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On the Edge of a Dream. Michael Wiese
Читать онлайн.Название On the Edge of a Dream
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781615931538
Автор произведения Michael Wiese
Жанр Контркультура
Издательство Ingram
The wayang kulit begins. Gedé jabs the handles of various performing, stenciled, leather puppets into a soft, banana palm log at the bottom of the screen. It’s fantastic that Gedé, who is relatively young, creates voices so old. He has a tremendously handsome face and large lips, which he contorts with every puppet’s voice.
I think I am hallucinating. Sometimes Gedé looks 15 feet tall, other times only a few inches high. Maybe it has something to do with how he projects his power.
Just then Gedé gives a loud shout and begins a moaning, longing chant. With a mallet grasped between his toes, he whacks the puppet box; this signals a four-man ensemble sitting cross-legged behind him to hammer away on genders (xylophone-like instruments). The flame of an oil lamp above Gedé’s head casts flickering shadows of the delicately carved leather puppets onto the screen.
“Now that’s real mastery,” I say to Eddie. “If I knew as much about filmmaking…”
Just then Gedé turns around and signals for me to move closer and sit beside him. Who? Me! Gedé’s assistant motions to me, and the crowd of men make a small path for me to pass. Messages.
I sit down beside Gedé next to the screen! I can feel the heat of the oil lamp above my head and the hot wind, as he flashes the leathery puppets inches from my face. We are only separated by the thin membrane of the screen from hundreds of people watching a few feet away. What a great privilege.
Gedé channels the voices of the puppets. Closing his eyes, he brings different personalities and human qualities to each as they speak to one another. The puppets are archetypes. I recognize the qualities of bravery and refinement in the prince. And slovenliness in one of the clowns.
One of the prime ministers in the “bad” family has an energetic, wild-eyed look, like Eddie. Next is a philosophical scene. Now the clowns, burping and farting and fighting. The crowd goes crazy with laughter. I wonder whether Eddie likes this or whether this ritual stuff turns him off.
I love this shadow play! There is every type of character: gods, mentors, tricksters, threshold guardians, and holy men. The puppets range from tiny, refined princes and princesses to large, horrific demons.
During the fight scenes, Gedé really shows his stuff. He moves dozens of puppets at once. Armies of monsters attack brave princes; arrows and boulders fly through the air. The power of the gods turns the arrows back; demons scream ghastly death cries. Yes! Gedé deftly places a large leaf-like puppet in the center of the screen. The forces of good prevail. Balance is restored—if only temporarily.
I put my hands together, prayer-like. Bowing slightly to Gedé, I thank him for the sacred experience, “Terima kasih, wayang kulit”
Unceremoniously, he nods and begins to put the puppets back in their box. My foot’s asleep. I limp away. It’s not just my foot that is asleep. I’ve been asleep for months. I’ve got a lot of learning to do. I want to learn as much about the Balinese way of life as I can. About the shadow play, the stories, the music. Everything. I want to live as they do.
I keep Eddie up all night talking.
“You know, that puppeteer was really great. Do you think he was in a trance to do all those voices?”
“Yes,” he agrees, “he certainly was in touch with The Creator.”
“The shadow play predates movies by thousands of years. It’s got everything, and one guy does all the ‘shots,’ dialogue, and sound effects. Incredible,” I exclaim.
Eddie is not as enthusiastic about the connections between the shadow play and motion pictures as I am.
“It’s kind of archaic,” he mumbles.
“I disagree completely. This is a living, dynamic art at its best. It’s not off in a museum somewhere. It speaks directly to the people.”
“Well, Nick, if you want to know the truth, I didn’t watch much of it. Over in the corner, these old ladies began dancing like young girls. Now that was exquisite.”
“Trance? Do you think?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Eddie, none of my friends even know this stuff exists. And we’re living right in the middle of it!! Listen, let’s get off this beach and into the culture and really learn something. Become somebody different.”
“I’m with you there, buddy.”
It’s great to share all this with someone and be on the same wavelength. We laugh and talk until dawn.
Chapter 6
LEARNING TO SPEAK
A few days later in Denpasar, I find a student handbook on shadow puppetry. They actually teach shadow puppetry in the university here. The book is written in Indonesian and printed on cheap newsprint. It’s almost a comic book. Maybe I can figure it out. Several dozen of the main characters are identified. Let’s see. There’s Bima, Arjuna, Semar, Sangut, Delum, Murdah. I recognize these characters from Gedé’s performance. I also buy an Indonesian dictionary. If I dont learn some more Indonesian, I won’t get anywhere.
Eddie’s way ahead of me. I guess you have to know lots of languages if you are going to convert the world.
Eddie’s genius is apparent. He is already clicking into the Indonesian language much faster than I am. He knows six languages: French, Italian, German, Russian, Hebrew, and Greek.
We sit at a warung which Eddie calls his “language lab.” I think he likes it because of the Javanese girl that runs it. She’s impressed with him.
It’s not long before some old men and boys start gathering around, fascinated by Eddie. I study his technique.
He hears a new word spoken and speaks it back immediately. Sometimes he deliberately changes the sound to see how far he can go before it becomes another word. For example, he’ll say the first part of a word, like “ku,” and then see how many varieties with meanings he can find… kuning (yellow), kunir (saffron), kunjah (to chew), kuno (old-fashioned), kuntji (lock), kuping (ear), kupu (butterfly), kura (land tortoise). He may learn six or more words at a time, which then quickly becomes a permanent part of his vocabulary. Then he’ll try to make a nonsensical sentence out of the words he’s just learned. The kids love these games. He winks at the girl. She winks back.
I have to say one word over and over to myself and then think how to use it and what it means. I give myself a visual image to jog my memory. The Indonesian word for sleep is “tidur,” so I visualize a large letter “T” painted onto a door. This seems to work fairly well, but then I have to remember the visualization and the sound that accompanies it before I get the word I want. Seems like the long way around.
Eddie is very confident, as the girl serves him another tea.
“The trouble with you is you’re afraid to try.”
He’s right. I might get it wrong. When I was in Hong Kong, I was hanging out with a Chinese rock band. They had a lot of fun teaching me slang words. We went out to a restaurant, and I ordered “a woman’s private parts with a raw egg over rice in a bowl.”
The waitress freaked, and so did I.
“The