Chapter 7 Indonesian Story (6)

Still, I'm not sure how much Balinese worldview I can incorporate into my own, as I seem to be using a more modern Western definition of "balanced state" at the moment. (Currently I'm translating the word as "equal freedom", or equal chance of falling in either direction at a given time, depending on... .) The Balinese don't wait for "it depends".This is a terrible thing.They directly "arrange" the development of the situation so as not to screw things up. When you meet a stranger on the road in Bali, the first question he or she will ask you is: "Where are you going?" The second question is: "Where are you from?" It might seem invasive for someone to ask these kinds of questions, but Balinese people just want to position you and put you in a safe and comfortable organizational system.Your new Balinese friends will be embarrassed if you tell them that you don't know where you're going, or that you're just walking around aimlessly.You'd better pick a certain direction -- anywhere -- to make everyone feel better.

The third question that Balinese people will almost certainly ask you is: "Are you married?" Another positioning inquiry.It is necessary for them to know this in order to be sure that you are living in complete order.The answer they really want you to answer is "married".It is a great relief to them to hear that you are married.If you're single, it's best not to say it outright.If you are divorced, I sincerely suggest that you never mention it.This only worries the Balinese people.Your loneliness just proves to them the danger of breaking away from the group.If you are a single woman traveling in Bali, when someone asks you: "Are you married?" It is better to answer "Not yet", which is more polite than answering "No", and it also shows that you are optimistic about getting married as soon as possible.

Even if you are eighty years old, or gay, or a radical feminist, or a nun, or an eighty year old radical feminist gay nun, have never married and do not intend to marry, the most polite answer is: "Not yet. No." Mario bought me a bike this morning.Like a dashing quasi-Italian, he said, "I know a guy." He took me to his cousin's shop, and for less than fifty bucks, I bought a mountain bike, a Helmet, a lock and basket.Now I can move freely in my new city of Ubud, or at least feel safe on these narrow, winding, poorly maintained roads crowded with motorcycles, trucks and sightseeing buses.

In the afternoon, I rode my bicycle to Lord Lai's village, and spent the day with my pharmacist...whatever it is.Honestly, I'm not sure.English lesson?Meditation class?Nice old fashioned balcony sitting?I don't know what Grandpa Lai has arranged for me, I'm just happy to be invited into his life. When I arrived, he happened to have guests.It was a small rural family in Bali who brought their one-year-old daughter to ask Lai for help.The poor little baby was teething and had been crying for several nights.The father was a handsome young man in a salon dress; he had the muscular calves of statues of Russian war heroes.My mother was pretty and shy, watching me from under shy, drooping eyelids.They bring small offerings to Lay's service -- two thousand rupees, or about twenty-five cents, in handmade palm baskets a little bigger than an ashtray in a hotel bar.In the basket are a flower, money and some grains of rice. (Their poverty and the evening came from the provincial capital Denpasar (Denpasar) to visit Lai Ye’s wealthy family--the mother wore a three-tiered basket of flowers, fruits and roast duck on her head, and the banana girl would be ashamed of her headdress when she saw her-- form a strong contrast.)

Lord Lai treats his guests with ease and kindness.He listened to the parents explain the child's problems, and then he took out an ancient account book from a small box on the balcony, which was filled with small characters in Balinese Sanskrit.He referred to the booklet like a scholar, looking for the right combination of words, talking and laughing with the parents from beginning to end.Then he took a page from a notebook with a gramme frog on it, and wrote a "prescription" for the little girl.He diagnosed the child as being infested by imps in addition to the physical discomfort of teething.For teething problems, he advises parents to smear the girl's gums with red onion juice.To appease the demons, chickens and pigs must be sacrificed, along with a small piece of pastry - made with a special mixture of herbs picked by their grandmothers from her herb garden. (The food is not in vain; Balinese people always allow their own offerings to the gods to be eaten after the sacrifice ceremony, because the sacrifices are more symbolic than real. The Balinese view is that the gods take what is theirs-- man's mind; man takes what is his own—the food itself.)

After writing the prescription, Master Lai turned around, filled a bowl of water, and sang a wonderful, cold spell on top of it.Then Lord Lai blessed the girl with the water he had just endowed with divine power.Even though he is only one year old, the child already knows how to receive the sacred blessings of the Balinese tradition.The mother holds the baby girl, who reaches out her round hand to receive the holy water, takes a sip, takes another sip, and sprinkles the rest on her head—a perfect ritual.She's not in the least afraid of the toothless old man who sings to her.Then Mr. Lai poured the remaining holy water into a small plastic bag, tied it up, and gave it to the family for later use.Mother left with water in a plastic bag, as if she had just won a goldfish at a carnival and forgot to take it with her.