khmer sources

Magic Masters, Mendicants and the Military

Magical tattoos have protected Cambodian soldiers for millennia. Even today, Khmer tattoos are the most powerful in Asia. With modernisation however, the practice is beginning to slip into obscurity.

Despite Cambodia’s modernity, its culture is still pervaded by superstition. Religious traditions are both tolerant and adaptive. Of the many ways to ensure good fortune, the most powerful are sacred tattoos. These bring luck, prosperity, longevity or, most commonly, protection. For this reason, many in hazardous employ seek the reassurance of a traditional tattoo. Most are soldiers like the great king Jayarvarman VII, who was said to be magically protected "in such away that even knives and arrows hitting his body could not wound him."

Two elements make up a tattoo; a geometric pattern, yoan (yantra in Sanskrit) and Vedic chants, muon (mantras in Sanskrit). The practice, rooted in pre-history, has gradually integrated elements of Hinduism and Buddhism.

Both the tattoo design and the consecration ritual are complex and esoteric. The process is an initiation. The relationship between tattoo artist and person being tattooed is that of master (kroo or adjar) and disciple, a relationship that continues throughout both their lives. The symbols the master uses, copied from his masters, are always close at hand for reference, and are specifically chosen to fit the disciple’s personality. Despite strong belief that these formulae are from the Angkorean period, neither the muon (chants), nor the youn (geometric designs), have ever been

discovered in temples of this era. Most are very specific. One gives immunity from arrows (and bullets), another bestows invisibility should one’s weapon be lost. A further design, na, prevents the wearer being crushed by elephants. There is even a design that improves gamblers luck. It is also believed protective tattoos give the ability foresee misfortune. A common muon is associated with Hakhnuman (monkey god of strength and loyalty, also known as Hanuman). It makes Hakhnuman, the son of the winds, the disciple’s ally, enhancing his agility and strength. This muon is an example of religious assimilation, as the three syllable Hindu muon also represents the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha (the three aspects of Thervarda Buddhism).

Mao Saron, 49, is a heavily tattooed monk living in a pagoda on the outskirts of Phnom Penh. He has been tattooing since 1970 and said he has repeated the ritual countless times. Like many tattoo adjar, he was a soldier, only becoming a monk after the end of the war. Saron studied under an aged and revered monk who lived on Ko Len mountain, Siem Reap province. The time needed to learn the skill varies.

"If we study hard we will understand and remember the technique quickly, although without natural talent it will be very difficult," he said. "We must respect the teachings of our master and pray for him every full moon."

His room is quiet and subdued; the restrained atmosphere reflecting the ritual’s significance. Before beginning the tattoo, the master and disciple burn five incense sticks and pray together. The disciple then takes the meditation position; his right leg over his left, his right hand over his left. The disciple must repeat in his mind the muon which being tattooed on his body, distracting him from pain, as well as strengthening the charms.

With cotton thread and ink, the master marks out boundaries and raises his long needle above his shoulder, inscribing delicate letters on the disciple’s back. It is a smooth, effortless motion, almost too quick to see. The process stops only when the disciple changes position, or when the master must clean off the blood and sweat. The tattoo takes only 24 consecutive hours, but the process must be spread over several sessions, as the disciple’s skin, which becomes tense as the tattoo is inscribed, must be allowed to relax.

The black ink used becomes blue under the skin. In the past, it was mixed with the bile of snakes, frogs, bears and courageous enemies, as well as alcohol, used for sterilisation. Before, the tattooist’s needle was identical to the pen used to write ancient manuscripts, although now a hypodermic needle is used.

Once finished, the tattoo must be consecrated. The master and disciple light five candles and five incense sticks representing the five incarnations of the Buddha. The master places petals, incense, perfume and betel leaves inscribed with protective enchantments into a silver container with water. When the water is thrown over the disciple, he is reborn in much the same way as a Christian baptism washes away sin. In fact, this ritual is thought to be based on the ceremonial baths of ancient Angkorean kings.

In a further example of religious fusion, seven different Buddhist monks at seven different pagodas pour water over the disciple’s head while chanting the muon tattooed on his body. The same holy water is reconstituted with the addition of seven different flowers, one for each pagoda. The disciple wears only a small krama (scarf) so that after the water is poured over him, he is as wet and naked as a newborn baby.

The concept of spiritual mimesis is deeply ingrained in the Khmer mind. Physical actions influence the spiritual world and vice versa. Thus, Angkor Wat, by duplicating the plan of Indira’s stables, brings divine order to natural chaos, and protective tattoos, by mimicry of divine geometrical forms and holy words, grant magical powers.

The idea of continuity between past and present is also indispensable. Designs derive their legitimacy from ancient roots. During the consecration ceremony the master calls upon the ghosts of past adjar, constantly repeating the phrase ah-svah-ha, which helps him to become their re-incarnation. Adjar spirits, from the recently dead to the first ancient masters, possess his body. He becomes restless; his movements convulsive, his voice a piercing wail. He blesses the disciple, drawing protective symbols on the disciple’s head to enhance the protective spells. The newly tattooed disciple is now linked with the first practitioners, millennia ago.

"If a person wants a tattoo, he must be brave as it is very painful," said Saron. "I know some people don’t want them because they are scared. Others think that tattoos are for gangsters."

In fact, nothing could be farther from the truth. A master will only tattoo those he thinks worthy. As many adjar are monks, their religious beliefs play a large part in their choice.

"I am a monk so I only believe in good deeds and bad deeds,” Saron said. “Many people ask me for tattoos but sometimes I cannot do it because they are not honourable."

There are also several rules that must be followed, a further precaution against misuse. Those with traditional tattoos may not show pride or arrogance, steal from others, take more than one wife, eat dog meat, or walk under houses (traditionally Cambodian houses are built on stilts). If these rules are broken, the tattoo’s power is lost, becoming "like a drawing on paper." Sometimes disobeying the rules can even result in madness.

Khlou Sokhom, 46, has witnessed the protective power of tattoos firsthand. A soldier for 11 years, fighting in the dense forests of Banteay Meanchey province, he is convinced he owes his life to the swirling tattoos that cover his body, face, and limbs.

“When I was a soldier, I was powerful and killed many enemies," Sokhom said. "The other soldiers were jealous and hated me. One night, some of them tried to shoot me in the back, but none of their guns worked. Afterwards they told me that, if I didn’t have tattoos, I would be dead."

Initially a tattoo sceptic, only a shocking demonstration convinced Sokhom.

"I didn’t believe in tattoo magic," he said. "Before I started to study with my master, I got drunk and tried to shoot him. At first my gun wouldn’t work, but when it did, none of the bullets hit him. Afterwards I believed."

Surprisingly, Sokhom’s master, a revered monk and respected adjar, subsequently agreed to tattoo him. Sokhom honours and gives thanks to his now deceased master. He admits however, now he no longer has to fight, he does walk under houses. He said the reason this is forbidden is quite practical.

"I used to know a man whose Haknuman tattoos made him so strong, he could pick up an entire house," Sokhom explained. With such considerable strength, accidentally demolishing homes would be very easy.

Commonly, the meaning of the esoteric formulas used, are known only to the master. This is the case with Sokhom. He said that this type of tattoo is not just magically powerful, but also visually intimidating.

"I do not know the meaning of my tattoos but I do know they are part of an ancient tradition," he said. "Throughout history, people with tattoos like this were always powerful in war. Sometimes, when I leave my village, people see my tattooed skin and they are afraid of me."

Sokhom, despite his respect for tradition, is aware that Cambodia is changing. He is the only Buddhist in the family; his wife and children are now Christians. He sees the practice of tattooing changing with the new generation, who have never known war.

"Some boys get tattoos, but not to protect themselves," he said. "They only have a tiger or a dragon to make their bodies more beautiful. People’s ideas have changed. Most no longer believe in the power of tattoos, and those that do, are too afraid to get them because of the pain."

The changing ideas of the new generation also puzzle Mao Saron. "Before, armies had tattoos because they wanted to protect their lives from weapons," he said. "Today things are very different because the younger generation get them to enhance their beauty, not to gain power."

Is the ancient practice doomed to disappear and be replaced by empty aesthetics? Sokhom is ambivalent.

"If there is another war in the future, people will want these tattoos, and they will once more believe in their power," said Sokhom. “I understand why many people don’t believe in the magic, but when you see it in front of you, you believe."

# posted by FunMan @ 2:01 AM