The Snake Goddess: Between Belief and Disbelief

By Wayan Aryati Hunter

Tegal Tani village, Saturday 28 October 2000

            It was 8:30 P.M. I was having a chat with my grandfather about his experiences when he was a soldier in the Indonesian army. He had lived through both the Japanese occupation and the revolutionary struggle against the Dutch. When he was young, at least one man from each family had to join the army to struggle to free the country, first from the Japanese, then from the Dutch. My grandfather was very proud that he had done his duty as a soldier. He told me that many of the collaborators with the Dutch (antek-antek Belanda) tortured villagers, because the Dutch themselves never wanted to dirty their hands with such evil work. My grandfather said that he and his fellow guerrillas had to hide in caves around the Tabanan area or in the houses of remote villages so that the Dutch forces couldn’t find them. The village women were safe from any danger, but they had to pay a price. Some of them were kept busy serving the Dutch soldiers by preparing their food, cleaning their clothes and the like. It may seem strange, but others considered themselves lucky to “work” as the mistresses of Dutch officers. They got special treatment and sometimes a little extra cash that they could use to help their husbands, who were busy hiding in the hills and raiding the Dutch! In those days people in the rural villages had a more simple outlook, so the question of “morality” rarely came up. My own grandmother has told me many times how proud she was to be the mistress of a Dutch officer, and how that in turn made it possible for her to help her husband with extra food, clothing and footwear while he was hiding away from the Dutch.

Grandfather also talked about his experiences during what villagers call the “Gestok” movement, taking the name from “Gestapu”, the official acronym for the so-called “coup” of 30 September 1965. Two men from my village were killed because they were suspected of being “red”. At that time there were only two parties you could choose from in our village. You were either for the nationalist PNI, or “black party” whose sign was a black bull’s head with sharp horns, or from the communist party, the PKI, the “red party” whose banner was red and marked with a hammer and sickle.

According to my grandfather, the villagers didn’t actually know anything at all about politics. If they voted for PNI, it was because most of their friends voted for that party. As for the PKI, villagers really only knew it as a name. No one in the village could actually explain what the PKI was, who was behind it and what role it played in Indonesian politics. In our village the real reason that one of man was accused of being a PKI supporter and subsequently killed by the other men of the village was a question of personal sentiment and desire for revenge. When I asked my grandfather the real reason for the killing, he told me it was because of jealousy – both the victim and the man who instigated his murder had been lovers of the same woman. Another man who was also killed in the events of 1965 was the head of the village. He had recommended to the villagers to split up in voting. Half of the villagers should vote for the PKI party and the other half for the PNI. He believed that they would be safe that way. Actually the villagers liked him a lot and thought his advice was good. However, it turned out later that anyone who was suspected of being in the PKI was in danger of losing their life as the army began its campaign to “cleanse” Bali of PKI influence in December 1965. So it was lucky that the villagers had gone against his advice and voted as a group for the majority party, the PNI. Unfortunately people from outside the village were able to use our headman’s good advice as a pretext to label him a PKI sympathized, so he too lost his life in 1965. Beside those two victims of the massacre of 1965 there was another man from the nearby village of Jegu who killed himself inside the Pura Puseh, or “Temple of Origins”, the dwelling place of the god Wisnu. He committed suicide because he had also been accused of being a PKI sympathizer, but didn’t want to be killed by the other men, who would then have his blood on their hands. We had to move the location of the Pura Puseh because of that, but because of his heroic act of self-sacrifice there is a shrine in his honor in our village, and his family still comes to the village during the festival in the Pura Puseh to worship his soul.

             No doubt my grandfather’s stories about the violent massacre of 1965 made us feel very tense. Suddenly we were startled by the sound of a woman’s scream coming from our neighbor’s house. Immediately the village dogs all began barking and howling loudly. The combination of screams and howling was hair-raising. Some of the villagers were spending their night in the Pura Batur temple, located about 10 minutes northwest of the village by motorbike, because a new shrine was being consecrated there. I was terrified, imagining that perhaps another massacre might be in progress. My four-year old daughter was asleep in one of the beds on Bale Gede, the central pavilion of the house-yard, but she wasn’t bothered by the screaming. But my grandfather rushed out to join the other villagers heading for the place where the screams had been coming from without even pausing to look at me. I couldn’t go anywhere because I didn’t want to leave my daughter behind alone. I just waited for the news about what could possibly be happening at such a late time in the evening. In a small village like Tegal Tani an event like that could easily be connected with back magic. Actually I don’t believe in black magic – I’m too much of a realist – but who knows.

            Just then my mother came in and ordered me to put on a sarong and go down to Ketut’s house next door. Ketut is my youngest sister who not too long ago had married into our neighbor’s household. She lives in Kuta with her husband where he works as a cook in a Japanese restaurant, and they already have a three-year-old son. At the time they had come home to the village to attend temple festivals in the Pura Kayangan Kangin and also the Pura Batur. Ketut’s husband is a future priest of Pura Kayangan Kangin, because his father is the priest there now, and the role is hereditary. So they had to be home for the festival in the Pura Saren Kangin. 

            I rushed down to Ketur’s house right away to find many people there watching my sister. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Ketut. She was lying on the floor of the “northern pavilion” (Bale Daja) with her eyes tightly closed and both hands clasped together above her head as if she was praying. A strange hissing noise was coming from her mouth, almost as if she were a snake.

            I sat next to her while calling her name, but of course she couldn’t hear me. She was in a different world. One of the old women told me that I should just stay calm and not bother her. Ketut kerauhan! Biarkan saja dulu – “Ketut is in trance - just let it be for now”. Another woman told me that Ketut had been entered by the spirit of a snake and that’s why she was making such strange sounds. She was in a deep trance. I decided to just stay and watch her. Many people, old and young, men and women, came to see the event. Some of women were busy making offerings asking for the mercy and forgiveness of the gods, while the men were busy trying to find out what could be wrong in the niskala, or invisible world. Other men were just standing around in case they were needed for doing something to help. All this time the dogs were still barking and howling.

            At that time in Tegal Tani people were busy building a new shrine for the Pura Batur, a public temple that is associated with an ancient rock that has been a place of worship since time immemorial. According to our tradition any time we build something we have to sacrifice a certain animal depending on how elaborate the shrine is. The purpose of the sacrifice is to make the shrine sacred and be symbolically accepted by God.[1] The villagers had already done what they were supposed to do for a new shrine, but now this strange thing was happening to Ketut, so the elders wanted to try out what else might be wrong with the rituals or preparation of the new shrine.. Finally they sent off a young man to go to the Pura Batur to talk to Jero Balian. Jero Balian is a traditional healer who discovered his gifts not too many years ago and has already helped to heal several people of the village as well other people from different parts of Bali. He is from Tegal Tani also but too lives in Kuta where he works as a cook in a hotel. He had come home to the village for the same purpose as the others, to attend the temple festivals in the Pura Saren Kangin and Pura Batur.

            While waiting for Jero Balian to arrive, an old man who serves as the priest for shrine that “guards” the graveyard and burning ground touched Ketut’s head. With his eyes tightly closed he began to mumble the words of a mantra. Ketut screamed very loudly, as if protesting the touch of the priest. Her hissing sounds seemed even stranger to my ears now. People seemed dumbstruck by what they saw. At the point my mother came in carrying my daughter. When she saw what was happening she yelled at the priest, “don’t touch her, stay away from my daughter!” Everyone looked at her hesitantly. She handed me my little daughter, who right away started asking me many questions about was happening to her aunt, but I had no idea what to say and couldn’t give her the right answers. By then the temple priest had moved away from my sister. Then everyone’s eyes turned in the direction of a motorbike that had arrived carrying Jero Balian. I felt sorry for the old priest, as I was sure my mother had humiliated him.

            When Jero Balian arrived from the Pura Batur, Ketut was still laying on the floor making hissing sound and writhing around like a snake in pain. People moved away so he could get close to Ketut. He knelt down next to her and held her hands with his eyes closed. He mumbled some mantras which was sounded very unfamiliar to my ears. After a while he opened his eyes and asked a few questions.

“Has anybody killed a snake today in this compound?”

“Yes”, replied Ketut’s brother-in-law Pan Gede, “just today I killed a black and white snake that came in from the street and tried to cross our yard.”

“Where did you throw the dead body of the snake?” asked Jero Balian.

“Over there by the edge of the street - I threw it over there. Why?” Pan Gede asked.

Immediately Jero Balian sprang to his feet and asked for a bright flashlight, He grabbed Pan Gede’s hand and pulled him to the place where he had thrown the snake. I couldn’t understand at all the connection between my sister’s trance and a dead snake, but I didn’t ask any questions. I just waited and watched to see what would happen next.

The next thing I knew Jero Balian came in with the dead snake in his hand.

“Can anybody get a young ivory coconut for me?” he said

A young man ran out to get a young coconut. While waiting for the coconut, Jero Balian sat down tailor fashion next to Ketut with his eyes closed, gently massaging the snake’s body. Of course he continued to chant mantras under his breath.

            The young man then returned with the coconut in hand. “What should I do with it?” he asked Jero Balian.

“Just give it to me! Please bring me an offering on a silver tray and a knife too” said Jero Balian.

            Everyone was watching him in silence. We all wondered what he would do with the things he’d asked for. Ketut’s mother-in-law came in with a canang offering on a silver offering platter called bokoran, complete with the knife Jero Balian had asked for. Jero Balian placed the bokoran next to place where Ketut was lying, still in the position of a snake. Jero Balian cut the top of the coconut open and very gently slid the dead snake inside the coconut milk inside. He recited more mantras, then took out the snake’s body and asked, “how did you kill the snake?”

“Using a stick,” replied Pan Gede.

“Did you break the snake?” Jero Balian asked.

“Yes, into three pieces,” replied Pan Gede.

            Jero Balian massaged the snake’s body, trying to set the broken bones and then slid it back into the coconut milk. He left it there for a while. Not long after that he removed the snake from the coconut. I couldn’t believe my eyes. As far as anyone could tell the snake was alive again. Jero Balian sprinkled some of the coconut milk on my sister. Suddenly she woke up and began asking questions. “Where is my son? What’s happened here? Why are there so many people?” She ran to her son who all this time had been in his father’s arms.

            Jero Balian was still busy with the snake. After saying more mantras he released the snake into the bushes behind the house that is located on the hill above the Pura Kayangan Kangin making sure that its release was accompanied with certain offering. Things got calmer now and the villagers all went back to their homes. Ketut was now back in our human world and went to bed with her little son. The snake had gotten its life back too. I went home with my little daughter and went to bed, but I couldn’t shut my eyes because in my rational mind I still couldn’t accept what has just happened.

            It was midnight when another scream came from our neighbor’s house. This time it was the scream of an old woman who had been entered by the spirit of the snake because it couldn’t find its way back to the temple. Even though in a deep trance she had reached the cement steps of the Pura Desa, or “Temple of the Village”.  She was very upset with the cement steps of the Pura Desa - she kept crying and struggling to climb the cement steps, but couldn’t do it.

“I can’t find my way home, where is the tree that was the land mark in the past?” she asked people angrily.

A young man went into the bushes nearby to get a sapling from an awar-awar tree that people felt might be from the tree the old woman – or perhaps the snake’s spirit – was demanding. After the young man came in with a branch of the tree, her grandson smashed away a portion of the cement steps of the temple so he could put the branch of the tree there. This would be a symbol of the tree that would be the landmark for the snake to find its way home to its old place of holy origin. Even now if you go to Tegal Tani you can see the broken steps of the temple, which to this day have not yet been repaired.

            It was Jero Balian again who came in with holy water and sprinkled it on the old woman so that she could be freed from the spirit of the snake and come back into the real world.

            I didn’t know how to feel at that time, and I still don’t. There it was, right in front of my eyes, but it seemed impossible. How could a being of the invisible realm (niskala) transform itself into the visible (sekala) world by entering someone’s body? Who can explain it logically? Or deny that it can happen?

Note: the image of the snake goddess I used above is from the Google image.

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[1] You originally used the verb “was” and in terms of the narrative that is correct. However, when we refer in a narrative to something that is done in general (like always sacrificing something for a laspas) then we revert to the present tense to describe that “generic” event.