One Man’s Passion for Preserving Indonesian Culture

Jakarta Globe, Tasa Nugraza Barley, April 04, 2010

Abdul Azis Hasan is helping to keep Indonesian culture alive with his traditional dance classes. (Photo courtesy of Abdul Azis Hasan)

Remember the dispute over batik that broke out between Indonesia and Malaysia? The so-called culture war resurrected Indonesian interest in the fabric, bringing the brilliant patterns back into fashion for young and old alike.

And what about the brouhaha that broke out over Bali’s pendet dance, which was featured in a Discovery Channel promotion for a TV show about Malaysia? While Discovery Channel later apologized for the mistake it was already too late, the ever-present coals of nationalism and jealousy had already been stoked back to life.

While Indonesians love to point the finger at Malaysia in these clashes over culture, Abdul Azis Hasan, a traditional dance expert who was born 52 years ago in Madura, East Java, says the country has no one to blame but itself.

“It’s all our fault,” says Abdul, who took up traditional dance as a junior high school student in 1973. Abdul now teaches traditional dance to about 300 children at four locations in Jakarta, which he says is his part for keeping alive the country’s cultural traditions.

Abdul, whose talents have taken him as far away as the United States, Italy and Zimbabwe, says he knew from the beginning that he was meant to spread Indonesian culture through dance. “I would say it was love at first sight.”

And while Abdul, who moved to Jakarta with his parents in 1973, is sad to see other countries try to lay claim to Indonesian culture, he believes the blame doesn’t lie solely with pilfering neighbors.

Instead, Abdul says Indonesians need to ask themselves what they have done to preserve and nurture their own culture.

“Have we paid enough attention to our own cultural heritage?” he says.

Abdul says he believes that after the battles over batik and the pendet, it’s now up to the next generation to preserve Indonesia’s dance heritage.

“If we look around us, we find that young people like to dance modern dances rather than traditional dances,” he says. “It’s such a sad thing to see.”

Abdul started a traveling dance workshop in 1978 with the intention of passing on traditional dances like the saman from Aceh, the tari piring from North Sumatra, the tari papua from Papua, the renggong manis from Jakarta and the tari kipas from South Sulawesi.

Abdul’s workshop, Paduraksa (the Javanese word for gateway), is still going strong today, as he teaches traditional dance to children at four locations in Jakarta and its suburbs.

In Parung, Bogor, Abdul teaches out of Warung Baca Lebak Wangi, a local learning center. In Ciputat, Tangerang, Abdul gathers students in one of two locations: Kandang Jurank Doank, a nature-based school, or a large open field close to his home. He also leads classes inside a rental property in Tebet, South Jakarta.

Abdul says he knows more than 30 Indonesian traditional dances; from the well-known traditional dances of Java and Bali, to the lesser-known steps of dances from Papua and Sulawesi.

“I don’t really remember how many dances I can perform, but I’m pretty sure I can do all the Indonesian traditional dances,” Abdul says.

This expertise has taken him to 68 countries around the world. For the last 30 years now, Indonesian embassies and festival organizers have called on Abdul to perform at their events.

Last year at a folklore festival in Madrid, Spain, Abdul and his students were named the best traditional dance group.

But after all he’s achieved, Abdul says that his family still sees him as a disgrace and cannot bring themselves to accept his choice of career.

“My family never wanted me to become a dancer,” he says.

He recalls that when he told his parents what he wanted to do for a living, he was forced to move out of their house and found himself living on the street for a time.

To this day his parents still disapprove of what he does.

“They say that it’s haram [forbidden] for a man to become a dancer,” he says. “Every time I travel abroad I always buy them gifts, but they always bury them.”

Abdul, who insists that traditional culture and dance are very effective tools when it comes to attracting tourists to the country, says that it is time for the government to start supporting traditional dancers and other artists by building better, more attractive venues and providing funds to encourage dancers to pursue their art.

He says that his performances around the world have enticed foreigners to visit Indonesia, bringing with them their money.

“They become fascinated with our culture after watching the performances and decide to come,” he says.

When not traveling, Abdul keeps busy teaching his 300 students, most of whom come from low-income families.

He says that he is rarely paid for the lessons and instruction he provides. But he could care less about the money, because for him it has always been about preserving tradition.

“I’m old and ugly; it’s those children who will have to take my place,” he says.

Abdul says he will continue to teach dance as long as he can move his feet. “It’s simply what I love to do.”