An evening walk

After we returned in the mid afternoon from our visit to the pasar and the waterfront, Yudhie and I just rested awhile, refreshed ourselves, and then, as evening approached, thought we would take a walk, all on our own, into the neighborhood. I felt, at least, that we knew our way around the local area well enough to not get lost.

Just as we were getting ready to go, Moda showed up at our front door and peeked inside,
wondering if we were still having our siesta—yes, even in Bali people often rest in the afternoon for a couple of hours before resuming work. He dropped by to make sure we were okay and to find out if we needed anything. That is the extent of this family's hospitality. I sat with Moda for a bit and chatted on the front steps while Yudhie rested. I needed to know a little more about the customs here, so I would not make a mistake when offering my contribution to the household expenses.

We were going to try to find someplace on our walk where we could buy food. I thought for sure there would be a nice rumah makan or warung where we could have a light supper. As it turned out I was wrong—at least there were no rumah makan, and the few warungs we encountered did not look good from my point of view. Poor Yudhie! I knew he was hungry, but he quietly went along with me as I took us further and further from the possibility of dinner!

Going out of the gate of Ibu's compound, we entered the gang and then Jalan Kresna, from which we walked a long way frist in one direction, then in another. Along the way, Yudhie bought some incense sticks from women sitting along the way selling insense and flowers for the evening offerings.

We encountered files of women bearing offerings in baskets on their heads, walking to local puras for evening prayers. The one thing you cannot escape in Bali is the offerings that are left everywhere, even in little plates on the sidewalk. Making daily offerings to the gods of the island is a way of life.

Who are these gods? That's a question to which I have no answer, and I probably won't, until I meet one. It's easy to dismiss them as figments of the imagination of ancient tradition, to describe them in anthropological terms as animism, or to categorize them as 'demons.' Instant Christianity has a talent for the last response.

We know that demons exist from reading scriptures and, some of us, from actual experience with them. But in a culture that is as far removed from the West as is the Balinese, we can't judge the meaning of their iconography by our traditions. Depictions of fierce, scary beings to us are demons, to the Balinese they are protecting spirits, what we would call ‘guardian angels.’

‘Well, why do they look like that? Why are they called nagas, and why are they in the shape of dragons?’ That too is a question I can't answer, except by reference to Indian and Chinese symbolism, again, both quite different from ours. What makes our visible renditions of the body-less powers, the angels, correct and theirs wrong, ours beautiful and theirs awful?

This is a question that not only Western Christians, that is, Catholics and Protestants, need to ask, but also, the Eastern Christians, the Orthodox. If we want to understand the spiritual life of others, we must exert effort. The easy way out is to simply divide, conquer and pave over pre-Christianities wherever we find them, but that is not what Christ does. Following Him, what do we do?

On our walk we passed many beautful monuments, statues of Balinese heroes, decorated walls and gates of puras and other public buildings.




They seemed to follow one another almost without interruption.

One wall had about a dozen bas reliefs showing the fate of souls in hell. Scary.





I photographed only three of them.

Not much different from the medieval paintings and ikons of Christian East and West.

One very interesting sight was a funeral in preparation, the body of the deceased will have been placed inside the tall structure which is pulled like a parade float to its destination. There was no one to explain it any further than just to tell us that's what it was.

My favorite animal, at least my favorite large animal, the noble elephant, was prominently memorialised in this monument.

Singaraja is quite rich in public monuments. Another one depicted a multi-faced Hindu god. I'm not sure, but I think it might be an image of the Trimurti, the Three-in-One. Yes, no matter where you look, the spirit in man that sees God recognizes that unearthly Triad as somehow the One God through whom all that is came to be.

On a practical note, walking anywhere in Yndonesia, you must watch where you're going, and this is especially true in Singaraja. All over the country, local authorities are in a constant battle to upgrade infrastructure that is sometimes a century old. That is especially true of the sewer system. On our walk, not only were the sidewalks interrupted by abrupt rises and falls, but also perforated with openings large enough for a child to fall through. What was below? The sewers. In Singaraja it really isn't as bad as it sounds—but I wouldn't venture out at night on a street that I didn't know.

 
At last, with aching feet and a blister or two, Yudhie and I returned from our walk. I took a few evening photos of the garden outside our door and we photographed each other sitting on the threshold.
I honestly can't remember if we did get any dinner that night or not.

But tomorrow we were going to be 'carried' to our next destination…

…Banyuwangi.