Preserving Sumba’s Dance: Sumba Island

Even if he is not yet all smiles, at least Hendrik Pali, a teacher and cultural activist from East Sumba, East Nusa Tenggara, can now observe the concrete measures East Sumba regency has taken to promote Sumba’s culture, particularly in the past year. The regental administration has participated several times in cultural expos in Jakarta, designated cultural extracurricular subjects and contributed to local cultural organizations. The East Sumba tourism office has also provided aid to cultural workshops in various districts.

“I’m not sure if the frequent media reports on local cultural conditions have caused this change. But I think the stories have had some impact,” said Hendrik on the sidelines of the Gebyar Budaya Nusantara (Indonesian Cultural Extravaganza).

The national expo, themed Kenali Negeri, Cintai Bangsamu (Know Your Country, Love Your Nation) was held at the Semanggi Expo center in South Jakarta from May 3 through May 6.

“For this performance we received an honorarium — enough to renew our costumes and give our members an allowance,” added the owner of Ori Angu Studio. Ori angu means “embracing friends” in the Sumba language.

With such support, Hendrik and his peers running other dance troupes have become more enthusiastic and now enjoy greater freedom to boost the region’s cultural values.

Hendrik’s foray into cultural conservation began when, as an observer of Sumba culture, he became worried about the condition of local arts, which seemed to be dying out. One of the causes was that Sumba youths were being lured by the vigor and glamour of Western cultures.

“The youngsters just wanted to imitate what they saw on TV. It’s certainly a threat to local culture, as they are our successors,” remarked the dancer and choreographer, who also noted the lack of innovation in this performing art at the time.

For the purpose of developing the values of traditional dance that were handed down by his ancestors, in 1980 Hendrik took a course in the studio of distinguished choreographer Bagong Kussudiardjo in Yogyakarta.

Returning home from the course, Hendrik was even more troubled to see an increasing number of school dropouts in the area surrounding his village of Lambanapu, 12 kilometers from the East Sumba capital of Waingapu.

Meanwhile, Sumba dance masters were becoming very scarce, or were reaching the advanced age of 75.

“Unless children are taught and the seniors’ skills are learned, the danger is imminent” of the art dying out, Hendrik believed.

The father of six thus set up Ori Angu to train school dropouts while he himself absorbed and developed the knowledge of his elders. Hendrik also met with the masters during traditional ceremonies and consulted them for innovations.

“It may be my calling in life. It seems I’m cut out for this work,” he said, putting his hands on his chest.

He has choreographed a number of dances to date, and although they are new creations, the basics remain rooted in Sumba culture.

One of his works, called Ji… ha! is based on a sacred ritual and is performed to accompany the closing of a traditional festival. Joyful and energetic, it carries the message: Those who are separated will be reunited.

His other dances are Burung Bercanda (birds frolicking), inspired by Java’s peacock dance and Sumba’s turtledove dance; Tanapang Baru (anticipating dawn), a welcome dance for a bride entering the village of her groom; Paaka (reform), a medley of local thanksgiving dances; and Kayarak (sea rush), inspired by the Kembalikan Daku Sumba (return Sumba to me) drama by the late Sumba artist, Yosef Pati Wenge.

These dances are more dynamic and contemporary when compared to the less varied movements of traditional dances, and also feature costumes in a more modern style.

“I think there should be ensemble dances in the near future, but they must retain the fundamentals of Sumba dance,” Hendrik said.

Indeed, the choreographer is currently arranging new steps that will involve dozens of people, like in Manado’s Poco-poco or Maumere-Flores’ Jae folk dances, which are now popular among Sumba youths in addition to the local dansa and walsa.

According to the 60-year-old dancer, Sumba’s time-honored customs and profound wisdom are reflected in its songs and dances, such as solidarity, helpfulness, diligence and community-oriented leadership, as well as patience, resignation and the fear of God.

“A variety of rituals can be found in Sumba that involve holding events in paddy fields and village squares, where dances are performed and expressive verses chanted, such as those of the harvest season,” Hendrik said.

Today, many aspects of Sumba culture have been overwhelmed by modernization. Hendrik cited as examples threshing machines and tractors, which have altered the tradition of singing while harvesting, threshing paddy by foot and the custom of mutual assistance.

In some villages like Lambanapu, Mauliru and Kadumbul on the outskirts of Waingapu, harvest chants and paddy stamping are scarcely found today, with only remote areas still retaining the practice. Even the grain-growing village of Lewa no longer witnesses such customs.

Hendrik’s struggling for East Sumba’s cultural survival through his dance studio has not been simple.

“In the beginning, people wouldn’t allow their children to join us. They said the ‘hide’ only wasted their time,” he said.

What locals refer to as “hide” are drums, the key musical instrument of East Sumba — so called after the buffalo or cow leather used in making the percussive instruments. The parents argued that their children should help them in the fields and gather cattle feed instead of learning to dance.

But now, the story is a bit different.

The Catholic primary school of Praikundu, where Hendrik’s wife teaches, has been virtually transformed into a cultural center for children. Yuli Emu, Hendrik’s wife, is skilled at dancing and weaving.

“Most parents love this school. They want to send their children here for dance lessons,” he said.

With 50 members, Ori Angu provides free training on Friday afternoons because local parents cannot afford to pay a contribution of Rp 100 per child. At times, Hendrik has asked his own children to go pick up some members who did not show up.
The local government’s interest has therefore given Hendrik more impetus to continue in his work, after his long, solo journey to preserve local values.

“Once I felt very fatigued and wished to disband Ori Angu,” he confessed, inhaling deeply. But his love of Sumba culture finally overpowered his exhaustion.

Cultural observer Sylvia Asih Angreni, 54, the wife of East Sumba regent Umbu Mehang Kunda, also recognized the value of Sumba’s indigenous culture. Despite its feudal vestiges, Sumba is also very democratic. She cited the practice of consultation in bangga traditional houses as an example, and stressed that this should be maintained.

The high customary values and traditions of Sumba were also underscored by East Sumba regental secretary Umbu Hamakonda, who pointed to the local appreciation and respect for women.

“Housewives were regularly consulted in making decisions on household matters. Plans would be canceled if they said no, because they controlled household affairs,” he said.

Sadly, the practice has increasingly faded, and such awareness is considered to be lacking in present-day Sumba.

“In fact, gender equality has existed since the past, but it’s now waning. A heavy task lies ahead,” said Hamakonda.

The East Sumba tourism office has announced various programs to bring Sumba youths closer to their culture and to develop archeological sites to attract more tourists to the region. Another idea is to improve access to the diverse, exotic destinations throughout East Sumba.

“If everything runs smoothly, the local population will enjoy direct benefits, for example through the sales of hand-woven textiles to visitors. I’m optimistic about (East Sumba’s) tourism prospects,” said Domu Warandoy, head of the regency’s tourism office.

Emanual Dapa Loka