The first hint of dawn is yet to lighten the sky above the jungle-clad Balinese hills as I stumble along the strip of rough cobbles that passes for the main street in Tenganan village. Just a few generations ago a foreigner would have been entirely unwelcome here – even at a less ungodly hour – and the whole village would have had to go through complex purification rituals just to erase the sacrilege caused by an outsider’s footprints.
Times have changed, but I still feel as though I am an intruder as I pick my way carefully among the dappled moon-shadows and narrowly miss tripping over a group of cud-chewing buffalo. But now I can smell wood-smoke and, up ahead, I can already see the orange glow of fire reflecting off stone walls.
I have been invited to attend what is tantamount to a ‘royal wedding’ for the people of the mysterious Bali Aga tribe. A hundred and fifty people have been working much of the night and nine large pigs are already sizzling over wood fires.
The man who has invited me is Putu Suarjanan, the kepala desa (headman) of Tenganan and, by the time he finds me, Balinese hospitality has played its usual role and I am already sipping an adrenalin-jolt wake-up-call of syrupy black coffee among new friends.
The headman leads me into the courtyard of a private house, through the traditional zigzagged doorway that is designed to keep evil spirits out. (It is said that evil spirits can only move in straight lines.) Inside the courtyard a dozen more people are milling around placing offerings of fried chicken, rice, fruit and flowers (plus Bintang beer) on the family shrines.
Suarjanan introduces me to the betrothed couple and I pass on my congratulations and the gifts I have brought: a fine sarong and a knife for him and a photograph album for her. The album I intend to supplement with photos that I will send later, but the knife turns out to be a faux pas as 24-year-old Komang is the youngest son of Tenganan’s celebrated kris- (sword) making family.
In fact, Komang’s curiously rigid upright posture at this moment is caused by the ceremonial kris that is strapped to his back. His pretty bride is similarly immobile under an impressive coiffure, an ancient headdress and layers of make-up. It seems that pure willpower alone is keeping her from sweating in the tropical heat.
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