Inside Indonesia’s Interdimensional ‘Possession’ Dance Festival

This article originally appeared on VICE Indonesia.

At 3 p.m., twelve dancers took center stage while riding woven bamboo horses. To mark the beginning of the spectacle, an official burned a coconut shell and cracked a whip to the ground.

The twelve dancers instantly fell to the ground, muttering inaudible words. With that, the first round of possessed dancing began. The event usually features anywhere from four to ten rounds.

Not much later, Danu’s body began to feel numb. He said he had a tingling sensation up his leg and his vision faded in and out. Then it was darkness.

What other people saw was Danu collapsing, crawling around, and joining the rest of the crowd. He danced to the beat of the drum with passion and fluidity. His friends said he would never do such a thing if he were conscious.

The same happened to dozens of other spectators. Ordinary citizens fell to the ground, crawled around, and started dancing like there was no tomorrow. The rest of the audience swayed their bodies to control the supposed spirits in their “possessed” friends.

“When the music gets slower, so does your body. But you can’t control that,” Danu told VICE after the event.

This phenomena is known as "wuru" or "mendem" in the area, which are local translations of the word “possession.” In the context of Indonesia’s mystical tradition, this occurs when a spirit enters your body and controls it.

While most people would shy away from the idea of being possessed, the people of Banyuwangi have incorporated voluntary possession into their yearly Ebeg festival, when young people offer their bodies as mediums for spirits known as indang. The indang are deeply embedded in Banyuwangi lore, provide locals with a means of fun and escape, and allow them to dance without inhibitions.

At a wuru event in October, VICE met with Banyumas’ highest-paid wuru group, Gatra Kirana. The group performs at least four times a month for a fee of Rp4.5 million ($319) each time, which isn’t much when divided amongst its 30 members.

While the event starts at 10 a.m., the party really gets started in the fourth round, when the audience joins what seems to be a trance flashmob.

“You completely forget yourself when dancing wuru, and a warlike spirit overcomes you, so you can’t stop dancing,” Embar Wuryanto, founder of Gatra Kirana, told VICE.

He admitted that he could hardly put into words what he feels when possessed, saying that it’s something you have to experience to understand. Indangs, the spirits that possess these dancers, cannot be gifted or inherited, only earned.

Unsurprisingly, locals’ love for wuru has ushered in an “indang hunting” frenzy.

“You must only consume rice and water for three days, and then bathe at all seven battlefields in Banyumas in one night. Then you go to Gambarsari, where there are many indangs,” Danu told VICE. He explained that indangs are tethered to individuals for life, like soulmates.

This is what locals believe provides dancers with energy to dance. It is also believed that they receive unexpected abilities while possessed. Wuryanto considers them to be a manifestation of his ancestors’ energy. They believe the indangs long to use human senses and, therefore, use a human body as a medium.

Indangs are a source of pride and a major topic of discussion in Banyumas. It’s not uncommon to hear locals comparing their indangs.

“They’re not demons. Indang can still be regulated,” said Siswomoharjo, a Gatra Kirana member.

He was busy preparing offerings of roses, fruits, vegetables, eggs, betel nut, tea, tobacco, and sweets for his team’s indangs.

“The penthul — a certain type of indang — love cigarettes,” he said.

Danu suspects his indang is a tiger due to his aggressive manner while possessed. Joko Marsono, leader of Gatra Kirana, explained that an individual’s indang will greatly depend on his or her personality. He said he found his own indang in sixth grade.

“When you’re possessed and you see flowers or something shiny, you just want to eat it,” he said.

Such wuru shows often feature performances of individuals testing their strength by eating porcelain and glass.

Around 15 minutes before an event comes to a conclusion, officials call on dancers to send their indangs home. They say most indangs refuse to exit their host, which sends the body running and flailing. Once the runaway dancers are caught, the hosts collapse and regain consciousness.

When VICE showed Danu a photo of him dancing while possessed, he laughed in embarrassment. His arms were scuffed, but he said he felt no pain.

“I have a bitter taste in my mouth. I wonder what I ate,” he said.

For young people in the remote villages of Banyumas, wuru provides a means of escapism and existence. Without alcohol, unlimited internet, or countless cafes to choose from, this ancestral tradition is their way of letting loose.

“My parents would be angry if I got drunk, but not if I dance wuru. Plus, we’re keeping the tradition alive with these events,” Danu said.

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