John Stanmeyer/Saba for TIME. PILGRIMS' PROGRESS: Devotees must make an offering must be made before having sex.

For the Love of God
At a prince's tomb in Central Java, thousands gather to pray—and to make love
By ZAMIRA LOEBIS Kemukus Mountain

There are two ways to reach kemukus Mountain. Some people drive to the hill in Central Java, 28 km northeast of Solo, park their cars, buy a 10 ticket from a uniformed guard at the gate, and then climb up a set of stairs—past vendors selling soft drinks, jewelry and herbal medicines—to the tomb of a revered Muslim prince. There they pay their respects, and some adjourn to a room beside the tomb to pray further.

Most people, though, come by boat across an artificial lake created by the Kedungombo dam. They climb up a different set of stairs, past small concrete blockhouses that have been divided into spartan rooms, some separated by a sheet. At an outdoor well they pour water over themselves, then wait in line with flowers and incense to kneel before a fire and be blessed by the local dukun, or shaman. They walk further up the hill—past more blockhouses, wandering dangdut bands, masseurs, gambling tables, a snake charmer and hundreds, perhaps thousands, of other people. They too pay their respects at the tomb of Prince Samodra. Then, after midnight on the Friday pon, which falls every 35 days according to the Javanese calendar, they retire to those tiny, harsh rooms in those grim blockhouses—and they all have sex.

The ritual has its roots in the 15th century, although devotees have been trekking up Kemukus in the current fashion only since the late 1800s. Most believe that Samodra, a Majapahit prince who converted to Islam, died on the hillside and was later joined there by the soul of his heartbroken mother, with whom he had had an affair. Believers come to the tomb seeking answers to their prayers—for wealth, work, a partner, a child, a good harvest. They come mostly on the Friday pon, though some also arrive on another auspicious day known as the Friday kliwon, and according to tradition, they must have sex with a stranger each time for seven pons in a row before their wishes will be fulfilled. (The story varies, naturally: some say the couplings should be with one's spouse, others that they should be with a different person each time.)

P H O T O  E S S A Y The Madurese While their distinctive culture includes colorful marriage, their riches are from harvesting scrap metal Home Introduction Photo  Essays To Our  Readers

Indonesians have much to wish for these days, and the numbers of disciples visiting Kemukus has grown exponentially. On last month's Friday pon 10,000 people made their way to the hill. Not all of them were believers; there were many more men than women, and in many of the cheap hostels women work as prostitutes. But thousands performed the ritual sincerely. Sopiah, a 42-year-old mother of two, came for her ninth time and insisted that her clothing business had improved after the first seven visits. ("It was awful before that," she says.) Kusmanto had been coming since the 1960s, when couples made love under the trees; the hostels were added only in the 1980s. "I've got what I wanted," he says, which was a wife (whom he did not meet on Kemukus). Sunaryo drove all the way from Tegal, 200 km to the west, to ask that a truck stolen from his rental company be returned.

Many travel even longer distances: at least half of the pilgrims now come from West Java. But the ritual owes much to the more tolerant Islam of Central Java, where most Muslims continue to mix their religion with older Javanese folk beliefs. The tomb's dukun condemns sex with strangers and says the devotees have misinterpreted Prince Samodra's words, "Those who have a wish may have it come true if they strive for it like one reaching out to his beloved." But others have no trouble believing in two kinds of faith. "I am a Muslim," 37-year-old Yuyu insists, sitting under a vast banyan tree where couples still occasionally have sex. "In Islam there are two ways—the black and the white. You must follow the white," He spreads one hand out, then grins and spreads the other. "But sometimes the black is O.K."

Write to TIME at mail@web.timeasia.com

From Sapporo to Surabaya Home | TIME Asia Features Home
TIME Asia home