Traditional Renganese Dance

fieldwork report by Kenan Haver while a student at Hampshire College

Traditional Mountain Dance, performed in the Pallinup Mountains

Through the folk dances of Renga we are able to catch a rare and beautiful glimpse of this unique society. As a small island in the Indian Ocean bathed in the trade winds from Australia and Africa, Renga boasts a heritage rich from her Polynesian roots, through the torrents of subsequent colonization, and finally her reemergence as a free and independent state.

The folk dance of a people is unsurpassed in revealing that unified purpose that moves a group of persons intent on the same end. Formal ballroom dancing reflects the mores of a class privileged by birth, as carefully preserved by the British gentry and landowners; it is the product of and reflects the culture of a people far removed from Renga's simple beginnings. Even "modern dance," which has gained much popularity in Renganese theaters recently, reflects the current mores as seen through the eyes of individuals and can often neglect Renga's strong history of community when attempting to portray her cultural wealth.

In its finest form, folk dance is an integral part of the worship, education and everyday life of all portions of society. Now I must make a distinction here, because I am not speaking of the folk dance theater which has, to some extent, commercialized the native ethnic dance into a new strain of theatrical art dance. This form has a limited and largely foreign audience. The true dance of Renga is in the streets and fields. Our group was fortunate to spend many days in Renganese neighborhoods, towns and villages, and among them our vision of true folk dance breathed new life. Folk dance is to be done, not watched: its joy lies in this doing and as we lived and danced among our Rengan hosts, we were witness to the transcendence through this vehicle for the soul of the people.

Mountain People Dance

The mountain people of Renga are often considered the most traditional. While western influence is visible in the cities and along the coast, there are still secluded mountain villages little disturbed by the fast change of pace in the rest of the nation. Though roads and transportation are extensive throughout the islands, the population of the mountain villages tends not to travel to the extent of their neighbors on the plains and coasts. Most of the local people are involved in agriculture, carefully cultivating terraces which traverse most of the gentler slopes. It is here that both common community facilities such as gardens and dining rooms are the most common. There appears to be an inherent conservatism here; they are slow to adopt new tools or methods, much less observe changes in styles of clothing or dance.

The dance of these people well reflects their simple lifestyle. Bagammala seems to be known by everyone and by virtue of its simplicity, can be enjoyed by the elders and great grandparents as well as toddlers. The music is supplied by one of several drummers and traditionally a didgeridoo, a hollowed out limb sometimes several feet long which, when blown into, utters a low guttural drone.

The arms of the dancers are interlocked loosely and they often slide down to joining hands. This allows for a continual tightening and slackening of the chain of old and young, women and men, visitors and hosts. We were always encouraged to learn as we went, and in fact Bagammala does not truly rely on the precision of its steps for its inherent beauty. The legwork is worth some mention because the steps are light and well-placed, as indeed a shuffle or drag would not be well accommodated by the roots and rocky terrain of the mountains. No leader was easily recognized, as we found to be true of many of their traditional dances, and Bagammala was apparently terminated by either the dancers or the musicians.

We came to know this next dance as the baby passing dance, though this is by no means the sole objective of the pattern. Rather, it serves as a convenience for those dancing with the very young, and indeed as the night wears on, the not so very young, to pass their beloved burden one to another. The music and steps are slow paced and melodic, and the otherwise circular formation is interrupted while everyone comes together in the center and gently passes the young ones to receiving arms on the other side. Of course, not every dancer is holding such a parcel and those who are not merely touch both hand together before returning to the periphery of the reforming circle. The arms are somewhat restrained in deference to the carriers, and follow simple swaying patterns throughout. The footwork consists of small steps often interrupted by swaying passages. We were all quite moved by the serenity of this dance which so warmly showed the faith and community spirit of the mountain Renganese.

Plains People Dances

Trance dance performed after return home. Photography was not allowed at the ceremonies

The plains people from the earliest record were nomads, and clearly today they are the most transient segment of the Renganese population. While the plains have been rapidly developed because of the accessible terrain and land availability, the newer buildings are designed to accommodate those whose primary business is in the coastal cities. It is interesting to note that Sir Edward Blake's misnaming of the islands as the "land of a hundred suns" can be attributed directly to the people of the plains. Because of his imperfect command of the dialect, Blake believed that the Renganese had a hundred names for the sun, each describing a possible spiritual relationship with that heavenly body. Blake concluded that the Renganese were sun worshippers. This mistaken translation comes from the idiomatic use of the word for sun as a description of weather conditions. What Blake concluded was a description of a spiritual state was actually a description of natural phenomenon. Despite its inappropriateness, Westerners continue to use this nickname. There are actually signs that these early inhabitants of Renga were far advanced in their astronomical observations and had a proper translator been found the British may also have plundered their wealth of extraordinary navigational skills.

The dances of the plains seemed marked by the people's awareness of open space. Though what we have come to call the Plains People Dance does utilize several short quick steps, the arms are unleashed in abundant leaps and spins. It should also be noted that variations of this dance is engaged in throughout the islands. The dance is quite energetic, and most often the very young and very old are excluded as it picks up its pace. The head is used quite expressively as the dancers alternatively stare at the ground and roll their heads backward as they face skyward. We noted some similarity here to the aboriginal hunting dances of the Arapesh, though no props were used in the Renganese version and women were included, so this may or may not be a remnant. The inclusion of women may be less significant than it seems in this regard. While many cultures normally restrict aggressiveness and power, usually associated with the hunt, to the males of the community, the Renganese have shared sexual equality in this realm since their antiquity.

Picturing the early inhabitants as wanderers and hunters enlightened by their alchemy and keen awareness of the world about them, this Renganese traditional dance seems very much in place. In a modern Renganese context the trance dance often seems strange, but such remembrances of the past also in the old ones, or the storytellers and the naturopathic healers with their bags of herbs and houses filled with the steam of steeping concoctions. The trance dance is imbedded in animism and surrounded by ritual, and where so many Renganese dances we viewed were spontaneous and informal, the trance dance commanded costumes and several hours of preparation. Attention is paid to such details as lunar phases and planetary position in planning the time of one of these dances but they must also adhere to spiritual traditions, thought to be indigenous the early Renganese. Often these dances are held for important community events as well, and the dancers have even gathered for cultural events of spiritual importance throughout the islands.

The specifics concerning a particular dance are decided upon by a group consisting of community elders and religious people, and plans are made for the accompanying feast or fast, depending upon the occasion. The dancers, both male and female, are costumed and several wear masks. The music which accompanies the dancers in their rhythmic steps about the circle is simple and very repetitive. The steps, too, are simple, though determined, and the trancers may dance for hours, and often, we are told, through until sunrise. Each dancer dances free and absorbs the music while expressing the rhythm externally with head shaking and knee bends or back sways, always balanced and in control. The repetition of the accompaniment and the steps leave the dancer free to mind-travel, where they are said to meet visions foretelling events or reshaping the past. The dance is narrated by an elder who tells of past dances and predictions borne out and, should a dancer stop to tell of a vision, the elder may serve as translator, for the vision may come in a foreign tongue or in obscure images.

Coastal People's Dance

Para Kambing, performed in Kambing streets

The newlanders, or coastal people, are most obviously marked with the imprint of European influence, which began for the Renganese with their discovery by Captain James Cook. What for Cook was the result of a bad storm and miscalculations, which led him to believe he had landed in a yet unexplored region of Australia, introduced Renga to the West and began many years of bitter plunder. The dances of those Renganese living on the coast share as many origins as Renga's port shared foreign vessels. Even the traditional dress of the dancers reflects the societies of the more industrialized world more than the dress seen in the plains people dances. Nearly two hundred years of infiltration cannot be ignored as a part of their heritage, and the Renganese, despite movements to reclaim aboriginal roots, embrace all of these traditions.

Para Kambing begins as a line dance, with the men and women alternating positions in line. The leader (and in these dances there is more often a leader than in the dances of the more rural areas) drills left, then right, to the festive music of a bancha (a hole-fingered, double reed instrument native to Renga) and rhythmic gourds and drums. Sometimes an accordion is added. The dancers soon join hands and form a circle. Once in, then out of the circle and they couple off to what at first is a slow waltz-like section which soon erupts into a fiery and brazen polka. The circle is only reformed and the hands rejoined for the conclusion.

Though there is great pride in the Renganese who work and live along the coast today, they have not forgotten their hard-earned peace. Part of their struggle is preserved in their docking worksong, which, like many such songs the world over, lent heart to the workers who sang it through the long hours for short pay with little more than determination and fear to keep them going. The images of this dance are direct-lifting crates, pulling ropes-and the lyrics ride clear and strong accompanied by a responsive filled with the tired and strained voices of fellow workers. We leave the coastal Renganese, whose modern cities now look like so many such cities in our own country with the sense of hope in these people in shaping their future, without leaving sight of the bitter past too far behind.

Conclusion

Put aside the written history and the colorful brochures, for folk dance is not a product of the mind, but of the emotions. The rich and textured fabric of Renganese life is revealed to us a bit at a time through its people and their dances which they so generously shared with us. With our reflections of Renga, we each left with a slightly clearer sense of ourselves and a heightened awareness of our own culture.