Ratukunti

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The most common depiction of the Ratukunti as featured on talismanic manuscripts from the 17th century.

In Hindia Belandan myth, the Ratukunti is a demon whose origins lie in prehistoric Hindia Belandan cultures. The Ratukunti is said to be the leader of the boentianaks, who are vengeful vampiric beings transformed from the spirits of women who died during childbirth. Whilst the boentianaks were human, the Ratukunti is not but only takes on a human form when making an apparition in order to lure unsuspecting people who may be wandering alone on certain nights of the year. When taking a human form, the Ratukunti is described as a lady with facial tattoos, suggesting Austronesian origins, wearing a long robe often associated with the Andjanian nobility and an elaborate headgear with palm fronds. The prevalence of the Ratukunti in virtually every folklore of all islands in Hindia Belanda except the island of Papoea suggests that it was spread by Andjanians during the expansionist period of the Andjani Empire.[1]

Origins

Hindia Belandan folklore features a strong undercurrent of animistic beliefs revolving around nature worship, including the belief that the environment in which humans live are concurrently populated with different kinds of spirits. These beliefs have their origins in the prehistoric and early historical Hindia Belanda, when Austronesian societies began to emerge across the archipelago along with a nascent belief system surrounding the power of nature as manifested in these spirits. Austronesians believed that the actions of these spirits are connected with natural phenomena and commensurate with human actions toward nature itself, thus a spirit is neither inherently malevolent or benevolent. A spirit, if not cared for by performing the appropriate rituals which usually entail caring for the natural environment with which the spirit is associated, may inflict harm on people and society. But if a spirit is appeased, it will in turn give rewards in various forms. It was only in the early 11th-century that these spirits began to be associated with inherent goodness and evil. The Ratukunti, once a spirit believed by the early Austronesians to be responsible for the falling of the night, became associated with evil during the expansionist period of the Andjani Empire, when most of the islands in the archipelago fell under Andjanian rule.

It has been hypothesised[2] that the sudden change in the Ratukunti's role was intentional in order to transform the myth into a social engineering tool to discourage people from travelling alone at night and thus becoming targets of criminals and wild animals alike. In losing its role as a neutral spirit of the night, the Ratukunti effectively became a policing force that deterred criminals and prevented the masses from falling victims to the former.[3] There is a growing body of evidence to suggest that the myth of the Ratukunti was also used by the Andjani Empire to reduce the risk of fire, as one variation of the myth tells that the Ratukunti will visit a house at night unless all fire and lighting within it are covered by nightfall or before the occupants go to sleep.[4]

Throughout Hindia Belandan history, the Ratukunti has been linked to the sudden disappearance of people.

Appearance and characteristics

Emma Karolina de Vries is credited with documenting Hindia Belandan myths and folklore in minute detail.

The colonial-era anthropologist Emma K. de Vries wrote about the Ratukunti as described to her by a village chief in her 1913 seminal work Boekoe Hikajat Hantoe Hindia-Belanda, detailing Hindia Belandan supernatural entities.

During the five days that I remained in the village of Poe'oen Terbang, in the Regentschap Kelawi on the island of Somatra, I happened upon the village chief, named Abdorahman, whom I enquired regarding the nature of the Ratukunti. Hesitant at first – and understandably so as even the utterance of her name is said to bring a series of misfortunes – the village chief agreed to describe the Ratukunti to me as we sat on his veranda. A Sunni Mohammedan, as are most inhabitants of this village, Abdorahman began by reciting a prayer in Riysan to ward off evil. He then gargled with some water infused with pandan and spat onto the ground in front of us. This markedly Animist ritual, I later learnt, is one of several ways one can protect oneself from the Ratukunti.

Abdorahman then told me that the Ratukunti is not human, but rather a demon whose origins is not of this earth. A cunning and evil being, the Ratukunti is able to transform into human form on certain nights of the year, donning the robe of ancient Andjanian nobility and a palm fronds headgear, to lure an unsuspecting person who may be wandering alone at night. Once she finds a victim, she uses her sharp, long nails to stab their heart and thereupon her gruesome feast may begin. If she is interrupted during her feast by multiple people, the Ratukunti will fly away, leaving the body of her victim. But if interrupted by another unsuspecting and solitary person, she will do unto that person that which she has done to her other victim. Abdorahman then told me that it is not safe to talk about the Ratukunti on certain nights of the year in the Javanese calendar: the first night of the second month; the second night of the eighth month; and the twentieth night of the tenth month, the last of which is known as the 'Night of the Great Kunti', the most supernaturally dangerous of all nights. [5]

Apparition

An apparition of the Ratukunti is said to be preceded by a sudden drop in temperature and a loud cackling.[6] When the Ratukunti is far, the cackling can be heard loudly, but when she is near the cackling grows faint.[7] When she is about to attack, the cackling ceases entirely and a swooshing sound of her robe can be heard. According to Emma K. de Vries, when the cackling of the Ratukunti begins to grow faint, signalling her approach, a person may chant the following incantation to thwart her attack:

Wahai Ratukunti terkoetoek (O you accursed Ratukunti),
Matilah kaoe di timpa tanah pertimboenan (May you be struck dead by the soil from the grave-mound).
Maka kami potong engsel bambu, jang pandjang dan jang pendek (Thus we cut the bamboo-joints, the long and the short),
Agar didalamnja kami masak kaoe poenja hati haloes (To cook therein this spectral liver of yours).

Aku tahoe kaoe poenja asal (I know your provenance),
Dari tempat kotor kaoe mandjadi (from a filthy place you have come,)
Kalaoe ta' oendoer dari sini (if you refuse to retreat from here),
Di timpa ampat pendjaga pendjoeroe (you will be struck dead by the guardians of the four cardinal directions),

Wahai balang kotor Ratukunti (O you unclean spirit Ratukunti),
Kaoe penghoeni kotor doenia beranta (You filthy inhabitant of the netherworld),
Hilanglah dan terkoetoeklah! (Begone and be damned!)
Naik saksi kekoewatan Toehankoe: (Witness the power of our Lord)

(A prayer according to the religious beliefs of the person chanting this incantation is said at this part)[8]

Talismans

A talismanic manuscript against the Ratukunti, showing evident syncretism of Christian prayers and animist incantations, circa 1780. This is one of many talismanic designs created during Noordenstaater rule

Talismanic manuscripts were also commonly employed to scare the Ratukunti away. Many talismanic designs, often incorporating Islamic and Christian prayers alongside an animist one, were created and used widely across the archipelago, despite being frowned upon by Esoteric Shia and Church of Hindia Belanda clergies. The strong undercurrent of Animism in the predominantly Shia and Christian Hindia Belandan society of the colonial era created a syncretic belief system that was adopted chiefly by rural communities as a compromise between official religiosity, as manifested in the institutions of the Church of Hindia Belanda and the Auxiliary Imamate, and the Austronesian Animism of the past. These talismans were normally written on a piece of paper and can be carried by a person to protect them in their travels, buried under crossroads or near the entry of a building to deter the Ratukunti. Most of these manuscripts include a visual depiction of the Ratukunti to help the owner identify the Ratukunti from afar should they be unfortunate enough to cross paths with her.

A late 17th-century Islamo-animist talismanic manuscript against the Ratukunti in book form.

The drawing of the Ratukunti's likeness on these talismanic manuscripts also plays a role in protecting the owner from falling victim to her. Incantations, prayers and symbols are often written around the drawing, which act as a bind that restricts the Ratukunti's movement when she is nearby. Symbols such as the Seal of Solomon, considered by Esoteric Shias as a strong shield against general malevolence, and Saint Benedict Medal, are often drawn on these manuscripts to render the Ratukunti powerless. Images of beasts encircling the Ratukunti were sometimes featured in some talismanic designs to achieve the same effect. Although this syncretic practice was officially disapproved of, Hindia Belandan communities continued to observe it until at least the 1920s, when belief in Hindia Belandan superstitions experienced a rapid decline due to a wave of rationalism spread by the writings of Hindia Belandan intellectuals.

Most of these talismanic manuscripts were created using red ink made of red iron oxide, although black and even blue ink was sometimes used. Each of these colours was attributed with certain powers against supernatural entities. Red pigment was considered the most potent against powerful beings such as the Ratukunti, hence its predominant use, whilst black pigment made of lampblack is considered most powerful against celestial beings. Blue pigment was used predominantly against water-dwelling beings. Some manuscripts were illuminated which suggest that they were commissioned by the nobility, although it remains unclear if the use of gold is associated with a certain magical property.

Almost all of the talismanic manuscripts against the Ratukunti found to date are nearly idiosyncratic; no two manuscripts are the same, except for the drawing of the Ratukunti's likeness as its uniformity is crucial for identifying the mythical being out in the open.

Night of the Great Kunti

Pre-1920s observance

Townsfolk gather at the town centre, known as the balé, such as this one in Soerakarta, on the Night of the Great Kunti to keep an all-night vigil and seek safety in numbers.

According to Emma K. de Vries, the Ratukunti is guaranteed to make an apparition on the Night of the Great Kunti, which falls on the twentieth night of the tenth month in the Andjanian calendar. On this night, inhabitants of each town often congregate together at the town balé, seeking safety in numbers, where they keep vigil from nightfall until dawn. Only at first light may the inhabitants safely return to their homes.

Nightwatchmen go on patrol.

The day before the Night of the Great Kunti, a committee is normally set up in a given town to prepare for the meal that will be consumed by the townsfolk at the balé as they keep the vigil. Several houses are designated as kitchens, each tasked with preparing certain food and beverages for the occasion. Before sunset on the Night of the Great Kunti, town criers wearing black attire tour the town going door to door alerting the townsfolk of the dangers of being home on that particular night. The townsfolk are then escorted to the town balé by nightwatchmen. During the all-night vigil, prayers are said ceaselessly and braziers surrounding the balé are kept lit until the next morning, whilst essential oil made of Jasmine is burnt to summon benevolent protector spirits. Nobody is to leave the balé and the surrounding area during the vigil. Nightwatchmen, made up of men and women alike wearing traditional dress and carrying amulets and talismanic manuscripts patrol the town to look for signs of the Ratukunti's apparition. Each contingent of nightwatchmen consists of at least seven people and those patrolling the town are forbidden to wear any footwear as the efficacy of the amulets used on this particular night is said to depend on continual and direct contact of the body with the earth.

Modern day observance

An all-night vigil at a balé.

Nowadays, the Night of the Great Kunti is considered a festive occasion, as belief in the Ratukunti is almost extinct in modern Hindia Belandan society. Whilst some traditions of the past are kept on this night, they have lost their superstitious meanings and are celebrated only for their cultural significance. The gathering at the balé and the all-night vigil are still observed, however the majority of the observances on this night centre around the promotion of the arts and idea of national unity. Hindia Belandans take to the streets, carrying torches and wearing white robes, in major cities to celebrate the Ratukunti as a cultural icon. On this night, museums, art galleries and cultural institutions open their doors free of charge, whilst restaurants and cafés stay open until the next morning. As celebrations of the Night of the Great Kunti tend to get rowdy, some areas where there are hospitals and medical institutions are made off-limits to revellers.

By tradition, the Governor-General of Hindia Belanda holds a gala dinner dedicated to humanitarian causes at Buitenzorg Palace on the Night of the Great Kunti.

Regional variations

There exists some variations of the myth of the Ratukunti in some parts of Hindia Belanda. On the isle of Buru, off the coast of the island of Sendjani, the Ratukunti is said to likely make apparitions each night during the Wet Monsoon. In Lembah Angsana Regency, in the Province of West Bornea, local beliefs hold that the Ratukunti preys exclusively on men, especially those who harrass and are disrespectful toward women. The Lembah Angsana variant of the Ratukunti myth, which suggests that the myth played a role in the colonial era as a policing force to deter sexual harrassment, is an object of ongoing studies in gender power dynamics and differentials amongst feminist circles. It has been hypothesised that the existence of divergent Ratukunti myths were the results of local communities modifying the original myth as propagated by the Andjani Empire to suit their respective sociological needs.

Notable apparitions

Soerakarta, 1913

The Residentiehuis in Soerakarta, where Adriaan Cornelis van der Parra and his family lived during his tenure as Resident of Soerakarta.

In 1913, Adriaan Cornelis van der Parra, a former high-placed functionary of the Binnenlands Bestuur in Batavia, was appointed Resident of Soerakarta by Governor-General Alexander Willem Frederik Idenburg. He moved to Soerakarta with his Javanese wife Asih, their two boys Jakob and Pieter, and daughter Eva at the start of Wet Monsoon in 1913. The van der Parra family lived at the Residentiehuis, the official residence of the Resident of Soerakarta, located on the bank of the Bengawan river. It was the norm in colonial Hindia Belanda to have a lavish meal for dinner, known as the rijstaffel, which normally consists of at least ten different courses each representing the various islands of the archipelago. During one such meal at the Residentiehuis attended by the dignitaries of Soerakarta and its environs, the seventeen-year-old Jakob van der Parra, the eldest son of Adriaan Cornelis van der Parra, laid his eyes on the eighteen-year-old Radina Melati, daughter of Raden Tumenggung Ariadiningrat who was Regent of Tjimaroek. It was the practice of the Hindia Belandan nobility that their children were barred from courting with commoners, whether Hindia Belandan or otherwise, to protect the purity of their bloodlines and prevent powers from transferring outside of Hindia Belandan nobility. Despite this practice, Jakob and Melati started corresponding secretly a few days following their first encounter at the dinner. It was the only way for the two to communicate with one another as Melati rarely left her father's Kraton, except to attend important functions with her parents and siblings. After several weeks of correspondance, the two started meeting secretly each night with the help of Melati's chambermaids and coachman, all of whom escorted Melati on her nightly journeys to meet Jakob outside of city limits. Jakob would often walk to their secret rendez-vous, wearing a long robe over his clothes and a mask covering his face to prevent people from identifying him. The rumours of the apparition of the Ratukunti in Soerakarta started circulating the same time that Jakob and Melati's began meeting each night, likely started by local townsfolk who had seen Jakob walking at night with his overtly long robe, mistaking him for the Ratukunti. Although rumours of the Ratukunti's nightly apparition had spread amongst the populace of Soerakarta, they did not cause much unrest as nobody from amongst the townsfolk had gone missing, which otherwise would have been the case in a 'genuine' apparition.

Unbeknownst to Jakob, Melati had already been betrothed to Raden Damar, the youngest son of the neighbouring Regent of Tjikartjini, by the time the two started courting secretly. One night, whilst Jakob and Melati were meeting at their usual meeting spot outside of city limits, Raden Damar paid an unexpected visit to the Kraton of Melati's father to meet Melati and present her with gifts. It was when Melati's chambers were found empty on that night that men from the retinue of Melati's father were dispatched all over town to look for Melati, who was with Jakob. Alerted by the approach of several men from afar, Jakob and Melati decided to part ways for the night. Melati was driven in her coach by her entourage to a nearby public park, where they had planned to be found by the men. When interrogated by her father's retinue as to why she and her chambermaids were at the park very late into the night, Melati said that she was feeling lightheaded and desired some fresh air. The next morning, Melati's fiancé, Raden Damar, visited Melati for breakfast but he remarked that Melati looked "visibly pale and uninterested in any sort of conversation". Suspicious, Raden Damar decided to observe the gates of the Kraton where Melati lived from the second-floor balcony of a shophouse across the street that evening. When he spotted Melati's coach leaving the Kraton at night, he followed it until it reached the spot where Jakob and Melati usually met each night, leaving a safe distance between him and the coach to avoid being discovered. Jakob was seen by Raden Damar arriving at the spot not long after Melati's arrival, and not long after he witnessed from afar Jakob making love with Melati inside her coach, with Melati's entourage standing guard outside of it. The furious Raden Damar left and returned home, vowing to seek revenge on Jakob who, in his eyes, had "deflowered Melati" and thus "ruined the betrothal".[9]

A group photograph of the Sanders family farewell party which was used as evidence during the court proceedings of the Jakob and Melati case, proving that the two had snuck out at the same time during the party as they were missing from the photograph.

While attending a farewell party of the moneyed Noordenstaater-Hindia Belandan Sanders family, whose members were to move to Koninstad after several decades of living in the colony, Jakob and Melati snuck out to a nearby opium den run by Lee Hong Kwie, a Chinese merchant whose son was a dear friend of Jakob, which was closed on that evening where the two could spend some time together away from their families. It was at the opium den that Raden Damar, who had followed Jakob and Melati from the farewell party, confronted the couple. In the heated moment of anger, Raden Damar stabbed Jakob in the chest, barely missing his heart, with a kris he had stolen from his father's set of regalia. Melati attempted to break the fight but was herself stabbed accidentally in the arm by Raden Damar. The panicked Raden Damar fled the scene but was chased by Jakob a few hundred meters before stumbling from exhaustion and pain. Melati called out for help, which was heard by several nightwatchmen patrolling the area, and she and Jakob were taken to an infirmary, where they received treatments for their wounds. When questioned by the nightwatchmen as to what happened to them, Jakob and Melati claimed that they were walking in the gardens of the Sanders family estate when they were attacked by the Ratukunti. Jakob's father, Adriaan Cornelis van der Parra, however, did not believe his account and was convinced that his son had concocted the story to hide his relationship with Melati.[10] Despite his scepticism, Adriaan remained silent in a bid to avoid a clash with Melati's father and the local nobility, as a romantic relationship between a member of the Hindia Belandan nobility and a commoner would undoubtedly trigger a "scandal of great proportions". The story of the Ratukunti's attack only fuelled the rumours of the Ratukunti's apparitions already circulating amongst the people of Soerakarta, who by now had begun to feel restless.

Jakob van der Parra (left) and Radina Melati (right) married each other in 1918. This photograph taken in 1920 depicts them with Melati's mother, Radina Tummenggung Bendhora (seated), and their son Lucas Heydar.

The following week, a crowd had gathered outside the Residentiehuis, the residence of the van der Parra family, demanding that all-night vigils were held to ensure the safety of the townsfolk. Sightings of the Ratukunti began to be reported by numerous townsfolk, starting mass hysteria. All-night vigils were held in the balés of Soerakarta, triggering a wave of burglary as most residents who took refuge in the balés left their house unguarded each night. As the story started to spread to the other parts of the colony and attract mass public attention, a formal inquest into the incident was begun by the constabulary of Soerakarta at the order of Governor-General Idenburg, who doubted Jakob and Melati's accounts. Governor-General Idenburg's scepticism was echoed by Hindia Belandan intellectuals, such as Raden Mas Mochammad Djojohadihartati, who wrote a column in an edition of De Bataviaasch Nieuwsblad disparaging Jakob and Melati, and Karolus Djoewana Atmokartodjo, who wrote numerous letters to Jakob's father accusing him of public manipulation by withholding the real story behind his son's assault. On 13 February 1913, Jakob was arrested on suspicions of withholding information against public interest. Melati, on account of her noble status, was instead detained within a room in her father's Kraton by order of the Soerakarta Constabulary and assigned with constables who were tasked with interrogating her. Following several hours of interrogation, Jakob finally admitted that he and Melati were assaulted by Raden Damar during a fight over Melati. Jakob also admitted that he was romantically involved with Melati, a revelation which provoked the ire of the Hindia Belandan nobility, especially Melati's father. The constabulary took Raden Damar into custody on the same day. The colonial prosecution service charged Raden Damar with assault occasioning actual bodily harm, which carried a sentence of up to five year in prison.[11] Jakob and Melati were both released from custody. They married each other in 1918, four years after the incident, despite backlash from the Hindia Belandan nobility. The couple moved to Batavia shortly after their marriage.

The hoax behind the Ratukunti's assault against Jakob and Melati, and the ensuing hysteria, was cited extensively by Hindia Belandan intellectuals of the time in their efforts to promote rationalism and disprove superstitions. The Jakob and Melati case is thought to be the main motivation behind Emma de Vries' desire to document Hindia Belandan folk beliefs.

North Batavia, 1918

Jakarta, 1933

As a cultural icon

Notes

  1. Ladjoeng 2007, p. 133.
  2. Rahajoe 2003, p. 39.
  3. Ladjoeng 2007, p. 136.
  4. Ladjoeng 2007, p. 137.
  5. de Vries 1913, p. 79
  6. de Vries 1913, p. 82
  7. de Vries 1913, p. 82
  8. de Vries 1913, p. 84
  9. Mangkoediningrat, 1913
  10. van der Parra, 1913
  11. Balaï Poestaka (1902). "Wetboek van Strafrecht voor Nederlandsch-Indië", p. 190. "Mishandeling wordt gestraft met gevangenisstraf van ten hoogste vijf jaren of geldboete van ten hoogste drie honderd roepiah"

References

  • Ladjoeng, Hartono (2007). "Some reflections on the sociological functions of Hindia Belandan folk beliefs", The Hindia Belandan Journal of Anthropology: 340. 3 September 2007
  • Rahajoe, Agustina (2003). "Scaring into compliance: the role of 'Cerita Hantu' in early Hindia Belandan society", Anthropologica Hindia Belanda: 280. 12 April 2003
  • de Vries, Emma Karolina (1913). Boekoe Hikajat Hantoe Hindia-Belanda, Batavia: Uitgeverij Koenraad
  • Mangkoediningrat, Raden Damar (1913). "Pleidooi van Raden Damar ingediend in de rechtbank van Soerakarta", Rechtbank van Soerakarta
  • Van der Parra, Adriaan Cornelis (1913). "Beëdigde verklaring van Adriaan Cornelis van der Parra ingediend in the rechtbank van Soerakarta", Rechtbank van Soerakarta.