An unexpected welcome

Banyuwangi countryside in the evening

After saying goodbye, we climbed back into the car with Azan and we drove back over the same country roads, to Kota Banyuwangi. Kota means ‘town.’ The drive back was pleasant as the evening wore on, beautiful farmhouses and fields passing us, and the air fragrant with the start of night-time scents. What would we do when we got back into town? It would be too late, of course, to take the ferry back to Bali. Our flight home was from the Denpasar airport in the south of the island. I’d just assumed we would find a hotel and Yudhie and I would stay the night, and then find our way to the port in the morning.

‘No, no, no,’ protested Azan. ‘You can’t stay in a hotel. Besides, there are no good ones nearby, and you want to get to the ferry and board it without a problem. You will stay overnight in the home of one of my brothers. He just lives around the corner from me, and he has a spare bedroom.’ I shouldn’t have been, but I was astonished at his hospitality, even after he and his family members had been such help to us already. It just seemed like asking too much. Except that we weren’t asking. He was offering.

‘Are you really sure it’s alright? I mean, have you asked him?’ I said. ‘No problem, he will be happy to have you. He and his wife have only a small baby. They have room.’ And so, that settled it. We just accepted with thanks, and continued to enjoy each other’s company on the way home. We three, Yudhie, Azan and me, sat together in the back seat of the car. Occasionally there was chit-chat in an Indonesian language, probably Javanese, as that is what is spoken in this province, and I didn’t understand very much of it. But it was on the ride back that Azan started up a conversation with me.

Knowing that we are Christians, and even more, that I was an overseas Christian, it seemed that Azan wanted to ask me questions about, well, spiritual topics. But they were not about comparing religions or religious ideas. He never mentioned Islam or Muhammad at all. He wanted to know if I believed in black magic! This really took me by surprise, until I remembered that in Indonesia, magic of all sorts, black and white and everything in between, is practiced and taken quite seriously. This is a land of shamans and sorcerers, though I never actually saw any. I wasn’t meant to.

Santet, Indonesian black magic

I’m not just talking about things like the evil eye, which is a common belief that spans the globe from Morocco to Indonesia, but hard-core magic, casting spells in particular. There’s a real belief here that spells can be cast and have an effect, bad or good, on people. There is also a strong belief in ‘fate,’ that is, a force that directs your life to a certain end that you have no control over, not even by free will. This idea didn’t begin here but is the heritage of all Indo-European peoples from Ireland to India, and the lands influenced by them, the Indies, the Far East.

‘You know, there are people here that will put a curse on your enemy for you, if you pay them, and it is very hard to escape the curse,’ Azan told me. ‘Do you really believe in that?’ I asked him. ‘Yes, I do. I have had experiences of this kind. I know it happens.’ He actually looked a bit scared when he said this. We were sitting together quite snuggly, and my right arm was resting on the top of the seat and touching the window frame. I slid my hand down and rested it softly on Azan’s right shoulder. ‘Don’t you know that curses have an effect on you only if you believe in them? If you are a servant of Allah, as I know you are, He is protecting you, so you should not believe in such things as curses.’

‘Our God is a good and man-loving God,’ I continued, ‘and there are no other gods, He is One and there is no other. There may be devils, yes, and they may attack men, but even they have no power over us, because God has broken their power. They can only trick us into fearing them. It’s the same with curses. If we fear what cannot really harm us, we open ourselves to attack, and even to being captured.’ ‘You really believe this?’ he asked, ‘How can you know these things? How do you know that black magic has no power?’ What could I say but what I did? ‘Because I believe in the One who went down to hell, put death to death, and awakened and freed all those who slept in the tombs. He has destroyed not only death, but every evil power is under His feet. You know who I’m talking about?’

An uncomfortable silence, but I looked at him and a wave seemed to pass over his face, then he looked normal again. ‘This is why we are Christians,’ I continued, ‘and why we are not afraid of black magic. The Lord has defeated it already, long before we were born. His power is infinite. Trust Him, Azan, and don’t fear what doesn’t really exist.’ Did I speak the name of Jesus in this conversation? No, I don’t remember speaking His name, but what I really said was something along the lines of what I have written here. I spoke as a Christian to a Muslim brother, saying nothing to break down what faith he has, but only what I hoped would encourage him to believe more deeply. He knew that Jesus was in my heart. That was enough, for now.

This interesting testimony by an Indonesian who was formerly a practitioner of black magic will shed more light on this subject for those who are interested.

Next… Yndonesia by flying carpet