SRIKANDHI DANCES LNGGR

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 1

21-4-2009 17:04:28

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 2

21-4-2009 17:04:28

V E R H A N D E L I N G E N
VA N H E T K O N I N K L I J K I N S T I T U U T VOOR TAAL-, LAND- EN VOLKENKUNDE

248

ren t.a. lysloff

SRIKANDHI DANCES LNGGR

A performance of music and shadow theater

KITLV Press Leiden 2009

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 3

21-4-2009 17:04:28

Published by: KITLV Press Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde (Royal Netherlands Institute of Southeast Asian and Caribbean Studies) P.O. Box 9515 2300 RA Leiden The Netherlands website: www.kitlv.nl e-mail: kitlvpress@kitlv.nl

KITLV is an institute of the Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences (KNAW)

Cover: Creja ontwerpen, Leiderdorp

ISBN 978 90 6718 298 0 2009 Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the copyright owner. Printed in the Netherlands

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 4

21-4-2009 17:04:28

Contents
Acknowledgments List of illustrations Part 1 I Background Cultural universals and local traditions 1 19 35 55 77 97 vii ix

II Shadow theater as a cultural institution III The temporal organization of wayang kulit IV Wayang temporalities V Sugino and his audience VI Music and intra-cultural difference Part 2 Translation

Synopsis Act 1: Pathet nem Interlude: Gara-gara Act 2: Pathet sanga Act 3: Pathet manyura Appendices I Music transcription: Overture (Talu) 339 II Music transcription: Act 1 (Pathet nem) 355 III Music transcription: Interlude (Gara-gara) 419

111 127 235 259 311

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 5

21-4-2009 17:04:28

vi

Contents IV Music transcription: Act 2 (Pathet sanga) 473 V Music transcription: Act 3 (Pathet manyura) 507 VI Illustrations 523

Bibliography Index

549 559

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 6

21-4-2009 17:04:28

Acknowledgments
The learning, the interest, and the effort that resulted in this book would not have been possible without the help of many generous people, both in America and in Java. To my teacher and dear friend, Rasito Purbo Pangrawit, I owe my deepest gratitude for all the hours he spent working with me during my research in Banyumas. He gave up much of his valuable time in teaching and explaining Banyumas music and theater to me as well working with me in the early stages of the transcriptions. I also wish to thank Ki Sugito Purbocarito, Ki Sugino Siswocarito, Ki Taram, and Ki Darmosoewito, for their gracious cooperation, their many anecdotes, and especially their continued patience. A special thanks goes to my friend, Eko Punto Adji Hartono, who helped me throughout my stay in Java in 1986-87 and also worked with me on the text transcriptions. To each of the musicians who performed with these outstanding dhalang, I owe a lasting debt of gratitude for sharing their time, knowledge, and experience. The fieldwork that led to this study was supported through a FulbrightHays Dissertation Fellowship and a grant from the Wenner-Gren Foundation for Anthropological Research in 1986-87, and a grant under the Fulbright Southeast Asian Regional Research Program in 1994. Sponsorship for my stay in Java was kindly provided by LIPI (Lembaga Ilmu Pengetahuan Indonesia), Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan, and IKI (Institut Kesenian Indonesia) headed by Dr. Soedarsono. My gratitude goes out to Judith and Alton Becker for sharing their wisdom and time in the early stages of this project. To my friend and colleague, R. Anderson Sutton, thanks for his generosity in making available the materials he collected during his own work in Banyumas, and especially for initially sparking my own interest in Banyumas. To my students, friends, and colleagues, especially S (you know who you are), for your faith in me. Most importantly, to Deborah Wong: for being there during those best years. My sincerest thanks goes to my friend and colleague, HendrikMaier, who read a draft of this book and urged me to submit it to KITLV Press. Thank you, Henk, for your many useful suggestions and ideas. I also wish to express my profound appreciation for the patience and editorial assistance I

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 7

21-4-2009 17:04:28

viii

Acknowledgments

received from KITLV Press in preparing this book for publication, especially Marjan Groen and Dan Vennix. Thank you for your professionalism, your good humor, and your excellent work in making this book a reality. Finally, love and gratitude to S for believing in me.

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 8

21-4-2009 17:04:28

List of illustrations
Appendix 6 (pp. 525-48): 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 Prabu Suyudhana, King of Ngastina Dhang Hyang Durna, Royal Priest of Ngastina Prabu Ajijaya Diningrum, King of Jongparang Radn Jatikusuma, Crown Prince of Jongparang Patih Tenung Turanggamaya Patih Tenung Turanggadhsthi Prabu Baladwa, King of Madura Sang Hyang Kanka Putra (Narada) Prabu Kresna, King of Dwarawati Radn Arjuna (Janaka) Radn Wrekudara (Bima) Radn Srenggini Radn Gatotkaca Ki Lurah Togog Sarawita Ki Lurah Semar Nala Garng Ptruk Bawor Dwi Banowati, Queen of Ngastina Dwi Wara Srikandhi Dwi Wara Sumbadra Gonjing Miring Ja Wana

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 9

21-4-2009 17:04:28

Of self and injustice

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 10

21-4-2009 17:04:28

Introduction

PART 1

BACKGROUND

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 11

21-4-2009 17:04:29

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 12

21-4-2009 17:04:29

chapter i

Cultural universals and local traditions

Terms like culture and tradition are almost sacred in the fields of anthropology and ethnomusicology. They take on a performative quality in ethnographic publications and the learned discourse of academic conferences. By uttering or writing them, we pronounce an art form legitimate, worthy of our scholarly consideration. And of course the two terms culture and tradition must go hand in hand since one can hardly be invoked without reference to the other. Culture can be described, using Geertzian phraseology, as the webs of significance that humans weave.1 When we use the term to characterize a social group along lines of ethnicity, religion, language, history, and so forth, it also reveals our own ideas about difference along those same lines. On the other hand, we understand tradition as a cultural institution (a set of practices, body of knowledge, etc.) which remains more or less consistent through time, passed from one generation to the next. This implies a historical dimension and it is easy to infer, as well, that true traditions are by necessity ancient and immutable. Otherwise, we have learned, they are invented discursively undermined by the very same cultural impulses that gave rise to them.2 The notion of traditional Java suggests a people bound by a set of cultural practices and knowledge that have remained fixed over time. Nancy Florida (1995:10-1) notes that traditional Java is
the nonunitary discursive world in and through which a wide variety of Javanese subjects lived over a roughly 250-year period that closed (more or less conclusively) in 1942 with the Japanese invasion of Java and the consequent sudden end of Dutch colonial domination. A world that was generated and regenerated under the conditions of colonialism, traditional Java became recognized by emerging Javanese subjects as Javanese over the course of the nineteenth century. This heterogeneous and diverse world (or better, these worlds) became fixed as traditional after the fact, toward the beginning of what would later be considered its end; for traditional Java as such was born toward the end of the nineteenth century; and only in the face of its potential recession before its presumed opposite, the modern world.
1 2

See Thick description; Toward an interpretive description of culture (in Geertz 1973). This opening passage is drawn, in part, from Lysloff 2002.

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 1

21-4-2009 17:04:29

Srikandhi dances Lnggr

In Java, both terms culture and tradition had been assimilated into the language of New Order Indonesia to control local customary practices. Placed into global circulation through ethnographic studies, tourism, and media, the terms have returned to haunt those very people and institutions scholars have sought to celebrate and protect. Javanese tradition (tradisi), as John Pemberton (1994:11) notes, has emerged as a kind of meta-spook endowed with a profound appetite that virtually guarantees the reproduction of devotedly cultural desires, that is, the desire for culture. In other words, discreet Javanese customary practices like rituals, pre-Islamic religious offerings, asceticism, performing arts, and so on, had become thoroughly absorbed into the larger New Order modernist narrative of authentic culture (kebudayaan asli). When I first came to the region of Banyumas, I was keenly interested in how the court centers of Yogya (Yogyakarta) and Solo (Surakarta) exerted their influence on the outlying regions of the Central Javanese province and how those outlying regions localized such influence. Banyumas is particularly interesting because, although it has had a long history of ties with the Yogyanese palace (even while it fell under the political jurisdiction of the Solonese court), it also borders the province of West Java or what is ethnically identified as Sunda. Once a residency under Dutch colonial rule, Banyumas has since been divided in four smaller regencies (or kebupaten): namely, Banyumas, Cilacap, Purbalingga, and Banjarnegara. However, many people still identify these four regencies as each a part of what they call the former residency of Banyumas (or eks-karesidenan Banyumas) because of a common lingual dialect and other regional characteristics.3 The designation is often invoked by inhabitants of the four regencies to express mutual cultural and lingual affiliation and to show they are distinct from the Sundanese people to the west and the Javanese to the north and east. This regionalism is not surprising considering the relative isolation of the area with rugged mountains to its east (the Dieng Range), west (Priangan in West Java), and north (a spine of mountains and volcanoes running lengthwise through most of Central and East Java). The coast to the south forms a natural border as well since it has no major ports and few natural harbors.4 Thus, when I speak of Banyumas, I am referring to the larger area that constitutes these four regencies. Because of the ethnic make up of its people, its language (dialect notwithstanding), and its political history, Banyumas is clearly a Javanese rather than a Sundanese region. At the same time, however,
3 4

See Oemarmadi and Koesnadi Poerbosewojo (1964). The people of the former residency of Banyumas are, in fact, ethnic Javanese, but they have a unique history and a strong sense of regional identity. This is discussed in greater detail in the section, On being Javanese in Banyumas, in my conclusions (pp. 103-9).

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 2

21-4-2009 17:04:29

I Cultural universals and local traditions

the people of Banyumas see themselves almost as a unique ethnic group. They often refer to themselves as a mixture of Javanese and Sundanese culture, making them really neither one nor the other. They are a people, with to their own origin myth, specialty foods, humor, distinct performance traditions, and even characteristic physical features. At the same time, Banyumas culture is not necessarily seen as truly Javanese by those from the court centers. My friends at STSI in Surakarta5 viewed Solonese gamelan music as gendhing Jawa (traditional gamelan music of Java) and that of the Banyumas region as gendhing Banyumasan (traditional gamelan music in Banyumas style). In the imagination of those conservatory trained musicians is, perhaps, a hierarchy of cultural authenticities, radiating out from the Solonese court center.6 The site of true Javanese culture, its kraton (palace) has become a museum where Javanese culture is inscribed in the sacred objects of empty power and archived in archaic script on dusty manuscripts all reflecting a kingdom whose cultural heyday began at the exact moment of its political emasculation. But, the New Order seat of Javanese Culture (read: high culture) is no longer the palace but instead STSI, once a music academy but now an institute of higher learning in the performing arts.7 STSI continues the cultural work of the palace, formalizing that hierarchy of authenticities, with Solonese arts at the center and apex, and those of regions like Banyumas relegated to the realm of peripheral and folk arts (seni rakyat). Unlike the palace, STSI has been thoroughly inculcated in the project of Indonesian New Order modernity, a narrative of orderly progress that turns tradisi into an abstract but ravenous desire (using Pembertons phraseology) for an equally abstract Javanese culture. Local customary practice now serves a larger state ideal, bound up in national (read: Javanese) ideology and the expansion of tourism. This same narrative has now been brought to Banyumas, where scores of school teachers and government bureaucrats armed, as it were, with degrees from STSI or its satellite academies, educate children and entire communities about cultural hierarchies: teaching them that their quaint local practices are now firmly grounded in folk tradition.
5

STSI is a widely known abbreviation for Sekolah Tinggi Seni Indonesia, perhaps translated as Institute of Higher Learning in the Fine Arts of Indonesia. 6 The gamelan music of that other court center of Java, Yogyakarta (Yogya), was often called gendhing Mataraman that is, an archaic style from the ancient Mataram kingdom, a style no longer relevant to modern Indonesian sensibilities. On the one hand, Mataram is recognized as the once powerful kingdom that had resisted Dutch colonial control yet, on the other, it was part of Javas feudal, pre-modern past. 7 The school was formerly known as ASKI (Akademi Seni Karawitan Indonesia or National Academy of Musical Arts). As an institute of higher learning, STSI is recognized as a research institution.

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 3

21-4-2009 17:04:29

Srikandhi dances Lnggr

Universalizing particularities and particularizing universals The Hindu-Javanese epic tales Mahabharata and Ramayana not only have formed literary source material for wayang kulit (traditional shadow-puppet theater) but also provided the inspiration for Javas cultural ideology an ideology rooted in a feudal past, however real or imagined it might be, yet prevalent to this day. In performance, however, Banyumas shadow-puppet theater revises this cultural ideology, placing it within a local framework and modifying it with local practices and social norms a process Bruce Kapferer (1986:191) views as the universalizing of the particular and the particularizing of the universal. The fundamental aim of this study is to examine the process that brings Banyumas particularities and Javanese cultural universalities together in a performance of shadow-puppet theater. I believe that, by translating and analyzing one performance in detail, we might better understand how Javanese universals and Banyumas particulars are brought together and transformed. This study, then, is a translation both in the specific sense of rendering Javanese narration into English and in the larger sense of interpreting those particulars and universals presented in shadow-puppet theater. It is a long look at a particular performance one in which I try to explicate some of the knowledge an audience in Banyumas needs to understand, not only this particular performance, but other performances as well. My work is inspired by the works of Victor Turner and others who have been focusing on experiential rather than ideational aspects of culture. Until recently, Turner writes, social reality was represented in terms of static ideals:
There was a general preoccupation with consistency and congruence. And even though most anthropologists were aware that there generally are differences between ideal norms and real behavior, most of their models of society and culture tended to be based upon ideology rather than upon social reality, or to take into account the dialectical relationship between these. (Turner 1986:73-4.)

Ethnomusicology, too, has been more concerned with ideals than with real behavior, at times stressing abstract exemplary musical products more than socially dynamic performance processes. The musical arts of Java are represented through exemplary models and idealizations that, although they may explain what a performance is supposed to be, do not always help us understand what it actually is in terms of practice. This concern for musical ideologies can be seen in the studies focusing on conceptual issues in gamelan music, for example, inner melody (see Sutton 1978 and 1979; Forrest 1980, and Sumarsam 1976 and 1987), tempo relationships (see discussions of irama in

I Cultural universals and local traditions

Becker and Feinstein 1984), form (gendhing in Becker and Feinstein 1984), etc.8 This is not to argue against such idealizations, however. Rather, my study will show how various cultural ideologies are put into practice locally and examine the great variance between conservatory or palace notions of musical ideals and the realities of Banyumas village performance. In the realm of shadow puppetry, aesthetic ideals are presented through books on pedhalangan, the art of the dhalang (puppetmaster). These various sources are attempts to idealize and canonize the musical and dramatic elements of this performance genre. My purpose here, however, is neither to invalidate these ideals nor to dispute past studies of gamelan music but instead to illustrate the contrasts between performance standards and their corresponding realities in the village, and to caution against the tendency to reify such abstract ideals. The underlying agenda of this study is to argue that, despite the hegemony of the courts and conservatories of Yogya and Solo, regional performance traditions are surviving even flourishing. While textual sources seem to set standards of performance, actual praxis demonstrates the viability of regional variety and innovation. Thus, it is important that ethnomusicologists do not fall into the same old patterns of canonizing and mystifying the so called courtly traditions at the expense of rural practices. The recent attention toward regional music traditions of Java, by scholars such as R. Anderson Sutton, Paul Wolbers, and others, has exploded several of the court or conservatory derived ideals of gamelan music. 9 These scholars have shown that such established rules and norms do not satisfactorily explain the great variance found to exist in the performance practices of Javanese gamelan music. Many regions of Java simply do not follow the prescribed norms of performance. For example, the traditional musical life of Banyumas inhabitants includes the ensemble of instruments known as calung. Made up mainly of bamboo xylophones, the calung was often described to me as a kind of poor mans gamelan. Yet, musicians are also quick to point out that, while calung music may have perhaps begun as a kind of bamboo gamelan, it no longer remains so it has become something new and unique. Although most instruments have similar functions to

For an example of this concern for ideational aspects of gamelan music taken to the extreme, see Hughes 1988. Hughes pursues the question of how so-called gendhing lampah (known individually as ayak-ayakan, srepegan, sampak, etc.) are generated in gamelan music performance using structural linguistic models as a basis for analysis a line of investigation begun by Becker and Becker (1979) but long since abandoned by them (see Becker and Becker 1983). Hughes posits rules in generating standard gendhing lampah; those that do not easily fit into his analysis are rationalized as exceptions to the rules. 9 For example, Sutton (1986:85-8) has shown that Banyumas ideas of tempo relationships (irama) simply do not fit within conservatory standards. See also the chapter on Banyumas in Sutton 1991.

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 5

21-4-2009 17:04:29

Srikandhi dances Lnggr

gamelan instruments, the two featured xylophones are distinctive in sound and style. The relationship between gamelan and calung is largely historical, musicians argue. While the calung may have started as a portable and cheaper gamelan, its practitioners have developed a distinct and rich repertoire of music. Indeed, a great deal of Banyumas gamelan music, particularly locally rooted music (as opposed to pieces that have historical links to Solo, Yogya, or other regions) is influenced by calung music not the other way around. This is heard in the bonang parts (the two elaborating gong-chimes instrument known specifically as bonang barung and bonang panerus) and the singing (both by the female soloist, pesindhn, and the chorus, grong) as well as in the way the music is performed (such as the used of extremely fast tempi and aggressive, virtuosic drumming techniques). I want to point out, however, that influence runs both ways: calung performances commonly include many gamelan compositions from both Yogya and Solo, as well as Banyumas. The relationship between these two ensembles is dynamic, most local compositions are played by both types of ensembles. If we were to consider breadth of repertory, calung music is the most open ended since troupes often draw from gamelan as well as other sources, including folk and popular music. There are several calung compositions, on the other hand that are rarely, perhaps never, performed on the gamelan. Why this is so, remains unclear to me. Another distinction between the two ensembles is socially based. While some local musicians can play both gamelan and calung, most tend to specialize in one tradition or the other, and the more prestigious ensemble continues to be the gamelan (perhaps because of the hegemony of the Javanese courts and conservatories). The schism between courtly (or conservatory) aesthetic ideals and rural performance realities became especially apparent to me during my own field research in Banyumas. As I began to attend performances and study the music, I learned that idealized models for Javanese shadow-puppetry and gamelan music could not account for the distinctly Banyumas way of doing things. The ideal was there many Banyumas performers even referred to it and it was tempting to reduce Banyumas to a regional style or variant form of the Central Javanese norm. Yet, it became increasingly clear that, to talk about shadow-puppet theater or gamelan music in the region of Banyumas, I would have consider the dialectic relationships between Central Javanese ideals and Banyumas realities, even between local performance norms and actual performance practice. My study, then, will compare the hegemonizing canon of Javanese puppetry and traditional music as indicated in various written sources with local practice as observed in a particular performance. More specifically, however, it will examine how one puppeteer and his troupe of musicians transformed the culturally universal traditions of Javanese shadow puppet theater and court gamelan music, drawing from the regionally

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 6

21-4-2009 17:04:29

I Cultural universals and local traditions

specific lingual dialect, humor, and performing arts traditions of Banyumas, to articulate a uniquely regional style of performance that expresses local identity and concerns. This might very well be true of other areas of Java, including the region of Solo, but how such local matters are expressed is rarely discussed in scholarly writings of Javanese performance. This book is concerned, then, with local ways of performing dramatic narration, making music, conducting ritual, expressing humor, and communicating and understanding Javanese values and norms. It is about performing and watching wayang kulit in the region of Banyumas, west Central Java. It argues that, in this theater form, content is defined by context and that meaning is locally framed. Research methods and general background The area of my research was mainly in the Regency of Banyumas (Kebupatn Banyumas) but included many trips to the neighboring Regencies of Cilacap (to the south), Purbalingga (to the east), and Banjarnegara (also to the east). For eighteen months (during 1986-87), I was based in Purwokerto, the present capital of the Regency of Banyumas, and lived comfortably in a kind of middle-class housing complex on the southeast fringe of town. My neighbors were made up of bankers, teachers, and local government workers who all took great pride in their suburban lifestyle. The streets and front yards were kept immaculate and a few homes even sported well-tended lawns. I was quickly absorbed into the community and, after some initial interest, was left more or less to my own devices. Since the street I lived on was a dead-end and outsiders were carefully watched, I was able to escape from prying eyes and also come and go as I pleased. I traveled mainly by motorcycle since most of my activities took me out of town local public transportation was in general inconvenient and limited to daylight and, to a lesser extent, early evening hours. My main informant was a unique musician, called Rasito Purwo Pangrawit (throughout this study, I refer to him as Rasito) who came to be my teacher and very dear friend. Only a few years older than me, he was the drummer and musical director of Suginos wayang troupe, called Purba Kencana,10 and a highly regarded instructor at SMKI (Sekolah Menengah Karawitan

10

R. Anderson Sutton (personal communication) reports that the name Purba Kencana is used on cassette covers although the groups original name is Mudha Budaya. Purba Kencana is used for marketing purposes, since it reflects the make up of the troupe whose members live near either of the districts of Purbalingga (purba) or Banyumas (kencana is the poetic equivalent for mas, or gold).

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 7

21-4-2009 17:04:29

Srikandhi dances Lnggr

Indonesia, the national high school of traditional music) in the town of Banyumas as well as at STSI (Sekolah Tinggi Seni Indonesia, the national institute of traditional arts) in Surakarta. He is the acknowledged leading expert on the traditional music of Banyumas and one of the unnamed authors of Sumbangan pikiran tentang karawitan Banyumasan [Contributing Thoughts on the Traditional Music of Banyumas], an important source of information on local musical style.11 When I returned to Banyumas in 1994, Rasito was completing a one-year stay in the U.S. as a Fulbright visiting artist. I learned that since my first trip to Banyumas he had completed a degree at STSI. Although he was already an accomplished musician, Rasito had no formal education beyond high school and he felt he needed additional training and education to advance his career. However, I learned recently that his advanced education and his trip to the U.S. had unexpected negative consequences. After he returned from the U.S., Rasito found that he no longer could return to Suginos troupe, except as a guest musician. As it turned out, Sugino had replaced Rasito with a younger drummer for a far more modest salary. The new drummer, while lacking Rasitos seasoned skills and depth of musical knowledge, brought youthful talent and energy to the troupe. In fact, Sugino had begun replacing several older musicians with younger, and cheaper, talent. Thus, when I returned in 1994, many of Suginos musicians I had come to call my friends had either retired (if they were older) or were playing for other dhalang of less stature. In 1994, I also learned that Rasito had resigned from his teaching position at SMKI Banyumas shortly before he left for the U.S. Apparently, this was the culmination of ongoing tension between teachers and SMKIs administration, particularly the rector. The school had reputedly come into hard times since student enrollment was down to a fraction of what it was during my last visit to Banyumas. In the 1980s, during Indonesias economic boon, the government passed several initiatives to stimulate arts education in the public schools and SMKI Banyumas drew many students because of its teaching certification program. In the early 1990s, however, most of the teaching positions created by the government initiatives had been filled and therefore student interest in traditional performing arts had begun wane. By 1994, the school was in a state of crisis: its library had no funds to purchase materials, teachers were underpaid and demoralized, and facilities had fallen into disrepair. Furthermore, the Indonesian rupiah had been devalued for the second

11 This study describes itself as a working paper (kertas kerja) set forth by a committee formed by the local office of the Department of Education and Culture (Departemen Pendidikan dan Kebudayaan). However, officials there, and Rasito himself, told me that he assisted in compiling the material. The study is listed in my Bibliography under Departemen (1980).

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 8

21-4-2009 17:04:29

I Cultural universals and local traditions

time in what was to be, it turns out, only the beginning of a long downward spiral into economic collapse. Thus, when Rasito returned from his first trip to the U.S. he found that, while his social prestige increased as a result of his education and travels, his employment possibilities decreased. In other words, he was over qualified and under employed. In 1998, however, Rasito was invited to teach gamelan at the University of Texas at Austin where he works currently. When I returned to Purwokerto in 1994, I lived at the home of Rasito, located in a middle class neighborhood of school teachers and civil servants. Selling off some of his earlier real estate investments and borrowing heavily in the late 1980s, Rasito slowly began building, section by section, a spacious new house of stone and brick on the same lot where he once lived in a small cottage of rattan and bamboo. His new home was finally completed not long before I arrived in Purwokerto and it stood out like a palace among the less consequential dwellings of his neighbors. With the additional income of his temporary employment in the U.S. he also bought an automobile and I was chauffeured around the area by his son. By the time I again visited him in 1998, he had added a second story and outfitted his home with modern electric appliances. Finally, I recently received an email message from Rasito telling me he now owns a computer and has access to the Internet. The area surrounding Purwokerto is generally quite rugged with mountains both to the north and to the southeast. The mountains to the north are dominated by Gunung Slamet, a dormant volcano and perhaps the second highest mountain (3,428 meters) on the island of Java.12 It virtually looms over Purwokerto. About halfway up the mountain is a popular domestic tourist area, Baturadn, with a lovely park and a government protected forest. Locally, Baturadn is notoriously popular as a tryst for adulterers and known for its thriving prostitution among the many small hotels nestled in the forests. The northern mountains form a natural barrier separating Banyumas historically from the former residencies of Tegal and Pekalongan. The mountains to the southeast are less rugged than those of the north, cut by several rivers flowing from the northeast, and therefore have not seriously hindered contact between Banyumas and the coastal areas beyond. Nevertheless, the roads going southeast from Purwokerto through this mountainous area are extremely treacherous, winding through the mountains with steep inclines on one side and deep gorges on the other. Many villages located deep in the mountains and valleys of this area are so isolated that some still remain without electricity or adequate roads although government efforts to modernize even these areas have been considerably successful. During the monsoons,

12

The highest is Gunung Semeru (3676 meters).

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 9

21-4-2009 17:04:29

10

Srikandhi dances Lnggr

bridges and roads in and around these mountains are often washed out after heavy rains and the affected areas become for all intents and purposes impassable, sometimes for several weeks. Once, after an all-night wayang performance in an isolated village during a heavy rain, a friend and I were forced to walk our motorcycles over a mile through clay mud twelve inches deep. The thick sludge made even pushing motorcycles (much less automobiles) all but impossible. We were so completely covered with red mud that we had to wash ourselves and our motorcycles in one of the many icy cold mountain streams. The car carrying the dhalang and his pesindhn (female singers) was pushed, almost carried, through the sticky mud by scores of men and boys. Another time, while winding our way home through the mountains after a wayang performance, we were forced to go back and find an alternate route because a bridge had been washed out by heavy rains. We had to descend the mountains from the opposite side and drive around them to return to Purwokerto: a trip that should have taken two hours turned into a day-long journey. Despite the weather and relative isolation, most of the area had been receiving the benefits of Indonesias modernization at least up to 1998 when the economy began to spiral downward. The government was systematically building a network of electrical power that was soon to be available to even the most remote villages.13 Mountain villages generally seemed clean and modern although many were still without electricity. When they all do become electrified it will clearly be the end of a picturesque era. Several mountain villages I drove through had street lamps all along the main road, but the lamps were actually oil burning lanterns hung on posts in front of each house facing the road. The effect was startlingly beautiful and subdued. Other villages were depressingly dark and squalid, their inhabitants seemingly impoverished and barely able to subsist. Perhaps these different villages reflect the varied local economic conditions throughout the region, certainly some areas were far wealthier than others. I was told that the general state of a village also depended on its leadership and some, like the village with oil burning street lamps, managed to maintain orderly and clean conditions despite changing economic tides. These different villages, perhaps, bear witness to how national politics (and the resultant domestic policies) are played out locally. Many of the mountain villages are located around plantations, their inhabitants making up the labor force. Clove and palm sugar are probably
13

While I was conducting my research in 1986, Suginos troupe once performed wayang kulit as part of a ritual celebration to facilitate the safe explosion of a mountain side in the region of Banjaranegara. The rock obtained from the explosion was to be used in the construction of a major dam that would provide electricity for the surrounding region.

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 10

21-4-2009 17:04:29

I Cultural universals and local traditions

11

the two most important cash crops in the mountains surrounding Banyumas, and local economies depend on the vagaries of Banyumas climate. If the rainy season lasts too long and is too heavy the crop will rot in the ground, and if the area experiences a drought the plants will die before they are fully grown. Most years, however, yield a fairly good crop and many villages have at least one successful plantation owner who may hold a wayang performance to celebrate the harvest, a life-cycle event (birth, circumcision, or marriage) within his immediate family, the fulfillment of a vow he (rarely, she) made sometime in the past, or some other important event. I learned recently, however, that many of these plantations went out of business with Indonesias economic collapse in 1998, forcing entire villages into poverty and destitution. As a result, there are now (in the year 2002) far fewer wayang performances. On the other hand, some villages had been left largely unscathed by Indonesias economic troubles, perhaps they were too poor to be affected by national trends and simply continued with subsistence farming. Much of my research time from 1985 to 1987 was spent visiting these many villages either to watch, or participate in (as a guest musician, of sorts), wayang kulit and other performances, or to interview local performers or experts. During my first field research, I traveled to these sometimes remote areas either by motorcycle, driving a heavy and large framed Kawasaki with a rather small 200 cc engine (larger motorcycle engines are generally prohibited in Indonesia), or riding with the troupe in their somewhat cramped (at least for me) minibus. When I returned to Java in 1994, I traveled in Rasitos automobile. Although this proved to be convenient and relatively comfortable, it also increased the social distance between me and the some of the people I interviewed. While my Javanese friends saw this as natural I was, after all, a university professor at this point I felt vaguely uncomfortable with my new found status and missed the more relaxed social interactions of my student days. I spent my time mainly with one troupe in particular, that of the dhalang Ki Sugino Siswocarito, known by local inhabitants simply as Sugino.14 He was clearly the most popular puppeteer in the entire region and his gamelan troupe was considered outstanding. Although Sugino was by far the most well-liked dhalang, he was not the most respected nor was he regarded as the best. The dhalang viewed as the most knowledgeable and skillful was Ki Sugito Purbocarito (known as Sugito or Pak Gito) who, unlike Sugino, descended from a long line of highly regarded puppeteers. It was difficult, at first, to decide on whom to focus my study: the most popular or the most
14

Mixing familiarity with respect, those who knew Sugino referred to him as Pak Gino. The word Pak (from bapak) literally means father and is used in this case as a title of respect. The name Gino is derived, of course, from Sugino.

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 11

21-4-2009 17:04:29

12

Srikandhi dances Lnggr

respected dhalang in the region. Perhaps another, more conventional, study would have focused upon Sugito, since his restrained style and concern for established norms would have approached the ideals of shadow puppet performance. Yet Sugito was not even remotely as popular as the apparently more innovative and relatively unrestrained Sugino, and I felt that his artistic conservatism might not best represent the performance realities of Banyumas wayang kulit. It was Sugino, not Sugito, who was most emulated by other younger dhalang. Aspiring puppeteers spoke of Sugitos skill and knowledge with admiration, but they all, almost without exception, imitated Sugino. To try to understand Suginos popularity, I simply stayed with the group members and accompanied them to all their performances. This led to an unspoken agreement between the dhalang and me. I was allowed to travel with the group, documenting as much as I wanted and in whatever way I pleased, but I was obligated to perform on command especially during the gara-gara, the interlude in the story late in the evening when the clowns come out and the dhalang takes requests from the host and his guests. This arrangement seemed to be beneficial to both of us: I was free to observe and document while he enjoyed the status and prestige of having a foreign researcher in attendance. Sugino carefully exploited this relationship, milking it for everything he could. He always announced my presence to his audience and publicly requested I play in a piece or two with the group, such as Jineman Uler Kambang a short but virtuosic gamelan composition that features female singing and only certain soft-style instruments. After the piece, he always explained (through one of the clowns) to the audience that I was an American researching Banyumas wayang kulit and able to play all the instruments of the gamelan (calling me a niyaga, or professional gamelan musician), sometimes adding that I spoke perfect Javanese and could even mayang (that is, perform as a puppeteer). While his hyperbolizing certainly felt flattering, the underlying message was, of course, clear. In my supposed knowledge and sophistication, I had chosen Sugino and his troupe as exemplary Banyumas wayang kulit and gamelan accompaniment. He also enjoyed and thoroughly exploited the novelty of having the rare landa (white foreigner, the word originally referring to the Dutch or wong Welanda) and the only researcher in the region following his performances. My presence lent his troupe a bit of exoticism (a curious reversal of stereotyped roles) that added, I was told, to Suginos reputation and charisma among local inhabitants. The hosts for the many performances I attended, as a kind of foreign mascot, were sincerely pleased to find me among the members. Many insisted I come inside the house to sit and chat with the guests during the performance, or sometimes even deliver a speech. I usually tried to avoid this rather tedious duty or returned to the stage as soon as etiquette allowed because I was especially interested in the performance itself and the mass of villagers that

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 12

21-4-2009 17:04:30

I Cultural universals and local traditions

13

constituted the spectators outside. I came to appreciate the prestige related to my presence during the latter part of my research, when I accompanied the troupe less often in their travels: Sugino himself sometimes dropped by my home to insist that I participate in a particular performance because the host specifically asked for me. Occasionally, Sugino invited me to accompany him in his own car (Sugino was chauffeured, along with his favorite pesindhn, separately in his automobile or in another minibus). For every performance, a total of three vehicles were used to transport the troupe and its paraphernalia: one for the dhalang and his pesindhn (either a car or a minibus), a small bus for the musicians, and a van for the musical instruments, puppets, and amplification equipment. The van with the instruments always left for the performance location earlier in the day, the time depending upon the distance, with the soundman and two assistants to set up the gamelan, the screen and puppets, and the amplification. The whole production seemed, in my mind, much like a rock concert. Less popular dhalang and their musicians traveled by whatever means they could, sometimes even by public transportation. Sugino, however, was clearly a major performer and the massive effort needed to set up his performance suggested he was in a different league than most other dhalang. Indeed, like a rock star, he generally remained unseen until he was ready to begin his storytelling (other dhalang often performed with the musicians in the concert before the actual wayang performance), arriving with an entourage of the youngest and most beautiful female singers. His shaggy hair was rather long in back and he often wore outlandishly colorful clothes (at least to me). One of my American friends visiting me in the field remarked that he looked surprisingly similar to James Brown during the height of his Motown career. All in all, Sugino painted an imposing picture carefully designed to enhance the mystique that surrounded him. If the ritual was for a village-wide celebration, such as village spirit cleansing (bersih dsa), or if the host was particularly wealthy and felt the need, two performances of wayang kulit were held one in the daytime and one at night. Daytime performances were generally regarded more as a kind of offering than entertainment, directed mainly toward an unseen audience of spirits. In any case, Sugino considered them far less important than his nighttime performances and always delegated one of the troop members to perform in his place. Many of Suginos higher paid musicians were not involved in daytime performances, leaving them to the lower ranking musicians of the troupe and artists from the immediately surrounding area. The pay was far less for daytime performances than those in the evening, and the audience and spectators tended to be mainly children and a few adult passersby. During the course of the day, the host was visited by guests who stayed only briefly, rarely watching a wayang performance with any sustained interest.

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 13

21-4-2009 17:04:30

14

Srikandhi dances Lnggr

Nevertheless, such a daytime event provided less experienced (and skillful) dhalang with an opportunity to perform. If the village or some institution was the host, then various daytime activities, such as pole-climbing competitions or badminton tournaments among employees, were held in addition to the performance. On the other hand, many wealthier institutions and individuals sometimes held performances of bg (hobby-horse trance-dance) during the daytime, with wayang kulit at night. These often attracted fairly large village crowds, possibly because trance seems to fascinate many local Javanese. The big event of course was the performance by Sugino. Although other dhalang, such as Ki Sugito Purbocarito and Ki Taram, also attracted fairly large audiences, none could match the sheer numbers of spectators that came to see Sugino and stayed through the entire night. The musical and theatrical elements were far more carefully coordinated in his troupe than in any of the others, and this might have contributed to his tremendous popularity. Another reason might be that Sugino seriously tried to give the audience what they wanted: good entertainment. Indonesia has recently become more and more immersed in television culture and this has undoubtedly changed the role of the traditional arts. Television, movies, and the secularization of wayang kulit and other traditional art forms through Islamization and Indonesias modernization, has presented the dhalang with more challenges to maintain the interest of increasingly sophisticated (or, perhaps more accurately, jaded) village audiences. Nonetheless, despite the rise of media technologies, wayang kulit is still extremely vital in Banyumas, even in the face of Indonesias rapid changes.15 My other main informant was Radn Soepardjo, a talented artist (in puppet making, pen and ink drawing, and painting), an elderly local aristocrat (a direct descendent of the Banyumas regents and a retired government official) and scholar knowledgeable in local history, lore, and culture. Sadly, Pak Parjo (as his friends called him) died shortly after my return to the United States from an illness that began during my final few months in Java in 1987. He was also one of the two artists I commissioned to draw the illustrations of Banyumas-style puppets shown in the appendix to this study. We spent many pleasant afternoons together sipping tea or coffee discussing the various unique characteristics of Banyumas puppetry, puppet-making, dialect (as opposed to Javanese language), history, food, humor, religious practices, and many other topics. Another important informant was Dhalang Ki Sugito Purbocarito, the acknowledged master of wayang kulit in the Banyumas region and Suginos

15

For more on traditional wayang within a changing Indonesian society, see further Anderson 1965. J. Becker (1980a) discusses the place of traditional gamelan music in modern Indonesia.

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 14

21-4-2009 17:04:30

I Cultural universals and local traditions

15

main rival puppeteer. Pak Gito, as he is affectionately called, is locally and nationally recognized as the leading expert of Banyumas style shadow puppetry. He is one of the principle authors of the book, Pathokan pedhalangan gagrag Banyumas [Principles of the Art of Wayang in the Style of Banyumas], an important source of information on Banyumas shadow puppetry.16 Other informants included the members of Purba Kencana (his troupe), Dhalang Ki Taram, and Dr. Sudarmadji (a medical doctor and local historian, as well as expert on local genealogies). A crucial general informant was the internationally known Indonesian author, Ahmad Tohari, whose novels brought the region of Banyumas to the world. His outstanding novel, Ronggeng dukuh paruk (The dancing girl of Paruk village) has been translated into several languages (including Dutch, German, Japanese, and, more recently English). I first met Pak Tohari, as he is called, in 1986 after learning he lived close by. I found out that he had moved back to his birthplace (the village of Tinggarjaya, about a half hour drive from Purwokerto) after living in Jakarta for several years. Meeting him was extremely fortunate for me since he not only knows a great deal about the region (indeed, in some ways, his novels read like ethnographies) but he is also an extremely intelligent and well educated man. I often visited him to discuss my research and his insights have been invaluable. Finally, Sugino, whose wayang performance I translated for this study, was also a supportive albeit somewhat enigmatic friend and informant. I occasionally visited him at his home, during those rare times when he was not performing. My meetings with him were often filled with long and somewhat uneasy silences. When he did talk, it was with a voice raspy and tired from many performances. I had the impression that all of his energy went into performing since he seemed so animated behind the puppet screen yet almost lethargic off stage. Yet, Sugino is known to be reserved and cautious in his social relationships. Despite his local fame, his notorious pleasure in gambling, and the myths regarding his sexual charisma among his female singers, I found Sugino to be shy and self-effacing. A man of few words, he spoke honestly about himself and the tradition; indeed, I heard little of the competitive posturing so common among other dhalang. Some notes on the translated performance The transcription and translation used in this study are based upon an eight-hour commercial recording of a studio performance that Sugino and
16

This book is authored collectively by members of the local chapter of Sekretariat Nasional Pewayangan Indonesia (National Secretariat of Indonesian Shadow Puppetry). The reference is listed in my Bibliography under the acronym, Sena Wangi.

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 15

21-4-2009 17:04:30

16

Srikandhi dances Lnggr

his troupe made in December 1985 (Kusuma Recording KWK 097, entitled Srikandhi Mbarang Lengger). In 1998, I visited the Kusuma recording company in Klaten and purchased the master tapes and all rights to the recorded performance. While I retain rights of distribution, copyright ownership belongs to Purba Kencana under the guardianship of its past musical director, Rasito Purbopangrawit. All royalties from this book and the recording will go Rasito. There are, of course, a number of other studies that examine wayang kulit performances in their entirety.17 Few, however, attempt to unpack one particular performance while also providing detailed background information on the tradition and the people involved in performing wayang kulit. The only study thus far to provide a transcription and translation of an entire performance is the recently published work by Andrew Weintraub (2001). Weintraub provides a superb recording (on a set of six compact disks, released through Multicultural Media), along with well-written and carefully researched (albeit brief) background notes, of a complete performance of Sundanese wayang golk (three dimensional wooden puppetry), another extremely important tradition of puppet theater in Indonesia. Future scholars may want to compare my study with that of Weintraubs (since both include audio recordings along with text transcriptions and translations).18 When I decided to make a transcription and translation of an entire performance of wayang kulit, I realized I needed to hear the dhalang, the female singers, and the gamelan musicians with approximately equal definition. My two microphones and small cassette tape recorder (a Sony Walkman Professional) could not possibly have provided the clarity and quality of sound reproduction necessary for such a task. Furthermore, live performances in Banyumas are filled with a variety of ambient noise: the audience chatter,

17

See, for example, Arps 1987; Brandon 1970; Feinstein et alia 1986; Pink 1977 and Weintraub 2001. Arps provides a recording, with summary notes, of an abbreviated version of wayang performed in Holland; Brandons well-known study contains what might be considered textual scripts for (as opposed to transcriptions/translations of) three abbreviated and idealized performances of wayang. Feinstein et alia is a major work (in three volumes) with textual transcriptions (without translations) of different versions of several stories as well as summary plot outlines of numerous other stories. (Note that this study was prepared as a kind of resource, mainly for Indonesian/Javanese researchers.) Pink provides a transcription and translation (into German) of a wayang performance, along with detailed notes and annotations. However, it contains some modifications to the narrative, made at the request of the puppeteer, and does not include a recording of the performance. The most significant work is that of Andrew Weintraub (2002). His recording and notes of a Sundanese wayang performance also include (as electronic files on one of the compact disks) the transcription and translations (in English as well as Indonesian) of the Sundanese narration. 18 For more details on Sundanese wayang golk, see Weintraubs PhD dissertation (Weintraub 1997).

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 16

21-4-2009 17:04:30

I Cultural universals and local traditions

17

signals of food and toy vendors, nearby motorcycles and automobiles, rain drumming on the corrugated roof of the stage, booming echoes of the amplified voices of the dhalang or singers, and so forth. Commercial recordings are ideal for study because they are made in sound-proof studios with few extraneous sounds, using as many as sixteen microphones, a multiple-track mixing board, and other high quality electronic equipment. To be sure, the recorded performance is not live since it did not take place in a natural setting (that is, outside on a temporary stage and in front a large audience of village spectators) nor was it part of a larger ritual event. However, Sugino performs for studio recordings much like he performs for live situations: he narrates continuously for eight hours, without rest and without re-recording a single utterance. He is also clearly aware of the distribution of his commercial cassette recordings they are sold almost exclusively within the Banyumas region. In other words, Suginos recorded performances, like his live performances, are aimed specifically at a Banyumas audience. These arguments, then, make up my rationale for choosing to use a commercial cassette recording as the source for my transcriptions and translation. My general comments and discussions, however, are based upon interviews and observations I made in Banyumas during my initial fieldwork of eighteen months in 1986-87 and again when I returned to conduct follow-up research in 1994 and 1998. Altogether, I watched almost one hundred different live wayang kulit performances, most of them by Sugino but many also by other dhalang, and I discussed these performances with both my main informants as well as other musicians, dhalang, and audience members. Thus, my study closely examines a product, the commercially recorded performance in transcription and translation, and a larger process, the performance event. Most important, my study attempts to get at the locally framed knowledge needed to understand both the performance and the performance event. I translated the title of the recording as Srikandhi Dances Lnggr to emphasize the intersection of Javanese universals (Srikandhi, a heroine from the ancient Hindu-Javanese epic, Mahabharata) with local particularities (the uniquely regional performance tradition featuring female street dancers/ singers, known as lnggr). While similar stories are told in other regions of Central Java, and while the performance is in many aspects quite conventional, it is also clearly aimed at a local, specifically Banyumas, audience. As the title makes clear, this version of the story assumes specific kinds of knowledge that are locally oriented, based on practices and social values unique to the Banyumas region. The title might be literally translated into English as Srikandhi performs as an itinerant dancing girl, or perhaps Srikandhi wanders about as a danc-

Boek LYSLOFF.indb 17

21-4-2009 17:04:30

18

Srikandhi dances Lnggr

ing girl, but I have chosen to simply call it Srikandhi dances lnggr. I have intentionally left lnggr in its Javanese form because the term means more than itinerant female dancing. It refers to a performance tradition (discussed in detail later on) peculiar to the region of Banyumas and connotes a distinctively local perspective of wayang kulit. Thus, the title, Srikandhi dances lnggr, takes on a much deeper significance: Srikandhi, a major character in the Hindu-Javanese epic Mahabharata, becomes an itinerant dancing girl in the Banyumas dance tradition known as lnggr.19 It reflects and highlights the intriguing juxtaposition of cultural universals and local particulars featured in this and all performances of Banyumas-style wayang kulit. The story I transcribed and translated is well-known among local fans of wayang kulit and has been performed, at one time or another, by many dhalang in the Banyumas region. It is about adultery, abduction, revenge, and divine retribution in a characteristically Banyumas fashion that is, with considerable humor at times. In the story, Srikandhi, the wife of the great warrior knight Arjuna in the Mahabharata, becomes a wandering dancing girl to save her husband who has been abducted by a foreign king. She is accompanied by her faithful clown servants, Ptruk, Garng, and Bawor, who act as her musicians. However, this theme only constitutes a small part of a larger story of political intrigue between two warring clans, the Mahabharata (discussed in Chapter II).

19

For a more detailed description and discussion of the tradition of lnggr, see my commentary (as a footnote) to item 818 in the English translation.