Back                                                        How I ended a Trance Dance:
 
   When I first went to Bali I made a friend, that is still a friend today. Made (Pronounced Madd e.) was a bellhop at a little home stay just outside of Ubud. He had been very helpful; teaching me his language and learning mine, running errands, making me coffee late at night, running to the store to get me cigarettes, calling me a driver. little things that made my stay more enjoyable, and I'd give him tips. I didn't have to, I just wanted to. I learned a lot about his culture and religion from him.
   Not long after I started to stay in the Puri Raci Made asked me if I'd like to go to his village for a temple ceremony and I agreed. He borrowed a friends Honda and we took a narrow, meandering road for about fifteen miles through some of the most stunning vistas I've ever seen. His village sat in the central highlands of Bali. Surrounded by rice fields and bamboo forests, and when the fog lifted, you could see Gunung Agung in the distance.

   We arrived at his home compound and he invited me to meet his family. (He wanted to show off his new American Friend.) He had been trying to teach me Balinese, I already knew some Bahasa Indonesia but almost every island in Indonesia also has it's own language. So as we started to enter the compound he said "You speak, Um swastas astu." (Good morning.) Indonesian would have been "Selamat pagi." So I did and parents where really impressed.

  

 

  Made bringing me my morning coffee.
   I'll have to tell you about his family, his village and the ceremony later. How his little brother scampered up a coconut tree to get me a fresh coconut, how his father cut the top off of that coconut and put a straw in it for me, how his sisters and mothers, yes he had two, brought out large plates of fresh fruit. etc. but the reason I've told you what I have so far is because it was his older brother, Wayan who I had  met that day that took me to end the trance dance.
   A couple of years later I was just relaxing in the pool, playing with two little kids that I had met earlier in the week (and checking out a couple of cute girls), when I heard "Selamat malam, (Good evening.) Mister Alvin. Apa kabar, (How are you.) I hear you back. Made tell me. I wondering you like maybe go a fire walking ceremony, they have over in Mangwi." he smiled. "You come, I have transport."
   So I said goodbye to the kids, gave the girls one last glance and went to my room. I changed from my bathing suit into a pair of cut offs and a T-shirt, put on sandals and away we went. (Never, I mean never wear sandals when your riding on the back of a motorcycle, the muffler gets really hot. I had burn marks on my ankles for about two weeks.)
   The Sanghyang Jaran (Fire Dance) was being performed outside a village around fifteen miles away. This was the first time I had been on a motorcycle with Wayan and to say the least it was exciting. I 'm pretty sure my left knee brushed the bumper of a large truck as he cut back into our lane to avoid a head on with a bus. My right knee just missed the bus. Talk about a crazy man on a motorcycle. Oh! hell, he wasn't alone, you've only to drive in Asia to see a thousand Wayans. We stopped just outside of Mangwi for a beer, we had gotten there early. Half an hour later we were sitting in stands, watching a fire dance.
   There were a couple of really cute girls sitting in front of us and I was watching them more then I was watching the dance.
   If your ever in Bali don't miss out on a seeing a Sanghyand Jaran. A fire is started using coconut palms and husks and allowed to burn to ashes then spread to smolder some more, pushed back into a pile and a male dancer is put into a trance by a village priest. The dancer has a horse made from a pole decorated with palm. and as other Balinese chant he dances back and forth through the fire, kicking burning ashes high onto the air. As the fire gets spread from his kicking, others brush the ashes back into the pile. This goes on and on for almost an hour.
   Well! not that long if I'm around. I was watching the girls trying to get photo's of the dance and thought what the hell. "You girls want to get a great shot?" they looked at me and asked what I was talking about. "His feet, look at his feet." The dancers feet were black with the ash. "Here give me the camera, I'll get you a shot that everybody will be talking about."
   The cute little brunette handed me her camera and I went down and sat cross legged on the edge of the dance area. I was trying to focus on his feet, he was kicking fire, he was moving, my camera was following, his feet were starting to fill my lens, I was trying to focus, then it happened. He danced right into me, stumbled and his trance broken sat down holding his feet. The dance was over.  A priest came to his aid. They never come out of a trance except with a blessing by a priest sprinkling holy water on them. That is except when I'm there.
   I handed the girl back her camera and got the hell out of there. The dancer's feet were black, My face was red. So that's how I ended a trance dance. A girl I had met in Puerto Rico many years before would has laughed for a week over that one.