Khitan in Java: My Experience Exploring Indonesia’s Most Unusual Religious Tradition

The Extraordinary Turn of Events that led to Khitan:

“You’re going to a wedding,” 

How is that possible? I didn’t know a single soul in this sweltering, tropical village. I had just arrived to the small rice community after gathering supplies at the Sunday morning Bamboo Market with Khozin’s niece. 

Regardless, I love weddings. “I don’t have a cute outfit though,” I replied, to which Khozin blatantly stated “Never mind the outfit. They want to see a foreigner.” 

Oh, so that’s why I had been invited to a wedding. Word of mouth gets out quickly when there is a westerner in the area.

I had just arrived in the rural, volcanic regency of Temanggung a few days prior, located in Central Java, Indonesia. I was staying with Khozin, a local Javanese English teacher in one of the small agricultural villages.

Khozin was the first of many kind families I would end up living with during my time in Central Java.

Khozin is a passionate man who wants to make a better life for his children and village. He does this by hosting foreigners who volunteer to teach free private English lessons in his home to the neighborhood children. Khozin is usually away teaching at school or working in the fields. He hopes that one day the upcoming generation of his commune will be able to use their English skills to succeed in business.

The Trek to Temanggung, Central Java 

It’s not too complicated to reach Central Java, but you have to know someone. This isn’t a place to show up and expect scooter rentals and hotels. 

Thankfully, it can be easy. Because once you know one person, you know the entire village.

I started my journey out to Temanggung from Jakarta, Indonesia’s capital. After living in the global city of Bangkok for almost a year, I was honestly caught off guard by the lack of foreigners in the country’s capital. Even in such a largely populated city, where surely foreigners’ transit, people were photographing me.

After a few days in Jakarta of adjusting to my new Indonesian lifestyle, I ventured out to the Pasar Senen railway station. I planned to take the train five hours out to Weleri Station, near Semarang. 

At the train station, there were no foreigners other than me and my new friend, Sara from Mexico. “How odd,” I thought. “Public transport is usually a hub to find foreigners.” Not even English signage to mark where to go. I only managed to make it to the correct train/ train car by showing attendants my train ticket approximately every ten steps. I made sure I had a confused look on my face too.

A quick glance around showed no foreigners on the train journey either. People pulled out their phones to sneak a picture when we stepped onboard. It was Sara’s third day in Asia- ever- and she was just as surprised by the whole thing as me. I’ve had easier times getting around in countries that use different character writing systems than I had at the train station in Indonesia. 

The more you know

Many foreigners don’t even know Indonesia is a country. The locals complained to me about how tourists come to Indonesia and only know Bali. Some tourists even think Bali is its own country. However, Bali is part of Indonesia- a separate island than Java. In fact, Indonesia is made up of 13,466 islands. Java, where I was traveling at this time, is Indonesia’s fourth biggest island, but contains over half of the population and the capital city.

While Bali is famous for its spiritual practices of Hinduism, the rest of Indonesia primarily practices Islam. In fact, Indonesia is the largest Islamic country in the world (even beating out the Middle Eastern countries!) in terms of population, as 87% declare themselves practicing Sunni Islam. 

While female tourists do not need to wear a hijab to travel here, they should definitely dress respectfully. No knees, no shoulders, and no midriff. 

Back to the wedding story. 

Still in Khozin’s house, I introduced myself to who I assumed to be the father of the groom and climbed onto the back of his bike. Sara rode with the man’s son- maybe the groom getting married that day? The whole situation had been very vaguely explained.

But there was no time for questions. Wearing my lucky bullfighting pants and Christina Aguilera T-shirt, we rode the 40 minutes into the hills. The wedding was in the village of Bumi Makukuhan, within clear view of the breathtaking Mount Sumbing volcano, one of many volcanoes in the region.

I knew we had arrived at the wedding because I could hear orthodox music blaring from far down the road. As soon as we stepped into the party, all eyes were glued to Sara and I. It caused an uncomfortably big commotion, as most people there had never seen a foreigner in person before. We warmly greeted as many wedding guests as possible, bowing and touching our hearts, before sitting down- eager to have the attention off of us.

This is when I noticed the first indication that this was in fact, not a wedding. 

On the far wall, behind performers on a makeshift stage, was a large banner picturing a young boy with the name “Devin.”

“They must have had the English mixed up. This is a birthday party,” I said, turning to Sara. 

We were heavily encouraged to eat, and so we carefully chose a plate of food- as most of the meat and fish were covered in swarms of flies. We ate a few bites of rice, and ice cream with bread cubes. The entire time, we were shamelessly stared at in a less-than-polite way by the men around us. 

The performers allowed us approximately three minutes maximum to eat before relentlessly calling us to the stage until we gave in. We shyly approached the stage. 

“Sing and dance! Sing and dance!” The birthday performers cheered.

It was not possible for me to be any more embarrassed. I gulped and collected the microphone from the smiling lady performer who was egging the whole situation forward.

Amidst all the confusion, I still managed to perform. I gave my best rendition of “Enchanted” by Taylor Swift, making up fabricated lyrics for probably 50% of the four-minute song. Every phone and camera were on me, capturing the full performance in detail. 

I thought my show would rescue Sara and I from further embarrassment. Despite that, there was no way anyone was letting us off the stage so easily. At this point we had gained some courage, and so we stayed and danced around to the Javanese music as the performers cheerfully sang. Finally coming to an end, Sara gave a quick speech and cheers to Devin’s alleged birthday, before we exited the stage.

I had been curious since we arrived: Where was the birthday boy?

Me and Sara had been performing at Devin’s birthday party, yet he was nowhere to be seen.

I asked the man who had driven us to the party and pointed to the banner.

“He is in bed resting.”

Resting? I couldn’t understand why Devin would be sleeping when there is such a huge party for him outside.

“Do you want to meet him?”

“Yes.” I replied. Like, obviously. Isn’t that the whole reason we’re here?

Again, with all eyes on us, Sara and I got up from the table and followed the man around a few twists and turns, reaching a nearby house. Sara and I greeted some family members in the living room, before stepping up to Devin’s bedroom door. His gray party suit and tie were hung up in the doorway.

In hindsight what feels like slow motion, the door creaked open. 

As an outsider coming from the USA, it was truly a surprising scene for me in the bedroom. 

A child, no older than 11, laid on a mattress on the floor with a half-smoked pack of cigarettes. He was covered by a blanket up to his waist. The whole thing was strange for me.

I walked in and greeted Devin with the few Javanese words I knew, telling him “Selamat,” translating to congratulations in bahasa Indonesia.

I applauded him, because I thought it was his birthday. His reaction was acutely confused, but he politely replied “Thank you” in English. 

“Go ahead and get in the bed with him.”

So now I was sitting in bed with the child. I was more baffled than ever about the strange situation because I still didn’t understand why Devin was in bed. I started to question the man who had brought me if Devin was sick. 

“No, not sick.”

“So, then what is going on? Why is he in bed?” I asked.

“Khitan.”

I was about to experience the surprise of a lifetime.

“What is Khitan?”

“Surgery.”

I took a moment to take in my surroundings. Suddenly everything clicked. I felt my heart drop to my stomach out of alarm.

How did this take me so long to put the puzzle pieces together?

I’ve never been so incorrect about something in my entire life. I was not at a wedding, or a birthday party.

I was, in fact, at a circumcision party.

Khitan. The child had just been circumcised.

And here I was finding out, already sitting in the bed next to him. 

Speechless. I had just been confidently bowing my head and congratulating him moments prior. 

To further explain,

Khitan is part of the Islam religion celebrated in Indonesia, when a boy going into puberty is circumcised at around 10-12 years old. It should be noted this specific tradition is not practiced in all Islamic countries. In the Middle East, most male children are circumcised at birth. 

Religion everywhere can vary to some extent. As an example, Islam in Indonesia differs from Islam in Saudi Arabia in the way women dress. Women in Saudi Arabia must wear the niqab to cover their face, while Muslim women in Indonesia may only need to cover their hair outside of the home. 

All of these differences in the way Islam is celebrated all around the world is part of why I had never heard of Khitan before- until I was already in bed with the child who just had surgery for it.

Back in Devin’s room, I was keen to leave him alone.

Get me away from the child. The pitiful boy just had surgery, and here I was, an absolute stranger, invading his personal space. 

I helped myself to one of Devin’s cigarettes and took a smoke in the living room to digress. 

Although completely bizarre, I felt very special to have been invited to such an unusual tradition.

I can’t say I have a single other friend who has been invited to a Khitan in Indonesia. Welcoming new friends to any and every event is a staple in the Javanese lifestyle. The Indonesian people have certainly never met a stranger. Their hospitality, though sometimes unconventional, is something I strongly admire. 

When I was finally driven back to Khozin’s house, I was still slightly disturbed- but had a smile on my face. However startling, through Khitan I was able to learn more about Java and the Javanese culture. They are joyous people who really do celebrate everything.

The charming island of Java would continue to demonstrate her beauty to me. Culturally and physically luscious, this island really did steal my heart. 

In total, if you ever find yourself in Java being invited to a wedding- just know it may actually be a Khitan party.

And you should definitely go.

Do you want to read more about Java and its sometimes-funky traditions? I recommend viewing my other blog posts in this series. 

As always, thank you to everyone who made this experience possible.

And Selamat to Devin.

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