Wild Asia - Natural Born Storyteller: The Last Awang Batil of Perlis

The sole custodian of ancient tales, Romli Mahmud is the last in line of the traditional Awang Batil storytellers of Perlis. To bring it back from the brink, he now embarks on a journey to restore the tradition to a generation of local children. SU MEI TOH travels to Perlis to tell his story.

"And you shall be king!" extols storyteller Romli Mahmud at the end of the tale about Awang Akar Larak, a poor farmer worn out by life's miseries who was saved from suicide by a magical bomoh (a spiritual healer in Malay culture) to become the most powerful man in the realm. Romli had just performed his favourite tale.

Sitting cross-legged, Romli kept rhythm as he drummed the batil, a brass bowl balanced on his legs, throughout the hour-long Awang Batil performance. In essence, it was a tale of Awang's initial denial and the ultimate acceptance of his fate. Filled with twists and turns as befits a good yarn, I wonder if Romli ever saw his own destiny juxtaposed in these old stories.

Romli's normally slight figure cut a striking presence on the large stage. Clearly a master of his craft, the effortless performance was a far cry from the ill at ease figure that earlier came on stage to receive his tribute from DiGi Telecommunications as an "Amazing Malaysian." Ironically lost for words, Romli seemed out of place in the pomp and ceremony of Taman Budaya, the large state-funded cultural centre in Kangar, Perlis.

In person, Romli comes across an unassuming, gentle soul - gracious, and quietly garrulous. He'll break into story given a fraction of a chance. Asked the difference between a storyteller and an Awang Batil and he starts, without any forewarning, "There was once an unmarried young woman who quenched her thirst from a waterhole in the forest..." Lost for a moment, I then realised we were bring treated to the legend of the birth of Awang Batil. I was hooked. Here is a natural born storyteller.

There is a strong oral storytelling tradition in Malaysia's past, and Awang Batil is a form that is only found in Perlis, the country's most northern state. Romli is the last performer left to tell the tale. He performs his repertoire of 20 stories, learnt from his late father and elders, in the "pure" form as he was taught. Most feature "Awang," who is the first of the Awang Batil storytellers, and the illegitimate son of the thirsty young woman in the legend. An inseparable part of a performance, the batil's tuneful rhythm shapes the hypnotic background against which the tale is told.

Lulled by the ringing of the batil and Romli's sing-song modulations, I longed for his storytelling to go on and on, adjusting my ear to his broad northern loghat, or Malay dialect. When Romli was a child, storytelling was de rigueur in Perlis and stories would go on for many hours and most nights. Villagers gathered around the Awang Batil's makeshift hut during a celebration, or a group of storytellers would visit the homes of family and friends to exchange tales. Romli learnt his craft from these visits: "I used to sit amongst the elders in the evenings listening to their stories that would continue night after night."

Romli grew up immersed in the tradition. His father and grandfather had been master storytellers in their own rights. He got so adept with storytelling that "I started trading stories for serunai (a traditional Malay reed wind instrument) lessons from the best musicians in the village!" he recounts with a twinkle in his eye. He turned out to be a gifted musician as well, excelling not only in the serunai, but also the violin and the rebana (a type of drum). And he also makes his own instruments, evidence of his innate interest and knowledge of his craft. "It's just not the same if they were made by someone else... those who cannot play, cannot make the instruments properly."

Although competent as a storyteller, Romli started out as a musician. He was a member of a well-regarded Malay traditional music troupe in Penang that performed as far as Geneva and Zurich. He didn't perform the Awang Batil until 1997, after the passing of his father, who had been the last traditional storyteller in Perlis before Romli inherited his mantle.

When he was first approached to perform the Awang Batil, he was loath to accept. His vast experience on stage did nothing to change his ingrained bashfulness: "Saya segan, sendiri di pentas! (I felt shy to be on stage alone!)" he says, "tapi terpaksa juga, kerana jika tidak, siapa lagi boleh buat? (but I had to, because who else could do it?)". It helped that he was offered RM600 for 10 minutes of performance. By this time, he had moved back to his native Perlis and became a paddy farmer to support his wife and four children, none of whom share his interest in this old storytelling form.

Clearly, it was just no longer sought as popular entertainment as before. "Kampung people today are just not interested in storytelling anymore. Whenever there is a performance in the kampung, they fall asleep!" Romli says, but parodies it like a born comic. Now Romli prefers to perform in formal settings such as Taman Budaya. At least he knows he's playing to an attentive audience.

Evolving from local entertainment to an art form performed solely on stage, what will it take to keep it relevant today? A three-month programme is underway to expose 60 local school children to storytelling techniques and the Awang Batil form in particular. "According to Romli, the Awang Batil was overtaken by Bangsawan (a northern Malay opera popular from the late 19th to the mid-20th century)," says Adzhar Ibrahim, a DiGi representative, "that was then overtaken by radio, then television, and now by DVDs. [The Awang Batil] is in danger of becoming culturally obsolete. Once it's gone, it's like the extinction of a species, you'll never get it back."

Jo Kukathas, a leading figure in the Malaysian arts scene, has a different perspective on this 'dying art': "We shouldn't think of it that way. Look at Romli. He was working in Penang. He didn't want to be a storyteller, but when his father died he went back to Perlis. He just knew what he had to do. Sometimes [an art form] becomes dormant, but I don't think it disappears."

Jo, together with Namron, a Perlis native who is a noted filmmaker, director, actor and lecturer, have assembled a young and renowned team of professional arts practitioners and musicians from Kuala Lumpur to assist in the programme. Their recognition allows them to take a fresh approach to the arts, aimed at appealing to the sensibilities of a generation brought up on a steady diet of television.

The team devised a number of workshops to get children to explore the basics of performing arts. Focussing on rhythm, voice and movement, all of these forms complement the Awang Batil. Children retell the story of Awang Akar Larak in different ways, using inventive movements and props. In addition, Romli instructs a more traditional Awang Batil workshop, where kids hammer away on cooking pots instead of the batil, which, sadly, isn't made anymore.

The children needed a bit of coaxing in the beginning, but nevertheless Jo is upbeat because she has already seen some natural talent unleashed. At the end of the programme, the children will present an Awang Batil performance. "Even if only a few of them stay the course with Romli, it's a good start," she adds.

Romli is one of the recipients of DiGi's Amazing Malaysian programme for 2005. As "The Storyteller of Perlis", he is among four other notable Malaysian individuals honoured for their contributions to conservation and promotion of Malaysia's natural and cultural heritage. Amazing Malaysians is part of DiGi's Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) programme.