OTRWJ PNG: Toraja - Burkas, Bones & Buffalo

Toraja: Burkas. Bones. Buffalos

ATTN Readers: This blog contains graphic photos which may be disturbing to some.

As long as I had spent the time and money getting to the other side of the world, I decided to tag on a few days in an Indonesian community I had read about.

After four flights and 36 hours, I arrived in Makassar on the island of Sulawesi. While Indonesia is a Muslim-majority country, the island of Sulawesi is noted for its, mostly, harmonious blend of Islam, Christianity, Hindu, Buddhism and Confucianism. Really? Could that be?

My guide gave me a brief tour of this gritty city on the Java Sea, showing me its seafaring history of pinisi schooners which existed during the time of the spice trades and carried Indonesians as far as Africa. Today they carry goods throughout the archipelago. Along the coast, I spotted traditional fishing platforms teetering precariously on bamboo poles, nets suspended.

Indonesia’s fishing industry has a pretty sketchy reputation. And so this seems a good moment in this blog to discuss some of the disturbing encounters I had on this leg of my trip. Some sights and experiences I expected; some I definitely did not.

For me, this whole trip was to see cultures different from mine. Because of how I, personally, see the world, I try not to judge these cultural differences as right or wrong, but simply not my way. There were strange moments in Indonesia: being the only woman, let alone a blonde white woman a head taller than anyone around me, on an airport skytrain. There was hunting for a bathroom in the Bali airport and finding more prayer rooms than bathrooms. But these are small things.

There were other experiences  where I struggled to be open minded ...and some I believed to be wrong. For example, some animals that we eat are sacred in other cultures...but the opposite is also true. This was disturbing to me, but I tried to understand: is our Western way any more “right?” Cock fighting is accepted entertainment. Again, disturbing. I learned that female genital mutilation is documented as widespread in Indonesia. More than disturbing;  I could  not understand or accept that.

My intention for this part of my trip was to visit the community of Toraja, about 225 miles north of Makasaar, a nine hour drive (including a  couple brief stops for my guide and driver to stop for prayer) on a horribly bumpy road. Half was in the dark via a not-quite two lane curvy mountain road with motor bikes darting in and out. I’ll take the drivers of NYC, Rome or the mountain roads of the Alps any day!

Part way to Toraja, I noticed a small building colorfully dressed up in bunting and bows.  Whassat??  The guide said there was a wedding; perhaps we’d see another over the next couple days and I could take pictures. But in a couple hours, after dark, he had the driver suddenly stop. “A wedding celebration!  Let’s go!”  I took this to be: let’s get out and take pictures. In front of another decorated building, out of a car climbed this couple!  Wow!

By the time I could take pictures, people were milling around, excitedly talking (in Indonesian; not great English outside the city). “They want us to go in,” the guide said. In a matter of seconds, I was surrounded by kids and burkha-clad women (one, the mother of the bride) pushing to get selfies with me. They were smiling, excited, saying I was pretty, looked so young!  (Hey!  I love these people!!!)

Then they invited us to join the dinner, a buffet of rice (Always!  Every meal!!), vegetables, a fish in broth dish, some sorta spiced beef (hopefully). Clearly it would have been rude to decline.

As I sat eating in between selfies and answering questions, through my guide, about where I was from, why I was here, why I was traveling alone, the guide slipped me an envelope of 50,000 rupiahs (not quite $5) and told me to put it in the box on stage. The minute I did this, the whole wedding party insisted I join them for the family portrait!

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Wedding Gift

Janice Lamattina

Wedding Gift

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Wedding Party photo

Janice Lamattina

Wedding Party photo

This would be my first experience in learning I - a blonde Caucasian woman - was considered exotic and good fortune. At least in this somewhat rural area. I was charmed by their friendly, welcoming curiosity and could not help but wonder what the reception would have been in small town America for the sudden appearance of a burkha-clad woman traveling alone.

I am not exaggerating if I say there are at least 60 selfies of me circulating somewhere now on Indonesian cell phones!! As I toured around Toraja the next couple days, I was stopped repeatedly by women, teen girls and boys, young men, and kids. Never men, interestingly.

But about Toraja!

Toraja, with several sites on UNESCO’s world heritage list, is an area of people predominantly Christian but most of whom retain many of their animist traditional beliefs, particularly regarding death. The claim of religious tolerance in this area was evident Sunday morning as I woke up, first, to the sound of the Muslim call to prayer. A few minutes later, I heard church bells ringing!

Tarajans' unique traditional bamboo homes, tongkonans, have a roof shaped like the hull of a boat...reflecting the boats their ancestors sailed in from Southeast Asia centuries ago. Supposedly, they first hung the hull of the boat from trees for shelter and then later it became their roof style.The buildings are colorfully decorated with painted carvings representing various sacred images such as roosters and the sun.

This same shape and decoration is used in the ubiquitous rice barns.

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Tongkonan 01

Janice Lamattina

Tongkonan 01

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P1040884.jpg

Janice Lamattina

The rice fields are worked for several hours beginning at first light and again mid-afternoon. The harvesting phase that I saw is a laborious, physical, back breaking process. The rice is harvested and thrashed, essentially beating the grains off the stem.

Then the rice is dried by laying it out on a plastic sheet and continuously raked to ensure even drying and no burning from the sun. Finally the rice is essentially sifted to remove impurities or broken grains.

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Raking Rice

Janice Lamattina

Raking Rice

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Sifting Rice

Janice Lamattina

Sifting Rice

But it is the Torajan animistic beliefs and traditions that continue today which have attracted attention from UNESCO, National Geographic and sociologists.

Torajans  do not believe in being buried underground and they believe death and burial is a happy time, the goal of their time on earth. They believe their ancestors in the next life are as much a part of society as when they are living and are watching over them. And so the living - in return - are rigorous in honoring and caring for them (the deceased body).

Today, with many people blending their Christian faith with animism, the burial part of the tradition often manifests itself in what we would call mausoleums.

However, originally, and still most often today,  Torajans are buried in limestone caves, not always in coffins.

Depending on a family’s wealth, a coffin might be purchased and stacked in the cave with other family coffins, the common practice today.

However, to protect bodies from the flooding in caves and animals, the Torajans took to “hanging” the coffins  on platforms suspended from the cliff face. Many of the coffins look like ship hulls, just like the roofs. Again, the story is the hull shape represents the ancestors who died at sea.

Of course, through centuries, the wood of many platforms - and the intricately carved coffins - have deteriorated and crashed to the base of the cliff leaving pieces of wood and bones strewn in a common heap.  

The intricate design of these old coffins continues today with modern coffins.

Today,  when natural caves are “full” or do not exist, workmen are hired to cut crypts into the rock, resulting in a patchwork look on the cliff face, like stonework condos. They look small from the front, but having seen  the inside of a crypt being “readied,” I saw it was big enough for a family.

This practice continues,  with caves for the wealthy carved out of the rock, very high above the valley floor.

Note:  see white of covered coffin on top left of rock  face

To further honor the deceased, if a family has the money, they hire a special carpenter to carve a tau-tau, or life size effigy, considered to be the visible soul, a link between the living and the dead. The carpenter is provided a photo of the deceased on which to base the tau-tau’s  likeness: face, body, clothes, personal effects.

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Effigy

Janice Lamattina

Effigy

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Effigy close-up

Janice Lamattina

Effigy close-up

Some cave walls are covered with these tau-taus in family groupings, not unlike a family portrait. The actual crypt is behind the tau-taus and holds everyone represented by the tau-taus in front.

Many caves, crypts and tau-taus have little piles of things the deceased may need/want:  water, cigarettes, umbrellas. And, as part of caring for the deceased and looking after them, tau-taus and coffins are often rebuilt if they deteriorate. (The effigies are carved from the jackfruit tree, supposedly hard and long lasting.) Or, if funds are too limited to build a new coffin, the skull is simply placed in a niche inside the cave where the family knows where it is when they come to visit.

If the burial traditions of the Torajans are not unusual enough, their funeral customs are even more so. When a person dies, they are said to be “tomakula” or “sick.” They are embalmed (although the whole process on this was very vague: some modern technology, i.e. formaldehyde, and some talk of herbs, leaves and coffee!). Then, they are kept in the house with the family where they are brought food, visited, clothes changed, etc. and where they remain part of the family. Yes, this happens today. A family with a tomakula person has a white piece of cloth hanging out by the street. The person may stay in the house a few months or even a year. Why so long? The actual funeral is a multi-day, elaborate and expensive celebration. It takes time to acquire the money for all that goes in to the party. And a party it is!  A funeral is a bigger deal than weddings and saved up for as we would a wedding.

My guide heard of a funeral (from a not high class family) up in the mountains and off we went in search.

Indeed. No one was crying (although they were in black).  It was a party atmosphere; men playing cards; I’m told there is often dancing and music. People looked pretty happy. And, again, the family spotted me and dragged me into the family picture. My western temperament made me want to express condolences, but it seemed inappropriate. There was no line of friends conveying sympathies to the family, so...

Day One of the funeral is the procession of taking the deceased in the coffin, through town to say good bye to neighbors and then to where the celebration will be held, placing it on a bamboo platform. Day Two and Three is the party with guests feasting on roasted buffalo and pig. On the last day, any remaining uneaten buffalo is sold off to guests, which helps to defray costs.The funeral tradition requires that 24 water buffalo be slaughtered in recognition of the 24 steps to heaven. Everyone in the family, as well as friends, contribute buffalo. And the family keeps track! In fact, people who have donated a buffalo get to sit in a special “room”.

 But this tradition has an element of prestige to it: more than 24 is appropriate for wealthier important families. It won’t get you to heaven any faster, but it is status symbol for the family.

At the funeral, someone is in charge of recording who brought what and the value so that the family can reciprocate appropriately at a later time (sounds like some of the traditions in PNG, no?)

About these buffalo. Similar to India, water buffalo in Toraja are sacred. They do nothing. Often I saw them lazing around a rice field while people were working. They are given a stress free life, well fed and kept cleaner than a car.

There are different breeds, some being more rare, more expensive and thus more prestigious to give!  This three colored guy was the equivalent of $20,000. The average water buffalo is about $10,000. Twenty four?! Do the math!

But, unlike India, these guys are butchered, roasted and eaten at the funeral.  All 24. They eat all the parts. All. Yes. All all. Including the tail. If you think about it, the buffalo are kinda like a bank account. Save and save ....and then spend.

The butchering? Yes. A mess is an understatement. But truthfully, it wasn’t as disgusting as anticipated. Although it was odd walking around, stepping over, trying to not step in.....

The men do the butchering while the women bring in pots of tea and platters of other food.

At the end of the celebration, the buffalo horns are traditionally hung from the front of the house (today, I was told, more usually inside). Pigs are also roasted at the funeral and their jaws hang on the side of the house. Lots of horns means - not only lots of funerals - but is also indicative of wealth.

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House with buffalo horns and pig jaws

Janice Lamattina

House with buffalo horns and pig jaws

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House with buffalo horns and pig jaws with skulls

Janice Lamattina

House with buffalo horns and pig jaws with skulls

I mentioned earlier that when coffins deteriorate, families may replace them.  They may also put the skull on the front of the house, which you can see in the above picture.

The whole thing is very expensive. While the 24 buffalo are a “must”, the compete “works”....buffalo, coffin, tau-tau, carved out cave... adds up to over $300,000. The joke is Torajans live better in death than in life.

This is a huge expense in a country where dinner in my hotel was about $5. A bottle of water at the airport is less than a dollar. If a family can’t afford the buffalo, pressure is put on the younger generation to go to the city and work to send back money. Also, if a cousin offers you that fancy three colored buffalo,  families may decline, fearful of needing to reciprocate later.

The whole idea behind all this is that the ancestors continue to be a part of the family and that this transition, as we might call it, is not a sad thing but a cause for celebration.

As evidence that Torajans blend these animistic beliefs with Christianity, there was a minister who gave a prayer at the funeral I attended. While she spoke in Indonesian, I clearly heard “Jesus Christ” and “Amen.”  But she did her five minutes, and that was that. People bowed their head, closed their eyes. You got the impression they were politely waiting. There was no chorus of “Amen” from the crowd.

For only a few days, Toraja and this corner of Indonesia was certainly an eye opener. Many of the cave sights and cliffs left me speechless. But wow, did I learn a lot!!!

I’ve been fortunate. I’m returning home safe and healthy with all my luggage and no airline snafus. It appears I’ll dodge both the hurricanes in the Pacific and the Gulf! It has been an amazing - and yes, exhausting - adventure in so many ways. I’m grateful to have seen places and customs that may disappear in less than a generation. 

Thanks for coming along!  So many of you have also had such awesome travels this summer. Isn’t it wonderful to open our minds and hearts and then come back home with eyes a bit more wide open?

Always. Thank you for being with me. I am so grateful for your participation, comments and support! Thank you for being interested in our world.

And - for this posting in particular:  I tried to carefully edit the photos, hoping to not make anyone too uncomfortable. If you are interested in a more unedited version, le’me  know. 

Travel deeper, friends.