Malam Jumaat Kliwon

Last Thursday evening was malam Jumaat Kliwon (the night before the day when the Javanese weekday Kliwon falls on a Friday (Jumaat)). This night, along with that of Kliwon Selasa (Kliwon Tuesday), is considered to be auspicious and an ideal time for introspection, meditation, and communication with the larger spiritual forces at work in one’s life. This was my second time visiting Parangkusumo on such a night. During my first trip to Parangkusumo on Kliwon Selasa I was interested primarily in the rituals being done and the symbolism behind them. This time I wanted to get a better feel for the functionality of the space and the people in attendance.

Soon after entering, I was approached by a middle-aged woman in modest garb and a dark pink jilbab [Indonesian-style Islamic headscarf]. She inquired whereabouts I was from, whether I was still studying, and so on. I felt something was strange about her, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then she told me that she liked [to date] younger western men, smiling coquettishly. She invited me to chat with her off to the side, away from all the foot traffic. There she continued to flirt with me, though I couldn’t understand half of what she said. She asked if I was rich, whether I liked to “main-main cewek” [main = “to play”, cewek = “girl” or “chick”], whether I’d ever been with an older woman, and some other questions which seemed more vulgar but I couldn’t understand. She told me she was from Solo [about an hour from Yogyakarta by train] and that that night was her second time working at Parangkusumo (the first being on Selasa Kliwon). I want to find out if that is the general trend with the other prostitutes there. I need to visit a few times on normal nights to see what differences there are.

The whole space at Parangkusumo – from the square/courtyard to the beach – seems more enigmatic the more I try to analyze it. It is a place of contrasts and paradoxes. Prostitutes meet their customers next to the mosque. Islamic prayers are recited while supplicants channel the power of Java’s sea-goddess, Nyai Roro Kidul. It’s difficult to take it all in. At the same moment I was politely dodging the woman's advances, people were deep in prayer at the sacred rocks. Others were laying idly on the steps of the mosque and wall-less structures, while yet others sang the praises of their wares outside the courtyard, chatted with friends, begged, ate, shopped, performed, gave massages, watched the rituals take place, or had cheap thrills with prostitutes in nearby rooms. Everything seemed to clash yet there was no trace of conflict.

There were even more people at Parangkusumo this time than at Selasa Kliwon. I think malam Jumaat Kliwon is generally more popular that Selasa Kliwon. The majority of the visitors were men, with about an even age distribution among them. Most of the women there were involved either in the rituals, meditation, or in the selling of food, trinkets, massages, flowers (for ritual offerings), and sex. I didn't see many of them walking around to shop or eat. The only children I saw (one or two of them) had come with family members to partake in the rituals. There must have been at least 500 people there when I arrived around 11pm, and I was the only bule (Westerner) to be seen. The rituals being performed were not significantly different than those done on Selasa Kliwon, though it needs to be understood that what goes on there is this: individuals or small groups come to perform their own personal prayers - there are no elaborate staged performance-like rituals done. There are basic motions to be gone through when praying there, but it's by no means a scripted, scheduled event. People move in and out of the sacred rock enclosure the whole night.

Like before, plenty of prostitutes were standing around. I would estimate there were around 40 or 50 of them there that night. In one sweep of the whole courtyard area, I counted 32. They really stand out in the crowd with their clothing, make-up, and demeanor. There will never be a scientific way of counting prostitutes in a crowd, so you'll have to trust my judgment. I'm sure there were other girls already occupied or in cognito (like the modestly-dressed woman who approached me).

The cross-like shape made by the red chili peppers at the top of the rice offering
on the rock has nothing to do with Christianity or any kind of crucifix. It's a common way to decorate the offering, according to my friend. There are various other ways also.

Beyond this market-like area is the big courtyard that contains the rock enclosure.

My friend told me that this is her father.
He's a Catholic man who comes regularly to pray.