By Audrey Ristawati
A fear
When I was younger, between the ages of 3 to 5 years old, my mother had a specific way of punishing me whenever I threw tantrums or was rude towards her. She would punish me with my fears. I was afraid of puppets, statues, mannequins, masks, basically any humanoid that awakened my fight or flight response. My mother comes from Indonesia and my father is from the Netherlands. Growing up in the Netherlands with my mother, there were certain objects she brought from Indonesia. One of them was the wayang puppets which, as you might assume, I was terrified of. We had a couple of wayang kulit dolls and one wayang golek doll. Wayang was a kind of puppet theatre that originated in Indonesia. “Kulit” meaning “skin” is a type of wayang doll that is made from buffalo skin that has been painted and perforated in great detail for shadow theatre. The Wayang Golek were 3D wooden carved puppets with rods that had similar functions, only these were not used in the dark for shadow play. When I misbehaved, she would put me on top of a high closet in our living room and, together with my sister, show these puppets to me. Through the puppets, I was told not to misbehave again. In hindsight, they both regret punishing me this way and feel bad for scaring a child like that. Over the years, I grew over the fear of wayang, yet that fear transformed into attraction towards learning more about them; how can a childhood fear develop into such an interest?
The source
I mostly grew up with my mother. She was born in 1962 in Java but grew up with 9 other siblings in Samarinda. It is the capital city of East Kalimantan, a province in Borneo and, soon to be, the capital of Indonesia. In my mom’s childhood (1960s - 1980s), Samarinda was like a village, a “kampung” we call it. Living in a kampung meant being closer to nature, where modern technology was not as accessible as it was in the West. Houses were heightened on poles, washing of clothes happened at the nearest river, playing in the forest and foraging for fresh fruits in the Borneo mountains was a daily activity and light was a luxury. Indonesia to this day still has a strong animistic belief.
Stories of the paranormal and different folklore are woven into the country’s fabric, despite the dominant Islamic belief. In my mom’s childhood, nature was closer to home than it is today and (electric) light was not readily available. Oil lamps were the only tools for seeing in the dark, and it created a lot of superstition for the supernatural.
My mom told me about the dangers and specialities of the unknown that were so prominent in Indonesian folktales. These stories have been told in different art forms for many generations like dance, music, writing, art, (puppet) theatre and so forth.
Brought back home
Sometimes when I slept in the same bed as my mom, there was this space that had to be constantly disturbed. To this day she sleeps with the light on or a bright nightlight and the TV or background prayer sound has to stay on. I understand if you grew up with 9 siblings and two parents in a home that it feels scary to sleep in total silence where the sound of nature does not break it and the fact of being totally alone makes you want to have a light on at all times. I never asked the reason for this to her, but my assumption is she is afraid of total darkness, as I get distressed responses from her whenever I mention how the light bothers my night rest.
I grew up in an immigrant household, which meant that the house had many smells and a confusing interior, containing a strong resemblance to Indonesian houses, living uncertain with constant change around me while finances fluctuated. I had an Indonesian way of speaking Dutch at home (as my mom did not teach me Indonesian, being discouraged from teaching me because I could get an accent). These were things I was embarrassed by, though not of the traditional arts and culture that I was so proud of from a young age till now. My environment was full of wonder and strangeness that other kids in my town couldn’t resonate with. When we left the house, we were in the Netherlands. A country that is kept clean, follows mostly atheist or Christian beliefs and aesthetics, modern patriarchal views and basically don’t stand out and “doe normaal”.
Going to school in the Netherlands stirred the pot for my sister and me, as we were taught to be proud of the Dutch Golden Age. From 1588 to 1672 the Netherlands was blooming in its trade, arts, science and overall economy. This included their colonization and trade over Indonesia, which continued for over three hundred years. Not being taught to speak the Indonesian language, looking a certain way, and making the desire to be more Dutch greater helped distance us from our connection to Indonesia, leading to shame and embarrassment towards our mother for acting in a non-Dutch way. Especially as a teenager, there was a fear of the unknown which involves Indonesian culture and overall exoticism, the things our mother embraced. Meanwhile, we expressed patriarchal, Western views shown to us outside the house that security and logic are the way to a successful life as a Dutch person. Things like spiritual belief and animism were just distractions from a life that should thrive on success as viewed through the lens of capitalism. Indonesian culture is unpredictable, it contained an unease that I'm embracing now as I'm coming back to realize that this part of me is something to learn from and be proud of. Over time, I understood my fears came from this lens of desiring predictability. As I over time became more comfortable with my Indonesian background, my interest in unpredictable things only grew.
Shaping
The wayang golek (the 3D wooden doll) was my greatest fear out of the two types of puppets we had. The doll had sharp eyes that seemed to look at you no matter what angle you stood at, making me as a kid warn the puppet I would keep an eye on them as well. The doll had a mysterious and androgynous design that brought discomfort, even if it was supposed to be a male character. My mother’s Indonesian friends had a superstitious fear of the doll as well. After the advice of an imam (a leader in prayer in Islam), she got rid of the golek. This closed a chapter in my childhood, helping me focus more on the wayang kulit (that did not radiate ominousness). The stories of wayang puppetry can range from Hindu legends originating from India to original Indonesian folktales and legends. They contain many philosophical meanings and parables that have the goal of teaching the audience a lesson, though it has also been used to bring forth stories of religion and politics.
Besides the content of its stories, wayang kulit contains a lot of different interpretations when looking at the way it is set up. The puppeteer we call the “Dalang” sits behind a tightened white cotton screen or “Kelir” with a halogen lamp or “Blencong” shining on it (traditionally an oil lamp). On the other side of the screen sits the audience, witnessing the play being performed from dusk till dawn. Besides the dalang acting out all the characters and playing for hours on end, there is also a Gamelan orchestra (Indonesian ensemble music mostly containing percussive instruments) and a mixed cast of singers called “Pasindhèn” and “Gerong” that bring depth and sound to the whole performance.
The dalang can be interpreted as a god, the lamp a symbol of the sun or the eye of the dalang shining upon the puppets. To transition the performance to different locations, scenarios and shifts in time there is a special puppet called the “Gunungan”. The gunungan is shaped like a cone, representing a mountain, but the inside design has a temple, guarded by two Rakshasa with the tree of life growing on top of it with various animals on top of the twigs of the tree.
In general, it is placed at the left and right side of the stage but also used as a transitional element dividing the performance for different scenes, the dalang or cast of singers will sing the narration while the gunungan is displayed all over the screen. It gets waved around like a fan, almost looking like a leaf drifting in through the wind. The backside of the gunungan wayang is painted in a different scenario that is almost entirely painted in red with fire symbolizing chaos and hell.
My personal interpretation of the overall wayang performance is that the dalang equates the hands of reality/current time playing the puppets (us) as god/the sun witnesses and shines upon it all to set it all to life. The shadows are our history following us, tracing our current happening. The gunungang divides our time, while the screen and music all represent the environment and world we live in.
Fearing the wayang puppets helped me deconstruct the fear by looking into my Dutch and Indonesian background. Finding symbolism and understanding helps with connecting to the unknown. Not knowing the Indonesian language might have limited me from following the stories of the wayang kulit, yet it created a new language of understanding the past, current and future as a Dutch-Indonesian person.