Harpa Mulut Nusantara [Mouth Harps of Indonesia]: Kuriding
Ever since I moved to Bandung and fell into the booming karinding scene, I’ve had a special place in my heart for Indonesian mouth harps. Since then, I’ve made a special effort to track down local variations of mouth harp culture across the archipelago, often sharing the results with Asosiasi Harpa Mulut Indonesia, the Indonesian Mouth Harp Association, on Facebook. Only rarely have I shared the results here in Aural Archipelago, until now.
And so I ‘ve inaugurated a new tradition: Mouth Harp Monday. Every other Monday (interspersed, I hope, with other posts in between), I will share a new regional mouth harp tradition. Because organologically and often culturally these instruments and their traditions share a huge amount of similarities, these will be special mini-posts, with the intention that I don’t have to repeat myself with more comprehensive coverage. Enjoy!
Location: Banjarmasin, South Kalimantan
Sound: Kuriding
About the Instrument:
The kuriding is a mouth harp of the string-pulled variety played by a number of ethnic groups in South Kalimantan, a province in the southeastern corner of Indonesian Borneo. Traditionally, the instruments are made of either pelepah enau (a woody material taken from the midrib of a frond of the arenga palm, arenga pinnata) or from the wood of the kempas tree (koompassia malaccensis), both of which are easily found in the mountainous areas around the upstream Barito River where kuriding is most often played. As kuriding maker Pak Mukhlis explained to me, kuriding artisans in his village took a very ritualistic approach to the making of the instrument: a skilled kuriding maker, upon taking one look at an arenga palm, would immediately spot a section of the frond most suited for sound - the dry, browned bit near the top of a frond. The kuriding maker would take just enough from the frond to make a few kuriding, then consult with the person who requested it: “What is your purpose with this kuriding?” Upon receiving an answer (Pak Mukhlis told me he’d responded with, “I just want a kuriding with an extraordinary sound!”), the maker would fast for a length of time (a ritual common to artisans making sacred instruments across Indonesia) before finally making the instrument.
The kuriding is generally secured to the player’s left hand with a loop of fiber (traditionally serat nanas, from the pineapple plant) and sounded by pulling on a string on the other end, again traditionally pineapple fiber with a little wooden grip attached. The vibrating tongue in the middle is longer than other mouth harps I’ve seen, but this is a hallmark of one of the kuriding’s sole makers (Pak Mukhlis). The tongue is measured with the lengths of the finger, with two lengths of the tongue (lidah) to one part “vibrating stem” (tangkai getar), the ultra-narrow section of the tongue. Just as with the rinding Lumajang I shared a few weeks back, kuriding makers and players often add a dab of sticky substance to the tongue - here it is kalulut, a kind of wax made from a native kind of stingless bee, often found on the side of trees. Pak Mukhlis explained that in his understanding, the kalulut is added not for weight but as a “balance” (imbangan) so that the swinging of the tongue is even in both directions, both towards the mouth and outwards. With Pak Mukhlis’ kuriding, which have become the standard, the kalulut is replaced by a tab of glued-on bamboo.
Tradition and Technique
The mouth harp called kuriding or guriding is actually played by a handful of groups living in the ethnically diverse upstream region of the Barito river in South Kalimantan, from the Muslim Bakumpai Dayaks to the Meratus Dayaks of the Meratus Mountains and the Banjar people, a sub-group of Malays who largely dominate the region’s urban centers. Because of this spread, in modern times the instrument is rarely claimed as being tied to one specific ethnic group, as is rinding with the Javanese and karinding with the Sundanese - instead it is marketed, so as to avoid potential drama, as a “South Kalimantan traditional instrument.”
Despite the ethnic diversity, there seems to be a consistency in the mythology and use of the kuriding across the area. As we’ve seen in other regions, the kuriding was traditionally played informally to wind down after a long day in the fields, or while hanging with friends. When played in a group, Bakumpai Dayaks and Banjar people would play in interlocking parts with rhythmic roles inspired by the local gamalan music and Malay percussion - the Bakumpai explain these rolls as maningkah (response), mamacah (“breaker”?), and mangiring (accompaniment.) Some would use phrases from gamalan such as “Ayak-Ayakan” (a short opening piece), while others would throw in rhythmic couplets or pantun. However, it was (and is) just as common to play spontaneously without a particular song or rhythm in mind.
In local mythology, the kuriding is often said to be a handy way to scare off tigers, and indeed was often played to scare off pests of all kinds from the fields or larger animals from the villages. The specific belief about tigers manifests in a common folk story about the kuriding that I heard all across the province: a mother tiger (induk macan) gave a kuriding to her child, inviting the younger tiger to play. Upon putting the kuriding to its mouth, however, the tongue of the kuriding broke off and lodged in the throat of the tiger, killing it instantly. The result is that tigers are thought to be absolutely terrified of kuriding, and will run at the sound of one - some sources even say that it was once common to place a kuriding on a nightstand while a child was sleeping so as to ward off tigers. It should be explained, too, that in these parts, “tigers” are not always what they seem - tigers are often thought to be shapeshifting humans or spirits, so kuriding’s power to scare them off is seen as a way of controlling and warding off malevolent spirits.
Kalulut beeswax on a tree at the Taman Budaya.
While kuriding might still be played in the classic informal context in rural parts of South Kalimantan, this older tradition has largely died out, and ten years ago there were said to be only a handful of kuriding makers and players left in the whole province. The instrument, however, has seen a renaissance in the past decade with the help of Pak Mukhlis, who I’ll profile a bit in the next section. In the 80’s, Pak Mukhlis had often played kuriding made by his uncle, and had even intended to revive the artform (he was working in the local government at the time), but was met with little interest. In 2012, a friend showed him a Balinese genggong, and Mukhlis was inspired - remembering his old kuriding, he vowed to revive the tradition in South Kalimantan. Within his artist circles in the capital of Banjarmasin, he was again met with little interest, but instead was spurred on by the bamboo revolution in West Java, which saw a massive boom of interest in karinding mouth harps across cities like Bandung and the formation of amateur mouth harp societies like the Asosiasi Harpa Mulut Indonesia, or the Indonesian Mouth Harp Society.
By hitching onto the wider mouth harp boom happening in Java, Pak Mukhlis was able to grab a certain amount of attention from local media for the kuriding, and soon he was helping foster a new performance-oriented tradition that combined an ensemble of kuriding with other traditional instruments from the area and new compositions. Soon playing festivals across the country, Pak Mukhlis almost single-handedly revived the kuriding for a new generation, and dozens if not hundreds of young folks in the area and now playing this almost-lost instrument.
The People
For folks in the South Kalimantan arts scene and for Indonesian mouth harp aficionados, kuriding is synonymous with Mukhlis Maman, better known by his “stage name” Julak Larau. Often called simply Julak or “uncle” by his friends, Pak Mukhlis has earned a reputation as the “maestro” of kuriding, but luckily he hasn’t let it get to his head - he’s a kind, down-to-earth guy, a bespectacled civil servant cum artist who takes great pride in helping introduce this small but important tradition to a wider audience.
Pak Mukhlis’ power to get kuriding onto regional and national stages likely stems from his role as an employee of the Taman Budaya Kalimantan Selatan, or the South Kalimantan Arts Park - such taman budaya are a staple of regional governments across Indonesia, functioning as a kind of locus for government funding for the arts - music, theater, and dance performances are often practiced and performed there, and local musicians make the place their go-to hang out spot. A mainstay of the taman budaya, it’s no wonder that Pak Muhklis was able to introduce the kuriding to this fertile environment and help the instrument thrive once more.
Importantly, Pak Mukhlis has a history with kuriding, playing the instrument as a child in the eighties when it was an all but extinct tradition - he learned from his uncle not only how to play but how to make the instrument. Armed with this knowledge, Pak Mukhlis is now more or less the only maker of kuriding in the region, and they’re really fine instruments - he is fond of telling people proudly of how his kuriding have even “gone international,” being ordered in large quantities by other mouth harp lovers in Europe and of course by yours truly.