DARK SECRETS

Wairarapa Times-Age, 31 August 1938, Page 7

DARK SECRETS

MYSTERIES OF WEST INDIAN ISLANDS. PICTURESQUE NATIVE LIFE. With the announcement of an expansion in the operations of the Nitour or Netherlands Indies Tourist Bureau the Government of the Netherlands Indies is currently making a bid for the large travel trade that has been deflected from zones of strife or tension elsewhere in the world, writes Calvin White from Batavia to the “New York Times.” The programme is in line with the latest campaign to coordinate and develop her colonial in-' dustries and recognise the peaceful atmosphere and picturesque native life of the Indies as among their primary assets. So it is that the traveller will hear more of Java these days.

In spite of Java’s progress its flamboyant landscape still hints of dark secrets. The principal island of the East Indies is screened by jungles and studded with 119 volcanoes, thirteen of which are active. Java was claimed to be. the home of the dancer-spy Mati Hari. It was also the home of Pithecanthropus Erectus (otherwise known as the Java man), who was buried with the secrets of the Pleistocene Age. In Batavia rich cargoes await transfer to the holds of steamers that will bear them across the seven seas. At Buitenzorg (“Away from Sorrow”) stands the impressive white palace of the Governor of Netherlands India, whose domain includes two score other islands. Sourabaya, at the opposite end of the island, is a brisk trading centre for a dozen nationalities. Yet the Javanese themselves retain these settlements by their sheer buoyancy of spirit. In Sourabaya, for example, ponies trot by with jingling bangles, and sampans painted in riotous designs drift along the Kai Mas or Golden River, which divides the city. Jn their dress, with bizarre turbans and bright skirts, the Javanese express their love of life. It Was they who named the city Sourabaya (“The Dangerous Crocodile”), in tribute to an unloved animate no other people would think of honouring. The city fathers still use the crocodile tail on the municipal seal.

The titular rulers of Javanese life are the Sultan Djocja (“he who has the world on his knees”) and the Sultan of Solo (“the pinnacle of all possible perfections”). On the outskirts of Djocja is a sight to wipe out all previous memories of the marvels man has worked; the ancient Temple of Burabadur. Encircled by a jagged rim of volcanoes, Burabadur stands as an incredible monument to Hindu art and religion. Seven minutely-carved terraces form a great conical hill. Over 400 bellshaped shrines each contain a meditative figure of Buddha, while in tier on tier of frescoed galleries are some three miles of bas-reliefs. Below the temple white herons wade in the rice terraces cascading down to the valley, while gorgeously-coloured birds and flowers gleam in groves of bamboo and coconut palms. Of the volcanoes. forming a backdrop for Burabadur, one is the sacred Mount Bromo, which rises in awful majesty from a sea of black sands. Great Rocks whirl upward towards its rim; yellow smoke billows skyward, and the earth shakes with a suppressed rumbling. Legend relates that centuries ago a young farmer and his wife came to live near the volcano. They were unhappy because they had no children, and one' evening the father was told by the spirit of Bromo that they could have many children provided they would sacrifice them before they reached maturity to the volcano. The couple agreed. They had many children, and half forgetting the promise, lived happily. When the day for the sacrifice came the youngest son threw himself into the abyss in an effort to .appease the spirit of Bromo and save his brothers and sisters. A thunderous burst of flame and smoke went up, showing the mountain god’s acceptance of the compromise.

On the first day of the month, which is Kesodo, the anniversary of the boy’s self-sacrafice, an annual pilgrimage to Mount Bromo takes place. Javanese throw offerings of feed, incense, and flowers into the crater. The event is but another reminder of the brilliantlypatterned life that will always remain half hidden in the jungle antiquity of Java, a life that disregards the clamour of western progress. '