Gary LaMoshi, Denpasar – As Balinese prepare for the year 1925 on the Saka calendar, young men in every neighborhood banjar are busy building and displaying ogoh-ogoh, the colorful bamboo and papier mache demon effigies featured in celebrations leading to Nyepi, the day of silence marking the new year. Ogoh-ogoh usually portray grotesque figures with misshapen claws and fangs sprouting from monstrous faces.
On Sanur's Jalan Danau Beratan, one ogoh-ogoh depicts a dancing red demon standing three meters high. This somewhat standard ogre is perched on the shoulders of another figure: a human bearing the face of Amrozi, the first suspect taken into custody for the Bali bombings. He is shown holding bombs in each hand, with the timers reading five minutes to midnight, the moment explosions destroyed the Sari Club and Paddy's in Kuta last October 12.
Six months after the blasts, those bombs are still shaping the face of Bali.
Evil spirit The men of Banjar Buruwan, where the Amrozi ogoh-ogoh is on display, call Amrozi bhuta kala, an evil spirit. "Tourism is 80 percent of the economy," one man dressed in ceremonial garb says. The industry has been devastated by the bombings, and now, as another of the men in their matching batik sarongs, white shirts, and white udeng wrapped around their heads like bandannas, notes, by the war in Iraq. But so far, US President George W Bush hasn't joined the ranks of bhuta kala worthy of an ogoh-ogoh. "He's not popular," another Buruwan resident smiles, adding to that mouthful a further thought that could choke White House war planners: "Maybe next year." With each new year, the people of Bali hope to purge bhuta kala from the world. Ceremonies began three days before Nyepi with Melasti, a day for cleaning temples. Members of each of the island's more than 1,000 temples march in processions with their religious articles to a body of water – lake, river or ocean – to be purified by the god Baruna. The ritual objects are then returned to the temple.
The Melasti ceremonies also aim to cleanse and rejuvenate the human soul. Water sources are thought to hold the spirit of Amerta, the source of eternal life, with the power to purge sin. Melasti aims to give people, as well as religious articles, a clean start to the new year.
Demon dance
One day before Nyepi comes Tawur Kesanga. This day begins with lavish offerings at home temples specially adorned with bamboo canes to thank nature for endowing Bali so richly. Offerings include rice specially cooked in coconut leaves, chicken, and even beer and arak, the local firewater. Balinese usually believe that once an offering is made, what happens to it next is not important, making the island a virtual paradise for dogs and other critters. However, Tawur Kesanga is different; it's the one day you'll see the island's legions of dogs shooed away from offerings.
At nightfall, Ngerupuk ceremonies begin, featuring the colorful parade of ogoh-ogoh that top Western New Year's Eve spectacles. The ogoh-ogoh are placed on platforms and carried through villages and towns in a carnival atmosphere featuring gamelan music and plenty of other noise. Bamboo cannons boom as part of the clamor prescribed to drive out evil. At the end of the processions, the ogoh-ogoh are burned, symbolically destroying evil in the world
Then comes the payback: Nyepi, the day of silence. According to some interpretations, silence following the noise of Ngerupuk is meant to confuse bhuta kala. Finding the streets empty and homes quiet, perhaps they will take their evil elsewhere. Nyepi prohibits traffic, pleasure, fire, and work. Bali's Ngurah Rai International Airport shuts down for the day, and tourists are locked down in their hotels. No one is permitted on the streets, and each banjar enforces the restriction.
Points to ponder
Nyepi is supposed to be a day of meditation and reflection. This year, Balinese will have plenty to reflect on, thanks in part to Amrozi and company.
Bali has cast its lot with the god of tourism, and the bombings, like the Gulf War of 1991 and the Asian economic collapse of 1997, provided a reminder of how fickle this god can be. For example, far fewer ogoh-ogoh are evident than in previous years. Each effigy costs about Rp2.5 million (US$280) to construct, usually funded by contributions from banjar residents. People have less to give this time around. Advance bookings for the upcoming traditional high season, further hit by the war in Iraq's general impact on international travel, offer little optimism about a recovery in the near future.
Moreover, the costs of building a tourism economy include scars on the land and the way of life (though it has also fueled a revival of Balinese high culture, in part to preserve it for show). Ironically, the island famed for its rice-terrace landscapes and lush gardens now imports rice and even flowers for the offerings that decorate temples on the island and shrines in virtually every home and business. Balinese that lose their jobs in tourism often don't have a rice field to which they can return.
A Muslim from Java, Amrozi fits the Balinese stereotype that all bad things emanate from that neighboring island. Despite initial anger among Balinese and alarmist articles in some Java newspapers, there has been no backlash against Muslims in Bali; followers of Islam face more stringent monitoring and reporting requirements in the United States these days.
Bali residents asked many questions in the immediate aftermath of the explosions. After 50 years of generating enormous wealth, why doesn't Bali have a world-class hospital? Why aren't schools better than in the rest of Indonesia? Where has all of that wealth gone? How much more of the island must be destroyed to save it for tourism? Why has Jakarta had more to say about tourism development in Bali than the Balinese?
Last October, Bali's public relations and advertising agencies (whose businesses depend almost exclusively on tourism) joined arms to outline a tourism recovery plan involving media and publicity, around the "Bali Bangkit!" (Bali Revives!) slogan. Jakarta officials slapped down the effort and took control of revival efforts. Their plans emphasize domestic tourism and government meetings in Bali. One hotel manager, who asks not be identified, complains that government officials happily come to Bali, but their departments are far less happy about paying bills.
Despite the significant, visible changes due to the October 12 bombing, Jakarta is still driving the Bali tourism bus. That's something for the men of Banjar Buruwan and their compatriots to contemplate this Nyepi.