Glimpses into the world of Jongs.
November 2013: From Teluk Bakau to Penyengat island
You can tell a lot about a man on how he is handling his Jongs.
The air is filled with kretek smoke, clove scented whirls, only disturbed by the sound of softly spoken words and the cast of moonlight.
We are gathering around the pine tree table that we made a few months ago when we cut that tree that didn’t belong there, and we decided to recycle most of it.
Not without pain, as it is a really hard wood, chewing the edge of the teeth of the chain saw like no other, and took over two weeks to cut in descent planks.
But we are now proudly gathering around our efforts, but it compares to nothing to the fleet of Jong’s we are planning to take over to Peneyengat, the historical island, that remains one of the spiritual center of the Malay world.
Jongs are unmanned perfect sailing vessels that range from 1 to 2 meters in length. The jongs are tuned to sail a particular course. Since no one is steering the boat, the tuning of the rigging, tension of the outrigger all need to be carefully balanced, otherwise the jong will deviate from it’s course. A true sailors art.
Every Jong is hand made, often with rudimentary tools, and especially for the racing ones, can take a month to complete, or more if you include all the fine tuning refinement made to the shape of the sail.
Our new formed “Kelompok” (group), takes it’s name in ancient Melayu tradition, Sekapur Sirih, the name for a traditional welcome dance, and the offering of betelnut brought in carved wooden boxes to the guests.
The names are loaded with symbolism in the Malay tradition.
Sirih, the betel leave is a symbol of respect for others, generosity, and altruisity.
The way the betel grows around trees, without harming then, providing shelter and freshness. The leave is also shaped like a heart.
Kapur is the lime, its whiteness reflects the purity of the heart but when disturbed or interfered with can turn bitter like the tang of the Kapur itself.
Nothing is taken lightly, only the voice continues to speak softly. Raising your voice would simply be unacceptable etiquette in the Malay world.
With now 24 members, 12 of them actively participating in Jong racing, and 6 new Jong owners, sipping coffee and snacking on the inevitable “kue” graciously made by Amie, we are sorting out the logistic of our expedition, and inevitably sorting out a few issues.
During the last weeks we have secured wood for a couple of years, by recycling trees from a plot of land cleared to create an orchard.
Zakir probably knows where every single standing tree suitable to make Jong lives, and negotiated with the clearing contractor the wood that would have ended up as firewood.
The man who compiled the wood makes your heart sing. Deformed jaws with the most singular teeth pattern ever, almost no ears but a heart of gold. He will never be in the front scenes, but his crooked smile and joy of life is a blessing in “true disguise”.
You have to remember that a Jong truly sails from the heart, and it start before you even cut the tree.
The wood needs to dry for one to two months before it can be used to make the hulls. So there is no rush there. Actually, rushing is the sure recipe for making a bad Jong. One gesture in heist and you can destroy a few days of careful detailed work. Pulai wood is soft and light.
During the past week, whenever the tide was right and some wind was blowing, the beach was full of sails.
This time with new arrivals. Mini Jongs, especially made for the children who are now participating in the testing by having their own to play with and keeping them busy while the “grown ups” tune their sails and lines.
The kids come proud, carrying their Jongs, and although they not really playing with the sails yet, they even started to do a small race between them.
I am seeing a lot of pride. New paint, designs engraved into some of the Jongs.
Eka, who works at the Government office in Teluk Bakau, proud owner of his first Jong, jokes: “ this is like a nice lady putting her make up to go out.”
You can tell a lot about a man on how he is handling his Jongs.
Vanity or respect?
By the end of the evening, 12 players will go to Peneyengat, with a total of 32 Jongs.
The phones are busy to try to get a pick up truck, a boat hired to cross the ocean from Tanjung Pinang to Penyengat, and the next gathering is set for tomorrow night to load the Jongs in.
The Jongs are arriving, one by one, in front of “kacamata’s house”. His father is a prolific Jong builder, and the place is full of furled up sails, outrigger and multicolored frangipani trees, another one of his healthy obsessions.
Each Jong name is recorded, measurement taken for the different race categories.
Everything is packaged properly, sails and masts, outriggers, bags of “spare parts and tools.
The wives are taking the role of secretaries and logistic officers, while the men inspect and load carefully the truck.
I have checked the tides, the wind prediction, and although the wind is not looking good, (the month notoriously is unpredictable falling into the transition of the monsoons, and the biggest typhoon in recorded history is ravaging the Philippines as we speak.
But we are all committed, and this is our first outing as a kelompok.
Estimated time of departure is 6 am.
Sipping a coffee, the pick up and all the bikes are ready to go. The ladies dressed up for the occasion.
Our caravan is getting on the way. There isn’t a spare seat left, all bikes bringing at least two people. I carry Zakir’s daughter, who will be my assistant.
Unloading, loading, unloading, loading. Truck, foot, hands, jetty, boat. Here we go, all crammed into the pompong, the wooden boat is carving its way to Peneyengat. The sea is flat calm, and we all know, this is not Jong playing weather.
The ladies will walk, in order to stay dry and pretty from the jetty. The bright yellow mosque greets us from the distance, but the early Malay communities were largely animists, believing in the existence of semangat (spirits) in everything. Around the opening of the Common Era, Hinduism and Buddhism were introduced by Indian traders to the Malay Archipelago, where they flourished until the 13th century, just before the arrival of Islam brought by Arab, Indian and Chinese Muslim traders.
Now to be Malay is to be Muslim. Only Muslims can be buried on Peneyengat soil.
But the jongs takes roots in all of it, various designs carved on the bows, their names, and colors. One of “my” Jongs” was named “bule kampong”, white man from the village, reflecting my status as a normal person living in the village of Teluk Bakau. The other “planet” is a short version of Planet Samudra, Planet Ocean, the idea of bringing planetary consciousness within the game.
Many names are funny, some take names from Malay folklore, one is named “Gigi hantu”, ghost teeth, another took the name “big boss” from a Bruce lee movies, and so forth.
Each Jong is unique, with a distinctive personality. The oldest players, like Zakir bring at least a fleet of ten Jongs. He might not sail all of them, but by taking them out they will “cari ilmu”, search for spirit.
Many small rituals, all done in secret will have been performed, magic being an integral part of the game.
The jongs themselves are only the materialization of a deep school of thoughts.
Sehari selembar benang lama-lama jadi kain
Sedikit-sedikit lama-lama jadi bukit
Incremental efforts do make a difference as the benefits accumulate. A little effort in time makes a hill, and a thread woven eventually becomes cloth.
The keys, talking about the keys that open the door. But you have to make sure that the key that someone gives you opens the door you want open.
It is a big word often used in Malays: the kunci. Holding the keys.
"The Malays believe that ideal proportions are represented in the human body. Therefore, an outrigger canoe, being a creation of its maker and having a soul of its own, must always be constructed with every dimension calculated according to a simple rule of numbers." There are elaborate rules of thumb concerning the proper dimensions of every feature on the Jong, and these rules are invariably based on proportions to the builder's anatomy . for example, his height, the span between his thumb and forefinger, etc. Such rules are based on the belief that the human form is perfect in its proportions.
Zakir had me hold the Jong into my outstretched arms, to see if the jong was the right fit for me.
A few nights ago we talked about the fusion of the heart and the intellect. Without those two working together it splits the attention, and there are no direct, “clean” path to lead your “ilmu or spirit”
So instead of just talking that afternoon, taking advantage of a northeastern breeze, we rigged our jongs and try to aim.
Without changing the sail rig, we are testing the theories.
Studying attention with the extension of a Jong.
As I sit on the beach, having dove on Nikoi that day, I stepped by in time to wonder: The perfect secret formulas vehicle.
Passed on from the beginning of recorded history we are tapping in ancient mathematics and applied observation based on the human body proportion and working.
So in fact the Jongs are a tool to be able to receive feedback on oneself, and in the case of races measuring one self with other individuals.
Movements and memes and a code of detailed behaviors give signs of the level of an individual Jong player. The masters, will know who you are and able to pierce through the “topeng” or mask.
Some, like in real life are particularly good con artists, and it is up to oneself to sharpens ones power of observation to detect and act upon the cons.
Groups from all over Riau made the trip, some as far as Bengkalis, a city at the mouth of a river in Sumatra, and a hot spot for Jongs. The area has over 600 active jongs, and famed for their speed and classical measurement.
My two Jongs come from there, Zakir choosing my wives about a year ago during a race in the north of Bintan in Teluk Sebong.
As we wade through the water to bring our Jongs to shore, the wings are already spread out all along the bay, sitting on red bauxite stones, no sand here.
Groups from Batam and offshore islands, that came on boats, towing some sampans full of Jongs, various islands, Tanjung Pinang, Peneyengat and so forth.
The competition would be fierce. But the weather is not right. The wind is shifty, with a couple of puffs, and mirror like seas. The worst possible scenario. And with over 300 Jongs entering the race, there won’t be that much time to wait.
The “kantor’s” people, as we are now nicknaming them, literally office people, work with different time frame and agenda, based on funding and budgets, and not on wind and tide.
The last two races we organized in Teluk bakau are regarded with high respect, not because they are big, but for the choices of location, and most importantly, winds, and the design of two distinct race for the two main seasons.
While the lady brings our lists of Jongs, with name, player, and measurement to be assigned a number and race position, the men are rigging and testing their Jongs.
I simply have to rig two, and give me the time to make a round and photographing the various design, part of my agenda to record the “world of Jongs”.
Penyengat was a focal point in the resistance to the Dutch in the Riau wars of 1782 to 1784. Fiercely anti colonialist I feel privileged to participate. I am sure that it might in certain circles be a subject of controversy, but my passionate interest and involvement is actually acting on the pride of the players, organizers, and creates a sort of bridge.
“We feel shy, that you are helping us, because our local government in Teluk Bakau doesn’t value it. But it is changing, and the Kantor gave us 200.000RP to help with the transport”
My contribution is small compared to what I am getting in return. And this is something that I am trying to emphasize, that the power that resides in the “world of Jong” is valuable, and that children can benefit from the art form.
It is a school of the highest aims, purifying ones heart.
Through that medium, as a student of the art, I am also the storyteller that brings back stories from the ocean.
With the establishment of better facilities, I hope to achieve a magnet for creative types and the sharing of experiences and information.
A Rumah Jong, the house of Jong is in the planning, once the outdoor kitchen and bar is in place.
On my rounds, after the first glimpse of astonishment, as I am the only pale skinned individuals around here, (even if for the sake of funding the event is broadcasted as a tourism promotion for the region, it is really a great party of sea people, getting together and sharing their labors of love, their boats, skills and knowledge)
Although we glimpse the sampan layar racing around the island in the distance, we came to race ourselves. So we retain our focus on the task at hand.
But the wind just doesn’t cooperate, and the race are held with hardly any wind at all, and straight from the west, sending many jongs out of the “goal” area, and on some races not a single boat made it, just absolutely no wind at all. I raced three times with “planet” once the wind just turned, and everyone needed to shift their outrigger. Impossible from the starting line, where the water is too deep to stand in, and we are brought over by boats, hanging onto a pole.
My pole was missing, and I forgot that I had lead weight in my pocket, something that I use to lest the outrigger if the wind increase in strength. So I have to work quite hard to keep afloat.
The second one the wind just dropped. And the current just sent the jong away.
For the third try, the very light plastic sails took the lead in at most 1 ½ knots of wind. So Planet was out.
None of our Jongs from the kelompok made it so far.
Without wind, although you bring your jong to the starting line, they all stay asleep, but then, it only takes a small puff of wind to wake them up.
And then the rain just wouldn’t stop.
Everyone calls it a day, and the jong dismantled until tomorrow.
We are offered a place to stay in various houses; there is no hotel on Peneyengat.
A duo traditional “karaoke”, basically a singing contest of traditional Melayu song, entertain us in the evening.
Earlier one of the singers was having her make up done in our host’s house. The old lady was combing the hair while the nails and younger girls put on false eyelashes.
Meanwhile the men, in a circle keep talking about magic, and the special power of Peneyengat.
But also certain code of conduct and outfit.
“Some traditions are getting lost. The sarongs were put up the knees for unmarried man, and below the knees for married ones. Every detail served a purpose.
The songs were amazing and a true glimpse into the culture. Many people put on their best clothes on, and all the Penyengat aristocracy present. Under the back drop of the yellow mosque, keeper of ancient Islamic texts.
We camp in what was once a restaurant, that needed to close because they couldn’t find enough gong gong anymore, having to travel too far to catch fish, so it became the storage place for nets and for this evening our jongs and part of our crew. Mangos, bread and coffee is brought in for a nightcap, there is absolutely no alcohol on Peneyengat, not a drop.
Black roosters, attributed with healing power, black flesh, very dark blood woke us up at 6 in the morning, and our host, served us coffee.
A storm blew early around 5 in the morning, stealing all the wind and sending down heavy rain. And then the wind stopped.
We all nonetheless make our way to the racing location. We rig our Jong’s under the rain. Rain is not a problem if there is wind. But there is a problem, no wind.
And wind is the medium for the art of the sailor. So we all stare, unable to play. We still go through the motion, hoping for a couple of puffs to at least have some sense of decency that not only luck with make you cross the line.
I decided to stop looking at other Jongs and trust my sailor’s instinct.
So I open the sails completely for Bule kampong, tighten the line that connects to the outrigger like a guitar string, and she moves straight ahead, in a slow but deliberate pace to cross the finishing line first. The first Jong from our Kelompok to make it to the finals
I was proudly surprised when on the next races some Jong players took kue on the rigging strategy I used. People are seriously paying attention here.
Since speed is almost irrelevant at this stage, crossing the line isn’t, and it is the old tale of the rabbit and the turtle all over again.
We are not here to sail the boat but helping the Jongs sail themselves.
By the end of the day our kelompok will have 3 Jongs in the finals, the wind never really came, and we came back home without a trophy but with renewed spirit that we are on the right path, and more committed than ever in the pursue of the art of Jongs to be of benefit for the next generation and beyond. Man went to the moon, and we will keep on enjoying the simple pleasures of sailing on our ocean planet, by transmitting the past to the present to carry into the future.
Any and everyone is welcome to join and help our next celebration in March 2014 in Teluk Bakau, to fill the sea with sails and spirited Jongs.
For more informations please contact: [email protected]
November 2013: From Teluk Bakau to Penyengat island
You can tell a lot about a man on how he is handling his Jongs.
The air is filled with kretek smoke, clove scented whirls, only disturbed by the sound of softly spoken words and the cast of moonlight.
We are gathering around the pine tree table that we made a few months ago when we cut that tree that didn’t belong there, and we decided to recycle most of it.
Not without pain, as it is a really hard wood, chewing the edge of the teeth of the chain saw like no other, and took over two weeks to cut in descent planks.
But we are now proudly gathering around our efforts, but it compares to nothing to the fleet of Jong’s we are planning to take over to Peneyengat, the historical island, that remains one of the spiritual center of the Malay world.
Jongs are unmanned perfect sailing vessels that range from 1 to 2 meters in length. The jongs are tuned to sail a particular course. Since no one is steering the boat, the tuning of the rigging, tension of the outrigger all need to be carefully balanced, otherwise the jong will deviate from it’s course. A true sailors art.
Every Jong is hand made, often with rudimentary tools, and especially for the racing ones, can take a month to complete, or more if you include all the fine tuning refinement made to the shape of the sail.
Our new formed “Kelompok” (group), takes it’s name in ancient Melayu tradition, Sekapur Sirih, the name for a traditional welcome dance, and the offering of betelnut brought in carved wooden boxes to the guests.
The names are loaded with symbolism in the Malay tradition.
Sirih, the betel leave is a symbol of respect for others, generosity, and altruisity.
The way the betel grows around trees, without harming then, providing shelter and freshness. The leave is also shaped like a heart.
Kapur is the lime, its whiteness reflects the purity of the heart but when disturbed or interfered with can turn bitter like the tang of the Kapur itself.
Nothing is taken lightly, only the voice continues to speak softly. Raising your voice would simply be unacceptable etiquette in the Malay world.
With now 24 members, 12 of them actively participating in Jong racing, and 6 new Jong owners, sipping coffee and snacking on the inevitable “kue” graciously made by Amie, we are sorting out the logistic of our expedition, and inevitably sorting out a few issues.
During the last weeks we have secured wood for a couple of years, by recycling trees from a plot of land cleared to create an orchard.
Zakir probably knows where every single standing tree suitable to make Jong lives, and negotiated with the clearing contractor the wood that would have ended up as firewood.
The man who compiled the wood makes your heart sing. Deformed jaws with the most singular teeth pattern ever, almost no ears but a heart of gold. He will never be in the front scenes, but his crooked smile and joy of life is a blessing in “true disguise”.
You have to remember that a Jong truly sails from the heart, and it start before you even cut the tree.
The wood needs to dry for one to two months before it can be used to make the hulls. So there is no rush there. Actually, rushing is the sure recipe for making a bad Jong. One gesture in heist and you can destroy a few days of careful detailed work. Pulai wood is soft and light.
During the past week, whenever the tide was right and some wind was blowing, the beach was full of sails.
This time with new arrivals. Mini Jongs, especially made for the children who are now participating in the testing by having their own to play with and keeping them busy while the “grown ups” tune their sails and lines.
The kids come proud, carrying their Jongs, and although they not really playing with the sails yet, they even started to do a small race between them.
I am seeing a lot of pride. New paint, designs engraved into some of the Jongs.
Eka, who works at the Government office in Teluk Bakau, proud owner of his first Jong, jokes: “ this is like a nice lady putting her make up to go out.”
You can tell a lot about a man on how he is handling his Jongs.
Vanity or respect?
By the end of the evening, 12 players will go to Peneyengat, with a total of 32 Jongs.
The phones are busy to try to get a pick up truck, a boat hired to cross the ocean from Tanjung Pinang to Penyengat, and the next gathering is set for tomorrow night to load the Jongs in.
The Jongs are arriving, one by one, in front of “kacamata’s house”. His father is a prolific Jong builder, and the place is full of furled up sails, outrigger and multicolored frangipani trees, another one of his healthy obsessions.
Each Jong name is recorded, measurement taken for the different race categories.
Everything is packaged properly, sails and masts, outriggers, bags of “spare parts and tools.
The wives are taking the role of secretaries and logistic officers, while the men inspect and load carefully the truck.
I have checked the tides, the wind prediction, and although the wind is not looking good, (the month notoriously is unpredictable falling into the transition of the monsoons, and the biggest typhoon in recorded history is ravaging the Philippines as we speak.
But we are all committed, and this is our first outing as a kelompok.
Estimated time of departure is 6 am.
Sipping a coffee, the pick up and all the bikes are ready to go. The ladies dressed up for the occasion.
Our caravan is getting on the way. There isn’t a spare seat left, all bikes bringing at least two people. I carry Zakir’s daughter, who will be my assistant.
Unloading, loading, unloading, loading. Truck, foot, hands, jetty, boat. Here we go, all crammed into the pompong, the wooden boat is carving its way to Peneyengat. The sea is flat calm, and we all know, this is not Jong playing weather.
The ladies will walk, in order to stay dry and pretty from the jetty. The bright yellow mosque greets us from the distance, but the early Malay communities were largely animists, believing in the existence of semangat (spirits) in everything. Around the opening of the Common Era, Hinduism and Buddhism were introduced by Indian traders to the Malay Archipelago, where they flourished until the 13th century, just before the arrival of Islam brought by Arab, Indian and Chinese Muslim traders.
Now to be Malay is to be Muslim. Only Muslims can be buried on Peneyengat soil.
But the jongs takes roots in all of it, various designs carved on the bows, their names, and colors. One of “my” Jongs” was named “bule kampong”, white man from the village, reflecting my status as a normal person living in the village of Teluk Bakau. The other “planet” is a short version of Planet Samudra, Planet Ocean, the idea of bringing planetary consciousness within the game.
Many names are funny, some take names from Malay folklore, one is named “Gigi hantu”, ghost teeth, another took the name “big boss” from a Bruce lee movies, and so forth.
Each Jong is unique, with a distinctive personality. The oldest players, like Zakir bring at least a fleet of ten Jongs. He might not sail all of them, but by taking them out they will “cari ilmu”, search for spirit.
Many small rituals, all done in secret will have been performed, magic being an integral part of the game.
The jongs themselves are only the materialization of a deep school of thoughts.
Sehari selembar benang lama-lama jadi kain
Sedikit-sedikit lama-lama jadi bukit
Incremental efforts do make a difference as the benefits accumulate. A little effort in time makes a hill, and a thread woven eventually becomes cloth.
The keys, talking about the keys that open the door. But you have to make sure that the key that someone gives you opens the door you want open.
It is a big word often used in Malays: the kunci. Holding the keys.
"The Malays believe that ideal proportions are represented in the human body. Therefore, an outrigger canoe, being a creation of its maker and having a soul of its own, must always be constructed with every dimension calculated according to a simple rule of numbers." There are elaborate rules of thumb concerning the proper dimensions of every feature on the Jong, and these rules are invariably based on proportions to the builder's anatomy . for example, his height, the span between his thumb and forefinger, etc. Such rules are based on the belief that the human form is perfect in its proportions.
Zakir had me hold the Jong into my outstretched arms, to see if the jong was the right fit for me.
A few nights ago we talked about the fusion of the heart and the intellect. Without those two working together it splits the attention, and there are no direct, “clean” path to lead your “ilmu or spirit”
So instead of just talking that afternoon, taking advantage of a northeastern breeze, we rigged our jongs and try to aim.
Without changing the sail rig, we are testing the theories.
Studying attention with the extension of a Jong.
As I sit on the beach, having dove on Nikoi that day, I stepped by in time to wonder: The perfect secret formulas vehicle.
Passed on from the beginning of recorded history we are tapping in ancient mathematics and applied observation based on the human body proportion and working.
So in fact the Jongs are a tool to be able to receive feedback on oneself, and in the case of races measuring one self with other individuals.
Movements and memes and a code of detailed behaviors give signs of the level of an individual Jong player. The masters, will know who you are and able to pierce through the “topeng” or mask.
Some, like in real life are particularly good con artists, and it is up to oneself to sharpens ones power of observation to detect and act upon the cons.
Groups from all over Riau made the trip, some as far as Bengkalis, a city at the mouth of a river in Sumatra, and a hot spot for Jongs. The area has over 600 active jongs, and famed for their speed and classical measurement.
My two Jongs come from there, Zakir choosing my wives about a year ago during a race in the north of Bintan in Teluk Sebong.
As we wade through the water to bring our Jongs to shore, the wings are already spread out all along the bay, sitting on red bauxite stones, no sand here.
Groups from Batam and offshore islands, that came on boats, towing some sampans full of Jongs, various islands, Tanjung Pinang, Peneyengat and so forth.
The competition would be fierce. But the weather is not right. The wind is shifty, with a couple of puffs, and mirror like seas. The worst possible scenario. And with over 300 Jongs entering the race, there won’t be that much time to wait.
The “kantor’s” people, as we are now nicknaming them, literally office people, work with different time frame and agenda, based on funding and budgets, and not on wind and tide.
The last two races we organized in Teluk bakau are regarded with high respect, not because they are big, but for the choices of location, and most importantly, winds, and the design of two distinct race for the two main seasons.
While the lady brings our lists of Jongs, with name, player, and measurement to be assigned a number and race position, the men are rigging and testing their Jongs.
I simply have to rig two, and give me the time to make a round and photographing the various design, part of my agenda to record the “world of Jongs”.
Penyengat was a focal point in the resistance to the Dutch in the Riau wars of 1782 to 1784. Fiercely anti colonialist I feel privileged to participate. I am sure that it might in certain circles be a subject of controversy, but my passionate interest and involvement is actually acting on the pride of the players, organizers, and creates a sort of bridge.
“We feel shy, that you are helping us, because our local government in Teluk Bakau doesn’t value it. But it is changing, and the Kantor gave us 200.000RP to help with the transport”
My contribution is small compared to what I am getting in return. And this is something that I am trying to emphasize, that the power that resides in the “world of Jong” is valuable, and that children can benefit from the art form.
It is a school of the highest aims, purifying ones heart.
Through that medium, as a student of the art, I am also the storyteller that brings back stories from the ocean.
With the establishment of better facilities, I hope to achieve a magnet for creative types and the sharing of experiences and information.
A Rumah Jong, the house of Jong is in the planning, once the outdoor kitchen and bar is in place.
On my rounds, after the first glimpse of astonishment, as I am the only pale skinned individuals around here, (even if for the sake of funding the event is broadcasted as a tourism promotion for the region, it is really a great party of sea people, getting together and sharing their labors of love, their boats, skills and knowledge)
Although we glimpse the sampan layar racing around the island in the distance, we came to race ourselves. So we retain our focus on the task at hand.
But the wind just doesn’t cooperate, and the race are held with hardly any wind at all, and straight from the west, sending many jongs out of the “goal” area, and on some races not a single boat made it, just absolutely no wind at all. I raced three times with “planet” once the wind just turned, and everyone needed to shift their outrigger. Impossible from the starting line, where the water is too deep to stand in, and we are brought over by boats, hanging onto a pole.
My pole was missing, and I forgot that I had lead weight in my pocket, something that I use to lest the outrigger if the wind increase in strength. So I have to work quite hard to keep afloat.
The second one the wind just dropped. And the current just sent the jong away.
For the third try, the very light plastic sails took the lead in at most 1 ½ knots of wind. So Planet was out.
None of our Jongs from the kelompok made it so far.
Without wind, although you bring your jong to the starting line, they all stay asleep, but then, it only takes a small puff of wind to wake them up.
And then the rain just wouldn’t stop.
Everyone calls it a day, and the jong dismantled until tomorrow.
We are offered a place to stay in various houses; there is no hotel on Peneyengat.
A duo traditional “karaoke”, basically a singing contest of traditional Melayu song, entertain us in the evening.
Earlier one of the singers was having her make up done in our host’s house. The old lady was combing the hair while the nails and younger girls put on false eyelashes.
Meanwhile the men, in a circle keep talking about magic, and the special power of Peneyengat.
But also certain code of conduct and outfit.
“Some traditions are getting lost. The sarongs were put up the knees for unmarried man, and below the knees for married ones. Every detail served a purpose.
The songs were amazing and a true glimpse into the culture. Many people put on their best clothes on, and all the Penyengat aristocracy present. Under the back drop of the yellow mosque, keeper of ancient Islamic texts.
We camp in what was once a restaurant, that needed to close because they couldn’t find enough gong gong anymore, having to travel too far to catch fish, so it became the storage place for nets and for this evening our jongs and part of our crew. Mangos, bread and coffee is brought in for a nightcap, there is absolutely no alcohol on Peneyengat, not a drop.
Black roosters, attributed with healing power, black flesh, very dark blood woke us up at 6 in the morning, and our host, served us coffee.
A storm blew early around 5 in the morning, stealing all the wind and sending down heavy rain. And then the wind stopped.
We all nonetheless make our way to the racing location. We rig our Jong’s under the rain. Rain is not a problem if there is wind. But there is a problem, no wind.
And wind is the medium for the art of the sailor. So we all stare, unable to play. We still go through the motion, hoping for a couple of puffs to at least have some sense of decency that not only luck with make you cross the line.
I decided to stop looking at other Jongs and trust my sailor’s instinct.
So I open the sails completely for Bule kampong, tighten the line that connects to the outrigger like a guitar string, and she moves straight ahead, in a slow but deliberate pace to cross the finishing line first. The first Jong from our Kelompok to make it to the finals
I was proudly surprised when on the next races some Jong players took kue on the rigging strategy I used. People are seriously paying attention here.
Since speed is almost irrelevant at this stage, crossing the line isn’t, and it is the old tale of the rabbit and the turtle all over again.
We are not here to sail the boat but helping the Jongs sail themselves.
By the end of the day our kelompok will have 3 Jongs in the finals, the wind never really came, and we came back home without a trophy but with renewed spirit that we are on the right path, and more committed than ever in the pursue of the art of Jongs to be of benefit for the next generation and beyond. Man went to the moon, and we will keep on enjoying the simple pleasures of sailing on our ocean planet, by transmitting the past to the present to carry into the future.
Any and everyone is welcome to join and help our next celebration in March 2014 in Teluk Bakau, to fill the sea with sails and spirited Jongs.
For more informations please contact: [email protected]