Dutch King Returns Prince Diponegoro's Golden Kris to Jokowi

Jakarta Globe, 10 March 2020

From left, Dutch Queen Máxima Zorreguieta Cerruti, Dutch King Willem-Alexander, 

President Joko Widodo and Education and Culture Minister Nadiem Makarim observe 

Prince Diponegoro's golden kris at the Bogor Palace in Bogor, West Java, on Tuesday. 

(Antara Photo/Sigid Kurniawan)

Jakarta. After nearly two centuries, a golden kris belonging to Indonesia's national hero Prince Diponegoro was returned by the Dutch King Willem-Alexander, here on a three-day state visit with Queen Máxima and a 130-strong delegation, to President Joko "Jokowi" Widodo at the Bogor Palace on Tuesday.

The golden kris was placed in a glass box not far from the podium where President Jokowi and King Willem-Alexander held a joint press statement.

Education and Culture Minister Nadiem Makarim was seen explaining how the golden kris came into Dutch hands to the President and the King.

The Dutch government had returned several of Prince Diponegoro's belongings in 1968, but the golden kris was not included. 

The kris was reportedly lost but was later found at the Volkenkunde Museum in Leiden.

A team of Dutch and Indonesian researchers has confirmed the authenticity of the golden kris.

Prince Diponegoro was a Javanese royal, the eldest son of Sultan Hamengkubuwono III of Yogyakarta, who led a crusade against Dutch colonial rule in the 1825-1830 Java War.

The war, in which 200,000 people died including 8,000 Dutch, ended with the prince's capture on March 28, 1830.

His famous golden kris was seized by the Dutch government during his famous capture when he was tricked into a fake negotiation – the subject of one of Indonesian painter Raden Saleh's most well-known paintings.

Colonel Jan-Baptist Cleerens gave Prince Diponegoro's golden kris as a gift to King Willem I in 1831.

Apart from returning the heirloom to Indonesia, the Dutch royal visit is intended to increase bilateral cooperation between Indonesia and the Netherlands.

"This is an excellent opportunity to work together for a future relationship between Indonesia and the Netherlands," King Willem-Alexander said.

Ministries receive UNESCO certificates

The Jakarta Post, Jakarta | Fri, 02/05/2010 4:23 PM

Culture and Tourism Minister Jero Wacik and Coordinating Public Welfare Minister Agung Laksono Friday received three UNESCO certificates of intangible cultural heritage and a certificate recognizing the best practice of cultural preservation in Central Jakarta.

Also attending the presentation ceremony were Foreign Minister Marty Natalegawa and Trade Minister Marie Elka Pangestu.

"We must be aware that this calls for further efforts to protect and preserve our heritage," Agung said.

The three intangible heritages were batik, Javanese puppets, and the kris weapon.

Tresna Dermawan Kunafi from UNESCO said Indonesia's batik was chosen not because of its physical appearance or beauty, but because it was deeply ingrained in the country's culture.

"We have a different batik for every occasion. You cannot wear a funeral batik to a wedding, for example. And there are special types used to cradle a baby … that is why batik is regarded as special," he said.

The same goes for the kris and wayang, the media heard.

He suggested that Indonesia propose more cultural heritages for entry to UNESCO’s list of intangible culture, such as the angklung (bamboo musical instruments) and the Saman dance. (dis)

Related Article:

Batik, kris and wayang get UNESCO world heritage status

New arts landmark for Klungkung

Richard Mann, Contributor The Jakarta Post, Klungkung,Thu, 01/07/2010 11:27 AM

New landmark: A huge new performing and visual arts center and contemporary art museum is being constructed in Klungkung regency by a team of craftsmen. Once completed, it will be the largest in the regency and Bali. JP/Richard Mann

A huge new performing and visual arts center and contemporary art museum is reaching to the sky in Klungkung, Bali. It is often described as the birthplace of Balinese culture because it was here that Javanese Hindus relocated after the end of the Majapahit kingdom 700 years ago, recreating classical Hinduism on the island.

The Arts Monument, or Monumen Kesenian, is being constructed by a team of 40 craftsmen on four hectares of land adjacent to the decade-old Nyoman Gunarsa Museum including the Museum of Classical Balinese Painting. When completed, it will be the largest arts center in the regency, and one of the biggest in Bali.

The center’s buildings alone occupy 2 hectares, plus additional space for an ornamental pond, gardens, temple and car parking.

The originator is Nyoman Gunarsa, famous in Indonesia and in many parts of the world for his vivid pictorial evocation of Balinese culture in paintings of ceremonies and dances. He is also the founder of Bali’s only museum of classical art.

The new Arts Monument is being built from simple hand-drawn plans and designs by Gunarsa.

The soft opening of the Arts Monument will coincide with the opening at the same site of Visit Museum Year 2010, organized by the Museums Association of Bali (Himusba) of which Gunarsa is chairman.

Bali has more than 20 private and government museums devoted to archaeology, volcanology, history, art and traditional culture, such as the Subak irrigation system.

The heart of the Arts Monument is Surya Candra Murti, a set of eight giant Balinese Hindu gates, the Kori Agung, which at 30 meters tall is so big that Gunarsa plans to enter them in the Guinness World Records.

Nine-meter-high wooden gates made from Papua teak, which require two men to open or close, have been set into concrete and brick, ornately decorated with giant classical Balinese art motifs and mythological figures.

The ornamentation on each of the eight gates reflects the Balinese philosophy of Asta Berata, or eight beliefs that include the essential elements of life as well as valued human qualities.

Visitors can enter the gates by elevator to view a kris collection and other small temporary exhibitions on either side at mezzanine level where light refreshments are available.

To the west, the gates overlook a spacious open stage for regular performing arts programs, not only from Bali. Gunarsa hopes other parts of Indonesia and abroad will take interest.

Already, Gunarsa plans to program the Bali Barong Festival, the Legong Festival, the Music International from New York’s Wesleyan University and the Sekar Jaya Festival, also from the United States.

Seats will face the stage in an amphitheatre rising up at the back to form the new ground level Museum of Contemporary Art, the first in Bali. The space for seating will accommodate an incredible 10,000 people.

The Museum of Contemporary Art will house 1,000 paintings from the Sanggar Dewata Indonesia Group of which Nyoman Gunarsa is the “locomotive” and from the Indonesian Institute of Art in Bali and Yogyakarta. The artists are from Bali and many other parts of Indonesia, and reflect local conditions and traditions as well as international art styles.

“It is important for young people to be able to enter a venue where they can see the development of Indonesian contemporary art both from the roots of traditions and also in relation to global influences,” Gunarsa said.

He believes in the idea that local art is also universal.

The grounds surrounding this enormous center have been filled with native trees and shrubs, especially from the botanical garden at Bogor, West Java. All reflect the art, philosophy, use and traditions of Bali and Indonesia and even include fruit and medicinal trees.

To the east of the Kori Agung, a serene lotus pond leads to a new Hindu temple.

The enormous gates are unique, not only because of their size but because they rise skywards to finish in triangular spires, each one devoted to a Hindu God — Wisnu, Siva and Brahma.

Gunarsa expects an opening of the Arts Monument and Contemporary Arts Museum toward the end of 2010.

“Monumen Kesenian and Surya Candra Murti is not about looking backwards but looking forwards.

Klungkung and the nearby Gelgel were once the most powerful kingdoms and richest art and culture centers in Bali.

“In addition to Kerta Gosa [Hall of Justice], the regency is home to traditional painters, kris makers, songket weavers, silver and goldsmiths, gamelan makers and kepeng craftsmen, as well as traditional activities as boat building and salt making,” Gunarsa said.

“My Museum of Classical Balinese Painting aims to preserve the past, but the new Monumen Kesenian will link the past with the present and even the future, and hopefully contribute to the reemergence of Klungkung as Bali’s cultural center.”

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Putting Trowulan into perspective

Traditional Indonesian Dance Calls Angel to Earth

The Jakarta Globe

Nita, 18, performing the “Dance of the Descending Angel.”
(Photo courtesy of Lara Djonggrang)

Arriving at Lara Djonggrang restaurant in Menteng, Central Jakarta, on the evening of Halloween, I was surprised to see a traditional market occupying the courtyard.

Illuminated with torches and oil lamps, open bamboo huts showcased traditional delicacies from Cirebon, West Java, such as tahu gejrot (crisp-fried tofu bathed in a thin, dark sauce flavored with green chili and shallots), empal gentong (tender beef in creamy turmeric and coconut soup) and nasi lengko (steamed rice served with marinated tofu, soybean cake and vegetables).

Hawkers dressed in traditional clothes shouted out the names of their offerings to passersby. Guests — Indonesians and expatriates alike — sat together chatting at long wooden tables. The atmosphere made me think of the Kasepuhan night market in Cirebon.

“We want to bring the history and culture of Indonesia back to life by showcasing local culinary delights and almost-forgotten traditional cultures,” said Annette Anhar, the general manager of Lara Djonggrang.

To this end, once a month the restaurant presents a cultural night featuring traditional dishes and a dance performance from a different region of the country.

On the evening of Oct. 31, the focus was on Cirebon and the performance was “Tari Turun Sintren” (“Dance of the Descending Angel”), a mystical show traditionally danced by a beautiful young virgin in a trance.

Cirebon, a quiet town on the northern coast of West Java, has a unique history and traditions. A sultanate, it was founded by Sunan Gunung Jati, a 16th century Muslim religious leader. It later became an important port town during the Dutch colonial era. Although the people of Cirebon are generally devout Muslims, most still maintain ancient Javanese traditions and mystical beliefs.

“Tari Turun Sintren” originated from a traditional game among Cirebonese fishermen and is considered both sacred and magical. In the old days, fishermen’s wives and children played the game on the beach at night as they waited for their husbands and fathers to return from the sea.

“The performance is directed by a pawang sintren [a shaman who prepares and oversees the entire dance performance]” said Eddy Bagja, a representative of the Cirebon tourism office.

It’s not easy to qualify to be a Turun Sintren dancer. “Prior to the performance, the dancer has to be ‘redeemed,’ ” said Mang Tarman, the shaman.

This means the dancer has to conduct mutih , which involves consuming nothing but rice and water for seven consecutive days. Upon completion of the mutih, just before the dance, the girl must take a bath with seven kinds of flowers in the water to sanctify her body for spiritual possession.

To this day the dance is performed during major traditional celebrations in Cirebon, such as Nadran, a festival of the sea.

Interviewed prior to the Halloween performance, the 18-year-old dancer, Nita, confessed to being nervous, as well as excited. “I just want to get it over with,” she said.

Nita has been dancing the “Turun Sintren” since she was 14 years old. “I want to perpetuate this unique tradition,” she said. “I hope people will learn to appreciate our cultural heritage.”

The props for the show include copper jugs of various sizes, a hollow bamboo gong, a floor mat and a chicken cage with a yellow velvet covering. The show also features four female vocalists who sing traditional songs to summon a spirit to descend upon the young dancer.

Hajjah Nani Kusnaeni, the leader of the Sintren Sinar Bahari group performing at the restaurant, said the dance represented Indonesia’s struggle for independence.

“During the colonial era, the people of Cirebon protested against the colonial occupation by staging this show,” she said. The dance boosted their courage, as well as symbolized their undying hope for freedom.

At Lara Djonggrang, the performance was staged in the parking lot of the restaurant, just below a two-century-old banyan tree decorated with ribbons made from young coconut leaves. A huge gapura (traditional Javanese teak gate) with a long piece of Cirebonese batik featuring a pattern of paksi naga liman (mythical creatures that combine an eagle, a dragon and an elephant) served as the backdrop to the stage.

At the start of the show, the bamboo mat was set in the center of the stage with the chicken cage sitting on top of it. Male musicians began beating the jugs and bamboo instruments rhythmically. The singers began a haunting, repetitive melody in Cirebonese.

During the song, the shaman, carrying an earthen bowl containing burning incense, blew smoke in all directions.

“He is asking for anyone who might possess similar powers not to disturb our performance,” Nani said.

Dressed in a batik blouse, Nita, the dancer, stood between the shaman and the chicken cage. The shaman covered her body, from neck to ankles, with plastic ropes. He then blew smoke from the incense into her face. Nita immediately fainted.

Two hundred guests fell silent as they watched her limp body being swathed in a white shroud, like the dead. The singing grew louder and more persistent, as the white shroud suddenly became empty. The singing continued, with lyrics that translated into English as: “Please come down, dancer. The dancer is actually an angel. She then finds a flower, let’s swing her around.”

“They are singing to summon an angel from the heavens to come down and set her free,” Nani said.

It was a hot, balmy evening, but a cold shiver went down my spine.

Two men lifted the chicken cage. Inside was Nita, made up and dressed in a red satin blouse with a Cirebonese batik sarong, looking austere behind a pair of black sunglasses.

“The angel has descended,” Nani said. “Nita is being possessed.” As the vocalists sang a new tune, Nita slowly rose and danced to the rhythm with her head slightly bowed, as if she were blind. The MC encouraged guests to toss coins at the dancer.

“When her body is hit by a coin, she will faint. And the shaman will revive her again by blowing the smoke of the incense into her face,” said Meggy, the master of ceremonies. A man rose to toss a coin at her. True enough, when the coin touched her body, Nita fainted. Her limp body slumped against a male performer who was watching over her from behind. The shaman put the bowl of incense in front of her nostrils and blew. Smelling the incense, Nita stood up and danced once again to the cheers of the audience.

Indonesian fashion designer Ghea Panggabean, who was in the audience, came forward and danced alongside Nita before throwing a bunch of coins toward her. Again, Nita fainted and had to be revived by the shaman.

“Guests throw coins to express their happiness,” Nani said.

Songs urging the dancer to wake up marked the end of the performance. Nita slowly knelt and the chicken cage, once again, was brought down to cover her body. The shaman recited prayers over the cage. The air was thick with suspense as the audience awaited the culmination of the performance.

As the shaman lifted his hands the chicken cage was hoisted up. Inside, Nita, drenched in sweat and once again dressed in her batik blouse, without any makeup, sat still with her eyes closed. Her small hands were clutching a kris (traditional dagger) adorned with a garland of jasmine.

“The kris in her hands symbolizes the return of power and sovereignty,” Nani said.

The shaman circled Nita’s head with the incense bowl, murmuring prayers. Nita opened her eyes, smiled, stood up and bowed. The audience broke into applause.

Ghea, originally from West Java herself, was happy with the dance. “It is very interesting to watch a traditional show in a place that makes us feel transported to Cirebon. The dance itself is very magical and I’m actually a bit scared.”

The performance also renewed her appreciated for the culture of Cirebon. “The costumes are very pretty and colorful. They have inspired me to design new dresses using vibrant Cirebonese batik,” she said.

Magical Mastery of Kris

The Jakarta Globe, Godeliva D. Sari, March 17, 2009

Sungkowo Harumbrodjo, an empu ( master bladesmith), pulls glowing slabs of what he says is meteorite sandwiched with iron from out of the heart of the fire in his workshop and lays them on an anvil. He sits on a plastic stool, and Pardi, one of his helpers, stands in a shallow trench facing him.

Without warning, Pardi lifts his hammer and lets it fall. Sparks fly everywhere, like little needles of fire.

Pardi continues to pound the slabs of red-glowing iron with another metal called pamor. He melds them together, until Sungkowo says it is enough, and he plunges the metal into the fire once more.

Their work calls for intense concentration, and it is easy to see why it was once considered magical.

It’s 9 a.m. in this besalen (traditional smithy) in Sumberagung village, Sleman district, in the special region of Yogyakarta, and what these men are creating is a kris, a traditional Indonesian dagger that dates back to the 10th century and is believed to have spread from the island of Java throughout Southeast Asia.

Kris are considered to be magical. They are typically asymmetrical and 30 to 40 centimeters long.

The blades — which are sharp on both edges — are forged on an anvil with a rounded surface to create the wavy pattern on the blade, also known as pamor.

“This rounded surface is useful when I pull the iron to make it long before folding it,” Pardi says.

“The iron and pamor material needs to be stretched and folded again and again many times. Some kris have more than 4,000 layers of metal. These layers make the designs of the pamor, which contrast with the iron that goes black when it is given an arsenic bath.”

In the workshop, the workers use long-handled pliers, an assortment of hammers and a stump of an anvil — all of which are handmade. In fact, everything in the smithy is as a traditional besalen was centuries ago, except Sungkowo’s bellows no longer work.

The bellows are made of two hollowed-out tree trunks and stand in one corner with a bamboo bench in front of them. A young apprentice would have sat there in the past, pumping wind on to the teakwood charcoal to bring the temperature of the furnace up past 1,300 degrees Celsius.

“Now we use magic. Look,” Pardi says, as he flicked a switch and an electric blower began to blow on the fire.

“The problem with the traditional bellows is that the operator must be very constant, and that is not easy,” says Sungkowo, taking a moment’s break just before midday. “Now we use the electric blower because the results are better.”

Sungkowo has a highly distinguished pedigree: He is the 17th descendant of the legendary empu, Supa of Majapahit, and is the only known descendant who still makes kris the traditional way.

The name empu, which literally means owner of, was traditionally bestowed upon people with exceptional skill and knowledge in a given field. Traditionally, a kris maker must fast, make offerings and refrain from working on certain days.

The difference between Sungkowo and smiths in places like Madura, East Java Province, is like night and day.

Manshur Hidayat, from Surabaya, sells old and new kris and he often visits the island of Madura where the daggers are made.

“There are more than 240 kris smiths in Madura,” he says. “Every week they produce thousands of daggers, which are sold all over Indonesia and overseas. Most are badly made ornamental kris, but there are some skillful makers. Nowadays they don’t only make Madura-style blades. Since the ’90s, they have been producing Bali blades, Bugis blades, Sumatran blades and also long Malaysian blades. In fact, Madura kris makers can make any design.”

Sungkowo makes his blades ritually and from scratch, while in Madura, there are production lines in the kris-making villages without any ritual involved. Sungkowo also only makes classic designs.

In two hours, Sungkowo and Pardi have managed to weld, stretch and fold the iron and pamor a number of times. Every time the hot iron is beaten on the anvil, parts of it fly off like fireworks.

“Those are the impurities. We need to get rid of all of that,” Pardi says. “When we make a kris, we can start with 20 kilograms of iron, half a kilogram of steel and a quarter kilogram of pamor. After it is finished, we have a light kris of less than 400 grams.”

Tugiyono, Sungkowo’s other helper, is sitting outside the workshop on the dirt floor, filing and scraping a kris to bring out the details of the shape and the pamor. “This job is all about feeling,” he says.

“Welding and forging the kris blade is just the first part of the job. When that is done, there is the shaping and the finishing. There are at least 20 small details [called ricikan ] that can be used on a blade, and besides the pamor, the combination of details used give the blade it’s name.”

Sungkowo says: “Once everything is done, I spend three nights just looking at the blade to make sure that it is just right. It takes six weeks or more to make a blade.”

Although Sungkowo’s kris are made over at least six weeks by three workers and are considered the best in the country, he charges only Rp 10 million to Rp 15 million ($833 to $1,250) a piece, which is relatively cheap considering the reverend powers associated with the kris.

It is believed that an empu and his assistants must not speak while making the kris, but Sungkowo passes this off as nonsense.

Asked about the legend of smiths making kris with their bare hands, he said: “Once a Malaysian came here asking about that, and I told him to go to the palace and ask people there.” When talking about the offerings to begin and end the work, he says that they are usually very simple, unless someone wants to film it. “The best offering is a whole chicken with rice and veggies, so we can eat it,” he said.

Sungkowo has an extensive private kris collection of blades made by his forebears. The fragrant sandalwood oil used on the blades gives them a regal aura. But Sungkowo does believe in some of the kris’s powers. One particularly striking blade was made by Sungkowo’s father. “I will never sell that. When it was being made, a serpent came and wrapped itself around my father before disappearing into the fire. I think that has mystical powers.”

Photo: Sungkowo Harumbrodjo’s kris smithy in Yogyakarta resembles the traditional besalen, in which kris have been crafted since the 10th century. (Godeliva D. Sari, JG)

Djiwo Diharjo: Master craftsman, initiator of kris enterprise

Slamet Susanto, The Jakarta Post, Bantul, Yogyakarta

The Javanese traditional kris -- a wavy, double-blade dagger, sometimes spelt keris -- has a significance that goes beyond its role as a weapon.

A kris can be a symbol of a man's social status and power. Some kris are believed to possess supernatural qualities and only certain people are allowed to make them. Only master craftsmen are believed to have the skills and knowledge required to make a kris with special magical powers.

Banyu Sumurup kampong is famous for producing kris -- both souvenir kris and kris that possess magical powers.

The kampong, which is located in Imogiri, Bantul, 25 kilometers south of Yogyakarta city, is home to 70-year-old master craftsman Djiwo Diharjo.

Djiwo is well known, not only among government officials around Indonesia, but also with foreigners.

Empu (master craftsman) Djiwo told The Jakarta Post his ability to make kris was a hereditary skill. This father of four is a descendant of a master craftsman from the Majapahit Kingdom.

Around the 13th century, the empu Supomo ran away to Imogiri. At that time, the Soreng Lono rebellion was underway in the Majapahit Kingdom and the life of the master craftsman was threatened.

He settled with his family at the edge of Thousand Hill area in Banyu Sumurup.

As a fugitive, the skill to produce weapons like the kris proved useful; it was never lost and has been passed down through the generations.

"I represent the 13th generation from empu Supomo," said master craftsman Djiwo.

Empu Djiwo said in order to produce a good kris that has magical powers, a master craftsman must be strong, undergo fasting and deprive himself of sleep to sharpen the ascetic and spiritual elements involved in making a kris.

"The ability to become a master craftsman is a blessing from God," he said.

He said before making an heirloom kris, a craftsman has to fast and present offerings of flowers or food when the iron is first struck. The aim is to put magic in the kris to make it powerful.

Making a kris may only be done once every sepasar (five days, according to the traditional Javanese calendar), he said.

"Every time I want to make a kris, I have to fast ... during that time I may not speak because a master craftsman has to remain quiet.

"If the rituals are broken, then the magical power will be lost," he added.

He said he needed at least eight months to complete an order for one kris.

"If it's a special kris, then it can take years."

In order to produce a kris, a high temperature is required as well as teak wood charcoal for heating the metal. One kris needs hundreds of folds of hot iron, sometimes even more than a thousand.

"The folding technique is important and requires special skill. But the most important thing is the sharpness of the kris and this can only be achieved through following appropriate behaviors," said empu Djiwo.

In 1972, concerned by the unemployment rate in Banyu Sumurup and the state of the economy, empu Djiwo trained 15 young men from the kampong to make iron and aluminum kris, warongko (kris sheaths) as well as how to make carved kris.

"At that time, many tourists were interested in buying kris for souvenirs and I thought the manufacture and sale of kris could help the local economy and the welfare of the people," he said.

The master craftsman established a cooperative tasked with collecting the work of the community and marketing the products. Despite being kept busy making sacred kris, he continued training village men in the art of kris and handicraft production. After several hard years of work, his efforts started to bear fruit.

In 1978, Djiwo staged a kris exhibition in Jakarta. In the same year he also held exhibitions in Semarang, Bali and Bandung.

The kris from Banyu Sumurup started becoming famous from then on and Djiwo continued to promote the kris through exhibitions.

In 1980, kris orders came from everywhere -- Malaysia, Singapore, Japan, Brunei and many other nations. The name of Banyu Sumurup became internationally famous.

In 1985, Djiwo held a kris exhibition in the Netherlands, and in 1989 in Australia. In 1992 he went to the Middle East and in 2002 Djiwo exhibited in Brunei Darussalam.

Shop counters displaying Banyu Sumurup kris for sale have been opened in many places such as Sarinah, Blok M, Ancol, Bali, Semarang, Bandung and other cities.

"They are for sale in almost all cities in Indonesia that the exhibitions visited," he said.

Now, almost every household in Banyu Sumurup is now able to make kris; about 200 people are involved and kris manufacture has become a home industry in the kampong.

The marketing of kris is now facilitated by the Daerah Istimewa (special area) Yogyakarta provincial government and the Bantul Regency Government.

"Till 1990, all kris orders were met by the people from this village. They wanted to make different brands, but the orders came to the Banyu Sumurup community," he said.

"What's made me happy is that now almost all the local people can make a living from manufacturing kris and the unemployment rate is lower," he said.

In 1986, for his services in helping develop a home industry, Djiwo Diharjo was given three awards; from then manpower minister Sudomo, the minister for cooperatives Bustanil Arifin and the minister for industry Hartarto.

Kris Dancers in Bali

These days, the price of an heirloom kris can range from Rp 2.5 million (US$270) to tens of millions of rupiah.

"Everything depends on the order; whether the kris is covered in gold or not, if the handle is made of wood or ivory from an elephant tusk, and what level of magic power is required in the making of the kris."

The more power the kris has, the longer and more complex the creation process is, with the manufacturing time taking longer.

In an average year, Djiwo can get between six and ten orders for kris costing from Rp 2 million (US $215) up to hundreds of millions of rupiah.

"Completing a kris can take up two years, or even more ... making a kris requires time and care," he said.

Djiwo said most orders came from officials who ordered kris to improve their blessings, to increase their power and authority, or to ensure a peaceful heart.

"Most officials in Indonesia have ordered a kris," empu Djiwo said as he held a kris ordered by an official from Semarang, West Java, the price of which exceeded Rp 30 million (US$3,250).

Foreigners have also ordered kris from the master craftsman.

"Some of them have come from England, France and Holland and have ordered kris from me.

"The order from France was from a professor. When he visited me after the 2006 earthquake, he told me his life had become calmer since he bought a kris."