http://www.iht.com/articles/2006/03/24/opinion/edhogue.php
In Bali, a holiday for the ears
Thomas Hogue
SATURDAY, MARCH 25, 2006
UBUD, Indonesia Nyepi, the "Day of Silence" that marks Bali's Lunar New
Year, is a holiday any contemporary Luddite could love.
The evening before is all noise and celebration. People start late in the
afternoon, banging pots, pans and empty water containers. Young men and teens,
fueled on arak - Bali's dangerous moonshine - shoot off "toy" bamboo cannons
that belch flame and smoke.
The fun is in firing the cannon just as an unwary motorcyclist or
pedestrian passes. The point - besides startling road users - is to make as
much noise as possible, to rouse demons and monsters and run them out of town.
Some years, at dark, towering papier-mâché effigies of the demons and
monsters, known as ogoh-ogoh, are carried through villages and towns to an open
field for burning, symbolizing the exorcism. Other years the ogoh- ogoh, which
have never gained full official sanction, are banned. The authorities fear the
demon effigies will spark election-year violence if political candidates are
portrayed; or they may fear other rivalries will break into neighborhood wars
during awards contests.
Effigies or no, peace comes at midnight with the advent of Nyepi, which
falls this year on March 30. People return home after the noise and ruckus to
turn off lights and electric appliances. The next morning all is silent. No
motorcycles or cars take to the roads; no morning fires boil water for coffee;
no lights cut early gloom.
Nyepi is a day of silence, fasting and meditation. In Denpasar, Bali's
capital, the airport is shut to all but transit flights. Motor vehicles are
allowed on the streets only for emergencies. Hotel guests are confined to the
grounds of their resorts. Everything, from the smallest shops to labyrinthine
government offices, is shut down.
In the villages, the only sounds are dogs, roosters, the wind, and water
tumbling in rivers and streams. Villagers and tourist guides say any of the
spiritual terrors still lurking are supposed to think Bali has been abandoned.
That's the appealing explanation. Hindu scholars say the noise of Nyepi Eve is
actually to wake up the demons so they'll see the offerings laid out for them.
The day of quiet, in this view, is contentment and gratitude that the demons
have been appeased for another year.
Whatever the explanation, Nyepi is a good day. People don't stir from of
their houses or family compounds. Traditional police, a sort of village watch
service, mount leisurely patrols to make sure no one ventures into the streets,
and watch for violations of the ban on lights and fires. Transgressors must pay
small fines to the local village council.
My reverie every year at Nyepi is to imagine this day of silence catching
on worldwide.
I don't dwell for long on the fuel and money that would saved if six
billion people went without turning on a light or operating an internal
combustion engine for 24 hours. Or on the incremental step that would be taken
in the direction of keeping the globe from warming. Simple peace and quiet is
the thing for me. No car stereos, no racing engines, none of the modern world's
constant background noise. In the fantasy, people are so taken with the Nyepi
silence they embrace it for weeks, months, years.
And as Nyepi-like noise ordinances sweep the world, all kinds of
beautiful, wonderful things happen. Americans are given license to run next
door and unplug their neighbors' snow and leaf blowers. Early morning mowers
and obnoxious jet-skiers are banned.
In Asia, the billboard-sized television screens that blare at pedestrians
and mall shoppers fall blank and silent. Horns cease to blow, tuk-tuks stop
their sputter and spew, cell phones don't suddenly come to life with the latest
Cantopop.
British weekend revelers are persuaded to drink at home in the dark and
urinate against their own garden walls. German campers return to roughing it
instead of hauling miniature versions of all their home gadgets to the
campgrounds.
Around the globe, people start to hear themselves think again, and on
darkened front porches, they talk over the unfamiliar sensation with the
neighbors. Who knows where it will all lead?
But just about then, just like every year, I hear the whine of the first
motorcycle on the morning of the day after Nyepi. It takes me a week to get
over it.
[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
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Berdikusi dg Santun & Elegan, dg Semangat Persahabatan. Menuju Indonesia yg
Lebih Baik, in Commonality & Shared Destiny.
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ppiindia
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