Transformed in Transition: The Tari Inai of Kelantan

Introduction 

Tari Inai, a traditional folk dance form, is the case study through which this article will address generic issues in the process of transition and propagation. It intends to reveal unique challenges within the Malaysian environment and discuss the impact of these changes through the lens of gender representation. The dance has been practiced (it claims to date back to the 18th century) in a town called Pasir Mas in the north eastern state of Kelantan, Malaysia.

Since 1991, Kelantan has been ruled by the fundamentalist Islamic party PAS that bans gaming, alcohol, cinema halls, unisex hair salons, public swimming pools, performing arts and other activities that are deemed ‘un-Islamic’. This includes the ban impacts upon females in theatre, music, and dance as teachers, students, and scholars. Ironically, Kelantan is one of the most culturally rich areas in Malaysia. This region is home to diverse performing arts which is a result of transnational migration, hybridity, inter-marriage and multicultural influences. The Buddhist and Hindu influences are also deeply rooted in the cultural fabric of this state. The arts that spring from this land include the traditional dance theatre of makyung, menora, the shadow puppet-play wayang kulit, singing traditions of dikir barat, ritual healing main peteri, all of which are steeped in the belief of semangat and angin. These beliefs in the spirit, wind and life-force respectively are still firmly held by practitioners who attribute all good or ill health to them.

This article is based on the experience of Zamzuriah Zahari, a lecturer at the Faculty of Dance, ASWARA who graduated with a Diploma in Dance in 2003. She holds a degree in Drama (University of Malaya), and a Master’s degree (National University of Malaysia). It also draws from reciprocal visits by masters of the dance. Zamzuriah is now considered an exponent of this traditional (and other) form and is tasked with teaching it to a new generation of dancers 500 kilometres away from its original location and in a different social and political climate.

In 2002, Zamzuriah Zahari elected to conduct an ethnographic study of this traditional dance in the Bechah Tendong Village near Pasir Mas where residents are ethnic Malays and Muslim, and generally biologically related to one another. The guru sishya system of training was deeply ingrained into the consciousness of the locals. This meant that the teacher was all-important, and the ‘school’ or group was sacrosanct. Moving from one to another was tantamount to desertion or betrayal, and often caused irreversible damage to relationships. Thus, it was important to be introduced to the right teachers and acknowledged masters.

Background and Research Questions

The only prior documentation of this dance was published in the book Tarian Melayu by Mohd Ghouse Nasuruddin. He describes it as a hybrid form that combines movements from silat, makyung and sendo. He provides a detailed analysis of the performance structure and uses the terminology borrowed from classical Indian dance, mudras to describe hand positions and gestures. He indicates that the dance, performed by male dancers and presented during festivities of village community including circumcisions, engagements, marriage ceremonies, thanksgivings, and to pray for healing and special intentions. The dance (usually a solo) is filled with nuances, subtleties with variations in tempo, and has improvised sections. It also varies in duration in response to the audiences’ reactions with no definite floor patterns. Its main intention is to highlight the strength and dexterity of the performer.

When studying any dance genre, researchers should have the ability and facility to absorb and ideally execute, the ‘right technique, style or steps.’ In the case of the Tari Inai, the most apparent is an extremely supple spine in the lumbar region, strong abdominal and back muscles to allow for a back bend or arch until the head touches the floor to gather the notes using the mouth in a movement called the liuk ambil duit. Dancers have stated that the blood rushes to the head and can cause dizziness or momentary loss of balance which is followed by the return to the starting upright position in a wide plié in second position. Great coordination is also required as the dancer moves across the performance area in this arched position. This acrobatic form is crustacean-like (hence the earlier reference to sendo). Another but lesser physical challenge, is the selo ghe ular, the initial salutation position to the audience or sembah. This is a cross-legged position but with a variation where the right leg is placed over the left leg in a tight position with the knees touching (without causing the right knee to be lifted high) and keeping the ischium bones of the pelvic girdle on the floor. The selo ghe ular requires suppleness, and performers with greater flexibility in the hip joint make the aesthetics of the dance more pleasing. The above are two examples of physical attributes that must be possessed by the dancer researcher in order to duplicate the source satisfactorily. These significant physical challenges imply that the dance is perhaps more suited to female bodies that are usually more pliable and flexible.

However, the physical aspect is merely one dimension of the dance and perhaps the more difficult aspect when learning a traditional dance form is often referred to the ‘spirit’ or roh of the dance. There is an inscrutable quality that each traditional dance possesses. This translates into the ability of the performer to transcend space and time, and to draw the audience into another realm, into the liminal state of the performer. This can be attributed to the ownership of the form, the release of energy within the body, the concept of angin in Kelantanese performing arts. There is a ‘presence’ and a complete confidence in the art. Some may simply attribute it to the gift of dance. This roh cannot be taught.

Within its original performance context, Tari Inai epitomises ‘maleness’. It is a dance which is grounded, where the centre of gravity is kept low with deep knee bends and torso generally leaning forwards. However, the most distinctive characteristic is when the male dancer literally ‘bends over backwards’ to collect money that is placed on the floor with his mouth, the liuk ambil duit. This can be psychologically and philosophically interpreted as the representation and physical embodiment of the role of the male in society. The role is perfectly scripted in this performance in accordance with social perceptions. The role of male as the bread winner, the provider and the protector in the family and community is potently crystallized in the dance. This evokes a powerful image of the man, how he wishes to perform himself and how he wishes to be perceived in the gaze of the audience.

The crux of the complications surrounding the proposed research was that it was to be conducted by a female. There were several reasons that permission was subsequently given:

1. Very few young men including the male heirs of the dance masters, were interested to carry on this dance tradition and the cultural owners were fearful for its continuity and propagation;

2. Zamzuriah was a student at an institution in the capital city, and therefore would not be participating in performances in Kelantan. This assuaged the fears of incurring the wrath of religious leaders;

3. Having a young researcher interested in learning the dance gave prominence and respect to the village practitioner;

4. Influential contacts included personal connections of Zamzuriah’s parents, and the intervention of the late Pak Saari Abdullah, better known as Saari Anak Gondang for his mastery of the Peran character of the traditional theatre form of makyung. Shaari was also the brother-in-law of the famed National Laureate for Performing Arts 1999, the late Khadijah Awang.

The Research Process
Zamzuriah was finally permitted to study the dance with Che Hassan, a master of this form who was 63 years old at that time. Unfortunately, he was ailing, and not physically able to teach, but served as a committed observer, informant and advisor. He has since passed on. The task of teaching was then given to Zukri Hussin, who was Che Hassan’s nephew and his student. Zukri possessed slight differences in his style of dance from his master. Zamzuriah was not immediately allowed to learn the dance but by patiently watching initial practices, armed with a video camera and a tape recorder. The teacher slowly introduced the dance to her, often in the living room or in the open courtyard in front of the house. This was always in the presence of Zukri’s wife, other villagers and curious on-lookers. Another challenge became evident when Zamzuriah discovered that the pedagogy was different and unlike the process that she had become accustomed to at a formal learning institution. Zamzuriah had to ask questions to clarify certain ambiguities with reference to the dance history, movement content and performance context.

Questions are sometimes misconstrued as challenges to one's authority and most village dance masters are unused to the probing questions of young researchers. It is also common that many village dance masters in Malaysia find the research process intimidating. Many find that being thrust under the spotlight of questioning makes them uncomfortable. In other case studies involving traditional dance, the answers to questions were sometimes provided with the intention of either consciously or otherwise allocating greater value to a particular aspect of their personal, religious, social or cultural beliefs. Occasionally, a few interviews had revealed that greater knowledge was presumed with respect to the history and origins of the dance. There was little or no supporting documentation submitted as proof, meaning there was a possibly of more myth than fact. Another interesting personal insight or academic speculation is that often the traditional teachers would agree to different styles, movement interpretations, conjectures or conclusions just to avoid debate, confrontation or argument, or perhaps even to save time and energy. It is possible that in their psyche or performance practice, perceived differences in dance interpretations and presentations are unimportant, not crucial or perhaps even, a norm. From the perspective of the practitioners and masters, this apparent lack of attention to details may be that many dances are improvisatory, and thus these variations on a theme are acceptable and even add to the aesthetics of the art.

This mindset could be linked to a rural village Muslim philosophy of not being judgmental but instead, allows individual freedom of expression. Generally, villagers do not believe in rote learning, and it is ironic that it is in these remote villages that individual ability and personal interpretations of dance and dancing are more profoundly celebrated than in formal institutions, performances or competitions where uniformity is one of the main criteria.

            

          Zamzuriah showed great respect to the older teachers. With each visit, she brought simple gifts, and always stating that it was from her parents as a token of gratitude for looking after the welfare of their daughter. Gifts directly from her would be deemed inappropriate and much too forward for a young Muslim lady. Her care and concern, her respectfulness and social etiquette were above reproach. She wore the head scarf and she was the epitome of Muslim ‘femaleness’. Her femininity became an advantage as she endeared herself to the village elders. In the process of transference of knowledge of this dance, there was little feeling of being threatened in any manner since the male role is established and reinforced as the stronger, more knowledgeable and capable. The politics of gender role-playing within the context of dance research is evident in this case study. Man, as the teacher was empowered over the woman as the student. The woman would only be able to do as she was taught or asked to do, and she could never do more. There was no shift in the gendering of the dance at this point in the process of transition.

Later, Zamzuriah would become the first female to be allowed to perform the graduation ceremony or sembah guru.

Into the Academic Institution

As Dean of the Faculty of Dance, I believed that the Tari Inai challenges the dancer at a high level of proficiency aside from the depth at which it could be studied ethnographically. Thus, it was included into the compulsory module of study for the Year 2 Diploma in Dance programme in 2004, taught by Zamzuriah. I believed that it was important to ensure continuity and propagation of a dying art form, consistent with the philosophy of the post-colonial education system for dance. Subsequently, from 2007, Tari Inai was included as one of the required dances of the Final Year Assessments.  

            

           Today, it is simultaneously taught to both male and female dancers in a classroom, in studios with mirrors and air-conditioning with the intention of it being performed to the public. Segregation between the sexes does not exist with students of mixed race and varied religious backgrounds. The dance is taught with specific arrangements, floor patterns and accompanying music has to be edited, if not performed live, according to these requirements. Precision is the desired effect with up to 30 dancers dancing in unison. Both male and female performers perform the same movements, wearing costumes of the same design. This process of translation and transition necessitates that all dancers be trained to listen, to count the music bars, to phrase and to respond in exactly the same way, for example, with accents on the gendang, gong and swaying to the melody of the serunai.

Contextualizing the Transformation

It is evident that Tari Inai in its new context, taught in an academic institution and performed at various formal and informal occasions, allows for very little room for improvisation. Unfortunately, the hallmark of freedom, playfulness, fluidity and sense of enjoyment of this traditional dance in its original context is lost as it gives way to a more ‘polished’ or ‘professional’ performance style. As a further pedagogical strategy for the students to understand that traditional dances have a myriad of interpretations, traditional masters were invited to conduct workshops and demonstrations. This allows students a more holistic understanding of traditional dance and the individuality of each teacher.

Another observation of the dance in its new context can be illustrated using the example of the arm movement susun mengkadang, where the palms of the hands join together with the fingers facing towards the body. Female dancers seem to place stronger accents on the hand and arm gestures than male dancers. This seems to be a psychological reaction in the female performer to accentuate or reinforce the display of strength and appears to be taken for granted in a male body. The male dancing body naturally accepts, acquires or inhabits the position of male strength or kekuatan, and energy or roh, while the female dancing body has a or perhaps a need to exaggerate it to show its presence. This is primarily because the female body is seen as to not possess that strength through the gendered gaze of the audience or a female teacher.

Thus, in this reconstruction of Tari Inai, the original symbolism of strength or ‘maleness’ is lost and has been transformed to represent a different kind of strength. The urban gaze sees the kekuatan and roh of the dance as the embodiment and unification of both male and female energy. In its transition from village folk art to an academic dance course, the performance practice has evolved into a symbolic representation of sexual equality. Tari Inai has decidedly become a very contemporary presentation of a traditional form that blurs the lines differentiating the gender-roles in performance as a reflection of the blurred lines of gender-roles in contemporary urban society.

 Photos: Normalridzwan Kamaruddin