The balian (traditional healer), lives in Jimbaran, not far from the beach.
Yesterday, when I came past here in the early evening, it was a typical street in an urban Balinese village. There were local men, women and children sitting on the footpaths outside their homes, chatting with each other and calling out to passers by; and sad looking dogs wandering lazily in and out of gateways.
This morning, however, the place is transformed. It has become a lively, noisy, bustling marketplace, with vendors busily selling their fruits, vegetables, plants and various household items. I can barely tell that there are houses here at all. Every doorway and entrance seems to have disappeared behind shelves, which are buckling under the weight of the numerous, heavily laden baskets.
The reason for my visit, is that one week ago I had another surfing accident! This time, I was badly dumped, and my surfboard bounced back off the sand, with one of the fins gouging into the front of my thigh. There was no blood, but the fin had cut through the flesh, and into the muscle. For about a week I have been in great pain, and hardly able to walk.
When the accident happened, I was immediately surrounded by local friends and surfers at the beach, all pleading with me to go straight to the ‘balian’ for massage. Massage is seen by Balinese as the cure for almost everything - which is probably a good idea in a place where medical treatment is out of the reach of many people.
I was in far too much pain to allow anyone to touch my leg at all, let alone endure massage! I ended up going to the expat clinic later that evening for conventional western treatment. This entailed x-rays, blood tests, various medications - and the unprompted advice of, “Don’t let anyone give you a massage!”
The doctors obviously know about the cure-all massages…… When I left the clinic, the patiently waiting Ketut implored, “OK? Now we go to healer?”
After 3 days of increasing pain, and being virtually unable to walk, I eventually succumbed, and plucked up the courage to visit I Nyoman Lelur.
Nyoman is a Hindu priest, who lives in a standard Balinese family home. This consists of rooms arranged around a central courtyard, each housing separate family groups or members. The central courtyard is where the families gather to cook, prepare offerings, wash clothes and chat. Motorbikes are often ridden right into the centre of all this activity.
As I nervously and slowly limp across the courtyard, children are playing; a toddler is bathing in a tub; women of various ages are chatting, preparing food, and placing offerings at the temple next door. A television somewhere is showing Popeye cartoons.
The ‘treatment room’ is a bale in the corner of the courtyard, next to the temple. There is no privacy, but the other members of the family ignore me, and continue about their business.
I place my ‘offerings’ of money for the treatment onto the canang (a small altar), where incense is burning amongst other important religious items. I am scared: I just know this will be painful.
After blessing me, and offering prayers, Nyoman goes to work. I was right about the pain – but Nyoman continues to determinedly massage my thigh, ignoring my tears. My cries sound like I am giving birth – no quiet dignity for me!
The women nearby, continue with their chores, chattering and laughing; and the children continue to play, seemingly oblivious to my distress. They must have grown accustomed to this over the years.
Nyoman is in his late 60’s – but has the strength of a 30 year old, and near perfect eyesight. Occasionally he consults his ‘medical’ journal, with no apparent difficulty in reading the fading and complex print.
Nyoman speaks no English, and my Bahasa Indonesian is also limited, so Ketut interprets for us. Apparently the ‘meat is broken’ inside my leg, but the bone is ok.
Embarrassingly we discuss the behaviour of my bowels during recent days! I had thought that the very rare bout of Bali Belly I had just been experiencing was sheer bad luck. However, according to Nyoman, it is not Bali Belly at all, but connected with the trauma of the injury. He has sensed all this from ‘scanning’ my body with his hands!
Nyoman also diagnoses me with blood ‘weakness’. (The clinic tests had shown low iron levels). He also reads my palms but I had some difficulty with the interpretation – and have more immediate concerns!
After about an hour of treatment, diagnosis and advice, I stand down from the bale. For the first time in days, my leg is moving more freely, and the pain has gone……….
“What the Australian insurance company thought” is in my next article!!
I have now completed two stints of volunteer work in Bali, the most recent being for IDEP based in Ubud. I have been editing and proofreading a disaster management manual. (Disasters seem to be my specialty!) During this time I have traveled extensively around Bali, spending time mostly with Balinese.
To contact me: email lizhayes2007@yahoo.com.au
or phone 081 337 903 937.
