In Kete Kesu, we toured the grassy field consisting of about 16 large tongkonan, two rows of eight houses facing each other just across the tiny field running the length of the houses. Passing up into the forest just behind the village, we climbed a hill to a rock escarpment to find another traditional feature of the land - graves carved into the stone that permeates the entire region. In the walls of the granite cliff were a few small holes that were said to be graves of villagers who had passed away. We also saw a few piles of skulls and bones sitting at the edge of the hill, some even with a few cigarettes and drinks as offerings to the deceased. Finally, alongside the trail, we passed a carved wooden coffin, shaped like a long pig, with a spot for the body in the middle. Apparently, either pigs or buffalo are carved onto the coffins, depending on the sex of the deceased, though I think the rules regarding which animal is used aren't as strict as they once were.
Next, we moved onto some smaller roads, weaving through more rice fields, small mountains and tiny villages, looking for one of the funeral celebrations that was known to be happening in the area. We made a few stops to talk with some locals, inquiring about the location of the event. Soon, we saw a few rows of people heading through one of the rice fields, into the forest, and we knew we had found it. The groups dressed in black or dark colors, and a few pairs of men carried live pigs, dangling from a pair of bamboo poles fashioned into a carrier to bring these swine as offerings for slaughter. Making our way through the stalks of rice, we walked into the forest of bamboo and trees, finding a few makeshift shelters created with wood, bamboo and lots of tarp, filled with a few hundred people sitting around on the tarps covering the forest floor, having coffee, snacks and just chatting away, though the appearance of a foreigner did draw a few interested looks. At the entrance to the funeral, the sound of pigs squealing filled the air, as they were literally being slaughtered right on the side of the path and cooked over the open fire. Markus offered to let me watch how it was done, but I really didn't want to see, so we quickly moved on and found a spot to sit among the local villagers. I was immediately offered tea and a few of the people who spoke a tiny bit of English began talking to me, asking where I was from and why I was at the funeral. Markus spoke with a few others and discretely let me know that we were actually at the wrong celebration. It wasn't that we weren't welcome, as the celebrations are designed to be opulent affairs accepting people from everywhere, basically with the attitude of "the more, the merrier," but this was a relatively poor funeral ceremony, not the huge one that we were seeking that day. So we excused ourselves a few minutes later and headed back up the road, finding that the real celebration was a few kilometers further.
Unfortunately, the village was nestled in the hills off the main road, meaning that our tiny motorcycle had to struggle up a few very steep hills, making me more and more worried as the road turned into a precarious mix of grass and huge stones. Markus, an experienced rider, did much better than I would have done, but I could still feel the back wheel slipping and sliding underneath me, spinning on some of the slick rocks and bouncing around the walking trail. Finally, inching our way up a steep, rocky hill, I decided that I had tempted fate long enough, so I popped off the back of the motorcycle, which actually wasn't that hard, since my legs were almost long enough to touch the ground while we were riding anyway, so I just jumped up, spread my legs and let the bike pass underneath me and hit the ground running. Markus looked back to make sure I was ok, and we both agreed that it was much safer in the treacherous parts for me to walk and him to take the motorcycle himself. So the pattern continued a few more times, riding through the easy, flat parts with me jumping off when I felt the bike getting a little shaky, Markus then waiting for me at the top of the hills. Finally, we heard the chanting and saw the smoke signifying the huge ceremony. Walking in, we passed a fire where they were cooked the pigs, some over the open flame and some with bits of pork and rice stuffed into a bamboo tube as a traditional way of preparing the meal.
The entire spectacle was impressive, as the group of four or five large buildings were all constructed for the sole purpose of this funeral ceremony. Atop one of the buildings was a small bow-shaped roof, under which the coffin was placed with the remains of the deceased. With this being such an elaborate ceremony, many of the family and friends from all over Indonesia came back, and the planning and saving for the event took over four years, during which time the body remains in the house of the family, and many customs act as if they haven't passed away, sometimes leaving a place for them at the table, asking permission to leave the room, etc. Besides the intermittent chanting, the most noticeable noises were those coming from the squealing pigs, twenty of them laid out on the dirt in front of the buildings at a time, all strung up on the bamboo poles, some squirming and fighting to get away, others saving their energy for a potential escape. The shrieks and squeals kept a constant reminder of the sacrifices made on this day, and I was glad I didn't attend the next day of the four day ceremony in which they slaughter as many water buffalo as the family can afford. There was already the severed head of one buffalo laying in the middle of the ground with people passing casually by, not seeming to mind.
We sat in one of the newly constructed huts where I met a few members of the extended family and presented a small gift to them in exchange for their hospitality. A typical gift is expensive cigarettes, but I really didn't want to support the rampant smoking habits of some Indonesians, so I talked to Markus and found that a gift of tea and sugar, something that the entire family could enjoy, would also be appropriate, so I quickly opted for that when we stopped at the store on the way. The immediate family of the deceased were dressed with incredible outfits of gold and brown, with the small girls nicely polished with hair and makeup, sitting along the entranceway to the main structure, greeting those who entered. As we walked around more, I saw what I thought was a fortunate pig, having escaped his bamboo shackles, running in circles around the crowd, trying to decide which way to go. Markus quickly warned me to be careful, and I could sense his urgency, though I didn't think the pig was much of a threat, so I slowly backed away, not picking up on the entire scene. Just then, as I heard Markus warning me again, one of the locals next to me pulled out a long blade from its sheath and jabbed the pig in the area between its neck and shoulders, a spot that will puncture the lungs and kill the pig fairly quickly. Just as I saw the knife and heard the pig squeal, I jumped back, as blood literally spurted out of the animal, a small bit even landing on my shoe. Then, with its last dying effort, the pig got a bit of revenge, running straight into the room reserved for the closest family and friends, spreading blood and screams throughout the open walled room as some tried to corral it and others stood by and laughed. After about an hour at the ceremony, watching the dances, songs and rows of honored guests, we decided it was time to move on, once again making our way back with a combination of his motorcycle and walking up the treacherous roads.
From the ceremony, we made a quick detour to a nearby area that is known for its baby graves. These graves are for babies that pass away before they learn to walk, and they are literally entombed within some large trees, with small holes cut into the tree, the body placed inside and then covered with a bamboo sort of door. The idea is that the children are buried within the living tree and are then allowed to grow with the tree, since they never had the opportunity to grow during their lives. The large tree within a bamboo grove was interesting and a bit creepy, as some of the graves are only 20 or 30 years old. Next, we stopped for a quick local lunch consisting of some random rice, spinach, potato and spicy, shredded chicken dishes, and then we moved on to Lemo, another well known site in the area. The tiny village is famous for its tau tau, wooden effigies of the deceased that sit on ledges outside of graves carved into massive stone walls in the countryside. The wooden representations are nearly life-sized and are painted with eyes and faces and clothed with typical clothing of the deceased. Some of the tau tau have their arms outstretched in a few different forms, reaching out to their family and/or their gods. In Lemo, we came up to a 60 foot high wall of stone graves, fronted by three or four rows of tau tau, notched in coves inset in the cliff face.
Finally, to end our tour, we headed back towards Rantepao with a stop at Londa to see the caves used as another burial site for the local people. As we approached, there was actually a large gathering, and Markus quickly spoke with some people and reported back that they were in the process of burying a 20 year old girl who had died in a car accident a few weeks ago. For the less wealthy families, the funeral celebrations are much smaller, and the bodies will be buried much more quickly in a stone grave or in a cave, as was the case here. So we watched as the coffin was carried into the dark cave opening, and then the family returned without the casket and quickly left the site. At the cave entrance, more tau tau stood, representing those within, and we entered the main opening into the cave, along with a local boy who charged $2 for his services of providing a lantern to make our way around the cave. The tunnel within was about 10 feet high and 20 feet wide, winding around, revealing a few different spots where coffins still stood. The coffins came in groups of 5 or 10, with whole families being buried together. Soon we came across the newest coffin that was just placed, covered in a pink lace blanket. We passed a few more skulls and skeletons, though at this point, the feeling wasn't quite as macabre as I might have though, having spent the whole day learning about how the locals revered and celebrated death, not believing it to be a time of great mourning or sadness. These sites are well known in the area, so I may have been able to visit some of them on my own, though it would have been fairly hard to find them all. More importantly, I saw a few other foreigners at the main celebration that were on their own and didn't understand the ceremonies nor the traditions; one French guy committed a big taboo by sitting on one of the altars as he watched (though Markus quickly told him about his faux pas), and a Spanish couple got in the way of the parade a few times, so I was very happy to have been a spectator with Markus' advice and not a nuisance to the family in this important time for them. All in all, it was a very interesting day, and I was glad to have spent the $30-35 to hire Markus to both show me around and find these spots, in addition to teaching me about the traditions, etiquette and rationale behind these fascinating displays, plus he was a very nice guy, and I had met his wife and son at his tiny office/front room of his tiny house, so I was happy to support them.
(The outside of one of the houses in Kete Kesu, showing off the numerous buffalo horns, indicating the family's wealth and status.)
(These wooden effigies are known as tau tau. They sit outside of the graves carved into stones and caves, representing the deceased who lie within.)
(The row of tongkonan at Kete Kesu. The characteristic roof either represents the horns of a buffalo or the bow of a ship. You can choose.)
(The view of Kete Kesu across a nice rice field.)
(We followed these guys into the woods. Why wouldn't you follow someone carrying a live, squealing pig?)
(Inside the forest, we found this small funeral celebration, though it wasn't the ceremony that we were looking for, so we left soon after arriving. You can see the makeshift shelters made from bamboo and tarp used for the four day festival.)
(Arriving at the larger ceremony, things were a little less discrete. Loud chants, music, an MC with a microphone and smoke from the massive fire pit used for cooking the pigs all signaled the ceremony from a long way away. This entire 'village' was built just for the funeral ceremony, four years in the making. The deceased's body sits in the small brown U-shaped roof in the middle of the picture.)
(Along the ground in the center of the area, guests deposited their gifts/pigs, tied to bamboo poles, squealing and creating chaos until they were slaughtered a few minutes later, when another set of pigs were brought forth. Again, these are a sign of wealth, so hundreds of pigs were sacrificed, and the food is served to the guests.)
(The immediate family in traditional dress. The girl on the left was probably barely even born when the person passed away, but great pride is taken in the ceremonies, and no expense is spared, explaining why it took four years to get ready for this party.)
(As you can see, the mood is respectful but not somber. If you look in the background, you can see Frenchie who would later go on to sit in a sacred spot, essentially spitting in the face of the family....well, maybe it wasn't that bad, but it was still against the traditions of the ceremony.)
(These guys lead groups of people into the main building for the family and closest friends, stopping to sing songs and do a circle dance in the courtyard before entering.)
(This tree contains graves of babies who died before being able to walk. They are then buried in trees, according to tradition, allowing them to grow up as the tree grows. The tiny graves are covered by the bamboo flaps that you see on the side of the tree.)
(Large groups of tau tau overlooking a huge set of rock graves in Lemo. As you can imagine, the whole area is quite surreal.)
(A wider view of the tau tau and tongkonan of Lemo. Within that massive granite rock are hundreds of graves from the local villagers, represented by the tau tau looking outwards from the rock, back towards the village.)
(Within the caves of Londa, where many coffins are buried, serving as another unique grave site for the people of Tana Toraja. As you can see, bits of skeletons are strewn around the cave. I didn't really want to take this picture, but my guide assured me that it was ok.)
(Some of the graves sit half uncovered within the dark cave, lit only by the lantern carried by a young boy who you can hire at the entrance. We also saw a funeral ceremony just minutes before entering where a young girl's coffin was placed inside the cave.)
1 comments:
This is incredible. Also, at first I thought that Frenchie was you.
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