LONTAR issue #1 (8 page)

HLM 302 Treatment of Illness

This course delves into the basic techniques of albularyo and mananambal, the general practitioners of the healing world. This involves the teaching of both the mundane, such as folk and herbal remedies, but also the supernatural. The course begins with an attempt to commune with environmental spirits, usually during a dream-state, in order to secure a relationship with a benefactor that will provide both knowledge and assistance to the healer. These spiritual benefactors are essential to the power of an albularyo or mananambal.

HLM 401 Hilot
 

Hilot is a special healing technique to treat muscle and bone pain and dysfunction. This course will cover the three major forms of hilot: the mirror technique (usually only for treatment of children), the banana leaf technique (where the leaf sticks to the spot that is at the root of the ailment), and the splint technique (where splinting and special prayer formulas are used in conjunction).

HLM 402 Luop

This course teaches luop, a ritual that is effective in ascertaining the cause of an illness, particularly if the illness is caused by spiritual beings. Attention is given to both the material components of the ritual (such as the baong-lalaki, the shell of a coconut with a "dimple" at a particular place), and the mechanics of the "Rite of the Cross" and other parts of the ritual.

HLM 403 Buga

This course teaches buga, which is a specialty technique that allows the curing of wounds through a combination of prayers and the application of chewed betel nut. Students will learn the proper preparation of nganga (a mixture of betel leaves, areca nut, lime and tobacco), and the properties of the three types of spittle: sali, bungang-putay, and lubigan, each of which are effective against different types of wounds.

Jayawarman 9th Remembers the Dragon Archipelago

Chris Mooney-Singh

The writing of Chris Mooney-Singh (Australia/Singapore) has appeared in
The Best of South-East Asian Erotica
,
The Best of Singapore Erotica
,
Love and Lust in Singapore
and
Crime Search: Singapore
. His recent poetry collection
The Bearded Chameleon
(2011) explores cultural adoption as a convert to Sikhism.
The Laughing Buddha Cab Company
(2007) looks at Asia through a series of taxi rides. Two short plays were produced for the Singapore Short and Sweet festival in 2008 and 2009. Based permanently in Singapore, he is presently a post-graduate research scholar at Monash University, Melbourne.

1. Prologue

Not many rajahs live the life of dragons.

Most come and go in love with their istanas.

Wisdom is earned outside of history.

Map your footsteps through philosophy.

The once-upon-a-time name Jayawarman—

my final fixed abode on earth, is just

a history lesson. A name is but a name,

the sense of "mine" on temporary loan.

One's living actions have no end at all.

My old pink fortress perches on the cliff,

its fallen gate—a gaping jungle mouth

and cairn of stones, protected by bamboo

is the bone-yard where they piled our heap of dead.

Although each wall and pillar of the body

has crumbled back to dust, my eyes can see

the past and future from Pelangi Peak.

Looking down, I note my chronicle

of rajah years like childhood on a playground

underneath a wide waringin tree.

I am lucky that I got to live with dragons.

The teller is inside his story now . . .

2. Birth of Dragons

This world began when Mountain Naga met

with Water Dragon Dewi from the depths

on each side of an island, balancing

on the turtle of the world. They kept alert

as guardian snakes awake to sea-bed earthquakes.

Then collided in a squall. Their cold union

hovered as a hot monsoonal threat

for weeks, until the boiling sky let loose

one hundred thousand baby nagas like

a storm of blistering meteors on the sea.

Over time, these emerald islands rose

like vertebrae at buckling intervals,

poking through the ocean's bluish-green;

and so we have our archipelago.

Now, note the head, those jagged spinal humps,

a whiplash tail, and how the morning changes

from yellow cantaloupe to midday blue;

and when green hills go dark each afternoon,

the coastal sky returns to pinkish rose.

I and my lineage had lingered long

with mountains, cliffs and beaches, reptile rocks,

until one night. The Father Rajahs brought

into my dream some storm cloud like a fist

with a future looming bad for all of us.

So they divulged the soul-shape of the Barong,

the good Barong of time, space and protection,

our primal Guardian—tooth, wing and claw

part lion, tiger, boar with serpent tail—

joining the far quarters of our island.

A dragon naga
serpent is cold fusion.

3. Making the Barong

I had the icon carved. Light changed the look

of his fierce mask to scare away base spirits

sunrise to dusk. This was a ruse to front

our fears, a demon form with bigger claws

to slay new demons. His snout and snarling teeth,

and jagged fern-sharp wings were set to guard

the sky along the half-moon of the beach

and eat invaders, ripping heads like rats.

I placed him in the garden on the hill

and let the sun through slits in palm slats taunt him

green to red. Then growing huge, the shadows,

length to length, each rose colossus-like

like soldiers in his service standing guard.

This is where we taught our young to sit

and look with eyelids closed, through
champa
joss,

rising up around our hook-nailed god;

and as we sat to ponder our ancestor

like an old volcano smoldering, yet ready

to unleash his molten fury any moment

we came to learn that nothing stays forever.

Whatever brought us to our pinnacle

dispatched us into the dragon-breathing wind.

4. My Land, My People

My subjects were the simple nutmeg race

old as mussels, cuttlefish and clams

scavenged from the rock pool and the beach,

or running free between liana trails—

bamboo blowpipes poised upon two legs

according to totems of tiger, snake and boar.

And the fishermen among us cast their nets
 

from outriggers. They were cut for speed,

swerving inside reef and atoll rocks

after ray and turtle, crab and eel and shark;

while the bulk of my subjects lived upon the uplands,
 

because they believe the gods are in the mountains

enjoying cooler winds while tending padi,

employed by hard seasons of the hoe,

pinching down each rice shoot into mud,

trickling pools of rain through gates of earth

and terracing the hills like steps to Heaven.

A clever few maintained the bomoh calling—

one who scratched a melody from the rebab,

while the other moved with ghost-cries on his tongue—

shamans who then sliced the throats of bantams.

Soused in rice arrack, they paid the Dead

for fear of failing crops, or a stillborn son.

Then, there were my subjects who chose to live

outside my laws and edicts' lucid ways—

outcastes with the lust of raiders and pirates.

Nested like spiders in green bays,

they hoisted sails to loot with kris and club,

hoarding gold and jewels and contraband,

living it up like rude lords in my realm.

Despite such mosquitoes on my shores,

who, sometimes I would slap down with my troops,

liberating their wealth on elephant backs

I, the rajah, ruled these Dragon Islands.

5. Confluences

Gradually, civilizations from the East

traded well with us—the Hindu-Buddhists

bringing too, the arts of temple friezes—

the visages of men who would be dewas;

and our best were sent to India for higher learning,

or for steps of temple dance and architecture;

or China-ward to understudy ceramics,

and learn the forging of metals into gongs.

Next, dragon-headed Chinese temple priests

settled among us. They carried the South Sea goddess

for prosperity among our sea-town merchants,

hosting loud occasions with gods and ghosts

deploying gunpowder, fire-crackers, and sky rockets

to scare their dead souls when they got too hungry.

Thus, envoys come in droves and sit and feast

on coconut rice served on banana fronds

and small fish wrapped in green leaves, skewered and baked

with the finest spices, sauces, sweet meats, tidbits

as feasting is the prelude to politics,

the elephant trade of mutual wealth and peace.

Gifts demanding gifts, made bonds and treaties.

Princesses from China or the Malabar Coast

were brought to build the blood stock of the court,

strengthening ties with fragrant etiquette

adept with music, silks, and other graces—

the sacred arts of the red bird rising up

before the gates of jade from dusk to dawn.

The Brahmin blessed my seaport town with joss

on holy days. This was the royal way of Rajah

Jayawarman—chiseling in stone,

the Barong's great, yet frightening countenance.

6. Nutmeg

Thus, millennia had docked here for our nutmeg,

a sweet ancillary to cakes or eggnog,

a piquant garnish for all fish, flesh or fowl

slowing down the process of decay.

I wish I'd known this would be ours as well

through a spice that masks the rot in meat.

First—Indian and Middle Kingdom fleets,

then Arab traders with a new conversion

that we received, yet never lost ourselves,

wearing them like another coat of silk.

Each adapted each through intermarriage,

softening the nutmeg in our pallor.

Pirates plied their trade with long snake boats,

with dhows, the junks and Indian unnatas,

all bound with spices, ivory and sandal,

dragon silk brocade, imperial Ming.

Some shipwrecked here and gurgled to the depths,

rattling nails and teacups in the current

as gold and silver tinkled onto the coral.

7. Adventurers

It seemed there was enough for all, until

European galleons dropping anchor,

forced themselves into our grand istanas—

clinking men—steel conquistadors,

brassy, cunning, venal, loud and blunt,

demanding trading rights upon our shores.

Their doggedness was gauche, yet refusal

was not a way of action that we practiced.

We followed in the path of courtesy,

through a dynasty of Jayawarmans.

Gradually, we saw them as they were—

double-tongued, bent on grabbing all;

and later on, wind-jammers stopping too

with green tea and opium as tender,

invading with false dragon-breath our dreams,

annexing the islands of our bodies,

squeezed us in their merchant-python grip.

Appropriating hands would not let go,

seeking to chain us, divesting us of power,