Galungan and Pig Killing Day

Galungan is the great Balinese religious ceremony that happens once a Balinese year, every 210 days. It is the most fantastic of Balinese festivals with all the temples dressed out in their finest. All Balinese Hindus (90% of the population) go to temple not once, but several times, depending on how many temples are in their village. There are processions all over the island and they are a sight to see. Often, the Barong, the lion like creature that is housed in the temple, is brought out and taken around town and into the rice fields. All Balinese take part in this great festival.

The day before Galungan is the day pigs fear just like turkeys fear Thanksgivings. It is the day that the Balinese show that the human in us defeats the beast in us. So they take it out on the poor pig. In almost every Balinese home, which is actually a compound consisting of several little houses, a kitchen, a temple and a pigsty, the men get together early in the morning and slaughter a pig. Our friend Jerry and I were invited to Jerry's wife's (Ketut) family compound to witness this most Balinese custom.

We thought the pig was going to be slaughtered around 5am, so we got up before 4 and drove over to Ketut's village. When we walked down the alley to her compound, all was dark and quiet. However, we woke up the dogs. All the dogs. They started barking very loudly. We got into Ketut's compound and there wasn't a soul. Finally, we saw Ketut's bleary-eyed uncle come out of his bedroom to inform us that the killing would be at 6am. Great. So we went back to Jerry and Ketut's house and had some well needed coffee.

When we got back to the compound, the men (about 8 of them) were in the back, next to the pigsty. The porker was already locked in this bamboo basket, only slightly larger then him. Then one of the men tied the poor pig's feet to the bamboo basket. I couldn't quite figure out whey they were doing this, but it was soon to be obvious. Two of the men then pushed a large wooden pole through the top of the basket (the pig was lying on the ground, belly side down) and then lifted itup on a ledge, so the pig's head was over the edge. Someone brought a large metal bowl and a long, very sharp knife. By this time, the poor porker was getting very nervous; breathing very hard and giving out little pig squeals. I looked over at Jerry and just kind of shrugged. This is a REAL local experience, I thought, not on any tourist itinerary for sure!

The man who was do the deed then took the knife and someone pointed where exactly it should be pushed into his neck. Several men held the pig (still in the basket) down the the executioner then made a sharp jab right at his juggular. Right away, quite a bit of blood was coming out and dripping into the bowl. The pig was squealing and breathing hard and my heart was racing as I was watching this poor animal take the 'Happy Dispatch', as the say.

It took about 5 minutes for the pig to actually die and there was a lot of blood. They actually use the blood to make 'lawar', a type of blood sausage that is to be eaten on this auspicious day.

Jerry and I left soon afterwards, but got to witness what they do next. One of the men squirts the carcass all over with some kind of lighter fluid and they light the thing on fire! This gets rid of all the hair on the pig. But by this time both Jerry and I had had enough and went home to a lovely pancake breakfast that Ketut made us. But we didn't have any bacon and in fact I haven't had pork since.

The next day was Galungan and Amy, me , Jerry, Ketut, their two boys, Wayan and Made, and a boy they brought to Bali with them, Cole, went to the three temples in Ketut's village for the ceremony. It's wonderful to be in these beautiful temples, with hundreds of Balinese all dressed in their finest temple clothes. You have to wear temple clothes, which for men is a headress, called an udong, two sarongs, tied just so; and a sash. You also should wear a white shirt that buttons up the front. Women wear a 'kebaya', a very elegant blouse; a nice sarong and a sash. With this, anyone can come into the temple to pray. We were the only people in any of the temples who weren't Balinese (except Ketut and her two kids) and it's great to be in that environment. When we got back Ketut's family compound, her mother served us a lovely lunch of chicken and some kind of pork satay. I didn't have to wonder wear the satay came from.