The scent of cloves enshrouds Indonesia. This aroma – at once spicy and sweet, warm and wooden – pervades all things; it snakes throughout the mountain ranges of Java and West Papua, uncoils over the forests of Sumatra and comes to rest upon the shores of Maluku, where the buds first bloomed.
And so, too, does pilgrimage lay in the heart of Indonesia. There are those who heed the call and make the Hajj in Mecca, Islam’s holy city. And there are others who traipse to the country’s four corners to pay their respects at sacred sites near and far.
Whilst a divine purpose resides in many a pilgrim’s soul, other notions reveal themselves regardless of one’s religious or irreligious nature. Devotees have spoken of following a shining light that guides them in the darkness, of rocks that steady them in a storm. And for others, a pilgrimage offers the chance to learn more about the subliminal sensations that hum throughout the world.
Thus does the pilgrim come full circle. For, in search of sensation, many wash up on the shores of tobacco, which holds a special reverence in Indonesia. Here, the cigarette approaches the divine and wields the power to fix many ills. And one day, an enterprising someone lengthened this reach and augmented tobacco with cloves and corn husks.
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So doing, they subverted smoking’s more hellish qualities and imbued it with something more Hippocratic and health-giving. And thus did the kretek, that some did call rokok obat, the medicine cigarette, famed for its alleged healing qualities, come to life. Kretek’s name is onomatopoeic, and replicates the crackling sound of a long, hard draw on the cigarette.
Tendrils Extend
Soon the kretek became popular, and it worked its way across the archipelago. In Java alone, three centres arose where none had been before to furnish the land with the blend of tobacco and cloves: Sampoerna in Surabaya, Malang’s Gudang Garam and Djarum, the source of which lies in Kudus.
It is to the latter, in Central Java, that the more abstract pilgrim may wander. For here, of all Indonesia’s many pilgrimage sites, the Kretek Museum of Kudus would most appease those who wish to glean the nation’s true scent. And they could honour the vessel through which this liminal smell gains life. It is a place to marvel at how kretek rose to prominence in the era after Indonesia independence.
Kudus is a humble, holy place with a unique mosque that blends Hindu and Arabic styles. Pati, Jepara, Demak and Grobogan border the city, which gained renown as the largest cigarette producer in Central Java. City and smoke soon became encoiled, like the strand of a DNA helix.
Remember History
But while the cigarette production moved to a bigger site, a kretek museum sprung up in its stead in 2004. In this modest compound at the centre of Kudus resides a snapshot of kretek, replete with images and the machinery that aided its production.
A first glimpse at its shell reveals that the Kretek Museum has a unique look. Its classic Central Javanese architecture enjoys a modern touch. And in front of it lie three buildings, the most distinct of which is a Kudus-style surau.
A visitor may glean the tale of kretek’s popularity. One story tells of a man named Haji Jahmari, an asthma sufferer, who tried to ease his condition by rubbing clove oil on his chest. But he soon changed tack. He mixed the cloves with tobacco wrapped in corn husks. Some say he cured himself this way, and his medical miracle gained mythic proportions. A market surrounding these smokes soon formed, gaining the attention of the entrepreneur Niti Semito.
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M. Semito, known as Rusdi, a Kudus regency native born in 1874, became a man of stature in the clove cigarette world. Others called him the King of Kretek. His Cap Bal Tiga cigarette enterprise enjoyed great success. By 1938, he employed thousands of workers who made millions of cigarettes each day. In a subversion of the Dutch colonisation of Indonesia, Semito employed a Dutchman as his bookkeeper.
However, Semito’s death in 1953 did not herald a seamless shift to the next generation of tobacco impresario. Instead, family squabbles derailed Cap Bal Tiga, as did the rise of new brands like Oei Wie Gwan’s Djarum. And like all things in the great history of trade, time moved on. Former figureheads were consigned to the pages of history.
Time Survives
But the Kretek Museum of Kudus is a sentinel that will not let the past die. No distinction is made ‘twixt pilgrim or visitor. Both will become absorbed in the diorama that depicts kretek production. The foreground shows figures, not quite living tableaux, engaged in the gathering of tobacco, from its initial planting through to the selection, drying and chopping of the plant to fill cigarettes. And in the background, a glimpse of rural Java. Fields of tobacco plants stretch to the horizon, enclosed on two sides by forests. In the distance rears a towering mountain.
Tradition hangs heavy in the Kretek Museum. Five figures form a centrepiece, eternally demonstrating their part in the production process. Elsewhere, resting dormant like outdated automata, are all kinds of machines that still seem to echo and clank with their efforts from the past: some chopped the leaves, others blended the ingredients, while still more dried the tobacco and wrapped it into shape.
And in the corner, one may find the fruits of this labour. Glass-topped displays that show Kudus’ kretek output over the years. A technicolour grail for the keen smoker. Packets of all shapes and sizes make up this display, with the ghostly scent of kretek past hanging over it: Anom, Djarum 10, Djaja, Delima, Klapa, Sukun, Safari, Nusantara; magic words tattooed on faded packets that evoke a time shrouded in smoke, as though a sepia image had come to life.
Undeniably, heritage rears large in this corner of the museum. While medical science has yet to confirm that clove cigarettes can cure illness – cause it, most likely – the dried tobacco samples from Muntilan, Bojonegoro and Madura create an image of an alternate Java. In this world, great piles of cloves and tobacco replace the region’s majestic mountains, and the haze that envelops them is born of their burning.
But the kretek museum’s understated nature makes it only a small beacon in the vast reach of the kretek industry. Figures indicate that 95 per cent of the world’s clove supplies go to the manufacture of kretek, and that in the grand scheme of cigarette production, Kudus sits at the heart. Indonesia boasts 600 or so kretek manufacturers. Most are in this humble region. Little wonder that some claim that the tendrils of smoke that float over Indonesia come from Kudus; and there they shall return.
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