If cocks have been keeping you awake ever since you arrived in Indonesia,
this is your chance to see them killing each other. In the past, the gambling
connected with cockfighting frequently brought economic ruin to many families,
a man addicted to the habit sometimes wagering a whole month's income on
the outcome of a match. Cock-crazy rajas in the early part of this century
lost whole fortunes, palaces, and even wives by playing the cocks. Because
of the gambling, the Dutch forbade the sport (in 1926). They found it equally
as difficult to suppress them as the provincial government does today.
Given the fact that 90% of Indonesians are Muslim, a religion which prohibits
gambling, it's no wonder that the central government in Jakarta banned
public cockfights on Bali in 1981 to prevent moral decay and the squandering
of valuable cash resources.
Though unofficial, unauthorized cockfights
(tajen) are illegal, fighting is still allowed at religious events
(tabuh rah). In essence, the cocks are sacrifices to the devil.
Hungry evil spirits (bhuta and kala) are especially fond
of the blood of fighting cocks because their temperaments are similar.
The Balinese the blood offering satisfies the spirits and assures a good
harvest. In these purification rites, called tabuh rah (pouring
blood), cockfights are not only allowed, they're required. The fights
usually coincide with temple ceremonies, and the village council must alert
the police. Three to five rounds are allowed in which betting is legal;
all other rounds and bets are illegal. If you're lucky enough to see a
match at a temple, it may last for three days.
By charging admission, cockfighting is also
a means by which a village raises money for road repairs or various festivals.
Like a lottery, every male member of the banjar has to contribute
a cock; he is fined if he doesn't. Ten to 25% of all winnings go to the
banjar, the rest is contributed to the cost of the festival. Unrestricted
cockfighting also takes place during the great purification offering of
mecaru prior to the Day of Silence (Nyepi). It is believed that
blood spilt over the impure earth will cleanse it. On this occasion, thousands
of cocks fight and die all day long everywhere on Bali.
Fresh blood may also be needed to dedicate
a new accommodation or tourist restaurant. In these cases, the Balinese
don't even ask the police because they know they'll be denied permission.
Some may try to pay the authorities with money or a carton of cigarettes
to look the other way.
Social Function
The atmosphere of cockfights is not bloodthirsty and warlike. It is
ritualized, rechanneled violence where no one gets hurt (except the cocks)-like
playing with fire and not getting burned. All the villagers know each other,
and the procedure is well understood. Matches are governed by an unbelievably
complex set of rules listed in sacred lontar books, dictating the
length of rounds, the settlement of disputes, gambling etiquette, and the
classification of cocks by color, body shape, neck ruff, and other characteristics.
Winning bets are collected after each match, and the chief judge (juru
dalem), a man of unsullied reputation, has the last word in all disputes.
No one congratulates the winner, sympathizes
with the loser, argues or disputes the outcome. The fights move unsentimentally
and dispassionately, each a self-contained world enclosed by raucous laughter
and chatter. Predominantly a male-bonding event, there are few more graphic
studies of Balinese values and behavior than cockfights. The drama, gesticulating,
and hysteria of this nearly impenetrable crowd is fascinating to watch.
Raffles wrote in his History of Java: "The Balinese are strangers
to the vices of drunkenness, libertinism, and conjugal infidelity: their
predominant passions are gaming and cockfighting. In these amusements,
when at peace with their neighboring states, all the vehemence and energy
of their character and spirit is called forth and exhausted." This
is true today as much as it was when that observation was recorded in 1817.
The Balinese are amused at the attitude of
Westerners who find their cockfights cruel. A rooster is just as dead in
the cooking pot as it is on the ground of a cockfighting arena. In religious
celebrations the losers provide food for festival banquets and many a prize
rooster has found its way into a delicious curry dish.
Care and Training
Fighting cocks are given loving care-regularly massaged, bathed, bounced
on the ground, and trained every day. Their feathers, combs, earlobes,
and wattles are trimmed so that none provide a beak-hold for the opponent
bird. The owner prepares a diet of specially selected grains and a mixture
of chopped, grilled meat, and jackfruit, which is believed to thicken the
blood--preventing serious bleeding if injury results--and to make the bird
lean and little subject to fatigue. Its sexual energies are directed only
toward fighting, so the cock leads a celibate life except when breeding
new fighters. The offspring of a champion cock are prized and considerably
more expensive than those of less proven blood lines.
All over rural Bali special rock ledges are
built outside homes and beside roads to hold bell-shaped cock cages. The
cages are shifted about during the day to expose the cocks to the right
proportions of light and shade, and so that they are amused by the passersby
and do not get lonely. The exposure also accustoms them to the raucous
street noise and activity of people so they aren't disturbed where it really
counts-in the ring.
Pet, mascot, child, dream, income, the bird
is carried around the courtyard and to the village warung or banjar
clubhouse, taking as much attention as a new wife. Each is given a name,
and in the Balinese language the word for cock has the same double meaning
as it has in English, giving rise to the same stale locker-room jokes.
The Indonesian word for cock (sabung) can also mean champion, warrior,
or hero; scholars have even speculated that Balinese men look upon their
fighting cocks as detachable, self-operating penises with a life of their
own. You'll see them with their birds, endlessly inspecting, stroking,
and fondling their muscles, ruffling their feathers, pulling their combs,
tenderly bathing them, letting them exercise, and pairing cocks for impromptu
sparring without spurs. Young men are just as passionate about the sport
as old men, but the extent of their enthusiasm depends on their environment.
Youths in the countryside, where there are no TVs and discos, are naturally
more into cockfighting than urban youth.
The Arena
Since many cockfights are illegal, matches today are held in secret down
back lanes of most villages and towns, usually in the mornings. Guards
are posted to make sure participants are not discovered by the police.
It's easy for visitors to jostle their way into the noisy, sweating circle,
and usually no admission is charged. Though women may enter religious events
where cockfights are held, you see only men at real cockfights.
It is not a place where a woman likes to be seen-these birds are men's
business only.
When police raid cockfights, there's a frenzied
scramble to escape, a cat and mouse game in which everyone scatters in
all directions. If caught, offenders are fined Rp2000 and may even be jailed
for a night. Less risky are "private" cockfights which families
stage right inside their living compounds to exorcise malevolent spirits.
(The Balinese also stage cricket fights but these matches are not easy
to find.)
Legal cockfights are held in an open shed
or pavilion called a wantilan, usually outside the temple, measuring
about 15 square meters, and surrounded by tiered seating. Cockfights are
also staged in the banjst meeting hall, or simply in a flat, roped-off
area enclosed by rough benches. Some cockfights even take place inside
the temple itself, but this is rare. Whatever the venue, the courtyard
is never swept before a cockfight.
Preliminaries
An auspicious day must be decided on to hold a cockfight. The men arrive
at the wantilan carrying a floppy, openwork satchel of fresh coconut
leaves woven around the body of their cock, its tail sticking out so as
not to damage its ornamental feathers. Reeking of kretek smoke,
the arena is packed with men 20 deep, fused into a single body.
Expert handlers are hired to manage the cocks.
Specialist blade-affixers, pemasang taji, carry leather or wooden
cases where-like surgeon's knives-the lethal, razor-sharp polished steel
daggers are kept. The blades are bound tightly to the natural spur of the
cock's strongest leg; if they are not properly fastened, the cock will
be seriously handicapped. Some of these razor-sharp gaffs are wavy-bladed
like miniature kris and can reach lengths of up to 15 cm; the finest
cost Rp20,000 apiece.
Before a fight, the owners exchange cocks
to ascertain if they are equal in size and strength. Squatting on their
haunches, the men incite the cocks to fury by setting them close to each
other in the center of the arena. The birds are teased by their handlers,
tails pulled, feathers ruffled, palm-wine spit or red pepper shoved down
their throats, and swung close to each other-all to arouse their fighting
spirit.
Betting
The betting process begins when parties crowd into the ring to find
out which pairs of birds seem to really want to fight each other. Owners
wander around the arena with their cocks held high, looking for a suitable
opponent eager to fight. Just by looking at a cock, a Balinese can tell
if it's a winner, and if it's worth placing money on. They look at the
coloration, size of their bodies and legs, and the size and strength of
their feet.
Birds of equal size and spirit are carefully
matched, then lined up for a whole series of fights. It's a chaotic scene,
extraordinarily stimulating and exciting. The handlers of the first two
cocks meet in the center of the ring with the referee (saya) and
cash is handed over for the central bet. The juru dalem signals
the amount of the central bet (always even money) to the official timekeeper,
which triggers the start of frantic side betting (koh kesasi). Pandemonium
results as members of the audience exchange codified hand and finger signals
placing uneven bets on the favorite and the underdog. The colors of each
cock are shouted across the arena; backers confirm their bets first with
eye contact, then with intricate finger, palm, and lip movements. If agreed
by both parties, a handicap is imposed on an obviously stronger, larger
bird by tying the blade at a disadvantageous angle.
It's really a tight money game. Some have
a good cock but not enough money to fight him, betting just Rp1000. Others
risk as high as Rp100,000, but most bets average Rp5000 (or in the desa,
less). A whole village has been known to put up as much as a million rupiah
on its favorite cock.
No bets are recorded; if a man doesn't honor
his bet, he won't be allowed in the wantilan again. The only records
kept are of money owed to the banjar (usually 10% but sometimes
25% of the take). Bets are paid at once with IOUs seldom accepted. After
the brokers have squabbled, the bets have been placed, and the opponents
are ready, the fight is blessed by a lay priest, the pemangku. Offerings
to the bhuta and kala spirits are made in the center of the
ring and rice wine poured on the ground. The referee and timekeeper go
to their places and the fight starts with a loud gong. An intense stillness
descends on the arena.
The Fight
Squatting down, the handlers face each other, firmly holding the excited
birds who are pecking and glaring at each other. The cocks are let go as
the whole audience moans together. After the first contact, often resulting
in the wounding of one cock, they are separated and a series of rounds
determines the outcome. Rounds are measured by water-clocks (ganji),
half a coconut shell with a hole the size of a penny. The timer places
it in a bucket of water, and the round (ceng) is declared over when
the shell sinks (typically around 10 seconds).
Each fight is limited to three rounds but
the bouts seldom last that long. The match can very well be finished in
five to 10 seconds; with ruffs aflare and feathers flying, the death blow
is frequently delivered in the air. The cocks show amazing ferocity even
when crippled, and the best cocks can only fight five or 10 times before
they are killed or seriously wounded. If a wounded cock cannot be revived
and his opponent can stand upright for one ceng, the fight is over.
If both cocks are still fighting after three rounds, it's a draw (very
rare). If one of the cocks runs off, he is disqualified. After a blur of
feathers and wings the cocks might suddenly face each other, then one will
just keel over dead, the winning bird still flapping its wings, crowing,
and pecking vengefully at the corpse.
Sometimes handlers take blood from the wound
of a defeated cock and smear it over their bird's beak, giving it a taste
of victory. A badly wounded cock can often be revived by artificial respiration
or special massages to fight again and win, or kept as a pet out of respect
and sentimentality. The losing bird is always given a final chance, and
special trainers stand by to tend to injuries between rounds. If his bird
is down and out, the owner picks it up and gives it a few seconds to see
if it can stand up by itself. If it can't, it's mortally wounded and that's
it. If both cocks refuse to continue, the umpire puts them both under a
wicker dome basket. One almost always kills the other within the confined
space. The winning bird is held aloft as bettors claim their money. The
loser is brought straight to a man whose job it is to cut off the bird's
leg, take the spur from that leg, and jam it straight into the bird's heart.
The owner of the winning cock takes the limp body of the dead rooster home
for cooking (a defeated bird is considered tastier than normal). The breast
is torn from the body and made into pretty feather dusters.
After another couple of minutes of betting,
the next fight starts. As the crescendo of male voices rises it sounds
like a gaggle of geese or the speaking in tongues at a revival meeting.
When the gong sounds another pair of cocks go at it, and all is silent.
Even in these days of illegal, clandestine gaming, the fights may continue
until nightfall. It's been observed that much of the Balinese character
comes to the surface in the fighting ring because it is not just the cocks
who are fighting, it's also men. The great ethnographer and Balinist Clifford
Geertz called these bouts of mortal fury "so pure, so absolute, and
in their own way so beautiful, as to become abstract-a Platonic concept
of hate."