Tiga Wasa Village

We ambled away from the school and down the street to begin our tour of the village at the mayor’s building. Apparently Bali uses the same alarm system that Java does. The wooden alarm hung from a nice alcove on the front patio of the town hall. This patio area is built on the second floor. They mayor gave us a little demonstration of it’s use.

From the street you see this:

I don’t have a full translation, but the signs are apparently all the town’s political and professional affiliations. This is the view looking up from the street. See the checkered skirt on the right? That’s the wooden alarm. On the left is the base of a very grand penjor.

There happened to be a clove tree growing right next door. Since we were up a story, that put us right next to the buds. The Bali guide picked some of the unripe cloves for us to look at. When we were done, she carefully placed the buds in the base of the penjor. I thought it not only showed respect for her religion, but also for the neighbor from whom she had taken a tiny piece of their cash crop.

Until this trip I hadn’t realized that cloves grew on trees. They even look like fairly normal trees. Not like the snake skin fruit tree.

We stood around on the patio and talked to the mayor. He answered a barrage of questions, most of which were about himself. He owns a store in town which his wife and other relations take care of for him when he’s busy with his political duties.

He’s been married for twenty years, and has a son who lives in an apartment in town eight miles away in order to attend 9th grade. Most of his time is spent helping neighbors get along.

From there we headed into the rest of town. As near as I could tell, there was only one true road – the highway we arrived on. Many of the houses were accessible by paths through the woods. Some of those paths are dirt. Others had been paved or cobbled.

All the people we visited make things which they sell wholesale. Their buyers come to them. That would include us, as we begged for a chance to pick up a few items.

The first family we visited do a variety of things. The man is spreading their crop of cloves out to dry. This is a common practice. Their bit of land might include many clove trees. Though they may tend the trees, it is more random than an orchard.

Most of the women folk are very busy with basket weaving. They make ceremonial baskets used for offerings. The cooking might be done by either.

The baskets are made from bamboo which they turn into strips. It takes a very sharp knife. They frequently have to pause to use a wet stone.

The corners are made in the basket simply through the tension placed on the bamboo while it is being woven. It was fun to watch.

From there we headed to another basket weaver’s house. On the way we happened to pass a man carrying a basket on his head and stopped to talk. We didn’t hold him long, though. That basket weights 20 kilograms. That’s 44 pounds for the non-metric.

They used a different kind of ladder – a poll with rungs stuck through every little bit. If I’d been more mobile I might have asked to try it. I get the feeling it might be pretty tricky, even if they village kids like to use them as toys.

Bamboo is used to weave walls as well as baskets.

This next family had a new baby – their fourth boy. They were quite eager to show us where in the yard they had buried the umbilical cord. The puppet master had also been quite eager to show where the umbilical to his grandson had been buried. Apparently this is considered to be of some importance. For instance, it was carefully placed outside the ground around the house.

This family showed us how the baskets are colored. First, before the bamboo is even cut, it is painted in the colors that are wanted. It must be very flexible paint as it doesn’t flake off while being worked. Red and black are the most common colors, right behind unpainted.

The outermost “skin” of the bamboo is the strongest and so will last the longest. The inner part can also be woven, but is generally either thrown out or used for a second layer in the big baskets.

This particular family was very proud of their pigeons. These are raised as a hobby, but manage to bring in some money. This village has a contest for raising and training pigeons. Up to 1,500 pigeons might be entered in a year.

The pigeons are tested to see how far they will fly to get back home. They can make it to town and back in 30 minutes.

He started off with one pigeon. That pigeon brought back others. Now he had between 30 and 40 – all in couples. He calls them for feeding with a whistle.

If someone buys a pigeon, they won’t let it fly for three months. That’s how long it takes to forget it’s old home.

From here we went to the home of a family that made a meal with us.