume, lithe execution), the burning of Alengka (the close of Act I - we could feel the heat as the straw structures erected at the back of the stage caught fire), the dismemberment of Kumbakarna. The arrow shooting (not always perfectly accurate) felt a bit gimmicky to me - I would have preferred something more symbolic. My daughter Hannah felt a bit let down about Jatayu - the dancer was bird-like but I think more work could be done on this to give the bird's flight majesty and grandeur. Rahwana was bit overweight (almost as big as Kumbakarna) but was energetic, proud, vain - a really convincing despot. Rama, Sinta and Laksmana were all a bit empty as characters, and Hanoman received very little time on stage. It is nice to see local children performing as monkeys but their antics could have been more humorous and varied.

All in all a very entertaining spectacle that presents the tale in a succinct but not watered-down form. My daughter Hannah, who knows the Ramayana well after assisting me in a 12 hour version I performed at the British Library last spring, said she'd now like to read the epic. And I think other children present might also be inspired to learn more.