Tasting The Princess' Hair

Travel Story by Chriswan Sungkono

Lombok, Indonesia

Princess Mandalika was distressed, her heart heavy and weary. At the arena, all the princes that came to woo her had shown their ability in archery so brilliantly. And as Mandalika's father, King Kuripan had stated before: whoever shoots perfectly would win her daughter's famed beauty. But since nobody would give up, they began to kill each other. Never had Princess Mandalika thought that her beauty would eventually become the cause of the massacre in her father's court.

Wrapped within her misery, Mandalika made an awful decision. Instead of watching her people and the princess fight because of her, she chose to sacrifice so that they might live on. From atop a promontory, she threw herself into the embrace of the waves, thus ending her life. In the end, knowing that their princess in dispute had perished, everybody stopped fighting and came home bearing shattered hearts.

Yet Princess Mandalika never really left the people of Kuripan, who were so dear to her. Once a year, at the beach where she jumped, the princess returns to meet them. The strands of the princess' hair morph into small, colorful worms that dance vibrantly with the moonlit foams that break on shore. The princess' noble dream now materializes: her beauty can now be relished by all.

Such is the legend behind the annual festival of the Sasak People in Lombok, famously known as Bau Nyale, or "catching the nyale". Those worms, which the myth says to be the embodiment of the princess' hair, are what they call the nyale worms.

The presence of nyale worms is indeed unique, if not somehow linked with mysticism. These long, thin worms appear only once a year along Kuta and Seger, two neighboring beaches (both very scenic and pristine) in southern Lombok. During the end of the rainy season, they always appear for two to three nights, just before dawn breaks. The exact date of their appearance, however, nobody is said to know. Even those mastering the art of predicting nyale's arrival can only guess, and their prediction can miss by a day, or as far as a whole week. Yet the people of Lombok will never want to lose this short chance to meet the princess they have long missed. And it is easy to do: just come to the beach, find the worms, and bring them home.

Thus happened the most colossal rendezvous of man and worms, the greatest that I've ever observed. Tens, maybe even hundreds, of thousands of people throughout every village in Lombok came that night to Seger Beach to meet billions of worms that ride with the surf as they come to the beaches to lay eggs. As if marching to battle, these men walked towards the land's end wielding two kinds of weapons: flashlights and fishing nets. As they marched, they were shouting, singing, and reciting the mantra that is said to attract the worms. Others were busily shining their flashlights at the water with hope of actually finding the worms. All these things took place in the thick veil of the hours of darkness.

Since the previous evening, the areas near Seger Beach had been flooded by people. A stage was built on one of the nearby hills. At dusk, the traditional war dance of Presean, native to the Sasak Tribe, was performed. Two men fought vociferously with long bamboo sticks and shields made of ox skin. Meanwhile, at the corners, two other men endlessly recited mantras, channeling their magical powers to each of the men that were actually fighting. The war dance ended with a deafening applause from the audience, and shortly afterwards, was followed by a play about the legend of Princess Mandalika–the one that is really behind all this Bau Nyale festival.

That night, along the roads from Kuta to Seger, trucks with people continuously came and went. Those coming by motorbikes were just as many, if not more. All those vehicles stopped at one point, and every man, woman and child came down to join the great stream of people that was already en route to the beach. And at the beach, already tens of thousands were in the wait; many had even fallen asleep right on the bed of sand while waiting for the arrival of the nyale worms.

And in the following morning, Pak Man, one of the caretakers of the hotel in which we stayed, knocked on our door and brought us a plate of nyale worms– cooked, of course. The day before we had talked a lot about nyale foods, and he had promised me to let me taste his cooking. Too bad, my two friends didn't taste it. While I, with bright, glittering eyes, went straight to the restaurant and asked for a plate of steaming rice, to eat together with the princess' hair.

The protein-rich nyale worms, scientifically named Eunice sp. of the genus Polychaeta, were made into two distinct dishes by Pak Man. One was steamed nyale, and the other was fried nyale. I tried the fried nyale first. It tasted much like ikan teri, spicy and briny, and the texture is similar to beef floss. Without further doubt, soon I found myself munching bit by bit of it along with the steaming rice. After that, I tasted the other: the steamed one. It turned out to be not as good as the former. It gave a sense of rawness both in its taste and color. And as I was trying to finish it (I failed), one of the waiters stared at me with a feeling of disgust stamped on his face. "Although I am from Lombok, I never dare to eat those worms, they seem so gross," he said. I just smiled and kept going.

But truthfully for me, the taste of the nyale worms preceded the sight. Yes, one day before, I had tasted the worms in one of the traditional Sasak villages while we were en route to Kuta. These worms were cooked with coconut milk and chili, among other things, thus concealing the original taste. However this one still tasted better than the steamed worms. Later on I realized, it was a shame I only tried it a little, for the family in whose house I tasted nyale for the first time had happily offered me rice, but I refused.

As dawn slowly broke, little by little these "nyale hunters" who had been plundering the beaches finally ceased their activity. Some walked sluggishly, their heads drooping, because for them, that night's catch is not as great as the previous night's. Some others did the opposite: they shouted in joy as they proudly showed their catch to everybody. The place where water meets land that was so filled with humans before, now slowly became empty. What was left were only footprints, and dumps that nobody seemed to care about. And one sure thing is this: next year, this weird date between man and worm will happen again.

Read more about the author of this story:
Chriswan Sungkono