Page 106 - EBOOK_Jamu: The Ancient Indonesian Art of Herbal Healing

how massage and reflexology relieved pain, he recognized that these disciplines could be his tools.
The youngster’s enthusiasm persuaded a local doctor to take the boy under his wing and thus his 55-
year career began. Today, over 70 years of age, he has the confidence of someone who knows his
business thoroughly.
“Men or women—it doesn’t matter,” he says. “I’ve learnt the anatomy and physiology of both
and know exactly where to massage more gently. I can tell immediately if someone is healthy or sick
from the state of their blood circulation.” He then adds: “Bad blood circulation causes many
problems (even toothache) and massage is effective in these circumstances. Treatment varies;
tiredness can be sorted out quickly but serious conditions take longer because you have to work extra
carefully.” His ability to see beyond superficial symptoms is uncanny, but Pak Karto regards it as
normal diagnosis.
“Patients usually know they’re ill,” affirms Pak Karto, “But they often have no idea why.
That’s where my training comes in. I often get to the root of the trouble when other methods fail.” In
one memorable case, a 10-year old boy, unable to walk, was brought to the masseur. He was able to
untangle the child’s nerves through massage, and the boy was cured.
Prayer is not part of the treatment, but in his mind Pak Karto always asks God’s help before
every massage. While other masseurs use oils to move the hands over the patient’s body, Pak Karto
does not, and in fact prefers the patient to remain fully clothed. “Oil actually hampers me,” he
reveals, “It makes the skin too soft and slippery, and I can’t feel the body properly. Oil rarely has
anything to do with pain or sickness. It’s the inside that counts.”

Day or night, anyone arriving on Pak Karto’s doorstep will be helped. His is a large brick
house with concrete floors, a sign of wealth in Central Java. Despite his affluence, Pak Karto prefers
the simple life. The house and his black and white television are exceptions. “Family pressure was
mounting so eventually I caved in over the television,” he explains with an embarrassed smile.
“I believe that enough is OK, that’s my motto in life. With enough you are always happy.” He
warms to this theme: “If you’re rich, you keep wanting more and more money and spend your life
worrying you’ll lose it. This is what breeds unhappiness.” For this reason, and like all genuine
massage experts, he doesn’t have a fixed charge, but operates on something akin to the Robin Hood
principle: the more wealthy patients subsidize the less well-off.
Pak Karto has a particularly hectic lifestyle because he continues to work at a local timber
yard and, despite earning more through massage, has no plans to give up this regular work. This
leaves him little time to relax; even in the evening, after he has slipped into a traditional sarong,
clients still turn up.
“It’s always the same, no sooner have I settled myself comfortably than a patient springs up
out of the blue,” he says, “But then I’m never really content unless I’m helping someone.”

Both men and women may train to become expert therapists. Women, who
are known as Ibu pijat, tend to work mainly in people’s homes, while men are
more likely to set up a group practice. Blind massage experts are believed to be