by Two enormous wooden statues, one hopelessly overcrowded warehouse, six months of negotiations and a mystery that still isn’t entirely solved.
I have a weakness for Japan Surplus shops. And this wasn’t my first unusual discovery. I’d already come across a rather spectacular Pakistani camel-skin lamp in another Japan Surplus warehouse. Apparently, these places have become my unofficial treasure-hunting grounds. They always manage to surprise me with the most bizarre treasures. My latest discovery involved two enormous Indonesian wooden statues, a hopelessly overcrowded warehouse and a shopping adventure that would eventually take six months. Not exactly what you’d call a quick shopping trip.
Actually, calling it a weakness is probably an understatement. Some people enjoy shopping for clothes, others collect watches, and I apparently have a talent for dragging home enormous wooden objects that nobody in their right mind would consider essential household equipment.
But I simply cannot resist something unusual.
And that is exactly how I ended up with two rather magnificent wooden ladies, each standing an impressive 118 centimetres tall.
Not exactly something you can hide in your pocket and casually bring home without anyone noticing.
Although, as it turned out, hiding them wasn’t particularly difficult for the warehouse owner.
He managed to lose both of them.
For six months.
Love at First Sight in a Warehouse Full of Junk
I’ve always had a soft spot for Indonesian wooden statues, especially those with elaborate carvings and colourful traditional clothing. Unfortunately, my enthusiasm doesn’t always agree with the available space in our house.
During my visits to Bali, I admired the beautifully carved statues found around temples, houses and gardens. Thailand has its own wonderful traditions of carved figures, and I’ve always been attracted to the craftsmanship, the colours and the mysterious expressions on their faces.
So when I spotted these two tall wooden figures in yet another Japan Surplus warehouse here in the Philippines, I stopped immediately.
There they stood, wearing elaborate headdresses, colourful traditional-looking garments and expressions that suggested they had seen considerably more of the world than I had.
I had absolutely no idea who they were supposed to represent.
But I knew one thing.
I wanted them.
Both.
Naturally.
I asked the owner about the price, and we started negotiating.
Now, anyone who has spent time shopping in the Philippines knows that negotiations can sometimes become a rather lengthy affair.
But this one was about to develop into something approaching a six-month television drama.
How Do You Lose Two Statues Nearly Four Feet Tall?
The first problem was the price.
We couldn’t agree.
Fair enough. That happens.
The second problem was slightly more unusual.
The statues disappeared.
Not sold. Not stolen. Just lost somewhere inside the warehouse.
Apparently, the place had become so overcrowded with second-hand furniture, appliances, household goods and whatever else had arrived from Japan that the owner couldn’t remember where he had put them.
Now, we’re talking about two wooden statues standing 118 centimetres tall.
Not a pair of earrings.
Not a teaspoon.
Two enormous wooden ladies!
How do you misplace something like that?
I imagined them standing somewhere behind a mountain of old refrigerators, surrounded by discarded office chairs and broken karaoke machines, patiently waiting to be discovered.
Perhaps they were enjoying a little holiday.
Perhaps they simply didn’t want to be sold.
Whatever the reason, they had vanished.
Every so often, I asked the owner whether he had found them.
No luck.
We continued discussing the price whenever the opportunity arose, which was rather amusing considering that neither of us knew exactly where the merchandise was.
Weeks passed.
Then months.
I was beginning to wonder whether I should organise a proper search party.
But persistence eventually paid off.
After roughly half a year of negotiations, searching and probably testing the owner’s patience as much as he tested mine, the two ladies finally reappeared.
And this time, we reached an agreement.
They were mine.
Victory!
I have bought things with considerably less trouble.
Who Are These Two Mysterious Ladies?
The more I looked into Indonesian wooden statues and traditional carvings, the more fascinating the story became. What I initially thought might be two rice goddesses turned into a rather interesting little mystery.
Once I finally had them at home, I wanted to know more about them.
Their elaborate crowns, painted faces and traditional-looking clothing reminded me immediately of the statues I’d seen in Bali.
Both figures have beautifully decorated headdresses, large earrings and long garments painted in faded shades of green, reddish-brown, cream and gold.
Their hands meet in front of their bodies, holding what appears to be a small, pointed ceremonial object.
And although they look very similar, their faces are not identical.
One seems slightly more serious than the other.
Perhaps she’s still annoyed about spending six months behind a refrigerator.
The other looks rather more forgiving.
Naturally, I started researching.
And that is when I came across Dewi Sri, the Indonesian goddess of rice and fertility.
Meet Dewi Sri, the Lady Responsible for Dinner
In Indonesian mythology, particularly in Java and Bali, is associated with rice, fertility, prosperity and agricultural abundance.
And before anyone dismisses rice as merely something that comes with chicken curry, it’s worth remembering just how important this crop has been throughout Southeast Asian history.
For countless farming communities, rice wasn’t simply food.
It was survival.
A successful harvest meant security and prosperity. A failed harvest could mean hunger.
So it isn’t surprising that rice became deeply connected with spiritual beliefs, rituals and mythology.
Dewi Sri represents the life-giving power of agriculture and the fertility of the land.
In some traditional stories, rice plants are believed to have grown from her body, symbolically connecting the goddess with the origin of this essential crop.
In Bali, representations of Dewi Sri have traditionally been associated with rice barns, offerings and agricultural ceremonies.
Which makes her rather more important than the average kitchen appliance.
Although I must admit that my rice cooker has also made a significant contribution to household happiness.
But Are My Statues Really Rice Goddesses?
Now comes the interesting part.
At first, I thought I’d solved the mystery.
Two female figures, traditional Indonesian-style clothing, elaborate headdresses and a possible connection with fertility and prosperity.
Surely they must be rice goddesses?
Well, perhaps.
But the more I researched, the more I realised that identifying traditional Asian sculptures isn’t quite as straightforward as typing a description into Google and accepting the first answer.
There are many different carving traditions across Indonesia, each with its own symbolism, regional styles and religious influences.
My statues certainly have features that suggest Indonesian inspiration, possibly Balinese.
But that doesn’t automatically make them representations of Dewi Sri.
The objects held between their hands are particularly intriguing. They could be stylised flowers, ceremonial offerings or something else entirely.
They don’t clearly resemble bundles of rice.
And without knowing where the statues were originally made, it’s difficult to identify them with certainty.
So, for now, I prefer to call them my possible rice goddesses.
They haven’t complained.
The Curious Tradition of Loro Blonyo
During my research, I also discovered another fascinating Indonesian tradition.
In Java, pairs of wooden figures known as Loro Blonyo have traditionally been associated with marriage, harmony, fertility and prosperity.
These figures commonly represent Dewi Sri and her male consort, Raden Sadono.
They were traditionally displayed in certain Javanese homes and are connected with ideas of family happiness and abundance.
Now, that sounded promising.
After all, I had two statues.
Unfortunately, there was one rather important complication.
Traditional Loro Blonyo figures generally depict a man and a woman.
Mine appear to be two women.
Unless one of them is keeping a rather impressive secret, they don’t seem to fit that particular tradition.
So while Loro Blonyo provided an interesting direction for my research, I don’t think it’s safe to identify my statues as such.
They may instead represent female ceremonial attendants, deities or decorative figures inspired by Indonesian art.
The mystery continues.
And frankly, I rather enjoy that.
Old, Antique or Just Very Well Travelled?
One thing I’ve learned about Indonesian wooden statues is that appearances can be deceiving. Something that looks centuries old might actually be a relatively modern decorative carving.
Another question is their age.
The statues certainly don’t look new.
Their paint is worn, the gold-coloured decorations have faded, and parts of the underlying wood are visible.
There are small cracks and signs of wear that give them a wonderfully weathered appearance.
But does that mean they’re antiques?
Not necessarily.
Traditional-looking carvings have been produced for homes, hotels, restaurants and the tourist trade for many years.
Some are genuinely old. Others are deliberately given an aged finish.
Without examining the wood, construction and paint more closely, I can’t reliably say when mine were made.
And I’m certainly not going to claim they came from a 300-year-old Balinese temple simply because that would make a more dramatic story.
For all I know, they once stood in the entrance of a restaurant somewhere in Japan.
Which raises another interesting question.
How did two Indonesian-looking wooden statues end up in a Japan Surplus warehouse in the Philippines?
Were they originally bought in Bali by somebody living in Japan?
Were they exported as decorative furniture?
Did they spend years standing in somebody’s living room before being shipped overseas?
I haven’t the faintest idea.
But I’d love to know.
A Little Personal Touch
After bringing the statues home, I added colourful beaded bracelets around their hands.
They weren’t part of the original carvings.
I simply thought they suited the ladies.
And I rather like the result.
The bracelets add a little colour without changing the statues themselves.
As for the worn paint and faded gold decoration, I have no intention of restoring them.
I like their appearance exactly as it is.
Perfectly polished objects are all very well, but I prefer things that show a little character.
A few wrinkles never hurt anybody.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself when I look in the mirror.
Why Do I Keep Buying Things Like This?
A reasonable question.
Particularly when you consider that I now have two wooden statues standing almost four feet tall.
They aren’t particularly practical.
They don’t cook, clean or make coffee.
They certainly don’t help with the electricity bill.
And moving them around the house isn’t exactly effortless.
But I love objects that have a story.
Even when I don’t know the whole story.
Especially then, perhaps.
Every time I look at these two figures, I remember that overcrowded warehouse, the seemingly endless negotiations and the ridiculous situation of a shop owner who couldn’t find two enormous statues.
And then there’s the mystery of their origins.
Were they inspired by Dewi Sri?
Were they made in Bali?
Who carved them?
Where did they stand before arriving in the Philippines?
Perhaps one day I’ll find the answers.
Perhaps I won’t.
Either way, they’ve already provided more entertainment than most things I’ve bought.
Six Months of Waiting. Was It Worth It?
Absolutely.
Would I do it again?
Probably.
Would Lizz agree that two enormous wooden statues were something our household desperately needed?
I suspect that depends on whom you ask.
But they’re here now, and I couldn’t be happier.
If they really are connected with Dewi Sri, perhaps they’ll bring prosperity, good fortune and abundance into our home.
That would be rather nice.
After all, I’ve already invested six months of patience in them.
A little return on that investment wouldn’t go amiss.
And if they aren’t rice goddesses?
Well, they’re still two beautiful, mysterious wooden ladies with a rather entertaining story.
Which is good enough for me.
As for the warehouse owner, I genuinely hope he’s improved his inventory system.
Because if you can lose two statues measuring 118 centimetres each, I wouldn’t fancy your chances of finding a missing teaspoon.
Of all the Indonesian wooden statues I’ve admired over the years, these two certainly have one of the most entertaining stories attached to them.
And who knows? Perhaps somewhere in that warehouse there’s another treasure waiting to be discovered.
I just hope the owner remembers where he put it this time.
Discover more from Lizz and I
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