MARCH 3 ― “Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides.” ~ André Malraux
The heady scent of kemenyan fills the air. Against pitch black walls, the rising smoke casts its ethereal shadow. Then: the sound of “hooves” beating upon brass. A wiry old man walks to the centre of the floor and strikes it with a long, gnarled whip.
The old man ― known as the bapak (father) ― circumambulates the space, tracing an invisible border with his cord. Assisted by a trio of badal (guardians), he bestows blessings on a row of young dancers and their woven rattan stallions. The arena is now consecrated and the dance may begin.
A group of horsemen, led by a danyang (horse herder), dance in formation to the steadily rising rhythms of the gong, kenong, and gendang. Interlacing through the dancers, the danyang at times closes in to whisper commands to each of them. The unfolding of the dance is punctuated by the sharp cracking of the whips.
This was the opening sequence from a recent Kuda Kepang performance presented by PUSAKA, the non-profit organisation I have been a part of for the past 10 years. Featuring the Kumpulan Kuda Kepang Parit Raja, the show took place at the Black Box at Publika. It was the first in a series of monthly PUSAKA Evenings at Publika, which brings authentic cultural traditions from around Peninsular Malaysia to a KL audience.
The Kuda Kepang tradition originates in Java, where it is also known as Kuda Lumping, and is closely related to Jaran Kepang or Jathilan. In part, the Kuda Kepang commemorates the Wali Songo (Nine Saints) of Java, who played a vital role in spreading Islam throughout the island during the 15th and 16th centuries.
Legend has it that the Wali Songo travelled on horseback to the interiors of Java and captured the attention of locals by enacting the stories, battles and triumphs of Islam. Of the Nine Saints, Sunan Kalijaga is particularly well known for preaching the word of Islam through local art forms such as the Wayang Kulit Purwa. By accommodating indigenous Javanese cultural traditions and transforming them into mediums for his dawah (proselytisation), Sunan Kalijaga was able to spread the teachings of Islam far and wide.
Some sources also relate the Kuda Kepang tradition with anti-colonial struggles of the Javanese against the Dutch. The warrior-like gestures and galloping rhythms may thus partly re-enact the troops of the Sultanate of Mataram ― the last independent polity in Java before Dutch colonisation ― as well as the cavalry of Diponegoro, a Javanese prince who valiantly fought Dutch colonial forces in the 17th century Java War.
Improvisation and play
A vital yet often overlooked element of the Kuda Kepang is that of improvisation and play. It is particularly embodied in the figure of the badal, who urges free expression through discipline.
The badal guard the arena but move freely through it, striking their whips, calling out melodic chants, dancing spontaneously or interacting with the dancers and musicians. The discipline their presence evokes unravels unexpectedly in moments of pure delight.
Playfulness is also manifest in the Bujang Ganong, a masked figure who emerges from the dark corners to further rouse the spirit of the dancing horsemen. This playfulness is matched by a sense of mystery and danger that accompanies the entrance of the Singa Barong, a mythical lion who fiercely prowls the earth around the horses’ hooves.
The appearance of Bujang Ganong and Singa Barong in the Kuda Kepang perhaps signifies that the horsemen have arrived in another realm ― a shift from historical time to mythical time, from mundane reality to kayangan (the celestial kingdom).
The Bujang Ganong and Singa Barong are related to a legendary battle between ancient kingdoms in East and Central Java. The legend tells of the King of Ponorogo, Klono Sewandono, who falls in love with a Princess of Kediri, Puteri Songgolangit.
Bujang Ganong, a beloved companion of the King, is a jester-like character who exhibits mastery in the most intricate forms of silat (traditional martial arts). The dancer who wears a Bujang Ganong mask should therefore be exuberant and graceful in movement, humorous and friendly in disposition.
The powerful Singa Barong is said to have guarded the borders of the kingdom of Kediri, and is eventually tamed or defeated by Klono Sendowo’s great and enchanted whip, known as pecut Samandiman. The significance of the whip in the Kuda Kepang can partly be traced to this legend.
With some variation, the legend also forms the basis of another cultural tradition: the magnificent Reog Ponorogo. The indelible presence of Bujang Ganong and Singa Barong in the Kuda Kepang tradition among some troupes in Johor may stem from their ancestral links to Ponorogo in East Java.
Method in mabuk
Anyone who has witnessed an authentic Kuda Kepang performance will be left with an unshakeable sense that there is more to the Kuda Kepang than meets the eye. But what is it about the Kuda Kepang that is so captivating? Perhaps it is the allure of the unknown ― the invoked aura of alam tak nyata (the unseen realm).
Beyond and through the movements and music ― spurred by the sound of the whips wielded by the danyang and badal, as well as the presence of the masked creatures ― the dancers arrive at an elevated state, some expressing intense euphoria and others falling into trance. Kuda Kepang practitioners refer to this elevated state as mabuk (drunkenness or intoxication).
The head of the Kumpulan Kuda Kepang Parit Raja, a supple dancer by the name of Anuar Bandi, describes mabuk as being in a dreamlike state, of temporarily inhabiting kayangan. But he stresses that the experience of mabuk is not something random that anyone can participate in as they please. The esoteric methods of attaining a state of mabuk are either inherited through lineage or learned under the strict guidance of a guru.
An imposing whip-master named Mirul Mistor explains that dancers who fall into trance have summoned semangat (spirit or life-force) from the unseen realm into their bodies. The whips serve to both guard and tame as well as to call and rouse the semangat ― a diverse gathering of tigers, monkeys, serpents, warriors and celestial princesses.
The type of semangat summoned seems to correspond to an individual’s particular personality. While some perceive it as something “external”, others describe it as arising from within themselves. One is therefore tempted to see this semangat as part of the Subliminal Self, to use a concept by the 19th century scholar FHW Myers, where trance may serve as a doorway to a consciousness beyond supraliminal awareness and to unknown dimensions of the limitless human personality.
At the community level, the mabuk sessions during a Kuda Kepang offer practitioners a way of throwing off the socially-constructed Self, opening up a space of the experience and expression of freedom. Beyond this, there are positive social repercussions: young men who gather to release their raw energy at Kuda Kepang mabuk sessions are less likely to engage in lepak and mat rempit culture.
For the dancers, musicians and guardians, the art of Kuda Kepang is an occasion for the rejuvenation of their own semangat through the summoning of unseen forces and the expression of the hidden Self. It is an occasion to traverse other realms of being, in the words of whip-master Mirul, “with our feet firm upon on the earth beneath a roof of sky.”
* This is the personal opinion of the columnist.
