Gule gending in Pringgasela, E. Lombok - the only one I encountered in use on the street. It was a low-quality zinc version that was completely untuned. The magic of the gule gending, other than the sweet treat hidden inside, is what spans the curving exterior - six tins, made of the same stainless steel or zinc as the body, and looking equally utilitarian. Indeed, the tin to the farthest right acts as handy storage, but the other five carry the gule gending away from the culinary world and into the musical. With a gentle tap to the top, each empty tin sings with the bright metallic plong of a steel drum. Played together, these five tins, perfectly fitting the five-tone pentatonic scale favored in Sasak music, are just enough to play melodic tunes called gending, borrowed from the reportoire of age-old gamelan pieces. With the gong-like caps being occasionally struck with a spare thumb for a percussive flare, the gule gending transforms into a remarkable, distilled approximation of the familiar gong and xylophone gamelan ensemble.

Like so many Indonesian instruments, the gule gending has a fascinating, hyper-local history. Dating back to pre-independence era of the 20s and 30s, the instrument emerged from Kembang Kerang, a small village in the fertile, tobacco growing lands at the foot of Gunung Rinjani in East Lombok. While so many origin stories are lost in obscurity, the gule gending can be traced confidently by modern-day salesmen to one man: Pak Sahadap. The prototypes that this clever saleman produced were primitive in comparison to today's, literally using cookie and frying oil tins, two or three in all. With only a handful of notes at their disposal, early gule gending players likely just played a rhythmic approximation of gong patterns. In the sixties, however, the instrument evolved to its current form, with five (plus one "dead" tin) purpose-built zinc or stainless steel tins tuned through a mysterious process of adding and subtracting dents and grooves to the tin's flat surface with a wooden stick.

Back in those days, the tunes played by the gule gending had a ritual and meaning that seems to have been largely forgotten. One tune, "Semarang," would be used to announce the beginning of the salesman's rounds. Other songs would be played to fit certain contexts within the a day of sales: "Turun Tangis" ("Beginning to Cry") would be played if a child cried to their mother for cotton candy, while "Tempong Gunung" ("Crossing the Mountain") might be played if a salesman was forced to scramble up a mountain in search of customers.

These decades past were likely gule gending's heydey - the instrument became so popular, it would even be played outside of the context of sales, with three musicians leading the traditional Sasak wedding procession called nyongkolan. Countless Sasaks I spoke to told me with nostalgic smiles that the sound of the gule gending brought them back to their childhood, when the candy and its music could be found regularly all across the island. These days, like so many other traditional arts, gule gending is receding into the shadows. A dozen or so musicians still make their rounds, with only a handful able to make and repair the instrument as well.