Rice is the main food in Bali as it is in other southeast Asian countries and the word for rice,
nasi, is the same as the word for meal. It is eaten with small amounts of meat and vegetables. Twenty percent of Bali’s arable land is covered with rice fields including some truly beautiful fields built on terraces along the mountains and in ravines.
Dewi Sri is the goddess of rice and is the most worshipped of the many dieties in Bali. Shrines made of bamboo or stone can be seen in every rice field. She is the mother of life and holds the power of the underworld and the moon.
From everyday rituals—such as putting pinches of rice along the edges of fields to keep evil spirits and animals at bay—to grand temple celebrations with elaborate offerings of dyed rice paste, the Balinese fervently honor their rice mother. Without Dewi Sri, they believe they would be lifeless and empty. Men, women and children absorb her life force into their bodies by moistening their foreheads, temples, and chests with holy water and sticking kernels of uncooked rice to their skin.
Here's one story of Dewi Sri's origin.
Anta, a deformed junior god was depressed by his failure to find any gift for Batara Guru's new temple. He wept three tears, which turned into eggs. An eagle swept down and forced him to break the eggs. He smashed two of them but the third then hatched and released a beautiful baby girl. She was given to Batara Guru's wife, Uma, to be breast-fed and was named Samyam Sri. Sri grew up to be very beautiful and Batara Guru lusted after her. This was forbidden, as she was technically his daughter.
He tried several times to rape her. This angered the other gods so much that, to rescue her, they killed her and buried her body. Plants grew from various parts of it. Sticky rice grew from her breasts and ordinary rice from her eyes. In remorse Batara Guru gave these to man as food. Sri became a goddess called Dewi Sri and became the spirit of fertility, protectress of the rice fields and guardian of rice barns.
In two of the places I stayed in Ubud we were in the rice fields. In one case, literally. We stayed in a villa that you actually had to walk for about 10 minutes from the parking area to the house, along pathways between the fields. This is the view from an upstairs balcony, where I used to watch the action in the fields. The farmers, both men and women, worked all day long bent over the fields, either planting, tilling the soil, repairing the mounds of mud surrounding the fields, clearing the irrigation ditches or weeding. All day long under the heat of the sun. Back breaking toil.
I don’t eat a lot of rice but it occurred to me that when I do, I had better not leave any grains on my plate. These people work far too hard and to waste rice somehow feels wrong. Well, it seems I don’t have an original thought in my head. All through Asia, similar admonitions are made to the kids. In Malaysia, my friend tells me, children are told that each grain of rice is a drop of farmer’s sweat. The Japanese tell their children not to waste a grain of rice as it is disrespectful of the farmer. As a matter of fact, in Japan, to goad children to eat all their rice, grains are called "little Buddhas," and girls are told every grain they leave on the plate will become a pock mark on the face of their future husband.
OK I'm convinced.
Dewi Sri image is from Indonesian graphic artist Rafi Adrian Z.
My Uncle Jerome was a great traveller. A couple of times a year he'd take off on some adventure and the nice part about it for us was the way he'd share his travels. Often when he returned he'd invite the family over to his wonderful house where he'd prepare dinner with a menu based on the food of whatever country he'd been to and would show his slides.
