The <emphasis>Babad Pamijahan</emphasis>: Sunda, Java and the Identity of the Pamijahanese The <emphasis>Babad Pamijahan</emphasis>: Sunda, Java and the Identity of the Pamijahanese The Babad Pamijahan: Sunda, Java and the Identity of the Pamijahanese
Shaykh Abdul Muhyi of Karang came from the East. He was a descendant of Susunan Giri Kadaton (Babad Pamijahan)
A. Introduction The babad, or historical chronicle, is widely known as a genre of traditional Javanese literature. The genre came to Sunda in the 18th century through the Javanese administrators who occupied certain territories of Sunda. In Javanese, it is a narrative of past events telling, for example, about the founding of a new settlement or insurrection against an older power. The Javanese chronicle is a literary work written in a poetic metrical form which is intended to be sung. From the perspective of narrative, the babad to some extent is similar to the hikayat or sejarah in traditional Malay terms such as Sejarah Melayu. Like these texts, the babad was traditionally addressed through performance to real and present audiences. Structurally, the babad consists of genealogical and narrative elements. Writing about the very similar Balinese genre, Worsley (1972:4-5) observes that the author of a babad inserts various narratives into particular segments at critical points in the dynastic linkages. This mixture of genealogical and narrative components is especially dense in major babad. Another characteristic of the babad is that it is written within an 'open tradition' of composition, by more than one author, from the same or from different periods. Accordingly, there is an evolution in the structure of babad (Djajadiningrat 1965). This open tradition, in which the author is free to mix various texts from different variants, reflects an important function of the babad in its society. The genre legitimates the contemporariness of the scribe and the authors. This phenomenon, according to Ras, can be found in the Banjarese chronicle, the Hikayat Banjar. Based on his linguistic analysis of this text, Ras (1968) finds that the chronicle was written by at least three authors. The scribes or copyists attempt to bring the past into their contemporary conditions. For instance, from an external historical perspective, the fall of Majapahit (probably around 1527) was a very important event in its scale and its impact, yet the authors and the copyists in Banjar view this event as being of relatively small significance. Their main objective is to declare their own contemporary dynastic linkages. Furthermore, as a product of an open tradition, the babad also appears in various versions. A good example of this is the emergence of long and short versions of a particular chronicle corpus (1991:18). The combination of genealogical and historical narrative in babad attracts the attention not only of philologists and literary scholars but also historians and anthropologists. Ras states that the study of the babad must be based on the internal character of the texts. He identifies babad as
“a specific form of expression by means of language, either oral or written, always artistic in character, recognised as such by the community involved and differentiated from the daily use of language for purely communicative artless purposes” (Ras 1992:182).
From a different point of view, the babad stands between an expressive and persuasive discourse, reflecting the ideological point of view of the author or the patron. The question of whether the babad also supplies historical evidence does not concern those who approach the text as a literary genre. For the literary scholar, the task at hand is to describe the poetics of the text. There are also researchers who locate babad as both history and literature (sastra sejarah). However, the genre of sastra will theoretically conflict with sejarah particularly in the modern sense in which history is usually understood. Winstedt (1969: 223) argues, with reference to classical Malay literature, that sastra tends to refer to a belle lettristic tradition. In fact, however, what is called sastra in the Nusantara region is any narrative material recorded in written and oral tradition. These may range from theological catechisms to plantation manuals to romances and proverbs. For the purposes of this study, I will try to use the concept of ‘narrative’, in Indonesian, tuturan. I do not pretend to characterise narrative or tuturan in the babad as belle-lettristic sastra, but rather simply as ‘telling’. Tuturan in Sundanese is also called pitutur or kasauran. It seems to me that pitutur or tuturan is close to the tutuik Fox has described on the island of Roti (Fox 1979, 16)
Tetek, in the compound term tutui teteek, is a reduplicated form of tete. In strict etymological terms this form tete is probably derived, by the loss of medial consonant, from tebe. Tete (in ordinary language) and tebe (in some versions of ritual language) denote what is true, real or actual’…. For a tale to be acceptable as tutuik teteek, it must be fixed in time and place and must establish its authenticity according to Rotinese criteria of evidence. (Fox 1979: 16-17)
In this chapter, I will treat the Babad Pamijahan as a narrative and, to borrow Fox’s phrase, a “culturally acceptable chronology and location” (Fox 1976: 10). In Austronesian as suggested by Fox, there is an indication that ‘historical narratives’ project the image of a people in time. (ibid. 10) For students of Javanese and Sundanese literature, the Babad Pamijahan (BP) is extremely concise. It is nevertheless evident that it retains the general character of babad as found in other places such as Central and East Java. The Babad Pamijahan becomes a very important reference for the villagers who want to trace the linkages of their ancestry. Through a close examination of it we find that the chronicle not only lists various names but also recollects the myth of the two kingdoms of Sunda and Java. Foremost among the mythic stories relating to the relationship between Java and Sunda is that of the Perang Bubat, an incident that traumatised relations between the two regions. According to the story the intended bride of the King of Majapahit and her father, the king of Sunda were executed at the gate of the palace of Majapahit (Atja 1984/1985; Zoetmulder 1985: 528-532). However, Sunda also received religious enrichment when some Javanese ulama penetrated to the heartland of Sunda and introduced Islam there. The Babad Pamijahan, in fact, illustrates the myths of these two kingdoms from a Sundanese perspective. Custodians call this text the Sejarah Babad Kuna (in a Javanese version) and the Babad Pamijahan (in a Sundanese version), the Sundanese version having been copied from the Javanese. The villagers believe that it was members of the wali’s family, living close to him, who wrote the Sejarah Babad Kuna.
B. The <emphasis>Babad</emphasis> in Sunda The Sundanese adopted the genre of the babad from their neighbours, the Javanese, during domination of the region by the Sultanate of Mataram in the 17th century. Sundanese contact with the genre created a slightly different variant. For Sundanese, the term babad does not always refer to historical narratives as it does in Java. Babad can also refer to non-historical narratives, such as for example the Babad Kawung, a manual on how to make palm sugar. Furthermore, the farming cultures in remote areas of Sunda have preferred very short versions of the babad. Unlike the case in the city, good quality paper is very difficult to find and is a luxury, so these communities tend to rewrite the long version of written materials into shorter versions. This situation may also be influenced by the persistence of a strong oral tradition in which people only need to know (or record) the skeleton of a story. The structure of the babad in Sunda, particularly those conveying historical narrative, retains the major characteristics of the Javanese, Sundanese and Balinese babad. Like the major babad from these traditions, such as the Babad Tanah Jawi, the Babad Dipanagara, the Babad Pajajaran and the Babad Buleleng, the Babad Pamijahan also contains the two elements of genealogy and narrative. To treat it as an historical document in modern terms would be rash. Similarly, it is also difficult to analyse it in terms of its poetics, particularly if we are in search of sophisticated story sequences or episodes. However, this does not mean that such written material is not invaluable for our purposes. Although the Babad Pamijahan has a poor literary structure and lacks historical data in the modern historical sense, the village council nevertheless treats the manuscript as a legitimate source for explaining the identity of villagers as descendants of Abdul Muhyi. However, the way villagers generate this concept of identity from the manuscript is complicated and needs to be clarified. For the people of Pamijahan their babad is as important as other items of sacred material culture. Although many of them do not understand the language of the text, they can still generate meaning from different directions. We find here that the babad is not only a book of history but also an artefact of the wali. As is the case with other artefacts in Pamijahan, it too is believed to have spiritual power which comes directly from Shaykh Abdul Muhyi and his contemporaries. So villagers conserve the manuscript as well as the words of its text. To understand the meaning of the Babad Pamijahan in its context we have to treat this narrative both as a self-telling text and as a text which functions in social and cultural discourse.
C. The <emphasis>Babad Pamijahan</emphasis> (BP) There are sufficient extant copies of the BP to provide material for a philological study of the transmission of the text and its various recensions. The custodian of Pamijahan holds two manuscripts. Leiden University Library in the Netherlands holds three manuscripts. I believe that there are other manuscripts preserved by various collectors both in Indonesia and overseas. For instance, at the end of my fieldwork I learned that there are also manuscripts in Garut, Sumedang, Ciamis, Bandung and Sukabumi recounting the history of Shaykh Abdul Muhyi. In this thesis, however, I will focus only on the Pamijahan manuscripts, while referring to a number of other manuscripts as further ‘witnesses’ of the Pamijahan collection. The custodians of Pamijahan have two manuscripts. The first manuscript (listed as ms G in Chapter 3) is in Javanese and the second (ms H) is in Sundanese. It seems that ms. H is derived from G which is written in Pegon, or Arabic-derived script. The two manuscripts show similar structure and contents. However, manuscript ms H is more complete than ms G, since the first two pages of ms G are missing and it is damaged in some parts. The Pamijahan materials and Ms. SD120, a manuscript concerning Shaykh Abdul Muhyi which is held in the National Library, Jakarta, are close to those of the Brandes' manuscript in Jakarta (Br. 283) and the manuscripts collected by Snouck Hurgronje’s (LOr. 7858, LOr 7708) held in Leiden. The Babad Pamijahan is also similar to the text preserved in the Rinkes' collection (LOr. 8588) which was copied from Snouck Hurgronje’s LOr. 7858. There is an indication that Snouck Hurgronje obtained his manuscript directly from its owner, or perhaps via another collector in Tasikmalaya, whilst touring the religious sites of Java. A religious officer, the Penghulu of Mangunreja, copied LOr. 7858, for example, in about 1890. In LOr 7708, the owner clearly states, “the Penghulu of Tasikmalaya freely submits his manuscript to his master”, evidently Snouck Hurgronje. According to my informants in Pamijahan, the Penghulu of Mangunreja (70 km to the north-west of the village) as well as the Penghulu of Tasikmalaya, were descendants of Shaykh Abdul Muhyi. One custodian of Panyalahan told me that his ancestors bequeathed to him a Kitab Papakem Kuning, a manuscript probably concerning Shaykh Abdul Muhyi. According to him, the Kitab Papakem Kuning was taken by the Dutch to be held in the Netherlands. The villagers have never seen this manuscript. However, as close relatives of Shaykh Abdul Muhyi, they have inherited various oral narratives from their forebears in a traditional fashion. I tried to reconcile this information with all the catalogues of the Leiden University Library and of the National Library in Jakarta. There is, however, no manuscript corresponding to such a title. However, I did find that the manuscript given by the Penghulu of Tasikmalaya in 1914 to ‘Kangjeng Tuan Snouck Hurgronje’ (Cod.Or. 7708) entitled Kitab Patorekan Shaykh Abdul Muhyi apears to be close to the Papakem Kuning on several counts. The title Papakem Kuning means ‘the yellow guide’. In the traditional religious teaching of Javanese pesantren schools, we also find a similar term, kitab kuning, to refer to books written and disseminated by traditional means. Often the paper used is old or of low quality and hence yellow in colour. It is probable that the Kitab Patorekan Shaykh Abdul Muhyi is in the same cast as the Kitab Papakem Kuning reported to me by the custodian in Panyalahan. This speculation can be related to my informant’s story. Between 1950 and 1980, he worked in the office of the Penghulu of Tasikmalaya. He had access to certain information relating to his predecessors in the office. Office records show that the Kitab Patorekan (Cod.Or. 7708) is, in fact, the one submitted to Snouck Hurgronje by one of his predecessors. We read on the first page of this text:
The book of the history of Shaykh Abdul Muhyi, submitted to my master Kangjeng Tuan Snouck Hurgronje. The head Penghulu of Tasikmalaya, Haji Muhammad Idriss copied this book on 18th August 1915. Kitab Patorekan Shaykh Abdul Muhyi kang haturan Kangjeng Tuan Snouck Hurgronje turunan Haji Muhammad Idriss Hofd Penghulu Tasikmalaya 18.8.1915.
For the present discussion however, I will focus on manuscript H of the Babad Pamijahan preserved by a previous custodian, Zainal Mustafa bin Muhammad Jabidi, who passed away couple years before I came to the village. Ajengan Endang, the younger brother of Zainal Mustafa, now has safekeeping of the manuscript because it is the more complete of the two versions held by Pamijahan custodians. I will present here a full translation of the Babad Pamijahan, making annotations to facilitate the discussion.
D. Translation of The <emphasis>Babad Pamijahan</emphasis> (Ms H) This recension of the Babad Pamijahan was translated from Perimbon Kuno by Zainal Mustafa Bin Muhmmad Jabidi, 5 Juli 1977/18 Rajab 1397. The Perimbon or Paririmbon is known as a collection of the oldest manuscripts. It contains various texts important for the villagers. Here I will present a paraphrase of the Babad Pamijahan. The segmentations are based on a category of event which will be used for subsequent analysis. [A] The benefit of this tale was derived from our ancestors. They were people who received grace and blessings from God. In the name of God, the compassionate, and the merciful. Our brothers came to me, asking me to write a clear Hikayator Babad Pamijahan. I performed tawassul to Tuan Paduka Shaykh Haji Abdul Muhyi [din] Panembahan in Pamijahan-Karangnunggal. I was asked to write this Hikayat in accordance with the ancestral stories taken from the Sejarah Babad Kuna. [B] This is a genealogy of the Panembahan’s ancestors. Shaykh Abdul Muhyi of Karang came from the east. He was a descendant of Susunan Giri Kadaton. Susunan Giri Kadaton had a son. His name was Pangeran Giri Laya. The prince of Giri Laya had two children: one son and one daughter. These were the children from his marriage with a daughter of Kiai Haji Demang Malaya. Raden Giri Laya’ son was Raden Wiracandra. Raden Giri Laya’s daughter was Raden Malaya. Raden Malaya then married Kiai Gedeng Mataram. They had a son named Kiai Tumenggung Singaranu in Mataram. After Raden Malaya had this son, her father, the prince of Giri Laya, went to Mataram to celebrate the birth of his grandson. He set off for Semarang. However, on the ocean between the island of Karimun and the island of Mandalika his boat sank. Therefore, he was called the ‘Prince Who Died on the Ocean’ or Pangeran Seda Lautan. [C] The son of Giri Laya was Raden Wiracandra. He married the princess Haris Baya of Madura. After half a year, his wife died. He was desolate. In order to reduce his depression he sailed to Lampung. [D] When he came to Lampung, he taught the science of invulnerability to the royal family, including Patih Haji Panji Lalana Mas Wisesa. From Lampung, Raden Wiracandra travelled to Pathani to teach the same knowledge. From Pathani, he travelled to Pariaman. From there, he moved to Minangkabau and then back to Palembang. He stayed for a long time in Palembang. Kiai Gedeng Mataram received the news that Raden Wiracandra was staying in Palembang. Then Kiai Gedeng Mataram requested an elephant of Pangeran Sumedang. [E] Pangeran Sumedang commanded one of his men to go and meet Raden Wiracandra in Palembang. Pangeran Sumedang delegated Pangeran Singamanggala to invite Raden Wiracandra back to Mataram. Raden Singamanggala went to Palembang with an elephant. After a time Raden Wiracandra went with him back to Sumedang. In Sumedang, Raden Wiracandra met his relative from Madura. Pangeran Sumedang had been ordered by Kiai Gedeng Mataram to defeat the Madurese. Kiai Gedeng Mataram gave him booty slaves from the battle. They then settled in Sumedang. [F] After this, it is told that Susunan Ranggalawe Malangkabo clashed with people from Nagara Gung. Therefore, Susunan Ranggalawe faced the enemy in Timbanganten and asked Wiracandra to help him attack Nagara Gung. Thereupon Wiracandra attacked the Nagara Gung and defeated them. Raden Wiracandra was then rewarded with a daughter of Susunan Ranggalawe from Lebak Wangi. Wiracandra married her and settled in Timbanganten. [G] After a long time, the news came to Kiai Ngabehi Jagasatru in Nagara that Raden Wiracandra was living in Timbanganten. Kiai Ngabehi Jagasatru ordered him go into battle against the people of Lampung. Raden Wiracandra went to Lampung in order to fight them. After he came into the field, the fighting between the Lampungese and Cidamarese ceased, because both factions were the pupils of Raden Wiracandra. Instead of fighting, Raden Wiracandra ordered Haji Panji Lalana Mas Wisesa of Lampung to release his captives. Some of them had been taken as wives by the Lampung aristocrat. Other captives were returned to Raden Wiracandra. Only seven families were left in Lampung. Most of the captives went back to Kiai Ngabehi Jagasatru and settled in Citamiang. Except for one beautiful woman, Raden Tangan Kandi - she was most attractive. [H] Better than that, Kiai Ngabehi Jagasatru gave two women to Raden Wiracandra. The second woman was the daughter of Ngabehi Jagasatru himself. After that, Kiai Ngabehi Jagasatru of Mataram initiated Raden Wiracandra as Santana Agung Kiai Pamekel Tempuh. Kiai Pamekel Tempuh then settled in Mataram. [I] After long time, it is told that Kiai Rangga Gede in Karang invited Kiai Santana Agung Pamekel Tempuh to come to Karang. However, at that time he declined to go to Karang but he said, “Well, then, some other time I will come to Karang.” After that, the son of Kiai Santana Agung from his wife from Lebakwangi, who was the son of Sunan Ranggalawe Malangkabo, who was called Wirasantana, married Ayu Pathani, the son of Kiai Rangga Gede. [J] There was a son from the marriage of Kiai Santana Agung and Raden Tangan Kandi. His name was Entol Sambirana. Ayu Pathani married Kiai Rangga Gede. The brother of Ayu Pathani was called Entol Wirasantana. Ayu Pathani had one son and one daughter. The daughter married Wirayuda and had two daughters called Nyi Tasik and Nyi Wulan. Nyi Tasik married Ki Wirung, the son of Pangganan and he had two daughters and one son: Nyi Sutadinata, Ki Duriat, and Ki Mas Tuwan. Nyi Wulan had two daughters: Nyi Wanakerti and Nyi Kertasantika. The child of Kiai Agung Pamekel Tempuh from Raden Tangan Kandi, called Entol Sambirana, married the daughter of Kiai Ngabehi Jagasatru. [K] Entol Sambirana had three daughters and one son; these were Nyi Tangan Imbasari who married Raden Singabangsa, Nyi Raden Tanganjiyah, who married Lebe Warta, and Nyi Tangan Koncer who married Ki Nurman from Batuwangi. Nyi Tangan Imbasari had one son and one daughter: Ki Mas Wangsakusumah and Nyi Mas Panjang Jiwa. Nyi Tanganjiyah had five sons and one daughter: these were Abdul Arif, Abdul Rosid, Panembahan Haji Abdul Muhyi, Nyai Chatib Muwahid, Tuan Haji Abdul Kohir and Abdul Halek. Tangan Koncer had two daughters; these were Bibi Yaqin and Bibi Jakanta. Kiai Lebe Warta, the son of Entol Panengah had a brother called Ki Wanta, the father of Kersajati. Entol Panengah was the son of Serepen Nebol. Serepen Nebol was the son of Mudik Cikawung Ading. Mudik Cikawung Ading was the son of Kuda Lanjar. Kuda Lanjar was the son of Ratu Buhun. Ratu Buhun was the son of Galuh. Ki Nurman from Batuwangi was the brother of Aki Boko, Aki Tindak, and Aki Munawar. Paman Jakanta’s son was Aki Wangun. Aki Wangun’s son was Aki Pangganan. The mother of Paman Jakanta was from Karang. She was the daughter of Ki Wana Baraja, the brother of Nini Madari, Nini Wiradinata, and Aki Ambu, the father of Aki Misin. The mother of Kiai Lebe Warta was from Gusti. She was a friend of Aki Codong, Aki Subang, Aki Bolang, Aki Salam, and the mother of Kiai Haji Abdul Qahar Pandawa, Aki Pagon the son of Entol Panengah and the brother of Kiai Lebe Warta from a different mother. The father of Aki Salam was Entol Panengah and his mother was Kiai Haji Abdul Kohar Pandawa. The End.
E. The Structure of the <emphasis>Babad</emphasis> The chronicle consists of signifiers referring to various things and concepts. In this referential perspective, the chronicle shows special arrangements of signifiers. To reveal the configuration of signs in the chronicle, I will first use some concepts of signification proposed by Saussure and then tried to interpret them further by using Peircean semiotics. An examination of the Babad Pamijahan shows that it is structured according to two sign configurations that may be called the vertical and horizontal axes. A horizontal axis is used by structuralists to analyse language and mythical narratives (Levi-Strauss 1968-1977: 145, 206-230) at the synchronic level. Saussure focuses on the abstract system of language based on the relation between the elements of langue called paradigmatic. In the present study, I will use the concept of syntagmatic and paradigmatic only for describing the structure of the narrative as signs. After that, I shall try to place the whole narrative of the Babad Pamijahan within the discourse of the people of Pamijahan.
F. The Narrative of East and West The Babad Pamijahan (BP) was written in the simplest of narrative forms. There is no flash back, insertion or maintaining of parallel plots. The plot is arranged entirely in a linear direction. In some sections we cannot find a time sequence, but instead move into a list of names. However, in its brevity and simplicity, BP conveys meaningful signs to its audience. Our task is to unmask the structure of the narrative by asking how meaning arises from its structures. Given that the narrative was written in the traditional genre of the babad, the organisation of events suggests itself as a good point of departure for our discussion. It is evident that the narrative structure of this chronicle reveals a mythic abstraction of space, suggested by the travelling motifs related to Abdul Muhyi’s ancestors who moved from the east (the Javanese space) to the west (the Sundanese space). From an anthropological perspective, such a narrative has implications in that it gives expression to the mythical space which provides the ground for the ancestors' mythical travelling, or topogeny (Fox, 1997: 91). This is the way people trace their ancestry through the metaphor of the journey in narratives. (ibid.) Fox states that ''By 'topogeny' I refer to an ordered succession of place names. I see the recitation of a topogeny as analogous to the recitation of a genealogy.'' (ibid.) Therefore, at the same time, narratives can also illustrate genealogical lines. Fox observes that genealogy focuses on personal names while topogeny focuses on place names. (ibid) Elsewhere, Fox (1995: 225) has elaborated the metaphor of space and name by proposing the concept of 'apical' and 'lateral' expansion. These concepts refer to the structure of cognitive schemas which function as mnemonic devices. I believe that to some extent the Babad Pamijahan also employs these two metaphors, providing people with a cultural framework relating to their origins. This in turn is used for structuring cultural and social organisations crucial in managing the sacred sites and pilgrimage. Let us see how the Babad Pamijahan meets these assumptions. In doing so, I will first examine the linear structure, the 'horizontal axis', of the Babad Pamijahan.
G. The Horizontal Axis Although BP is structured in a short and simple way, in fact it covers a wide geographical range, mentioning various places scattered from Wetan, or the East (in Java) to Banten, Lampung, Palembang and even Pathani on the Malay Peninsula. Altogether the chronicle mentions 23 places, in succession: Batuwangi, Cidamar, Cikawung Ading, Citamiang, the East (Wetan), Galuh, Karang, Lampung, Lebak Wangi, Madura, Malangkabo, Mataram, Minangkabau, Nagara, Palembang, Pandawa, Patani, Pulo Karimun, Semarang, Sumedang, the Nagara Gung, the Ocean, Timbanganten. These places are attached to the movement of the protagonists in the story. I will show that they are part of the signifying order provided by BP. The numbers of places are important in describing the range of the places designated by the text. The custodian, who introduces the aim and the purpose of the chronicle, opens the narrative. In episode [A], the custodian appears to be the actual narrator for the reader or audience, or more precisely, to be the ‘presenter’ responsible for the story. His narration reveals two important factors in local reading conventions. First, the narrator reveals that BP should be received as a historical narrative (sajarah). Sajarah is a term found widely in Indonesian languages. It is derived from the Arabic sajarat (tree). Second, he states that the narrative is not only a ‘history’, but is also sacred material. In his introduction, the ‘presenter’ recounts that he needed to conduct a ritual purification before he translated the story from the Javanese language into Sundanese. These two factors 'regiment', to borrow Parmentier’s term (1996), audiences or readers. It ‘influences’ the signification process concerning the narratives. After that, there are episodes describing a number of characters, who later become known as the chief forebears in Shaykh Abdul Muhyi’s genealogy [B]. Then come narrations of movements of characters such as Raden Malaya and Kiai Gedeng Mataram. The story mentions Sunan Giri Laya, who celebrated the birth of a new baby by his daughter, Raden Malaya, and journeyed to Raden Malaya's palace. However, on the way back to his palace, Sunan Giri died, his boat sank in the ocean. Sunan Giri was then called Pangeran Seda Lautan ‘The Prince who Died on the Ocean’. There follows an episode recounting Raden Wiracandra, who, it soon becomes apparent, is a key character. He travelled to the West, settled in various places, married and fought as well as taught. He was the son of Raden Malaya and the grandson of Sunan Giri Kadaton. Raden Wiracandra married the princess of Harisbaya of Madura. However, after only six months, his wife died. He became depressed and set out towards the West. This episode, from a formalist perspective, is significant in transforming the plot. It is a point of departure for the whole story and contains a motif which generates the flow of the story. The dead princess of Harisbaya of Madura prompts ‘the hero’ to travel to the West. He sailed to Lampung. In Lampung, he taught the knowledge of invulnerability to royal familles such as that of Patih Haji Panji Lalana Mas Wisesa. From Lampung he moved to Pathani, which today is in southern Thailand, and later settled in Pariaman in Minangkabau. After that, he returned to Palembang. According to the narrator, he lived in this region for a long time. After that, BP delineates good relations between three important rulers: the king of Mataram, the king of Sumedang, and the king of Palembang. Meanwhile, there is also information regarding the tension between the two kings in ‘the East’, that is, between Mataram in central Java and Madura. In Sundanese, Javanese are often called urang wetan, or ‘people from the east’. Unable to overcome this, the King of Mataram then recalls Raden Wiracandra to Mataram. In doing so, the King of Mataram asks his colleague from Sumedang to send an emissary to Palembang with an invitation for Raden Wiracandra. Raden Wiracandra then sets out for Java. He is ordered by the Sumedangese to go with the King of Sumedang to make war on Madura. They succeed in vanquishing the Madurese. The King of Mataram rewards Raden Wiracandra. Some followers return with Wiracandra to the West, i.e. to Sumedang. I mentioned the early episode of ‘the dead princess’ which triggers the main character to move westwards. From this episode, we can identify other motifs. The King of Mataram, who recalls Raden Wiracandra to Mataram indicates the importance of Raden Wiracandra as a protagonist. The king of Mataram gives him a daughter as a wife in reward for his services. We find that the protagonist’s problem, which appeared in the first episode, is solved: Raden Wiracandra at last has his new wife. This motif is then transformed in subsequent episodes where the protagonist is also rewarded by various local kings in the West in recognition of his bravery. The episodes recite, for instance, that Wiracandra is invited by Ranggalawe to defeat his enemy from Nagara Gung. Wiracandra defeats Nagara Gung and is rewarded with the daughter of Ranggalawe from Lebak Wangi. This episode also tells us that Wiracandra then marries the daughter of Ranggalawe and settles in Timbanganten. Then, he also is invited by another ruler to fight his enemy from Lampung. Important events, which are grouped in the episodes in a linear direction, can be schematised as follows:
Figure 5. The zig-zag linear direction of the <emphasis>Babad Pamijahan</emphasis> narrative
It is clear that the movement of Raden Wiracandra is contained along the horizontal axis. The protagonist travels from the East [A] to the West [D], back to the east [E] and returns finally to the West [G→K]. Apparently this schema is also close to the sacred journey undertaken by urang wetan (people from the east) to Pamijahan. In certain seasons of the year more Javanese make the pilgrimage to Pamijahan than any other ethnic group, including Sundanese. Some of them even come to Pamijahan by foot. In modern times, the motif of the man from the East can also be found in the Darul Islam rebellion in Tasikmalaya. Kartosuwiryo was a Javanese who led Sundanese peasants and religious clerics in opposition to the Dutch in the 1940s, and a decade later in opposition to the army of the Republic. Among his followers, Kartosuwiryo was believed to have spiritual powers similar to those of a wali, see Jackson (1980) To borrow Levi-Strauss' term (1967:17), we have a 'geographic schema'. For Levi-Strauss, the linear story or myth represents the cognitive pattern of the people. This 'unconscious category' (ibid.) appears to be a cultural composition. He says that
…these sequences are organised, on planes at different levels (of abstraction), in accordance with schemata, which exist simultaneously, superimposed one upon another; just as a melody composed for several voices is held within bounds by constraints in two dimensions, first by its own melodic line which is horizontal, and second by the contrapuntal schemata (settings) which are vertical.
Thus, the horizontal line in the narrative creates a dimension of mythical space, the geographic schema. What should be kept in mind here is that the metaphor of travelling clearly becomes an important theme grouping the episodes. It marks the structure of events associated with a particular character.
H. The Vertical Axis We have seen that in BP the plot is arranged linearly following the contrast between the East and West. There is another logic that supports the plot, which is called the 'vertical axis'. It constitutes the genealogy of Shaykh Abdul Muhyi from two ancestral lines. Here the contrast is between socially 'high' and 'low'. Sunan Giri, the Javanese saint-king of Gresik in East Java and Ratu Galuh of Sunda represent the highest points. While very much shorter than other babad in the Javanese tradition, BP contains almost 80 different names in its genealogy. These are integrated into a genealogical structure which is divided into two parts: the first section illustrates the relationship between Shaykh Abdul Muhyi and Sunan Giri; the second between Shaykh Abdul Muhyi and the King of Sunda. The genealogy given in BP shows the importance of Javanese linkages. From the number of names identified, Javanese names make up a larger proportion than Sundanese. The author gives more detail to the Javanese than to the Sundanese ancestors. BP traces the Javanese line through Shaykh Abdul Muhyi’s mother, Raden Tanganjiyah. She was a daughter of Entol Sambirana, who was the son of Raden Wiracandra. Raden Wiracandra himself was the son of Giri Laya and the grandson of the saint, Sunan Giri Kadaton. Furthermore, from his father’s line, that of Lebe Warta, the Shaykh is linked to the kingdom of Galuh through Entol Panengah, Serepan Nebol, Mudik Cikawung Ading, Kuda Lanjar, Ratu Galuh, and Ratu Buhun. There is an indication that these vertical ‘schemas’, to use again Levi-Strauss' term, tie the story firmly together. We will see that 'vertical' lines have an abstraction similar to the 'horizontal' lines. Both contrast two similar things. Let us see how the vertical lines are structured and joined to the horizontal lines. The vertical line is a selection of names. The author puts these names, his characters, into the slots of events. For example, the series of episodes A to H are filled by figures from the Javanese world while the next cluster of episodes, I and J, is supplied with figures both from the East as well as from the West. Finally the last episode, K to L, is filled by Sundanese figures only. When these arrangements are schematised, the repertoire becomes apparent.
Figure 6. The paradigmatic schema in the <emphasis>Babad Pamijahan</emphasis>
The first vertical line shows the events filled by the Javanese ancestors. The second vertical line presents the events filled by a combination of people from the East and the West, in the third line there are only those from the West. For the names identified (refer to the text), the Javanese names constitute a larger proportion than the Sundanese. The author also supplies more detail for the Javanese than for the Sundanese ancestors. It would appear that the author is more concerned with creating a narrative than a genealogy from the point of view of the Sundanese kingdom. He appears not to be familiar with Sundanese history relating to Raja Galuh, the King of Sunda. Thus, the text gives the genealogy of the king of Sunda only at the end of the narrative. The two genealogies can be represented schematically as follows.
Figure 7. The genealogy of Abdul Muhyi through his mother's line from Raden Wiracandra, his mother’s father
I. <emphasis>Saur Sepuh</emphasis> or ‘What the Ancestors Say...’ The informant in Pamijahan who discussed the Babad Pamijahan with me was not the owner of the babad, nor he was able to read the manuscript, but he had had an opportunity to see the manuscript and had received an explanation of its contents from the owner, a site custodian. It was easy for him and other villagers like him to believe that Shaykh Abdul Muhyi was a real holy man because he is mentioned in the Babad Pamijahan. However, the term ”real” here goes beyond the referential. It is experienced. The elder, like other villagers, shares the ground In the Peircean paradigm ‘ground’ is defined as ‘frame work’, which determines the existence of the sign in relation to its object. regarding their ancestors’ signs, without any obligation to check references given in the narrative. The manuscript and the elder’s narrative itself are an ‘index’ ‘Index’ is a sign, which refers to its object on the basis of actual connection. of their shared knowledge. In my interviews with the villagers, I tried to put open questions, such as ‘how do you know X?’ or ‘what is the meaning of X’? Responding to this question, the phrase ”my ancestors told me,” saur sepuh, recurs frequently at the beginning of their answers. This key phrase is used particularly in historical narratives, or when villagers have to explain certain aspects of material culture preserved by the custodians. In Sundanese, sepuh carries broad meanings. It can refer to ancestors, elders, or parents. The villagers may use sepuh when speaking of their ancestors, the older generation, or living elders as well as parents who have already died. The word modifies the whole of the content of the narratives delivered. The elders and the custodians, for example, share the same belief that Shaykh Abdul Muhyi was a real holy man according to saur sepuh. The author of BP in [A], mentions that sepuh means ”one who has received the grace and blessing of God”.
Figure 8. Shaykh Abdul Muhyi’s genealogy through his father’s line.
These ‘words of the ancestors’ form a powerful element in all narrative performance. They encapsulate the whole ideology of the narrative. By using such devices, custodians can spread and manipulate belief in the holiness of Shaykh Abdul Muhyi. During my fieldwork, I found that the villagers always use saur sepuh to introduce narratives explaining features of the material culture around the sacred village. In the same vein, it is easy for the villagers to assume that if Susunan Giri Kadaton In the Javanese tradition as mentioned in the Babad ing Sangkala, the name of Giri refers to the Sultan Agung’s opponent in East Java in 1636, see Ricklefs (1998) is real, then Shaykh Abdul Muhyi must also be real. Of course, it is difficult for historians to confirm whether Shaykh Abdul Muhyi actually was a descendant of Giri Kadaton, or whether Shaykh Abdul Muhyi was part of the Wali Sanga tradition, the popular 'Nine Saints of Java'. Krauss (Krauss 1995) suggests that Shaykh Abdul Muhyi stands half in myth and half in history. However, villagers construct the ‘historicality’ of their Shaykh by a process of abduction. Abduction One of the methods of inference in Peircean semiotics is called ‘abduction’. Abduction is defined as a hypothetical inference where people try to identify that ‘something must be the case’. (Mertz 1885) is defined by Peirce (Mertz and Parmentier 1985) as a way of reasoning where one does not use a ‘general rule’ explicitly, as may be seen in the relation between the following two propositions.
Shaykh Abdul Muhyi’s name is connected to the genealogy of the Wali, therefore Shaykh Abdul Muhyi is a wali.
The Babad Pamijahan provides the villagers with the first proposition. The second is the villagers’ own hypothesis. Such abduction is not only generated from the text of BP but also from a complex narrative performance. By a complex narrative performance I mean the actualisation of narratives (signs of history) in daily activities. On the first day of my fieldwork, I tried to make a ‘tour’ of the pilgrimage area. A custodian ordered one of his staff to accompany me. In the villagers’ terminology, the staff member is called nu nganteur or a guide. His main job was to take me to the sacred cave and to other sacred sites outside Pamijahan. Nu nganteur cannot perform the ritual pilgrimage within Muhyi's shrine itself. That job is a monopoly of the senior custodian. Accordingly, most of those nu nganteur are not closely related to the fourth main family which controls the pilgrimage area. The guide told me to buy the book of the history of Shaykh Abdul Muhyi which he called ‘The History Book’ (Buku Sajarah). When I asked him who wrote the book and why I had to buy it, he said that it was written by one of the custodian’s relatives. He said, “You can get the whole story (sajarah) of Shaykh Abdul Muhyi from it.” He said that he could not recite the story of Abdul Muhyi in detail himself because he was not an expert. I asked him again, who was an expert in history. He said that Ajengan Endang, the most prominent custodian was the expert. He added that contents of the Buku Sajarah that I bought were also taken from what the the custodian had said. The custodian was an expert in history because he had a sacred manuscript called Babad Pamijahan. “Why do you think that Babad Pamijahan contains the real history of Shaykh Abdul Muhyi?” I asked him. He was surprised by my question at first, but then he replied with a relatively long explanation.
“For me, Shaykh Abdul Muhyi was real because all the elders as well as the custodian in my village believe so. According to the words of our ancestors (saur sepuh), all the sacred materials (nu karamat) in this village are connected to his life. Many people come here and concur that Kangjeng Shaykh was a wali who received divine favour (barakah). According to saur sepuh, the sacred book called the Babad Pamijahan was also written by a close relative of Shaykh Abdul Muhyi’s who was his contemporary in time (dina zamana).”
My ‘guide’ strongly believed that the Babad Pamijahan is one of the main sources for reciting his ancestor’s history. Interestingly, he has never seen the manuscript but he believes that it contains ‘narratives of the ancestors’. Thus, the meaning of the Babad Pamijahan came to my informant, not through the process of reading but through its performance. In the narratives delivered by my guide, indeed, there was an ‘epidemiology’ The 'script’ used by these performers was derived from, borrowing Sperber’s phrase (Sperber 1990) ‘the belief box story’. Any belief is produced and stored in this box. However, as Sperber states, such a record ‘machine’ cannot play the whole story; there is at least some additional software required called ‘inferential devices’. These help us to make coherence out of our experience. According to Sperber: “What we need to add for this to the belief box is some inferential devices which can recognize unrepresented beliefs on the basis of the actually represented ones. Human beliefs are grounded not in the perception of things the beliefs are about, but in communication about these things. Second, humans have a meta-representational or interpretive ability. That is, they can construct not only descriptions but also interpretations.” (Sperber 1990). Thus the Babad Pamijahan is somewhat like a jukebox by which custodians and villagers can replay the contents in their daily activities. of the reported speech ‘saur sepuh’. The reported speech has an internal power to generate interpretation. In this regard, saur sepuh is the ‘additional software’ needed for comprehending the meaning. The narrative of the ancestors recorded in the Babad Pamijahan must be activated by another medium, such as ritualised language or action. For instance, the custodian who translated the Babad Pamijahan into Sundanese felt that the process of translation itself was a sacred project. Before he made the translation, he performed intermediary ritual or tawassul, a rite which is also often conducted during pilgrimage and in mystical practices. The main theme of the tawassul is to recite Shaykh Abdul Muhyi’s name and those of his ancestors, as well as of the Sufi master, and to ask God to bestow His blessing upon these figures. By performing this ritual, people expect two things. The first is that all the grace and blessings given by God to their ancestors will be transmuted into their own lives. Second, the ritual is also used as a way of asking the ancestors for permission to recite their histories. Every act related to the ancestor’s name or identity has a sacred dimension. The custodian who copied this manuscript from the older one also followed this rule. The scribe of manuscript H adds this formulaic introduction into his manuscript.
[A] Mangka sarehna pirang-pirang para ihwan, oge badil asdiqoi seueur anu mundut dipangdamelkeun Hikayat (dongeng) Babad Pamijahan anu jelas, janten manah abdi lajeng tumandang kana tawassul ka Tuan Paduka Shaykh Haji Abdul Muhyiddin Panembahan di Pamijahan—Karangnunggal. When many of my friends asked me to make a clear copy of the story of Pamijahan, I decided to make ritual mediation (tawassul) to Tuan Paduka Shaykh Haji Abdul Muhyiddin in Pamijahan, Karangnunggal.
From this perspective, saur sepuh has the power to enhance beliefs regarding Shaykh Abdul Muhyi. So far, I have shown that the construction of meaning is initially triggered by ritualised idioms such as saur sepuh. Saur sepuh itself is not part of the poetics of the Babad Pamijahan but rather an extrinsic element embedded into the text by the performer. However, we will see that saur sepuh is not arbitrarily attached to the text. There is a correlation between the attachment of saur sepuh and the genre to which it is attached. Only particular narratives have the authority to be activated and validated by saur sepuh. Any single word, sentence, typography of manuscript, collector, as well as any place where the manuscript is collected, are signs: perceivable, referential, and interpretable. For the villagers, the validation of whether a particular phenomenon such as a narrative or a manuscript can function as a meaningful sign rests on their ideology. By ideology, I mean any set of interrelated assumptions which appear as a ‘ground’ for identifying and using signs. Ideology itself is a product of previous semiotic processes. (Eco 1979: 139-42) It is accumulated through the process of interpretation. In this regard, the idea of closeness to the holy man is crucial. The manuscripts are only held by the close family of the saint who may dwell in the vicinity of the holy tomb. The Babad Pamijahan is meaningful not only because it is part of the saur sepuh discourse but because it contains other significant references for the villagers. As stated by Peirce, signs have three elements, the perceptable, the referential, and the interpretable (Mertz 1985; Parmentier 1994). In other words, a manuscript or the text of a manuscript could be a sign because it comes to the villagers' perception as something important, pointing to something, and suggesting interpretation.
J. The References The total configuration of the signs bound up in the babad is part of Pamijahan tradition. In this regard, Teeuw (1984, 38-56) proposes that a particular genre of literature entails a horizon of expectation (see also Culler 1974). If we push this assumption a little further, then we will find that a genre is the system of meaning attached to particular works. The framework or ‘horizon of expectations’ determines the meaning of the babad. Thus, the Babad Pamijahan is a configuration of signs for the villagers because the genre, or 'ground' in Peircean terms regiments it. Regimentation is the sign configuration the design of which is based on a particular ideology. For instance, the way a war memorial diorama is designed reflects the ideology of the regime. The audience is forced to follow the narrative of war as imagined by the regime, see Parmentier (1994). However, the gap between genre and the signification process and its result is still to be disclosed. We have to describe not only signs as a ‘type’ but also describe the mode of relation between a sign and its reference, and the relation between the reference and its interpretants. In other words; the schematic approach adopted from structuralism above, as suggested by Saussure and Levi-Strauss, only reveals a linear and an internal regulation, a 'grammar' of the text. We still have to describe the relation between the grammar and its references. In this case, the Peircean perspective is important. Peirce mentions three modes of relation between representation and object and these are icon, index, and symbol. (Parmentier 1994) References or objects do not always refer to material culture but also to mental concepts. In these terms, there are two kinds of objects. The first is the object within the sign. (Parmentier 1994) The second is the ‘object outside of the sign’. Thus, the object can be both ‘fictive’ and ‘real’ at the same time depending on how the sign ‘indicates’ or “leaves the interpreter to find out by collater experience”. (Parmentier 1994; Rochberg-Halton 1986) The most important task for us now is to discern the relation between the signs in the Babad Pamijahan and their references, as well as their intepretants. It is a question of relations. What is the relation between the signs in the Babad Pamijahan and their objects as well as to their interpretant?
K. Space and Place: Limestone (<emphasis>Karang</emphasis>) One of the important words related to the concept of space is karang. To comprehend its position in this cultural narrative is to discern, first, the category of relation between the word karang which denotes limestone, and its references as well as its interpretants. Karang is a word referring to kind of stone. Karang itself, borrowing Peirce’s terms, is both replica (token) and legisign (type). In other words, karang is in actual existence as the word but at the same time it is part of Sundanese vocabulary or type (signsign) which ‘shall be significant’ according to the convention (legisign). Similar to the word for stone (batu), karang refers to the concept of ‘solid’ or ‘hard’. This can be tested against villagers’ experience. People in the regency of Tasikmalaya know that the Karang area is a centre of old teaching recognised as a centre of spiritual power such as black magic (teluh) as well as white magic. Black magic is conceived of as a survival of pre-Islamic practice. White magic is believed to be a supernatural power exercised by wali and ulama. They also have ilmu karang or knowledge of invulnerability. There is a saying familiar to people in this area referring to karang as a notion and a place embodying magic power.
Bedas weduk urang Karang, taina teu teurak ku parang. Strong and invulnerable are the folk of Karang, even their faeces can not be penetrated by swords.
Furthermore, in the Dutch archives, Karang was known as a remote place where rebels were hidden and given assistance by the ”Haji Carrang” (Shaykh Abdul Muhyi). Thus, the word karang is actually an informational sign or proposition referring to its object by symbol (convention). Karang symbolically refers to the concept of invulnerability that ultimately is interpreted as part of identity. Most manuscripts relating to Shaykh Abdul Muhyi similarly make reference to karang as a place. Some of them also describe what they call “the knowledge of karang” or ilmu karang. My informants and several manuscripts also refer to karang as a place of the ancestors known in Sundanese as kabuyutan. Archeologists believe that the concept of kabuyutan is similar to the Indian concept of mandala. Kabuyutan was sacred ancestral territory in the Hindu period. People tried to translate and maintain this spatial concept in the subsequence Muslim period. Recently local philologists have found a number of Old Sundanese manuscripts preserved from the pre-Islamic period. These included the Amanat ti Galunggung, Shanghyang Siksa Kanda ing Karesyan and Waruga Guru. They were found in Garut and Tasikmalaya, places recognised as kabuyutan, or ancestral homes of Sundanese culture (Kossim 1974; Atja 1981: 1-9; Atja 1968). Urang Karang or ”people from Karang” in the Tasikmalaya district are seen then as belonging to a society with a distinct character. Mysticism and sorcery or teluh are often attributed to them. They are part of the ‘old world’ of Sunda. Oral traditions from this place mention that before Shaykh Abdul Muhyi came to ‘Carrang’ (Pamijahan is part of the district of Karang), it was occupied by urang Hindu. What they mean by ‘Hindu’ is not Hindu in particular but Hindu designating pre-Islamic culture in general. According to local lore, once a Batara Karang (Lord of Karang) controlled all of the area now called Karang Nunggal. Batara Karang was a master of black magic. Shaykh Abdul Muhyi was sent to this place in order to defeat Batara Karang and convert him to Islam. Another story recounts how Batara Karang intercepted Shaykh Abdul Muhyi in his mystical journey, intending to kill him. However, Batara Karang was unable to draw his sword. It was stuck fast in its scabbard and its hilt become longer and longer. Batara Karang then summoned all of his powers to point his sword at the Shaykh’s face. According to the locals, Batara Karang failed to kill Muhyi because the volume and dimensions of his sword kept increasing so that he could not even hold it. Batara Karang then agreed to convert to Islam and come under the Shaykh’s tutelage. The term karang is then permeated with sacred and historical concepts. The concept of kabuyutan as a place of the ancestors is, in fact, attached to the Karang area today. The custodian of Pamijahan believes that Pamijahan in particular, and the Karang area in general, have been important sources of religious clerics or ajengan. According to the custodian, all famous religious preachers in the eastern part of West Java have linkages with ancestors. Thus, karang, as word, is also a ‘conventional sign’, and in Pamijahan this word has become an actualisation, or the ‘parole’ of the ancestors in Saussuerean terms. In other words, the signs of history, narratives, and discourse appear to be cultural narratives regulated by conventionalised signs.
L. The Interpretant: The East and The West Other spatial concepts can be found in the text. Historically, the Sundanese have been categorised by Dutch colonial and Indonesian governments as orang Jawa Barat or ‘people of West Java’. Some Sundanese have realised that this label simplifies far too much the complexity of the term ‘Sunda’ as a label marking cultural identity (see also Ekadjati 1995:12-13). For them ‘Sunda’ is more mythical than the geographical term ‘West Java’. It is important first to outline how the term ‘Sunda’ has developed and is understood. After that, we will return to the references of space made in the Babad Pamijahan. Dutch administrators, in their first contact with the Sundanese, tended to classify them as people residing in the heartland of West Java. Sometimes, they simply called them ‘people from the mountains’ because they perceived the Sundanese at that time as the people inhabiting the central part of the region, which is hilly and mountainous. (Stibbe 1929) From the perspective of the Sundanese themselves, this view is naive and humiliating. There are serious implications when politicians and researchers try to use the term without being aware of the dimension of internal perspectives. As Wessing has correctly observed: ”West Java has, for most of recorded history, been considered a cultural backwater” (Wessing 1978: 22). From Sundanese myth and legends, the word Sunda can be traced back to the period of 1030—1333 AD, when the kings of Sunda, such as Jayabhupati, held control of the ports on the north coast. (Wessing 1978) (Wessing 1974; Fruit-Mess 1920) Stibbe speculates further that Sunda existed between the two larger kingdoms of Singasari in East Java and Sriwijaya around Palembang. (Stibbe 1929) Sunda, he says, has existed as a single cultural and political entity in contradistinction to the Javanese or the people of Palembang. It is also not appropriate to call the Sundanese urang gunung (mountain people) since the Sundanese king also controlled ports such as Sunda Kalapa or Jayakarta (later Jakarta). Sundanese historian Edi Ekadjati (1995:12-13) has given an important historical outline of West Java and the Sundanese. According to Ekadjati, the term Jawa Barat (West Java) was popularised in 1925 when the colonial government proposed the division of the area into a province. Under the Dutch policy, the boundaries of the province of West Java were close to the map imagined by Mataram and the VOC in 1706. The Province of West Java included Banten, Batavia (Jakarta), Priangan, and Cirebon (Staatsblad no. 235 and 278, 1925; Ekadjati). In October 2000 the four kabupaten of Banten broke away from West Java and formed their own province. For some Sundanese, the term ‘West Java’ suggests a subordinate position to Java. Indeed, the Sundanese were reluctant to use the terms ‘West Java’ preferring instead 'Sunda or 'Pasoendan' as may be seen in a petition proposed by the Pagoejoeban Pasoendan (The Sunda League) in 1924-1925. Furthermore, the Sundanese also proposed a Negara Pasundan (State of Pasundan) when Indonesia operated as a federation in 1948-1949 (Ekadjati 1995:13). Similarly, the Youth Congress of Sunda also suggested Sunda as the name of the province instead of Jawa Barat. As we know, none of these petitions were accepted. The word Sunda or tatar Sunda (the realm of Sunda) then, remains a term for cultural usage rather than political affairs. Sundanese antipathy to their Javanese neighbours can be traced back to the Bubat tragedy of 1357 when the king of Sunda along with his daughter and followers were slaughtered on the orders of minister Gajah Mada of Majapahit at the very gate of the capital of Majapahit. Gajah Mada’s agenda was to prevent the Sundanese princess from marrying his ruler. (Atja 1984/1985) For the Sundanese, this tragedy etched the differences between Java and Sunda deeply in their minds. However, the kingdom of Sunda was not to endure for long. It was defeated by Banten in 1579 and most Sundanese embraced Islam. Relations between Java in the East and Sunda in the West developed new dimensions. If Sundanese myth and legend tell of the glories of Sunda and stress their differences from Java, both oral and written works dating from the 17th century indicate a new type of imagery of their ancestors. Sundanese ancestral myths became connected with Javanese kings or with the Nine Saints of Java, the Wali Sanga. Of course, there was a need to provide cultural foundations regarding these phenomena. Traditional narratives tend to reconcile the two identities of Sunda and Java in a peaceful manner. We find numerous stories describing marriages between the families of the Sundanese kings with Muslim rulers of Javanese or Arabic extraction, or accounts of the conversion of the King of Sunda to Islam. In the Priangan, this motif is found, for example, in the story of Kiansantang. Kiansantang was the son of a Sundanese king. He converted to Islam and tried to persuade his father to convert with him. According to the local narratives of Garut, the king himself was not swayed to adopt Islam, but he allowed his son to follow the new religion. This is a popular motif in West Java by which the Sundanese try to ease the relations between their previous identity (in this case, religion) and the influence of Islam which, to a large extent, was brought by the Javanese to the highlands of Sunda. The last king of Sunda then retreated to the forest on the south coast and built his own kingdom there with his faithful followers. Sundanese legend says that he is not dead and appears from time to time in the form of a tiger (maung). The tiger has become an important icon for the Sundanese and the associated narrative a face-saving device. In this regard, the author of the Babad Pamijahan depicts Shaykh Abdul Muhyi as a ‘man from the East’, that is, a Javanese. It is also common for Sundanese to refer to their Javanese counterparts as people from the East, urang wetan rather than Javanese, urang Jawa. Urang Jawa is a ritualised term used by the Sundanese of the Priangan to help them indentify and understand the conspicuous elements of Sunda and Java in their culture. This very same atmosphere is found in the Babad Pamijahan.
M. Sumedang and Mataram Other representations of East and West can also be found in the contrast between Sumedang and Mataram. Sumedang is a centre of Sundanese culture, Mataram is the Javanese kingdom to the east. The Babad Pamijahan makes clear references to Mataram and Sumedang. Sumedang and Sukapura-Tasikmalaya have common historical legitimacy. Under Mataram's hegemony, their territories were granted to their leader in reward for brave service rendered in capturing a local figure, Dipati Ukur, who led a rebellion against Mataram’s authority. (Ekadjati 1982) There is a marked similarity between local history and the babad accounts of the position of Sumedang as a political intermediary between Mataram and the realm of Sunda. In the Babad Pamijahan, Sumedang features as a meeting place between the Sundanese (Raden Rangga) and the Javanese (Raden Wiracandra). Raden Wiracandra was the grandson of Sunan Giri, one of the Nine Saints, who travelled to Sunda after the death of his wife. In Sumedang, he married a Sundanese noblewoman. It is from this linkage that the Babad Pamijahan derives Shaykh Abdul Muhyi’s genealogy. After the expanding Dutch administration reduced Mataram’s influence in Sunda relations between Sukapura and Sumedang became unstable. The colonial power used these two regencies to help them gain control of coffee and other agricultural commodities developed in the area. For instance, when Sukapura rejected the Dutch agricultural policy of forced cultivation known as tanam paksa, the Regent of Sukapura was replaced by an official from Sumedang. The Sumedangese then tried to impose their will in Sukapura’s territory by replacing certain officials. However, the Sumedangese in Sukapura were not successful in persuading the local people to plant coffee and other plantation crops as were required. The Dutch realised that the Sukapuranese did not have the support of the people of Sumedang. Ultimately the regency of Sukapura was allowed to return to its own lineage. With all of this in mind, it seems to me that Babad Pamijahan articulates the position of Sumedang rather than that of Sukapura. If the historical background has bearing on the authorship of the Babad Pamijahan, it is easy to assume that the chronicle is part of the aristocratic tradition, whether of the Bupati of Sukapura or of Sumedang. Our question is how the Pamijahanese or the Karangnese recognise this past. During my conversations with the elders, the custodians and other villagers, I grasped a different theme relating to their affiliation with aristocratic centres. The Pamijahanese tend to see their village and region as a centre in itself, rather than as part of Sukapura or Sumedang. Again, the priority of the ritualised space of Pamijahan is affirmed. As a consequence, they believe that all the important figures of Sukapura-Tasikmalaya and Sumedang are descendants of, or at least, have mystical relations with, Pamijahan. This assumption was revealed to me by the custodian when the Bupati of Tasikmalaya made a pilgrimage to the shrine of the Shaykh. Unlike other people in other areas, the Pamijahanese did not perform any special ceremonies to honour the Bupati. The custodians and villagers accepted him and his entourage in a modest manner, as they do for other pilgrims. The next morning I asked the custodian in his office about this phenomenon. “Why did you not perform a special ceremony for the Bupati?” He answered, “All the Bupatis of Tasikmalaya regard it as compulsory to make a visit to Kangjeng Shaykh because they know that their predecessors, the old regents of Tasikmalaya, always came here to remember the important relationship between Sukapura-Tasikmalaya and Pamijahan. Sukapura-Tasikmalaya has a strong bond (pakuat-pakait) with Pamijahan.” He went on, “One of Sukapura’s bupati was buried in the area of Shaykh Abdul Muhyi’s shrine. He was a follower of Kangjeng Shaykh.” The villagers share this story. Indeed, these areas have been filled by historical energy from various sources. Karang and Pamijahan have perpetuated the concept of kabuyutan, an ancestral heartland which radiates spiritual power. Sukapura, Sumedang, and Mataram in contrast are recognised only as political centres. Relations between the two realms have been dynamic, particularly when they deal with foreigners like the Dutch (de Haan 1910-12: 462,674-676). At times political centres such as Sukapura have wanted to occupy all of Karang and Pamijahan. However, they have never succeeded in regulating all the spaces. Even today the Pamijahanese maintain their perdikan status with independence from government taxes. (Ricklefs 1998) When the government wanted to promote tourism in the area by building a bus station in Pamijahan, they had to face the custodians and elders, who questioned the proposal. The elders wanted to show their symbolic authority to the government by insisting that they be consulted about any changes planned for the area. The government had to recognise them because all the lands were in the hands of Pamijahanese. The Pamijahanese, through a local foundation called the ‘Holy Place Foundation’ (Yayasan Kakaramatan), then leased the land to the government to used for the constgruction of the bus station.
N. Conclusion Our discussion so far indicates that the relation of various signs in the Babad Pamijahan expresses certain assumptions about the relation between East and West, as well as about genealogy. In other perspectives, these relations can be meaningful for the society if there is mediation, or an interpretant to bring the synchronic level into a temporal dimension. Between the past and the present, there is a reasoning process. People make every effort to connect the past and the present through certain narrative discourses. Narratives of the origins of Pamijahan are among the most authoritative in Pamijahan. Accordingly, the custodian has held versions of them for several decades. The guild of custodians (pakuncenan) not only serves pilgrims but also delivers these ‘true’ narratives to them. The Babad Pamijahan connects the Pamijahanese with the aristocratic tradition from both Sundanese and Javanese forebears. It not only provides the genealogical sources which connect the Wali with two important rulers in Java, the King of Pajajaran and Sunan Giri Laya, a powerful missionary in early conversion of Eastern Java to Islam (Fox 1991,32-3), but also furnishes the villagers with various schematic categories. (Levi-Strauss 1968-1977; Parmentier 1994) Among these is the shaping of perceptions of space and place, and it is to this I turn in the following chapter.