Notes from Bali

I was delighted ten days ago to receive the news that I won a small scholarship for the MBA in Corporate Social Responsibility I begin in late September. No doubt they’ll be be happy to know that I have managed to add a little to this stipend today with some small winnings in the local cockfighting festival.

Interestingly cockfighting is illegal in Bali as is gambling except on ceremonial days when the temples open their courtyards to strangely familiar biblical-like scenes of debauchery where Jesus could be imagined uprooting tables and bellowing moral rectitude. I had until today managed to avoid the cockfighting taboo but seeing as I was invited by the friendly owner of my villa and the venue was accessible via a small 10 metre alleyway behind my compound it was all to easy join the mob.

Two cocks were lined up opposite the other, each with a blade attached to their leg and held whilst their owners massaged and stimulated their feistiness in the lead up to the fight. The crowd of frenzied men placed bets and with rising boisterousness the fight began. Within two minutes and lots of flapping one cock was mortally slashed and the fight was over. Bets were squared and the cock was quickly put out of its misery, defeathered, sliced, diced and bagged ready for the owner’s dinner. There were about fifteen fights in total with people coming from far and wide with their prized cocks. Dotted around the fighting ring were  other huddles of various dice games including one which revolved around selecting the correct type of Buddha! The temple I was told got a 20% cut of everything. A true den of iniquity.

Every culture seems to need an outpouring of its baser animal nature as a natural dialectical turn, restrained most of the time in the confines of its social order. In Japan, perhaps the most ordered society in the world, the Shinto Buddhist’s have a ceremony once a year where thousands of intoxicated men, dressed in ceremonial garb, huddle in a space hardly big enough for half their number run loose, fight, make chaos and devastate the otherwise neat and tidy streets. Remarkably the following day order is returned, streets are spotless and participants are back in their suits and offices. (I guess in the West things like drugs, alcohol, football and gardening are similarly the necessary counterpoint to the drudgery of normal social reality).

In a different way from Japan, Balinese culture is also one of the most methodical systems of social and religious order on earth. An intricate arrangement of tasks, roles, ceremonies and customs hold each Balinese person within a cultural lattice created by the unique blend of Hinduism superimposed over the immense rice-growing agricultural society which thrives by collective co-operation. Each village has a Banjar (an organization that administers, through consensus, the political, economic, agricultural and religious decisions) and the well-being of the collective is considered far more important than that of the individual’s. Within this matrix, religious ceremonies are of utmost importance. Life is a constant cycle of ceremonies and offerings and whether in my compound or when visiting a village, women seem to spend most over their time either preparing for a ceremony, participating in a ceremony or cleaning up after a ceremony. Moreover, everything must be performed in the correct order or the cosmos will fall out of equilibrium. Offerings (consisting of flower and stacked fruit offerings) are performed five times a day and likewise there are ceremonies that run on weekly, yearly, ten year and hundred year bases. There are also only four names in Bali: Wayan, Made, Nyoman and Ketut for both men and women. They mean first, second, third and fourth respectively with a fifth child starting the cycle again. The ethos to be maintained is that of order and balance, which is depicted in much of the art here. The Balinese organise how things go to keep them from falling apart. Perhaps cocks are a vital part. Not only do they wake everyone up for the daily routine but also allow the Balinese to vicariously displace their violence, competitiveness and anger not otherwise allowed.

In seeking my own balance I have tried to blend weekly work in Ubud with weekend road trips too see more of the island. Recently, I went to meet Tjokorda Gede Rai, considered one of the most skilled healers in Bali.  At 78, he is the grandson of the last King of Ubud. To the western scientific mind an ancient wisdom healer is usually disregarded as a hocus-pocus swizzler whose power is derived from those with a narrow fear-based worldview seeking something to believe in.

Nevertheless with open-minded curiosity I entered his compounded and headed towards a central pavilion where he was just finishing the treatment of a client by chopping up some herbs, swilling them in his mouth then carefully spitting them over different parts of the unsuspecting client’s face. When my turn came, without any pressing problem I asked for a simple “check-up”. He sat on a low chair and I lay on the floor in between his legs. He touched various meridians around the head, put his fingers in my ears and then placed his hands on several points on my back and chest and then proceeded to press some really painful areas at the temples, lower neck and shoulders before moving to the feet to poke around some further excruciating points on the toes with a crude reflexology twig. One point caused such a tremendous shudder through my body, which seemed to return to some primary sense of balance, followed by ten uncontrollable minutes of hysterical laughter. I felt great!…was it the absurdity of the whole situation?…had something actually happened?… I don’t know… it was certainly worth the $20 just for the relentless laughter which caused amusement in everyone around…After all isn’t the seriousness with which we wade through life one of the biggest cosmic jokes of all!

Of course sometimes we need to be serious but the volunteer work continues to be joy without this quality. The children are so enthusiastic – scores of kids run to greet me with book and pen in hand as I approach the village  – that it is always a wonderful, riotous occasion of learning and games. After seven weeks or so I am surprised how quickly they have picked up English and there is a sense that it will make a real difference in the choices they can make in their lives.  I am also currently  in the process of developing a curriculum to make it easier for future volunteers to pick up and continue the work and I’m looking forward to the coming weeks presentations to get other organisations to help with our upcoming apprenticeship programs for teenagers and young adults.

I’ll leave you with some pictures of the last few weeks….