Kyesha was a fairly typical teenager. She talked about boys, struggled to care about homework, and smoked. Perhaps a bit more atypical was that Kyesha often left class in the middle of the period for a smoke break in the bathrooms.
One day, Kyesha entered a bathroom, sat in the stall, and lit a cigarette. The spirit that resided within that bathroom became intensely angry that she desecrated its home with ash and smoke. Or maybe it had silently endured multiple visits until it could no longer. The spirit possessed her in retaliation and steered Kyesha’s body to the classroom.
Kyesha/It went on a rampage upon her/its return. By all accounts, Kyesha was not an especially strong or athletic girl. Yet under the spirit’s influence she was strong enough to hurl desks and chairs around the room. She/it yelled at everyone and screamed profanities.
Most of the students calmly waited outside the classroom for the furor to die down. This was not a normal event but neither were they strangers to it. Possessions happened often enough at this school, sometimes serially. The furious spirit finally relinquished Kyesha’s body. Kyesha fell unconscious and was carried to the nurse’s office. She woke up confused and absolutely unaware that anything out of the ordinary had happened.
Introducing the Makhluk Halus
Modern life in Indonesia cannot be understood without delving into the spiritual world of the makhluk halus (mahk-luke ha-loos, literally “transparent creations”). People’s knowledge of the spirit world thrives in the form of ethnic traditions and urban legends passed on to successive generations. Some spirits are invoked, welcomed, and celebrated during certain seasons. Other spirits are feared and avoided all year round. In any case, every Indonesian you meet will have encountered the spirit world before or personally know someone who has. Spirits are everywhere.
Some people are particularly gifted in seeing the denizens of the spirit world. Indonesians refer to them as “Indigo(s)”, presumably because they see the dark things that go “bump” in the night. The more powerful ones will report seeing and interacting with the spirits everywhere they are. For example, Safira habitually talked to a female spirit in a red dress named Mene (Muh-nay) while she sat in the back of her classroom.
The spirit world seems to affect life in the most trivial ways even amongst non-Indigos. For example, most people do not whistle at night outside their homes to avoid attracting spirits. Pictures are rarely taken in groups of three because the one in the middle is liable to be possessed. Most Indonesians close all their windows and doors at nightfall to prevent spirits from entering. Many leave their bathroom lights on through the night to prevent spirits from dwelling there (maybe it can enter through the drain?). Incense is burned as a ward. One cannot allow one’s mind to go blank because an empty mind is a ripe habitat for wandering spirits. I wish I had the capacity to actually decide not to awaken into momentary fugue!
One of my favorites: laundry is never washed at night.
“Do you dry your laundry on a line outside?”
“We will eventually, after we buy a washing machine.”
“Okay. If you do, make sure not to leave the laundry out at night. At least, not underwear.”
“… Does our neighborhood have underwear thieves?”
“It happens sometimes. Also, some people believe spirits are attracted to them.”
I stood across from Pak RT contemplating what happens afterwards. “Do they live in the underwear? Maybe possess the one wearing it?”
“I don’t really know. But the most important thing is that you don’t scare your neighbors.”
I smiled at the mental image of our neighbors shrieking and running in fright as my boxers strolled down the alleyways. I was grateful I had never taken up the habit of writing my name in my underwear. We would probably be asked to leave the neighborhood if my possessed boxers were ever traced back to me.
These seeming trivialities are so myriad that people’s concern with the spirit world actually seems central-adjacent in aggregate. In other words, the average Indonesian’s purpose is to successfully live while avoiding the spirit world’s interference. There are so many practices that I did not mention. I am positive there are hundreds more that I don’t know about.
It would be rude to refer to their practices and beliefs as superstition. The spirit world is real and completely rational to the average Indonesian. It intersects and interacts with our physical world constantly, though most times not for the better. Verifiable proof is scant. The average Indonesian would never ask for it either. Everything is within the realm of possibility.
Tale 1: Safira and the Influencer
A brief vocabulary/cultural lesson: the word “menyeramkan” (muhn-ye-rahm-kahn) is impossible to translate well. It means “frightening”, inclusive of both petrification and hasty retreat. Ghosts and spirits must be involved. “Terrifying”, “horrifying”, and “frightening” capture the intensity but are insufficiently descriptive. “Haunted”, “spooky”, and “eerie” contain the proper connotations but lack gravity. For smoothness of flow I’ve chosen “terrifying”… but keep in mind that the word actually used is “menyeramkan”.
Safira is an Indigo. She is the niece of a dukun (shaman) from a province of Java famous for its powerful dukun. The ability to see and commune with spirits runs strong in her family. It turns out that Indigos also easily attract spirits to themselves. The spirit is as likely to go along for the ride as it is to possess the Indigo in view.
“My scariest experience occurred during high school. I woke up early and arrived at school around 6:15 am per usual. I normally head to the canteen to buy milk or food. One of my friends intercepted me from the direction of the canteen as I started heading towards it.”
She was really surprised. She suddenly asked, “Loh! (the Indonesian equivalent of ‘wha?!’) Safira, weren’t you just at the canteen?”
“’No,’ I said, ‘I only just started heading there.’”
“Loh! Then who was that in the canteen just now? I thought it was you buying milk…”
“Nope…. I came to class and headed to the canteen right after I arrived.”
She turned pale and stiffened. “Oh, okay…”
And I stood there thinking, “’What just happened?’ I told myself to forget it and move on.”
But around mid-morning a friend who sat in my row refused to look at me. She wouldn’t make eye contact. In fact, she refused to help me or even get near me. I asked her, “Why aren’t you looking at me? You’re not usually like this.”
She said, “I can’t look at you right now. Your face is terrifying!”
”What? How am I scaring you? I’ve been normal all morning.”
Three other friends agreed. “Your face is different today…. really different.”
“Different how? My face has remained the same all day!” (I presume Safira refers to her makeup and hairstyle)
“No, that is not you. You’re actually really terrifying to look at.”
“According to other people who could see it (most likely Indigos), a female ghost was holding on to my shoulders. She made my face more terrifying (it is unknown whether Safira’s condition was a result of the spirit’s attachment or a result of the spirit’s action). But the change was not restricted to my face. I had unknowingly permeated a dark, haunting aura all day. My uncle (a dukun) made the spirit leave me alone… but I was scared to return to school for a few months afterwards.”
Tale 2 - Diah and the Dancer
My friend Diah sat across from me in our quiet corner of the cafe. I had just showed her a fun music video that I had been playing on repeat. The song was fun, catchy, and it made me happy to listen to it. Diah said, “Josh, I know that dance! I did it once for a performance in my fifth grade.”
“Oh, that’s cool! Please tell me the story.”
“Iya Josh… I joined a cultural event at school. I wanted to honor my Sunda culture, so I chose a traditional Sunda dance.”
“Okay, terus?”
“I practiced a lot, everyday for 2 weeks before the night. I wanted to perform the dance perfectly, ya? And then it was time to start… and then I woke up on Pak RT’s couch in his home. My grandparents and Pak RT were really worried about me. I was so confused.”
“What happened?”
“This is from my friend who was in the audience, ya. He told me that I had been dancing, but that my body had suddenly appeared bigger, taller, more mature... like an adult in her 20’s. It looked like I had breasts! And at the end of the dance I fell unconscious and didn’t respond to anything.”
My Western mind blew a fuse. Spiritual manifestation ala Ghost was too far outside my listening experience. “Crazy! And then?”
“They picked me up and carried me to the couch in Pak RT’s house. There was an ustad (an Islamic spiritual teacher) in the audience who talked to the spirit that took over.”
I waited, wiling to be carried away to wherever Diah’s story was going.
“The spirit told him that she liked my body because she was also a dancer. She meant no harm; she really only wanted to dance. So the ustad asked her to leave me and not enter again. She left without arguing.”
“Did your friend in the audience make a recording?”
“Iya, he recorded it on his phone! He wanted to show me what happened.”
“And what did you think?”
“No Josh, I was too scared to watch all of it. I took his phone, saw the first five seconds, and then erased the video. I didn’t want to think about it. I still don’t, really.”
It made sense. No one wants to lose control of themselves only to wake up sometime later without any idea of what had happened beforehand. My limited mastery of the language and lack of shared experience left me at a severe loss for words. “I’m sorry you went through that…”
Diah waved her hand dismissively. “It’s my fault, really. Many Sunda dances were meant to call spirits to come. I should have thought about that when I chose the dance.”
“In that case, I guess you danced very well?”
Diah shook her head sadly. “I’ve never done another traditional dance since then. I love dancing so I do a lot of hip-hop. I’m too scared to try another traditional dance.”
The Sixth Sense
Fans of the haunted mansion at Disneyland might remember that just before leaving the car, the speaker announces that riders should beware of hitchhiking ghosts. A quick glance in the mirror confirms that some seedy ghost has sat in your car with you on the way out. Depending on the seating arrangement, the ghost is either sitting next to you or on top of you.
I wonder how the average Indonesian would take this. Would they laugh? Would they look over their shoulder and wonder if something had indeed just attached itself to them as they left the car? I suspect they would recognize it as entertainment because the ghosts are too cute (though seedy) to be real. That is the problem, really. The West essentially treats the subject matter as entertainment because its cultural empiricism does not allow for belief.
Indonesia horror films have experienced unprecedented popularity in the last few years. Yet Indonesian horror movies never depend on gore like their American counterparts. Gore is a bonus. The real payoff is in the haunting. Horror comes when the makhluk halus possess the ones you trust and/or love the most and subsequently inflict harm (to the possessed or others) while wearing their faces.
One of our devout Muslim language teachers explained the rising popularity in Indonesian horror films thusly: “We love them because this is our lives… We live with this everyday!”
“But as a Muslim, you believe that Allah is the Most Powerful. This means that you are never in danger from the spirits, right?”
“Yes, Allah is more powerful than all makhluk halus.”
“Then why are Indonesians so afraid of spirits? Additionally, why do Indonesian horror movie always have an ustad who tells the characters to perform prayers so they stay safe? Inevitably both the ustad and the one(s) praying are killed.”
She answered without hesitation. “True, but if Allah allows it to happen, then nothing will stop the spirit. Everyone depends on his mercy.”
I was unsure how to process her answers. Did she mean that Indonesia’s nascent film industry finally reflects the existence of an essential element of life absent in previous films? Perhaps horror movies reinforce the viewer’s sense of gratitude that whatever they might (have) experience(d) was not as bad as this. Maybe horror movies are a form of mass exposure therapy. Unfortunately, my teacher was also unsure how to clarify her answer.
Whatever the reason, it is a fact that Indonesia’s horror films somehow strike a chord in the hearts of the Indonesian public. Western empiricism be damned. An older neighbor pithily declared, “They can tell us what to believe… but we know what’s true.”
Coda
Tari was being pursued down a hallway. She tried several locked doors before chancing on the one door left open: the garbage chute. She dove in headfirst.
“Jangan!!” (No, don’t!)
“YaAllah….” (Oh goodness…)
Tari used all her limbs to halt her speedy descent from the tenth-floor and lost a lot of skin in the process. She breathed deeply to fight her full-blown panic. Then a hypnotic vision, an infernal light, a letting go, a scream, the crunch of impact when Tari hit bottom…the exclamations of the theater audience exploded around me.
“Anjing!!” (F**k!!!)
“Bangsat loh!” (Son of a B***h!)
“Astigfirullahaladzim!” (literally, “God forgive me”, but often used as “Oh my God!”)
Most everyone in the audience was engrossed with the story. I was engrossed with the audience. Our cultural differences made them far more entertaining than Satan’s Slaves 2.