by Yvonne Tan
Think of an indigenous martial art in Malaysia. Immediately we would think of silat. However, like most places in Southeast Asia, each place has a variant of Muay Thai. Myanmar has Lethwei, which is usually said to be one of the more brutal martial arts around given it permits headbutting and is usually done bare-knuckle, traditionally operating by knockout only to win. Cambodia’s Pradal Serey or Kun Khmer is known for its higher frequency of elbow strikes while Laos’ Muay Lao has a lack of it. In 1995 Cambodia wished to unite the ASEAN martial arts under “Sovannaphum boxing” or “SEA boxing” representing Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and Myanmar, however, the nations were not keen on this, wishing to preserve their own unique form.
Although there is general agreement these forms originate from Muay Boran, a descendant of the traditional martial art Musti-yuddha, most of these variants have been eclipsed by the rise of Muay Thai. Musti-yuddha comes from Sanskrit literally meaning “fist fighting” or “fist combat” which had some of its earliest references from classical epics such as Ramayana, Mahabharata, Rig Veda and Gurbilas Shemi.
If you have ever watched a Muay Thai match, immediately you would recognize the Sarama music played alongside the pace of the match and the audience, an apparent feature differing from western boxing. Typically performed by four musicians, playing a Javanese oboe (pii chawaa), a pair of lace drums (klong khaek) and brass cupped symbols (ching chap). They are sometimes swapped with the serunai and the gendang in Tomoi matches. The music begins all the way from the Wai khru ram muay ritual, roughly translated as “war-dance showing respect to the teacher”, which is carried out before the match in Muay Thai competitions.
The dance not only gives salutations to Buddha, Dharma, and the sangha of monks but also to their teachers and the spirit of the ring. It also provides clues to the fighter’s style and abilities which has relevance for betting as well. Many of the Ram Muay dances are influenced by Hanuman from the epic Ramayana and chanting alongside the dance is common. Southern Thailand boxers instead ask for protection from Allah before starting or skip through the salutations. Namsaknoi Yudthagarngamtorn is one of the better-known Muslim boxers in the Muay Thai world who was awarded the best Wai Kru Ram Muay of the year twice, in 2001 and 2006 (Although Thailand itself is far from an example for being accommodative to other religions).
Why are we able to welcome with open arms the combat sport when it is branded as a foreign product that comes with globalization, and have the opposite reaction when the sport is one’s own culture? Asking as Homi K. Bhaba does: “in what sense, then, does a nation-centred discourse create an immobile curricular perspective?” [1]
Looking at the national martial art in Malaysia, silat, itself also has roots in Hindu-Buddhism and animism from its folkloric origins to the images of Hindu figures on weaponry. Although it is also illegal for Muslim practitioners to carry out incantations and meditation, the martial art is effectively decided and celebrated as “local” and “indigenous”. As silat is popularly tied to the 15th century Malacca Sultanate, arguably the most important narrative for Malay Muslim civilization, making appearances in Hikayat Inderajaya and Hikayat Hang Tuah. Silat continues to be featured semi-regularly in box office films such as Malaysia’s first colour film Hang Tuah (1956) and its first big-budget film Puteri Gunung Ledang (2004).
With silat chosen to represent the epitome of Malay Muslim masculinity, Tomoi has been neutralized of its local ties with emphasis on its Hindu-Buddhist elements of a foreign country despite both sports originating from a melding of various cultures. Repeated calls to lift the ban on Mak Yong and Wayang Kulit, did not necessarily include Tomoi as it was seen as a violent sport operating also as gambling dens with regular ruckus among the audience much like cock-fighting. If modern silat represents refinement and continuation of cultural values, Tomoi is the opposite. Gaik Cheng Khoo coined the term “silat masculinity”:
He represents the average-looking Malay Everyman: clearly not of Eurasian descent, he sports a moustache, has a toned and lean body that is a product of traditional silat rather than the gym and steroids. However, such authenticity necessitates performativity and thus, the traditional hero accessorizes himself with a phallic-shaped weapon such as a keris or badik (both are traditional daggers considered to have magical proper ties) or a gun, which he has to be prepared to use to defend traditional Malay values (and/or femininity)” [2]
[1] Bhabha, Homi K and Sorensen, Diana (eds.) Territories and Trajectories: Cultures in Circulation. Duke University Press, 2018, p. 2.
[2] Khoo, Gaik Cheng. “Gendering Old and New Malay through Malaysian auteur filmmaker U-Wei Haji Saari’s literary adaptations, “The Arsonist” (1995) and “Swing My Swing High, My Darling” (2004).” South East Asia Research 18, no. 2 (2010): 301-324, p. 315.