the village chief and questions about magic

The jaro and his son met us outside their home. He was a middle-aged man of the same build as the Baduis I have seen thus far--lean, wiry, shorter than the average Asian male. Like the others, he had a squarish face  with a strong jaw, a well-defined nose, and deep-set eyes. It's the first thing you notice about the Baduis--their faces and build. The jaro was in the same garb as the others--white shirt, white turban, white sash into which their handmade machete is tucked, black "skirt", no footwear. No distinction marked him as the chief except in his self-possessed, unhurried and dignified manner. He was browned by the sun and he did not smile when he shook each of our hands. The veiled eyes seemed to tell me: "You will stay here if you must; we have to have you if we must." Not that I blamed him. If a horde of outsiders descended upon me to just gawk and marvel at my way of life, and I had to endure them for survival, I would put up a barrier as high as the Great Wall, too.

His son smiled--rather nervously, rather shyly, rather guardedly--displaying beet-stained teeth. We followed them up their shack which was similar to the ones we first rested in at the entrance of the small clearing. The roof was made of coconut palm, the walls of weaved bamboo. All the huts were raised from the dry, rocky ground. The bamboo steps--three or four rungs high--led up to the seemingly mandatory porch with the same bamboo floor and railing. Strips of rattan or some other indigenous material held the structure together--not nails or any such modern nonsense, of course. I peered into the hut as I took off my shoes by the doorstep (there were no windows) and saw only the flicker of several torches in the dim interior. Everybody was subdued now as we filed into the jaro's living quarters. Since our hosts' way of life is so totally different from what we are used to, we had no idea what kind of welcome rite was waiting for us. The only thing the organiser briefed us before our trek was to be respectful at all times and to maintain positive vibes while within the village. While being positive sounded easy enough, the reminder contained undertones of a warning left unsaid: what happens if someone gave off negative aura?

The hut was dark and almost bare. Since it had no windows, the only light came from three crudely made torches hanging from bamboo posts, and from slivers of sunlight slipping through a few holes in the wall. There was none of the usual clutter we have in our homes--no bench, no table, no bed, no knick-knacks, no pictures, nothing. Most of us would define it as a temporary shelter, maybe a mere shed with walls, so bare it was of the necessities we normally think we must have in order for a place to be called "livable". I stood by the door for a moment to adjust my eyes to the shadows. 

When I could see a bit more clearly, I realised that the wall facing the door was not empty at all. It was lined with shelves on which stood several cone-shaped bronze containers. I thought at first they were vases except that they were too big and too triangular. Later I learned they were rice vessels, and the number of vessels one owns marks a Badui's social status in the village.The lower shelf contained cloth sacks which I presumed were filled with rice. The shelves continued along the wall to my right, with more of the bronze containers and the white cloth sacks, although the shelves did not take up the whole length of the wall this time, ending somewhere along the middle of the room.

To my left, the hut was partitioned in two parts--a kind of a loft just near the door which held what seemed to be their work tools, some pieces of cloth, the cooking area and a few cooking materials; adjacent to that was the bedroom with a door, of which frame the jaro was now leaning against while squatting on the floor. Opposite where the jaro sat, spread beneath the shelves on the bamboo floor, were finely woven mats. On top of these were placed small china bowls. We hunkered down on the mats, unconsciously following the square pattern of the room and listened as the Jaro began to speak.

The Baduis speak Sundanese, a language quite different from Bahasa Indonesia. Only three among us spoke it and one was now translating the jaro's words into Bahasa Indonesia. My heart slowly sank realising there was no way I could catch up with the fast translation. But one thing about Indonesians that you can always count on is their consistent consideration towards foreigners. Of course they remembered there were three Filipinos in the group and a few of them took turns translating the translation into English!

The room seemed to brighten as the jaro started to warm up to us. The initial nervous edge I noticed slowly faded and even the shadows in the hut lifted. A young boy appeared from within the bedroom and stood by the door behind the head man. These were some of the things the village chief told us about the Badui Dalam: 

1.  Their religion is Sunda Wiwitan--wiwit meaning purity. They follow 700 rules to preserve their ancestors' beliefs which are a combination of animism and Hinduism. They hold nature and all its creatures sacred, thus they cannot change any structure or arrangement in the forest that is natural. They can't cut the trees, move the rocks, or such. They just have to build around them. Likewise, they cannot contaminate the creek with anything that is not organic.

2.  There are three villages in Badui Dalam with 75 households in all.  We were visitors of just one village. The whole tribe is led by a Puun, much like a king, which is claimed by birthright. The jaro, however, is chosen by the villagers.

3.  Marriages are arranged, monogamous, and forever. To preserve their pure lineage, they have to marry within the tribe. However, should one of them choose to marry someone from the outer tribes, he or she will have to leave Badui Dalam for good and can only come back for visits.

4.  Formal education is forbidden. They cannot attend school, cannot write. Whatever reading they learn, they get from their parents. Like oral tradition, education is passed by word of mouth from one generation to the next. The few tribesmen who are allowed to step out of Inner Badui for trading purposes already know some Bahasa Indonesia and a few English words from outsiders.

5.  They are not allowed to ride any mechanical or wheeled vehicle. Thus, whenever they have to deliver their produce to Jakarta or anywhere outside the village, they have to walk... for days... or weeks, if need be. 

6. They have a fasting period, too, for 3 months and 3 days--from January to March. The dates don't change. On these months, they can only eat after sundown, unlike the Islamic fasting where one is allowed to eat before sunrise and after sunset.

The rules for village guests:

7. No cameras, no mobile phones, no gadgets can be shown or used in Badui Dalam (even if there was electricity or signal which, of course, there wasn't!). 

8.  Male and female visitors have separate sleeping quarters. Overt or covert flirtation is forbidden. We were not allowed to speak or be noisy after nine in the evening. We cannot go into other houses besides the ones assigned to us.

9.  There is no toilet, not even an outhouse. Everything is done in the creek. An area is assigned for women, another for men.

10.  We cannot use soap, shampoo, toothpaste or any such thing with chemicals in the creek.

At this point, the jaro urged us to partake of the welcoming delicacy--the java gula, which to us Maasinhons, is the kamay (sugar candy). The small china bowls were filled with warm water and chunks of java gula were passed around. I have always liked kamay which my grandmother used to stock in a huge jar in her bedroom. Dipping our hand into that jar to get a piece of the sweet thing was one of the treats of my childhood (equal to stealing a spoonful of Nido powdered milk and eating it raw!) So, in a different country, in an alien custom, I found a familiar treat. I took a bite of the java gulaenthusiastically and sipped from the bowl of warm water--only to realise that the custom was to dip the gula into the water first before eating it! Needless to say, I swallowed the whole thing in a flash of mortification.

"Now you can ask questions!" The jaro encouraged.

Only one thing has not been mentioned yet. It hasn't been spoken of, but every one of us in the group was thinking about it, was a bit afraid of it, was wired for it.

Magic. Badui magic.

So I asked.