Casa Luna, Ubud, Bali

The Ubud Writers & Readers Festival
Making a Difference
By Janet De Neefe

With only a few weeks to go, the warm rush of adrenalin is beginning to flow as the excitement of our fourth Ubud Writers & Readers Festival looms in the near distance. We overstepped our programme deadline by a week or two, due to ill-health and other bruises, but it should be on our doorstep soon. Somehow the completion of the programme marks the dividing line between backstage action and centre stage performance. We’re now on the homeward run and it feels good.

The Ubud Writers & Readers Festival is a little different to other global literary events. It was born after the first Bali bombing, giving it a strong sense of purpose that sets it apart from the rest. I can think of no other festival that began from such tragedy. My reaction to the bombings was to find a meaningful way to assist the Balinese community. With my memoir-cookbook, Fragrant Rice, soon to be published, I therefore decided it was time to enter literary show business by creating an international writers festival in Ubud that would address world issues, using the power of the written word. My aim was also to boost the Balinese economy and spotlight Indonesian writers and literature. So, in 2004, the Ubud Writers & Readers Festival was launched.

Ubud is all about “community”. It’s that ‘united we stand’ feeling in a village that runs on co-operation and care for your family, friends and neighbours. Creating history by setting up a world-class international event in this artist’s hillside retreat gives me a great buzz. Ten years down the road, my children will be proud of me (because they sure aren’t proud of me now!). And who would have ever imagined that the Festival would become so successful in such a short time. Amidst the chaos of running the inaugural event, the energy was explosive. It took me a month to recover. By the closing night, Indonesian writers and publishers were jumping up and down for joy. And so were the international participants and the audience. We made many mistakes but nobody cared; the feeling of solidarity and goodwill for a struggling community over-rode any negative feelings. Lifelong friendships developed between writers, readers and, in particular, between Australians and Indonesians. We were fondly embraced by other Festivals in the region, such as, the Byron Bay and Hong Kong Writers Festivals, and still continue to receive immense support from them and others.

Our first Festival ran for six days which was so exhausting. The following year, we decided to cut it back to four days. For our 2008 Festival, we are also thinking of reducing the number of international writers as it is always a challenge squeezing them into only 40 sessions. At a time when writers Festivals around the world pride themselves on inviting ‘more writers than ever’, I find it very exciting to be inviting less. For it is the intimacy of our event that makes it so special. Where else can you rub shoulders with world-class writers in such a cosy, romantic setting? As one guest commented last year, to have the opportunity to be in the audience watching a panel of acclaimed writers while sitting next to Anita Desai was more than she could ever imagine!

Another highly successful part of the Festival is the educational programme that runs is ages three to eighteen, for six days. My own children love the variety and stimulation of these sessions and topics range from story-telling to hip-hop poetry making books, kites and shadow puppets. More than eighty children pile into these bi-lingual workshops and due to popularity, we hope to extend these programmes into the main school holidays next year.

The Ubud Writers & Readrs Festival is a bi-lingual Festival and the presence of so many Indonesian writers means we need translators on board for quite a few panel sessions. This can interfere with the flow of discussion but it is more important that the voices of these writers be heard. I remember a volatile session where the translated writer became embarassinlgy angry with the translator, telling him not to interupt, but this was a rare case (and a rare writer!). Some sessions are also held only in Indonesian for a local audience. This year we are taking the Festival to the universities in Denpasar by running debates between international and Indonesian writers and we eagerly await the impact of this move. Out of our eighty writers appearing at the Festival, around one third are Indonesian and we are constantly trying to source hidden talent from all corners of the archipelago.

I like to view the Festival as one big dinner party; a moveable feast. So my prioirty has always been to attend to the comfort of the writers and readers. Our venues are elegant and often spectacular and the food is an integral part of the experience. Literary lunches and food discussions are featured and some sessions even include exotic snacks or chilled wines. In one magical session, called A Passage from India, Indian writers, Amitav Ghosh and Randhir Khare discussed their work to the sound of the sitar while we served warm samosas. What makes this possible is the generosity of sponsors who see the value of supporting the community. We are also lucky that Ubud’s hotels offer complimentary accommodation for the appearing writers and often cover the costs of small cocktail parties and other celebrations. One clothing company on the island even offered Amitav Ghosh some stylish clothing to grace his wardrobe, while spas in town offer free massages with petal baths and yoghurt wraps. Travel companies offer day trips and restaurants offer meals. Rich and famous Ubud residents throw open their carved teak doors to entertain our biggest names. Generosity makes it all happen.

Our main venue, Indus, is a spacious restaurant with a dramatic view of the ricefields. Our second venue, the Left Bank Lounge, is an empty bank next door to Indus. Each year, we transform this cold forgotten space into a groovy lounge-like setting featuring local furniture and soft furnishings. The Left Bank Lounge gives the reader a rare opportunity to get up close and personal with their favourite author and these intimate conversations are often the most popular. With increasing numbers, we will probably have to look for other venues next year and this could be a challenge in a town where spaces tend to be small, multi-levelled and multi-pillared. Workshops and night-time events are held in cafes, bars and small hotels all over town in order to provide local businesses a share of the limelight. It’s a sure way of guaranteeing that Ubud comes to life and during the days of the Festival the streets are buzzing.

Most of our set tasks have been completed and our priority is to finalise sponsorships and promotional material. Getting some of our sponsors to sign on the dotted line can be exhausting. I have been to Jakarta so many times pleading for cash and am relieved I wont need to go back there for a while, at least. The next job will be to slot our 100 guests into Ubud’s hotels and hope they are happy with our choice. These spreadsheets are constantly being changed, as you can imagine. One of our main concerns is that there has been a huge embargo on wine in Indonesia, yet again, and we are wondering how it will affect our ‘wine-tasting with poetry’ evening. This was a hugely successful event last year and this year we have a different venue and theme. This alcohol problem crops up every now and then here but somehow wine, in fact anything can always be purchased. So my gut feeling is to keep it in the program because, in Indonesia, there is always a way to make things happen, whether it be through the right channels or through the back door. That is the beauty of this intriguing country! Anything is possible and the price is not always prohibitive. So stay tuned and let’s see if my word is true! And here’s hoping we don’t have a dry Festival.

My Life in Bali

Over the past twenty years, my life on the fabled island of Bali has been a joy and I can think of no better place to live than in Ubud. Of course, it has not been without its difficulties and sadness, but when there are no hard times, how can one appreciate the good? Waking up every day in a sun-drenched, garden paradise, amongst people who David Attenborough described as the ‘friendliest on earth’, is truly hard to beat.

How could I have ever imagined I would be leading a life embedded in one of the world’s richest cultures, living in a community that values family, neighbours, ritual and a God who protects them, above all else. Beyond these blessings, have been the births of our four beautiful children, who have been my eternal teachers, even saviours, in a culture that continues to fascinate me. Of course, I have also made many innocent faux-pas. Embracing new customs has sometimes brought with it a touch of apprehension, rather like dipping your toes into an icy pond, but, as my uncle used to say, ‘he who doesn’t make mistakes, doesn’t make anything!

Each of our children have delivered their own brand of wisdom and I cherish this culture that sees every living soul as a part of an eternal family, in honour of ancestors who have made valuable imprints on our precious earth. My children are my cultural advisors who guide me, not always kindly, on all things Balinese. In fact, they guide me on all things; temple fashion, praying, eating, driving and shopping. Needless to say, I am often the brunt of their jokes and their displeasure. My son roared with laughter the other day when he saw me imitating him praying the Gayatri, the Hindu mantra, in the temple. ‘Do you know what am I saying ‘ he asked curiously, ‘No idea!’ I said, embarrassed at his observation. He thought that was hilarious. And then my daughter reprimanded me for tying my sarong incorrectly. She refused to pray with me that night, so I learnt my lesson. Praying in Bali is as much about preparing yourself in the appropriate manner as it is about the words you whisper to God.

It is not just the culture that has kindled my love for Bali. It is also the food. Indonesian food is surely one of the most misrepresented cuisines in South-East Asia, and Balinese food is just a part of this unknown entity. Imagine my first impressions of this fiery fare in the early 70’s when the rest of Australia was still living comfortably on lamb chops and mashed potato. Eating gado-gado, warm salad with fresh peanut sauce and grilled frog’s legs was about the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me! It turned my culinary world upside down and still continues to thrill me. I have been accused of acting like a teenager over the discovery of a new dish but without that dash of passion, I would not have ended up living in Bali. I remember the thrill of breakfast in those days, being greeted with a bowl of glorious tropical fruits, topped with a tiny cheek of iridescent lime and the excitement continued with every meal. Satays, a national Indonesian treasure that now graces every Aussie barbeque, was then an amazing encounter – who’d ever thought of eating grilled meat on a stick and serving it with fresh chilli or the ubiquitous peanut sauce!

Nowadays my attention has been drawn to the diverse flavours of the archipelago and has lead my insatiable rice-eating thirst on a culinary journey to unravel cooking secrets from Sumatran beef curry to Manado fish soup, Javanese white chicken curry or Sundanese sambals. I am lucky enough to have sister-in-laws from various parts of Indonesia, so family gatherings are usually a time to share recipes and compare cooking techniques. And that’s where the fun begins. Can you imagine the uproar when discussing how to make the best sambal with mothers who believe they are Indonesia’s finest chefs!

My children share the same curiousity in cooking and have discerning palettes that will carry them happily, albeit critically, through life’s greatest pleasure, well, one of them anyway. In fact, we love cooking together. It becomes like the preparation of a Balinese ceremony where we all have our duties and work together side-by-side. I have managed to curb my fear when Arjuna, our eight-year old son, wields a sharp knife enthusiastically, getting involved in the action of shopping garlic and shallots in a frenzy. The cooking becomes a mini cooking class, with discussions of ingredients, such as the aroma of ginger versus galangal or the impact of a dash of palm sugar syrup on the overall flavour of a dish. Its standing room only over the wok or pot of simmering curries as each child vies for front row. And then the taste test begins. “OK , what do you think is missing?” I ask smugly, like an Army Major addressing his battalion. I feel very proud that my children have embraced my passion for this wonderful cuisine and the flavours of food around the world, because when you open your taste buds to one cuisine, it becomes a blue print for understanding the subtleties of others. I am happy to have accomplished at least that much in our children’s formative years. When we hit the shores of Australia and eat the hottest curries and spiciest sambals amongst friends, I gloat like a Cheshire-cat at my children and their appreciation of life’s gastronomic banquet. And I thank Bali for having provided me with this marvelous canvas that has helped me create a master-piece, a still-life from the Spice Islands.

Janet DeNeefe
Garuda In-Flight magazine, June edition 2007