Rob and Anna's travel adventure

Rituals of Taraja, Sulawesi

Anna's entry:

After a horrible sleepless over-night ferry crossing from Kalimantan, followed by seven more hours on the packed bus (sitting on the edge of the heated engine compartment because the seats are simply not designed to accommodate a Western (taller, bigger) body), though being cheered on by Indonesian passengers offering sweet treats to make a journey nicer, we finally arrived in Rantepao.
The main purpose of coming here was to explore a unique area of Toraja known for its elaborate funeral ceremonies and rituals, as well as an outstanding mountainous scenery and elaborate traditional houses. I must warn you, that shortly following description may contain some gruesome and disturbing details. Please feel free to skip some parts of this entry if the images are too vivid.
Anyway, before I go on with the rituals let me describe our first night in Rantepao... After Kalimantan, where Rob and I were often the only Westerners, Rantepao to us seemed touristy - even though we saw not more than 5-10 foreigners (too many for our taste). Anyway, we were able to find a decent place for around 7USD including a nice breakfast each morning. Our room faced a peaceful garden with a pond of gold fish, and a traditional wooden houses, brightly colored and decorated, called tongkonan. The architecture of tongkonan is very distinct - it has the towering roof, rearing up at either end. It almost looks like a gigantic buffalo horns. The construction has several purposes - it is sometimes used for storing rice, sometimes as a family meeting place, and sometimes for storing coffins with dead bodies, of course. Nevertheless, the architectural details of the building is stunning.
Anyway, after settling in in our room, Rob and I went to find something to eat - the streets were barely lit, plus loss of electricity was an ongoing thing in Rantepao often causing falls and motorbike accidents. We found a stall run by a couple of young guys selling cheap breaded deep-fried chicken (a local version of KFC, except it was served with mouth burning chilies). We have noticed a weird looking guy staring at us - we are used to being stared at, but what was different about this guy was that he would not reply to our "hello". By looking at him we determined he was either crazy or on drugs. We left the street stall, but the guy began stalking us, following our every move. It was a very unusual behavior for an Indonesian. After being unable to "loose" the guy, we noticed a small police station, and popped in in there in hopes to defer the stalker. A young police guy came out to greet us, and we asked his permission to spend a few minutes at his station. The police guy, named Roma, was very welcoming and could speak some English. We began talking, and Roma shared with us some " insider" information. Apparently, an elaborate traditional funeral was scheduled for the next day, and he thought it would be very interesting for us to see it. You see, in order to attend a ritual funeral - the highlight of the trip to Toraja - foreigners are normally required a guide, attached with a price tag. Rob and I had tried to find our about possible viewing without a guide, but were intentionally misinformed by guide on the location and direction. Obviously, it is a big business for guides here, and they keep mum about it, unless they are paid. That is why the information provided to us by our new acquaintance, policeman Roma, was so valuable to us. Roma gave us an exact village name, the name of the family, and directions how to get there. Naturally, from a good heart, no payment intended.

The next morning we ventured onto to find the village where the traditional funeral ceremony would take place. Roma's directions were great, and with a help of locals we found the ritual village without any issues. This is where the gruesome details will begin...
On the way to the village we were passed by several trucks transporting pigs and buffaloes. We knew the purpose of the cargo, but did not know the specifics. When we reached the ceremonial place, things became a lot more obvious. It was a BIG ceremonial funeral, about 10 people were to be sent off to a "better world" - let me mention here, however, that all of them passed a while back, so obviously they were kept for a while somewhere else... The large field surrounded by tongkonan (traditional buildings) and observation platforms, had already spills of fresh blood. A designated head of the funeral, dressed in the traditional clothing looking like a colorful version of Roman toga, was dancing and laughing in a weird fashion, and screaming in animal voices in an old Torajan dialect in a microphone. The pigs were laying on the ground, and screaming their lungs out - their legs and bodies were tied up to bamboo CARRYING STICKS, some pigs were horribly dehydrated, and a raging foam was coming out of their mouth. Some, accepted their destiny, and were laying calm; and on a very rare occasion we could see a pig covered in palm leaves to help with a hot sun, and maybe even petted slightly on the ears - the latter was THE exception. Right next to it all, there were kitchens preparing for the funeral feast for numerous family members, that kept coming and coming. Among the traditionally dressed young men forming a circle in a dance and moaning, more and more pigs and buffaloes kept being brought it - the names of the deceased were announced, and the sides of pigs and buffaloes got marked with large painted letters, presumably the initials of the deceased. The smell of fresh blood, poop, sweat, garlic and curry made me feel nauseous. Rob went to sit down away from the "main stage", he felt he could faint. In addition, the heat and sun were ruthless. Luckily, and to our relief, we missed the actual slaughtering part... A few locals tried talking to us, and some were very surprised we were able to find the ceremony without a guide - they may have even respected that. We were welcome to stay and observe the ceremony, and could even come for the the second day, when the buffaloes will be slaughtered; but over all the "show" was not for tourists, it was their real deal. Young kids, part of ceremony, were patiently observing the event, and seemingly unbothered by the slaughter and animal distress. It is a part of life and death in Toraja, it has been a tradition for several centuries, the normal occurrence... The deceased needs a slaughtered buffalo, so his soul could reach the heaven... And, pigs need to be slaughtered to seal the deal, or something like that...
Several days later, by hiking through the surrounding villages, we saw quite a few buffalo skins laying on the roads and drying under the sun. They still had spills of fresh blood, but everything else looked peaceful. While walking on a side of a road, a guide on a motorbike blocked our way and asked "Do you want to see the ceremony?", "Already have", we replied, and kept walking away.
Now, what happens with the actual bodies of the deceased? That's another ritual ceremony. No - they are not buried or cremated. The bones are put in wooden coffins, and some are hang on the trees, some are put on the cave, and some are simply put on the rocks. Families are usually "buried" together, so when it's their turn, the bones are simply added onto the previous "grave", creating a pile of skulls, bones, etc. Ke'te Kesu is the best example of such, along with Lemo - villages around Rantepao. And, for the best scenery taking a bemo to a village of Batutumonga, up in the mountains, and then walking about 7-10 km towards Tikala among the rice fields and hills is a way to take in the peaceful side of Toraja. Just skip Pana, there are no longer baby graves hanging in the trees there. You just have to do with the normal adult graves in caves and rocky outcrops in the near by Lokomata. Tried to put a sense of humor here, hope it wasn't too tasteless. Seriously, the hiking in those areas were a delight - lots of introspective into lives of villagers, and as always lots of happy kids, no matter if they are playing in the mud, cultivating the rice fields, or simply splashing in the untreated water.
Rantepao was also a turning point in our itinerary. My initial place was to take us North - to Togean islands, and possibly all the way to Bunaken Marine Park. However, the roads were washed out, and two days of traveling on a bus would have likely turned into four or even five days (needless to say in over-packed smoke-through buses). So, we decided to literally make a U-turn, and instead head out straight South. The sudden change in plans was somewhat disappointing to me (I knew exactly what to do up North), but sometimes unexpected changes bring their own rewards...

posted by Rob and Anna @ 7:04 AM