Historically, rice has been the lifeblood of the Balinese and the lifeblood of rice in Bali is water.
While other places developed dry-land systems of
farming rice the ancient Balinese followed the practice of wet-land cultivation
and developed the most productive 'paddy' system in the world - a system
that has been copied in every other country that now follows this method of rice
cultivation.
Without the abundance of rice that the early Balinese could easily produce they
would not have had the free time available to follow the time-consuming rituals
of their religion, arts, culture and family life.
It is not too trite to say that wet land
farming made Bali, and if Bali is no longer the same - no longer self
sufficient in food production, consisting no longer of tightly knit family
oriented small villages - it is because tourism has taken over too much
productive rice land for hotels, shops, restaurants and infrastructure and taken
too many young people from the farms to the towns and also significantly because
the Indonesian Government sought to improve the production levels by insisting
that new strains of rice be planted.
While these new strains produced three crops a year instead of two they also
required artificial fertiliser and pesticides which are expensive and not always
available.
The intensive cultivation of rice across much of the island relied on a sure supply of water. Historically there was ample rainfall in the central mountains and lakes of the island but initially much of this water ran away down swift flowing rivers, eroding the landscape into steep-sided ravines and wasting itself in the sea. Conversely much of the flatter land was also arable but lacked the reliable supply of large quantities of water. The Balinese answer was to form 'Subaks' in each village. The Subaks is a very powerful council made up of all of the farmers in the district. This focused, communal man power was set to work planning and building the vast waterways that now network across the island. Even what appears to be drains along most of the roadways running through the towns and villages in Bali, even through the tourist centres of modern Kuta, Legian and Seminyak, are actually part of this vast irrigation network, sometimes dry and at other times running swiftly with unseasonable flows of water.
Tourists who have visited what might be the most
singularly devoted market town in Bali (and maybe Java too judging by the bus
loads of Javanese who shop there on public holidays), at Sukawati, will
surely have walked down that amazing street of small shops next to the main
market buildings. Just as surely they will have been blithely unaware that in
so doing they have been walking over and across one of the main irrigation
channels that runs from the slopes of Mount Batur in central east Bali to the
beaches of the Badung Strait between Denpasar/Sanur and the off-shore islands of Nusa
Lembongan, Penida and Ceningan.
About half way down the street, on the right hand side of the narrow footpaths
that carry the overflow of goods from these shops, there is an swift irrigation channel
that divides at a small dam wall, half of the water seemingly going straight
across under the street and half going to the right, seemingly under the row of
adjacent shops. Neither comes out again where you might expect. The stream that
seems to go straight across actually reappears quite a few shops further up the
street towards the market buildings. The one that goes under the shops just
seems to disappear and I have not been able to find out where it re-emerges. If
some wag tipped a few of packs of detergent into this diversionary dam then it
might be expected that the seas of the Badung Straight would be covered in foam
within a week or two, and there would be some amazed but very clean ducks along
the way.
To create this network rivers were dammed and springs high up on the mountain sides were diverted into man-made streams and channels. Initially these channels were cut across the hill sides in gentle slopes that allowed fields to be slowly flooded but not washed away. Each high level field was drained into another field slightly lower down the slope and that into another slightly lower again - and again - and again until the river bed or a man-made channel was finally reached. Even then the water was not allowed to run to the sea before similar diversions had covered every piece of worthwhile crop land all the way down the surface of the island from the mountain top to virtually beach level.
By this time the water would have supplied hundreds of individual paddies all determined and directed by the decisions of powerful Subaks in each village along the supply chain.
The demand for water to be supplied to ever-increasing land areas even led to a system of tunnels that ran through mountain ridges to provide a water supply to what might otherwise have been a dry gully. The mechanical construction of these tunnels might almost have been one of the wonders of the ancient world had they been known and had they been visible on the surface. Even today some Balinese and most tourists are unaware of the ingenious civil engineering works beneath their feet. Modern engineers who have measured these surface and sub-surface constructions conclude that the location, slopes, angles, falls, construction and compaction of these works could not be greatly improved with current knowledge using similar materials, nor could the sites chosen for these works be significantly improved even with the surveying technologies now available.
Copies of old charts showing dam dimensions. Three tunnel sizes and an old photo of the largest construction of the 'Man standing' size.
A 'spirit level' using a plumb bob. This instrument was used to get the bottom of a tunnel flat or to set the floor tilt for a particular angle at a bend in the tunnel.
A bamboo theodolite used to plan the tunnel directions above ground and to guide the direction of the dig and the fall of the floor below ground.
The photos above are from the Subak Museum in Tabanan, an easy half-day outing of about 25 Km north and west from Kuta.
The cultivation of the original rice of Bali (which I've heard called 'beris Bali' although others doubt this and say that 'beras' is the name given to rice grains which have had the hull removed and separated by winnowing) was an eco-friendly affair.
The rich volcanic soil of Bali continued to
sustainably produce two crops a year using only natural means and additives in a
pattern of cultivation unchanged for centuries. After one crop was
harvested from a paddy which had been allowed to dry out the standing stubble
was burnt and the ash allowed to sit on the surface. The local duck herder was
then commissioned to bring in his flock to clean up the weeds and rice shoots
from spilt grains of the last harvest, the snails and insects and in the process lightly dress the
paddy with fertiliser. This commission was probably paid for by a bag of rice
from the farmer's lumbung or store house. After this period of rest the field was again
flooded and the ash and fertiliser turned over with the farmer's plough, drawn
by the water buffalo cow which added its own supply of alternative fertiliser.
In a corner of the paddy a nursery of small rice seedlings would be cultivated and eventually planted out into the re-flooded field. From time to time the duck herder would again be brought in to clean the paddy and add to the warm mush of fresh water, soil and fertiliser in which the rice plants thrived.
Eventually the rice formed ears of grain which
ripened, were harvested by the farmer and his family and the ears stored in the
lumbung until required, then to be threshed, hulled and consumed with relish.
This cycle could be, and was, repeated for centuries without detriment to soil
or environment. As a side product the paddy (or padi) also supplied the farmer
and his family with a protein supply which was an alternative to duck meat,
duck eggs, old cow meat and the occasional dog or monkey. As the farmer weeded
the paddy and checked the health of the crop he would come across rice snakes,
eels, fresh water fish, frogs, snails which had escaped the ducks and growing
catfish, all of which were harvested and provisioned his table.
Original rice with an ear of black rice included.
The proud farmer with an ear of rice.
Sheaves loaded onto a carry stick headed for the lumbung.
A nice story which I have put together from three
different sources over several years started with my hunt for an 'ani ani', a
small knife used by these farmers of old to harvest the rice. I had heard of the
ani ani years ago, from an old friend in Western Australia who also has a
fascination for the people, their history, culture and language. 'Knife' is a
modern term which conveys the idea of a cutting implement which slices but when
I eventually found an original ani ani (three in fact) in the Tabanan Subak
Museum, it did not resemble a knife as we know them today.
The ani ani is a small arc of timber of a size which allows the curved edge to
comfortably fit into and across the palm of a hand from the ball of the thumb
and across the first joint of the
fingers. Inset into the centre of the straight edge, and therefore facing
outwards from the palm, is a small, very sharp blade about the size of an old
Gillette razor blade. Through the arc of wood passes a small piece of bamboo,
similar in diameter but a bit shorter than a modern pencil. With the curved edge
of the wood running across the palm and out through the space between second and
third finger, and with the bamboo 'pencil' just poking out the top and bottom of
the hand and stabilising the whole lot, the ani ani was almost unseen. This was
important because the farmer believed the rice plant was a living entity like
himself and he did not want to anger the goddess of the rice and fertility, Dewi Sri, by
frightening the rice and thus risking retribution from an angry goddess. This
might have happened if the farmer approached the rice with anything as obviously
threatening and dangerous as a sickle might be.
The approach of the farmer with no obvious implement (or the farmers wife with
the stem of the ani ani tucked into the back of her hair bun) would have been something
the rice would have been used to from his regular weeding and inspections of the
paddy. During the weeding process in particular the farmer would have gone to
pains to caress the rice stalks as his hand went down to reach the bottom of the
weed and again as the weed was pulled.
This was described as the farmer 'making love' to the rice.
A similar 'love making' action with the hand concealing the ani ani would
calm the rice and a quick clenching of the fingers would press the individual
rice stalk onto the blade, cutting it instantly and we presume painlessly, so
keeping peace with Dewi Sri.
The entry bale and fish pond at the Tabanan Subak Museum.
Click on this link, or use the address, if you would like to know more about Rice in Bali - - www.filosbali.net/BalisRices.htm.
The links below will take you to some other photos of other parts of our holiday.
Not all will be ready and active straight away but they will evolve as July rolls in to August and so on.
The pillow case run to the NEGARA ORPHANAGE.
Stuff we took, the flight and the airport taxi fare board.
The orphanage for children with handicaps, Panti Asuhan Kesa Yanikang Papa in Gianyar.
Friends including the girls on the beach, little Kadek, the feet and fingers, driver Made and family including the newly-weds, waitresses and food, and of course the old boat builder of Jimbaran Bay.
The Baleka Beach Resort and the Baihai.
Silver jewellery and bead shops, Handbags, woodcarving and leather.
Pura Luhur Batu Karu, north of Tabanan.
Food, glorious food.
Kintamani and the crater and lake of Mount Batur.
Kites and batik quilts, tea/coffee/spices plantation.
Back to the 2006 contents page, 'The Year of the Pillow Cases'?
Right back to our home page for the shoppers Cheat Sheet, the first visit to the Negara Orphanage, a long Bali story (the 2003 'Rushed Trip'), the details about Bali's peoples, rices, religion and culture or history or things to do and see in Ubud as well as many others.
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