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Erotic Triangles
Sundanese Dance and Masculinity in West Java
By HENRY SPILLER
The University of Chicago Press
Copyright © 2010 The University of Chicago
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-226-76959-2
Contents
List of Figures and Tables....................vii
Preface....................ix
Acknowledgments....................xv
1 Discourses of Sundanese Dance....................1
2 Drumming and Power....................43
3 Ronggeng and Desire....................76
4 Dance Events and Freedom....................104
5 The Erotic Triangle of Sundanese Dance....................143
6 Triangulating Sundanese Dance....................181
Notes....................211
References....................223
Index....................239
Chapter One
Discourses of Sundanese Dance It is an everyday occurrence in the Sundanese areas of West Java, Indonesia: men get up and dance. Businessmen, pedicab drivers, civil servants, and students alike find the combination of animating rhythms played on drums and the beguiling voice of a female entertainer to be irresistible, so they cast aside their everyday modest demeanors and make spectacles of themselves by gyrating their hips and waving their arms in time with the drums. Some get so carried away that they sidle up to the singer—even touch her. The musical styles to which they dance are quite varied, ranging from staid folkloric ketuk tilu ensembles, through modern gamelan music, to the global pop sounds of contemporary dangdut. Equally varied are the occasions at which such activities take place—village ceremonies, weddings, political rallies, and nightclubs, among others. What remains constant is the men's enthusiastic willingness, given the right conditions, to breach ordinary standards of comportment in order to dance.
This book develops the argument that men's dancing persists in myriad forms in West Java because it satisfies a crucial need: through dancing, participants explore and enact the contradictions inherent in Sundanese gender identities. The combination of drumming and a female voice in effect grant men permission to "perform"—literally, on-stage—the behaviors that constitute their own masculine identities that they unconsciously enact all the time. The conventional protocols of Sundanese improvised dance, such as ambiguity about whether dancers "lead" or "follow" the drumming, and the subtle ways in which men's perceived freedom to move in whatever ways they like is constrained by musical structures, provide aesthetic metaphors for important contradictions of masculinity. Because virtually every Sundanese man, woman, and child understands the conventions that surround men's dancing, any dance event provides a potent forum for both reinforcing and contesting the conventional gender values that such events model. Furthermore, the powerful meanings conveyed by participatory dance inhere as well in modern presentational, staged dance performances that reference the conventions of participatory genres without inviting any actual participation.
How to analyze such a vast and complex array of cultural practices? A structuralist approach that identifies common patterns underlying all of the practices runs the risk of ignoring the roles of individuals in the process and excising Sundanese dance from its historical context. By the same token, interpretive approaches are in danger of understating the strength of the persistent underlying value systems that drive people's beliefs and behaviors. In this book, I selectively combine divergent theoretical approaches to build multiple perspectives on the detailed ethnographic data upon which it is based. This interdisciplinary approach reconciles structuralist ideas with poststructuralist approaches to enable an eclectic, heterodox, yet compelling reading of Sundanese cultural practices.
Opening Scenarios
To begin, I introduce a few real-life scenarios that illustrate some of the contexts in which amateur men's dancing is likely to occur.
Scenario 1: Ketuk tilu in Lembang
The setting: The small rural community of Paneungteung, near Lembang (nestled in the mountains north of Bandung), in August 1999. Salam Mulyadi, a noted exponent of the genre of Sundanese men's social dancing known as ketuk tilu, has invited me to join him as he performs at an annual ritual, sponsored by Paneungteung and the surrounding communities, to ensure that enough water is available for the upcoming growing season. Although ketuk tilu is the quintessential Sundanese amateur men's dance, it is rarely encountered in modern West Java. Salam explains to me that this is one of the very few remaining occasions in and around Bandung at which one could encounter ketuk tilu in a non-folkloric context.
The scene: A temporary raised stage (with a roof but no walls; see fig. 1.1) has been built in the front yard of the village head's house. The large banner that flaps in the wind at the rear of the stage identifies the musical group that is to perform as Lingkung Seni Manggu Sari. The rear of the stage is occupied by some musical instruments: a goong (a large hanging bossed gong), three ketuk (small bossed gongs laid horizontally), a kendang (a set of double-headed barrel drums), and a rebab (a two-stringed spike fiddle). Most of the instruments are miked, and there are several more microphones set up for singers and an emcee.
We head first for the house's interior. I am invited into a small room off the main living area, in which a variety of sesajen (offerings) are set up, over which the couple who own the house and are sponsoring the ceremony pray and light incense. At about 9:25 A.M., the program onstage begins.
The action: After the elderly hostess, who is known in the community for her spiritual power, has finished singing the sacred invocatory song "Kidung" to the accompaniment of three musicians who play the instruments (a single musician handles the goong and the three ketuk) and others have given a few obligatory speeches, the dancing begins. Several female performers dressed in brightly colored formal outfits sit on a bench at stage right, ready to dance with male spectators. For each ketuk tilu dance number, one, two, or three men mount the stage and dance, each with his own partner selected from among the female performers, to the accompaniment of the instrumentalists and a couple of seated singers. At times, some of the female dancers also take turns singing. Each man dances with his own idiosyncratic style, and some are clearly more skilled at dancing than others, but everybody's movements are coordinated closely with the various rhythmic patterns that the drummer plays. In the middle of each number, the tempo quickens, the dancers nyembah (make a gesture of respect) to one another, and the female performers return to their bench while the men, at times joined by other men, follow a leader in a serpentine dance around the stage (cf. Herdiani 1996; Sumiati 1996b).
As the morning brightens into afternoon, people passing by on the road across the irrigation canal occasionally stop to watch the goings-on. The biggest crowds gather when the action onstage is something other than ketuk tilu, such as penca silat (Sundanese martial arts) or jaipongan (a modern style of dancing based loosely on ketuk tilu). All in all, however, the event is sparsely attended.
Scenario 2: Bajidor in Subang
The setting: Cikaum (near the town of Purwadadi) in northern Subang, in June 1999, about 10 p.m. The choreographer and dance scholar Mas Nanu Muda and his brother, Nana, have brought me to a performance of bajidoran (a kind of dance event that centers around male dance fanatics known as bajidor) featuring the Leunyay Group and sponsored by the village as part of their annual bersih desa ("cleaning the village") festival. The village is quite remote, but the performance has attracted an enormous crowd. The road is choked with people going to and fro and just hanging around, and portable food carts are set up everywhere. Nana points out to me that the people gathered in a large cluster under a long, narrow canopy on the outskirts of the performance area were gambling.
The scene: The stage is very high—five feet off the ground. The front of the stage is covered with a banner printed with the group's name and contact information. The whole stage is very, very brightly lit, and colored lights flash above the stage. Speaker towers worthy of a Grateful Dead concert, about ten feet high, flank the stage and blast earsplittingly amplified music. On either side of the stage, facing center stage, are kendang players, and between these drummers is a line of ten or so seated female performers who wear matching tight pink outfits, enormous wigs, and thick, pale makeup. In the center sits Yayah Leunyay, the group's star performer. Gamelan instruments are set up behind the women and the drummers (see fig. 1.2).
The action: The floor below the stage is crowded with men dancing—alone, in couples, in small groups. At times the emcee's amplified voice cuts through the din of the gamelan, calling out the name of a dancer. The man whose name has been called approaches the stage and selects his favorite female performer, who comes to the edge of the stage. Once there, he gives her money in exchange for the opportunity to egot—hold hands and sway together. The men's movements are loosely coordinated; they move as a unit, dancing to flurries of drumming, pausing when the drumming pauses. But each man's particular movement style is unique: some are funny, some are debonair; some are aggressive and locomotive, some are understated and stationary. While they are not dancing, the men sit close to the stage sipping Guinness stout mixed with Red Bull energy drinks. From the sidelines, other men, women, and children passively observe the activities.
Scenario 3: A Man Dances at a Wedding
The setting: Wisma Cahaya Garuda, a large hall in a newer section of western Bandung that can be rented for private functions, in 1996. My drum teacher, Tosin Mochtar, has invited me to observe him and his lingkung seni perform for a Sundanese wedding.
The scene: The bride and groom, dressed in elaborate formal outfits, sit regally on a couch on the stage, surrounded by the rest of the wedding party. First, the lingkung seni presents an upacara adat ("traditional ceremony")—a pageant that draws upon traditional characters and symbols to cast the newlywed couple as aristocrats for a day and welcome them (and their guests) to the reception (cf. Swindells 2004). Following the upacara adat, the performers present a selection of choreographed dances, some degung kawih (solo songs accompanied by a small, distinctly Sundanese type of gamelan called gamelan degung), and karaoke singing accompanied by a solo keyboard.
The action: While three female dancers in matching costumes perform their carefully rehearsed jaipongan dance to an accompaniment featuring gamelan and a female singer, one of the guests—a middle-aged man dressed in fastidiously pressed slacks and a silky batik shirt—enters the performance area and begins to dance along (see fig. 1.3). I was surprised that nobody pulled him aside discreetly to suggest he stay out of the dancers' way. The dancers themselves did not acknowledge the interloper, but neither did they seem particularly irked by him. Sometimes he danced facing the women, approaching them, while at other times he faced away from them. I asked Tosin who he was and why he got up and danced. Tosin shrugged and said he was a guest, and that he felt like dancing.
Overview of Sundanese Dances
All three of these scenarios took place within the context of some sort of ritual. In post-independence West Java, there are nonritual contexts for dancing as well—recitals by faculty and students at the government-sponsored college-level arts institute (Sekolah Tinggi Seni Indonesia [STSI]), television entertainment, benefit concerts for various charitable causes, cultural shows at hotels and restaurants, nightclubs—but many performances are presented within the framework of some sort of ceremony. Despite this shared ritual context, the three scenarios represent (in very broad strokes) an overview of modern Sundanese dances. The first is a self-consciously traditional ritual performance. Its location is determined through ritual conventions—in this case, the location of the irrigation system—and the various actions each participant takes are imbued with symbolic intention and meaning. The second is a vibrant, contemporary social dance scene. Although the participants understand the event's ritual significance, their main motivation for dancing is to entertain themselves. The third is a staged presentational dance, with trained, costumed dancers. Again, despite the ceremonial setting, the performance is apprehended as entertainment and spectacle by the audience.
These three contexts fit rather closely with a common framework for describing contemporary Sundanese dance, such as that presented by Iwan Natapradja in his article "Sundanese Dances" (1975). Natapradja describes four categories: (1) ritual and ceremonial dances, (2) self-defense dance, (3) social dances, and (4) performing dances (1975:103–5). These serve as an outline for my overview of contemporary Sundanese dance.
Ritual and Ceremonial Dances
Premodern Sundanese life centered around agricultural pursuits—the cycle of planting and harvesting rice. Throughout West Java, farming communities pay homage to the rice goddess, Nyi Pohaci, also known as Dewi Sri. A few communities still perform music and dance featuring ang-klung (shaken bamboo rattles) and dogdog (conical drums) to accompany the carrying of the newly harvested rice from the fields to the storehouses. Although each region has its own version of angklung ensembles—the Sundanese culture journal Kawit once reported twenty-one distinct varieties (Masunah, Milyartini, Yukara, Karwati, and Hermawan 2003:4)—all the ensembles embody the spirit of cooperation that is important to agricultural success. Each musician plays a single angklung, which provides only a single pitch. Melodies and ostinatos emerge only when the entire group performs intricately coordinated interlocking parts. Angklung ensembles are quite mobile, and the musicians may also be considered dancers.
For a possible glimpse into the Sundanese past, urban and rural Sundanese alike look to small, self-isolated communities of Baduy—a small group that speaks a dialect of the Sundanese language and fiercely adheres to an old-fashioned, technologically limited agricultural lifestyle and an animistic belief system (Wessing 1977). Sometimes the Baduy are dubbed the "Amish of Indonesia" because of their iconoclastic cultural practices. According to one legend, they are descendants of the rulers of the Pajajaran kingdom (1333–1579 CE)—the last independent Sundanese political entity—who fled to the hinterlands when driven from their court by invaders from the central Javanese Mataram kingdom (Ekadjati 1995:60–61). Although the legend is almost certainly not based in fact, it does reflect the fact that it is to the Baduy that modern Sundanese attribute authenticity. The performance of music and dance in Baduy communities is regulated by the annual one-crop dry rice agricultural cycle.
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Excerpted from Erotic Triangles by HENRY SPILLER Copyright © 2010 by The University of Chicago. Excerpted by permission.
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