Zeynep Oral's Books:



In Bali everyone is smiling all the time. But when they are talking to children, if they have babies in their arms or at their backs, their faces smile more…

I had watched the fishermen returning from fishing in the north of Bali, in Amed Village. This was a ritual.

Now I am going to another ritual.

Everywhere is pitch black. It is not even twilight. This has to be done in the dark, without any one seeing it. And it happens such… Only the men and the male children of the family, sometime near midnight, leave their homes. They walkand walk and walk… As they walk, they became fully awake. They have to be awake. The job they are going to do will need their full attention. They arrive at a field-like area. They spread out. They start working with the pickaxes and shovels that they are carrying.

They are digging graves.

They dig and dig… Everyone helps each other… They take their parents' bones from the soil, parents who have died three years ago, one year ago, a few months or a few weeks ago. They take all the bones, one by one, from the soil very attentively, very carefully. They shake the bones. They clean the soil from the bones…

It is not a shame to be poor. It is not a crime that they could not free their parents' spirits until now. They could not cremate these corpses because they were poor. Instead they had to bury the bodies.

A cremation ceremony is very expensive. Families could save up for a cremation ceremony for three years, three months or pay for it right away. Some of them could never hope to save that kind of money. But this time, a rich person in the village, a charitable rich person, while holding a ceremony for his loved one, told the poor people of the village, "Let's put yours in the ceremony too." That is a very good thing, and much appreciated. Because everyone knows that if a corpse is not cremated, and the ashes scattered over the water, the spirit of the dead person will never be freed, will not be able to cross over to the next life.

That night the bones taken out of the soil are brought to the homes. The bones are decorated, blessed with flowers, fruits, perfumes, prayers and offerings. Now the sun can rise.

The sun rises.

In another home a mother's body that died three days ago is censed with chemicals, oils, flowers, perfumes, made ready.

By sunrise, the corpse is wrapped in a sheet with her best clothes and valuables. They are rich. They do not need to save money for the ceremony. They can have it right away.

The sun has risen.

It is seven in the morning and I am in Boruan Village between Tablin Lake and Batukaru Mountain, inland on Bali Island.

A gamelan orchestra is placed at one end of the main street of the village. Gamelan is a traditional instrument played by hitting metal pieces with wooden sticks. The orchestra is made up of close to twenty people…

There is another orchestra at the other end of the street. That one is more crowded. Assorted drums form this second orchestra. Some drums are so huge that six people can hardly carry them. Both orchestras have uniforms. In one of them has everyone in red and the other has everyone in black.

In between the two orchestras, village people are lined up along the road. The women are wearing dark colored lace shirts. The lace is transparent; the lace is perforated. The nakedness of the flesh, of the body, is in magnificent harmony with the provocative "sarong" they wrap from the waist down…

When the orchestras start the music, everyone leaves their houses. Women start bringing the offerings back and forth between their homes and the street, offerings in layers, made from fruits, flowers and leaves. And the men bring out a throne of six or seven stories made of canes. On top of the throne there are colorful umbrellas, colorful ribbons, colorful silks, satins, batiks… statues, animal statues (mostly dragons and bulls), masks and lots of flowers and fruits rise to the top in the front, back, left and right of the throne…

Everyone is bubbling over, merrily laughing, talking, having heart-to-heart chats and trying to explain something to me. Babies are wrapped up on their backs, children entreating… One orchestra stops and the other one starts. Village people sometimes accompany one orchestra, sometimes the other. While this is happening, all eyes are turned to the house of the dead person…

After a while (one to two hours later), the door of the dead person's house opens. A waving in the crowd starts… Five to six men (sons of the dead person) bring out the corpse wrapped in a white sheet. High ladders are brought out… They place the dead body wrapped in the white sheet at the top of the throne, climbing up the ladder. (It is hard work; the sheet slips, and the ladder does not stay straight!) The edge of the sheet cascades down and onto the street, meters long. Maybe one hundred people grab the edges, one corner of the sheet.

Then, with the body on the top of it, that throne is raised to the air over the shoulders. With the accompaniment of the music, with hurray cries, the throne over the shoulders is hurling from one side to the other, hovering in place; with the movement gaining velocity, it is jumping out onto the people waiting on the side of the road. People are running away with laughter (and me with fear), not to get crushed. The throne over the shoulders, the body over the throne is spinning and spinning, drums and gamelans are playing; music, laughter and songs are getting louder…

A little later, they explain: This hovering is to confuse the spirit of the dead of its direction so it will not try to return to the house…

Then everything settles down and the marching starts. At the very front is the orchestra formed by drums… The seven story colorful throne with the body on the top is behind it… The people carrying the throne are underneath… The people holding the edges of the white sheet are behind the throne… The women carrying the offerings over their heads are behind the sheet holders… The people carrying food, fruits and drinks are behind the women carrying the offerings…

And the whole village (and me) is behind them… The second orchestra is behind us… We are setting off for the walk…

We pass through all the streets and leave the village. The village is left empty altogether. First we walk on a road, then dirt paths… The dirt paths end. We pass the valley, dragging ourselves through mud, and climb up a mountain. We reach a plain on top of the mountain. On the plain, first the orchestras gets settled. Foods in cauldrons and drinks are placed on another corner. Women open up their umbrellas in order not to get sunburned. Some of them stretch out on the grass, on the earth. The orchestras start playing; children start their games. It is exactly like a picnic atmosphere…