The agricultural culture that was interconnected with the Seblang ritual was in danger. the last rice field in Bakungan that was under threat by the rapid rate of property development in the surrounding area.
By
Saras Dewi
·6 minutes read
The grass and wildflowers were silent around a tomb. Waving in the morning breeze, they looked as if they were guarding the gravestones. The surrounding land was still humid from the rain in the previous night. I knelt down and looked at the wild plants, from sawi langit (Cyanthillium cinereum), picah leaves(Desmodium gangeticum) and and meniran(Phyllanthus niruri), which spread out in all directions and filled the area.
In this moment, I thought of the work of poet and scientist Johann Wolfgang von Goethe titled TheMetamorphosisof Plants (1790). I thought of how he had described the changes that occur in plants and their unique life cycle, as well as his perspective that placed humans as part of the living wonder of the plant world, and not separate.
Everything returns to the ground and body of the dancer that rests within becomes one with the lush plants.
Frequently, wild plants grow without people paying attention to them, but the leader of the Using traditional community in Bakungan village, who stood beside me, smiled while pointing them out. He said some of the plants were believed useful as traditional medicine, while others were also used in the Seblang ritual dance.
The Seblang dance is an ancient dance that is the hallmark of sacred dances from Banyuwangi, East Java. This dance is a sacred procession held to ward off a variety of dangers and threats, as the local residents believe. There are two variations of the Seblang dance in Banyuwangi: Seblang from Olehsari village that features a young female dancer, and Seblang from Bakungan village, which is performed by an elderly female dancer.
The tomb of Mbah Witri, which is decorated with the tapered shoots of wild plants, is an important site in the history of Bakungan’s Seblang dance. Here in this village, the residents make a pilgrimage to honor the ancestral Seblang dancers. Mbah Witri was a Seblang dancer from around 1757 to 1832. She was admired by the villagers because she was considered a very powerful Seblang dancer.
Honoring ancestors is a fundamental part of the Seblang ritual. The descendants of Seblang dancers and villagers will visit their tombs before the night of the ritual.
In my mind a poem by Goethe about nature, when light touches all the land, life shoots blossom. Metamorphosis in this context, I give a meaning as a change that occurs through connectedness with one another. The change does not happen to oneself, but is spread out to encourage growth in all networks of life.
When the spirit or dhanyang enters the body of the dancer, the villagers believe that the dance becomes an epicenter that arranges humans with nature and God. From the story of the ancestors in Bakungan village, the origin of the Seblang ritual is related to humans’ efforts to speak with nature. It is said that in the past, the village was a dense forest filled with lilies. A tempest appeared when forest encroachment occurred, so it can be understood that the Seblang ritual is a way for humans to communicate with all of nature’s sounds.
My journey to Banyuwangi was armed with archive sheets about the Seblang dance, one of which was written by the dance researcher, Sal Murgiyanto. He studied the Seblang dance and his paper was published in 1980. At that time, a Seblang dancer named Mbah Anjani danced from 1965 to 1986.
Sal Murgiyanto described in detail, especially about the Omprok (crown) that adorned the head of a Seblang dancer. I looked at the old, yellowing picture that was beginning to fade of Mbah Anjani, who was in a trance by both eyes closed. She raised two krises, one in each hand. The kris symbolizes that the tempest had been driven away. It was as if the dancer's body was a sign: a shield against various disasters, hope for the rice fields to be free of pests, and a glue that bound the village community in harmony.
I imagined the Omprok used by Mbah Anjani, which was made from pieces of fabric, swinging like a string of white hair, following the movements of her head. She stood surrounded by a dangling janur (young coconut tree leaves) and kamboja flowers.
While touring Bakungan village, traditional leader Heri Purwoko expressed his sadness that the community had lost its Seblang dancer named Mbah Supani. She died in August last year at the age of 72 years. Like a tradition that has lasted for hundreds of years, the next Seblang dancer will be selected at a customary meeting of the Bakungan villagers.
I was startled when I realized that the agricultural culture that was interconnected with the Seblang ritual was in danger.
While continuing to walk, I listened to Heri’s story until we arrived at Watu Ula, a natural spring. The sound of rushing water accompanied our conversation. This spring is considered sacred and its water is part of the Seblang dance ritual. Water is a fundamental element in rituals that are closely related to the traditions of an agricultural community.
I was startled when I realized that the agricultural culture that was interconnected with the Seblang ritual was in danger. Seeing from the rice fields, I observed the last rice field in Bakungan that was under threat by the rapid rate of property development in the surrounding area. A study by a cultural studies researcher, Novi Anoegrajekti (2020), underlined points that some of the paddy fields in Bakungan had changed their function, as well as the problem of the declining interest in farming among young people.
I pondered the meaning of the cultural objects of agriculture use in the Seblang ritual, such as plows, and produce like rice and tubers. Likewise in gendingan (traditional music) that tells of various flowers: menur, gadung (yam). The depth of the meaning in farming and becoming a farmer, as well as celebrating life amidst nature. Therefore, preserving the Seblang ritual dance, if examined critically, means preserving the noble culture of agriculture and the natural place of dhanyang.
SARAS DEWI
Lecturer of Philosophy at the University of Indonesia