I

went to Bali to attend the Bali launch of Julia'€™s Jihad, my new anthology of columns, at Biasa Artspace in Seminyak on July 11. However, I decided to stay on for two reasons '€“ my birthday, and the famous annual Padanggalak Beach Kite Festival (July 25-28).

But there was something else that caught my attention. I kept seeing banners in public places with the words: '€œSelamat menunaikan ibadah puasa'€ (which roughly means, '€œmay you fulfill your religious duty of fasting'€). When I went out at sunset I saw vendors with tables laden with kolak (banana and sweet potatoes stewed in coconut milk and palm sugar) and other ta'€™jil (breaking the fast) dishes that I normally saw sold by the side of the street in Jakarta.

I did a double-take. Hang on, where was I? Was I still in Jakarta, or on the 5,780 square kilometers referred to as '€œthe Island of Hinduism'€, '€œthe Island of the Gods'€, or (if you'€™re a fan of that self-indulgent, narcissistic film Eat, Pray, Love), '€œthe Island of Love'€?

It turns out that while Hindus are a small minority in Indonesia (approximately 1.69 percent), in Bali they make up the majority (83.5 percent). Here Muslims are a minority, but at 13.3 percent they are a big one '€“ and increasing migration from Java means they'€™re growing fast.

In any case, Ramadhan seemed like a great opportunity to find out more about Balinese Muslims and lots of questions popped into my head: Where do they live? How do they reconcile their religion with their cultural context? How do they live harmoniously with their fellow Balinese of the Hindu faith, who have a very different belief system and cultural practices?

In fact, Balinese Muslims are widely dispersed and live within Hindu communities, although there are Muslim enclaves and even entire Muslim villages. In the capital of Denpasar, for example, Muslims live in Kepaon hamlet, Kampung Jawa and Kampung Bugis on Serangan (Turtle) Island. Saren Jawa, a hamlet in Budakeling village in the Karangasem regency, is exclusively Muslim, while in Seraya, Ujung Desa, Ujung Sumbawa, Segara Katon, Sindu and other hamlets in Karangasem, they live side by side. Kecicang for example, is divided into Kecicang Bali with a Hindu majority and Kecicang Islam with a Muslim majority.

Kecicang is also famous for its Jami'€™ Baiturrahim mosque, which dates back to the 17th century. There are, in fact, 58 mosques spread out across eight regencies and the provincial capital, Denpasar.

And it doesn'€™t stop there. The Balinese are well-known for their custom of naming their children
according to birth order: Gede, Wayan or Putu for the firstborn, Made or Kadek for the second, Nyoman or Komang for the third and Ketut for the fourth. This works regardless of religion, so Balinese Muslims go for Ketut Ahmad Ibrahim, Wayan Arafat, or Nyoman Mohammad, instead of, say Ketut Arsana, Wayan Juniartha or Nyoman Gunarsa.

There are many other ways Balinese Muslims combine their cultural practices with their religious beliefs but the most meaningful for me is how they share with other religious groups. During Idul Fitri and Idul Adha (Day of Sacrifice), for example, Muslim families deliver food to their Hindu neighbors. Likewise, during Galungan and Kuningan (the big Balinese religious days), Hindus share food with their Muslim neighbors '€” all halal or course!

But what happened after the horrendous Bali bombings in 2002 and 2005, carried out by Muslim extremists? Was there a backlash against Balinese Muslims then?

There was certainly some tension after the blasts, but Rio Helmi, veteran photographer, blogger and resident of Bali for four decades, said things quickly returned to normal because there were old Muslim communities in Bali that had been integrated for centuries and nobody criticized or attacked them. According to Rio, most so-called inter-religious and ethnic tensions in Bali were really just turf wars over vendor status rights and territory. Sadly, that'€™s a pretty universal phenomenon '€” all too often religion and ethnicity become hate-mediums when monetary interests are involved.

Maybe the Balinese balance is due to the Hindu commitment to the philosophy of Tri Hita Karana, the '€œthree sources of happiness'€: the need to nurture and maintain a harmonious relationship between human and God, human and human, and human and nature?

Maybe, but Islam also has a version of the Tri Hita Karana. '€œDo not let your hatred of a people incite you to aggression'€, the Koran teaches (Q 5:2), and '€œdo not let ill-will
toward any folk incite you so that you swerve from dealing justly'€ (Q 5:8). There are many other verses to the same effect, so why is it that Islam is so often associated with violence in Indonesia?

The Balinese I spoke to told me that all religions were good if practiced in the spirit originally intended (although that'€™s a big '€œif'€)! They also said Islam didn'€™t have to look '€œArabic'€ to be real.

At the risk of over-romanticizing, the way Muslims and Hindus co-exist in Bali may not be perfect, but it sure looks like something we could emulate in Java and other parts of Indonesia too often beset by
religious tensions.

So perhaps the misguided hardliners who go around sweeping bars and bashing people during Ramadhan should take a holiday in Bali and learn how to really live an Islamic life. Now that would be ironic!

The writer is the author of Julia'€™s Jihad.