The frenzied attacks that once shook Bali

The frenzied attacks that once shook Bali Mazlan Nordin THE SUN At stake now is its lingering reputation as an island paradise ... EXOTIC Bali is much in the news again for the wrong reason, following the recent bombings which killed 25 people and wounded some 140 others, including Indonesians. They were repeats of similar attacks three years ago which killed over 200 people, mostly foreign tourists. At stake now is its lingering reputation as an island paradise with its myriad art forms; its gamelan music, dance, shadow puppet theatre and manipulative dalang (puppet master), painting and sculpture of gods, demons and witches, kings and princesses, heroes and villains. In Tampaksising, a palace designed by the late President Sukarno stands atop a hill overlooking a lovely centuries-old temple, built according to legend, in one night by a Hindu god. Village maidens used to bathe in the temple pool. On all sides are hills of terraced rice fields and coconut palms, presenting a picture of pastoral symphony. And at night, as a peasant said it: "One can almost reach for the twinkling stars." To the palace Sukarno used to go by special flight from Jakarta, to seek inspiration for his speeches to the nation. Bali was deemed to be part of the Javanese cultural cosmos. It was said that Sukarno had been blessed with the Wahyu Chakraningrat, special powers from the gods whose wishes were commands to be obeyed without question. Questions were raised, though, during a conference in Bali organised by the Press Foundation of Asia in August 1971. It was attended by more than 110 newspaper editors and publishers from India, Japan, the Philippines, Hongkong, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Sri Lanka and Indonesia. One question in particular touched on the violence which erupted in Bali in the wake of the failed communist coup on Sept 30, 1965, which later led to the collapse of the Indonesia Communist Party and the fall of Sukarno. As recorded later in The Dark side of Paradise (Cornall University Press) by Geoffrey Robinson, Professor of History, University of California, an estimated 80,000 people or roughly 5% of the island population, died. Noting the views among academies that the political violence was "a historic aberration caused by lamentable meddling of outsiders", Robinson adds: "The massacre has often been described, for example, as the consequence of a religiosity rooted in Balinese desire to rid the island of evil and restore cosmic balance. "The frenzy with which it was carried out has been attributed to schizophrenic tendencies in the Balinese character and to a cultural predilection for going intro a trance." Question: Was it then a mass amok? Going back further to past history, Robinson refers to the Dutch colonial tendency during its rule on the island: "Dutch policy had a strong elitist element or, more precisely, a caste bias."An official decision "to uphold the caste concept, being the principle of Balinese society, gave rise to signs of frustration" among the people. One such sign was the polemic over "caste privileges" which raged in the local Malay language newspapers Surya Kanta and Bali Adnyana in the 1920s." Of interest is the explanation in the footnote: "Strangely, the editors did not question the use of the Malay language as the medium for articulating this debate: their own paper was written entirely in Malay. "It was the Dutch who, some years later, struck upon the idea of shifting the language of discourse to Balinese." As the cliche goes, so much water has flowed under the bridge since then. Blamed now for the bombings of tourist areas in Bali is the Jemaah Islamiah, said to be an ally of Al Qaeda in this region. Another question: Who then is the dalang? Foreign pressures exerted on Indonesia to ban the movement have been set aside because of its positive contribution in education, philanthropy and other areas among the rakyat. To all of which might be added A Poet's Lament from Rendra, the renowned Indonesian poet. Some excerpts: Oh God Most Merciful As I write this poem, the rain is falling and the night is all around me Bamboo bushes shake in the darkness, and large rain drops rush at my window, bringing new life and coolness to the earth Oh Allah, I see the greatness of the primordial world and all its secrets spread out before me. How great You are, How beautiful You are Then, suddenly, I am shocked. I can see the trees in the forests of Borneo dripping blood The patchouli gardens in Aceh, with flowers shaped like bleeding wounds The waves of the ocean around Ambon turning red and becoming tongues of fire Tonight I do not hear insects singing I do not hear the birds calling to each other I hear only the rhythmic sound of the rain, formed into patterns from time to time as the wind beats on the window and the leaves of the trees And the sad cry of a wounded birdof-paradise, caught in the branches of a tree in the forests of West New Guinea Allah, I can no longer write about the beauty of the world The words in the philosophy books scattered across my table turn into severed heads Images of warm and friendly villages turn into uncertainty, as they surrender their faith and soul to slander As they lose their self-confidence Allah, our faith and soul as a people lie in tatters, spin in the whirlwind, and finally become the rubbish left behind by history. (Translated by Harry Aveling). Composed by Rendra in his village of Kampung Rawa exactly a year after the end of Suharto's 32-year rule in 1998, the poem carries a cautionary tale.