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Calon Arang | |||
Calon Arang Against All Odds Butterflies of Bali Bali Sacred & Secret Vessels of Life
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A new context for an old witch First published in the Jakarta Post Sunday, 5 November 2006 Calonarang is a tale of black magic, misogyny and revenge. Calonarang is a story about a widow, a witch, a woman. Toeti Heraty Noerhadi-Rooseno, one of Indonesia's foremost feminist poets has honored the persona of Calonarang and other widows by launching the English translation of Calon Arang, The Story of a Woman Sacrificed to Patriarchy (Denpasar: Saritaksu Editions, 2006) at the Komaneka Fine Art Gallery on Jl. Monkey Forest in Ubud on Oct. 2, 2006. The launch began with a late afternoon press conference featuring Cokorda Sawitri, a well known playwright and contemporary interpreter of Calon Arang herself, Sarita Newson the publisher, Eka Budianta, a well-known essayist and executive director of Dana Mitra Lingkungan, and Dr. Gadis Arivia, the founder of Journal Perempuan and a professor of philosophy and women's studies at the University of Indonesia (UI). Each panelist had something distinctive to say about Toeti, her work or the idea of Calonarang itself. But who or what exactly is Calonarang? Calonarang was a real woman born in the 11th century. She was spurned by her husband and exiled to live in the forest with her infant daughter, Ratna Manggali. Calonarang's spite at her fate turned to fury and she wreaked havoc on her former kingdom. Plagues, pestilence and chaos ruled the land. She became extremely adept at the black arts. As her power grew, so did her daughter's beauty. But Ratna Manggali's heart broke as no man would marry her, for who wanted a Rangda (read witch) as a mother-in-law? Calonarang wept with frustration for her daughter for she did not want her to share the same fate as herself, to not have a partner to love and to cherish and to be cherished. In the story, Empu Bahula, the son of a great priest, agrees to marry Ratna Manggali in order to discover the secrets of the witch and see if he can steal her magic. They fall madly in love, but he still has to fulfill his promise to his king and steals the lontar (palm leaf manuscript) filled with the sacred spells that give Calonarang her power. This infuriates the witch and her anger knows no bounds. At the end of the story, the witch battles with a prime minister from her former court (some say Bahula), yet neither win as the balance of good and that which destroys good must always remain equal in Balinese cosmology. I remember once sitting in a temple in Bali late one night, watching a well-known dancer perform both the Barong (the "good" magic) and the Rangda (the "bad" magic) on the same evening (an oddity). Sitting next to his wife while he was performing Rangda, I asked her if she ever got frightened watching him dance the witch -- did she think he might become possessed or hit by black magic (which is something that can occur when dancing this role). Her answer surprised me. "Why should we be afraid of Rangda? She also protects us." I've always liked that. People say that Rangda is a widow as that is what the word means. Yet she is not a widow actually, but a divorcee. She is an independent woman who lives without a man, and that is a threat in any culture, much more in a patriarchal and patrilineal one like Bali. At the press conference, Budianta talked about how Toeti "is a woman, a widow, and a social-political activist". That her book "was written as a criticism of the Old and New Orders" and how it takes a powerful woman to dispel the common prejudice that women are the source of all troubles. Gadis Arivia spoke about the power of legends (written by men) and how Toeti has "transformed (Calonarang) into a heroine" by showing how women have been oppressed through the ages, using this story as a vehicle for this deconstruction. Gadis feels that Toeti uses "desire rather than thinking" in her writing; that her words are feminine/female/feminist. Cok Sawitri looks upon Toeti's interpretation as simply a piece of literature to be read and enjoyed as prose. She says that Toeti, as well as other non-Balinese who have interpreted this tale, use the above storyline whereas there are many other versions to choose from. According to Cok, when Calonarang is performed in Bali, it is a ruwatan, a pecaruan, a ritual that attempts to neutralize negative energies that are abounding in a village at that time. "The story in performance cannot be separated from its spiritual goals". The tale is a way to "show respect to the Great Mother, in this case represented by Rangda". Cok goes on to say that "Ibu Toeti is Javanese and is not referencing the historical and spiritual aspects of the story." This is a common commentary that Indonesian artists have when outsiders decide to re-interpret one of their stories. This does not diminish the power or the beauty of the work, however. Rangda is a most powerful widow. Toeti describes her as an old woman and challenges her readers: "Do you know what it is like to be a widow? Do you know what it means to be an old woman? She brings out the more human side of Rangda. Yet if Rangda was a frail old woman, asks Cok, why did it take an entire kingdom to try to destroy her, and that was only possible by stealth? Toeti sees this story as one of the power of the state (read male hegemonic power) versus the grassroots (read female submissive power). In Bali, it is played out as the male Barong (protector of the village/father figure) versus the female Rangda (queen of Black Magic). The fact that she is nearly indestructible is "a way Calonarang provides us with a challenge to think more deeply about our spirituality," says Cok. "The fact that she marries off her daughter to the son of a powerful priest shows her cunning". In Bali, many enemies transform into allies through the union of marriage. In Toeti's interpretation as well as the choreographer I Nyoman Sura's, Empu Bahula and Ratna Manggali fall deeply in love with each other; it is not "a marriage of convenience". Another love marriage that happened that evening was one of painting and words. The publisher had cleverly requested that thirty Indonesian women paint their interpretation of Toeti's words. The paintings and Toeti's words came to life in a contemporary dance choreographed by I Nyoman Sura, a Balinese dancer who often pushes the envelope with his creations. The piece was expertly executed by members of his dance troupe with music provided by Kadek Wahyu Dita, Pacet, Bapak Arif, and Arif. Kadek Krishna Adidharma and Sandra Thibodeaux began to read excerpts from the book and a marching gamelan came in from outdoors, consisting of drums, flutes and cymbals in what Sura calls "minimalist music". In Sura's interpretation, the story begins with two young male dancers, Dedi Diana and Ngurah Joniarta, naked from the waist up and with elaborate eye make up crawling onto the stage space, grimacing and baring their teeth at the audience. They represent the rakyat or the ordinary people who have been brought under Calonarang's spell -- they are sick, hungry and have gone mad. Anak Agung Dwi Dirgantini comes onstage with eyes wide and hands splayed; her fury is palpable. She climbs onto a platform, where she dances a dance of power. It is female power, raw and electric, untamed. Not something heads of state in any century would be comfortable with. Bambang Ayu Widyani, playing the widow's daughter, enters, dancing with a slow elegance. The two dance a duet that shows their love and respect for one another. Bahula (Gede Parwata) enters and asks for Ratna Manggali's hand and they dance the age old dance of love, at times performing in perfect Balinese poses, at others embracing intimately with the bride's body twining around her groom's. Ratna Manggali falls asleep and Bahula steals the lontar book. When Calonarang discovers this, she and her two cohorts fight him and gets it back, swallowing it in her defiance. Bahula pulls it out of her mouth as a long, white cloth (this scene is from Sura's imagination and is not based on Toeti's book or any lontar). She then transforms into Rangda the witch and fights with her son-in-law, furious at his betrayal. But no one wins. As it should be. After the performance, Toeti expressed her empathy for the witch, who was vilified and tricked, fated to be feared and despised forever. In her epic of lyrical prose, Toeti brings the story into contemporary times, pointing out the continued trickery and subjugation through the centuries by patriarchy, even in times of so-called democracy, and especially in recent times with the trend towards politicizing religion in Indonesia. One thing is definitely clear, the English version of Toeti's book will bring the power of Calonarang into a new circle and the power of the crone shall rule. About the contributor Rucina Ballinger is the co-author with I Wayan Dibia of Balinese Dance, Drama and Music: An Introduction to the Performing Arts of Bali (Singapore: Periplus Editions, 2005). She has lived in Bali since 1974, where she studies dance and theater. She is a member of the all-women's troupe Luh Luwih (and has performed Rangda as part of a traditional Calonarang) as well as the comedy ensemble Grup Gedebong Goyang.
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Other Titles: Take Me to Paradise [new!]
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