Where to begin? This was probably both the most unusual and the most difficult to get to place we have visited here in Indonesia. The area is called Tana Toraja (hereafter known as TT). It's on the island of Sulawesi, which was known when I was in school as "the Celebes".
Our friends, Scott and Hilary Pike, planned to visit and chose this destination from some choices we gave them. It was a place we had wanted to visit, so we happily made the arrangements. They flew from Seattle to Bali and then on to Makassar for overnight. We met them there after a 6 AM morning flight, which necessitated a 3:45 wake up call. Elvis was our guide and Anton the driver and so we began the 10 hour drive to the TT area. At first the time passed quickly as we caught up on each others' news. A stop for lunch over the water yielded the best seafood we have had in Indonesia. But the afternoon dragged on and darkness fell and on we drove. Everyone was tired and a bit cranky. Hilary got a bit carsick on the twisty roads. Meanwhile Elvis began to tell us about the Torajan people. Their oral history says they came by boat from indo china (think Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam) in the third century and went inland to the highlands. There they developed their culture and had no contact with any other people until the 17th century when they had some wars with the Bugis, one of the dominant cultures on Sulawesi. The next century brought Dutch missionaries, the first batch of which were all killed, but ultimately most Torajans were converted to Christianity. Now they are about half Catholic and half Protestant, but they retain their traditional funeral practices from the ancient times, which are highly unusual, to say the least. When a person dies, the body is kept in the family home for up to two years. The bodies are rubbed with oils and wrapped in linen, so essentially become mummified. (today sometimes formaldehyde is used also). They continue to bring food and drink to the mummy thrice daily. Meanwhile the family begins planning the funeral. The higher the family's rank, the more elaborate the funeral must be. Money must be saved, construction of various structures must begin and a special "priest" booked. No structure can be re-used. All must be torn down afterwards, although the lumber can be recycled. When all is arranged, the funeral is announced and hundreds of people come. Each group or clan must bring a gift to the family, usually several pigs or a wAter buffalo or two. The funeral lasts several days and the animals are killed, cooked, and served to the guests. Meanwhile there is chanting and dancing, etc.
Finally we arrived at our lodging which was in a traditional style, with boat shaped houses. They reminded me of both Viking ships and also Polynesian themes. (Tiki restaurant?). We were very lucky on our visit in getting to see both the market (Held only once every six days) and a funeral. We began at the market which had an astonishing amount of livestock ( hundreds of animals) mainly large pigs and water buffalo. But also baby pigs and chickens. I immediately thought of how much wealth the animals represent, but also the small amount of animal protein the average Indonesian eats. A water buffalo can cost $4000 and weigh 1000 pounds. It was somewhat reminiscent of a state fair, with owners washing and grooming the animals to show to the best advantage. Most of the pigs (alive) were trussed onto bamboo litters, ready for sale, as it were.
We watched all this activity and then went to the funeral. Outsiders are very welcome. It is considered a joyous occasion as the deceased finally can find peace. It was utter chaos. Huge crowds, many people wanting their picture taken with us, large flatbed trucks dropping off both guests and pigs(they rode together), slaughtering and cooking of pigs, loud exhortations from the "priest", who speaks an ancient version of the language that nobody understands anymore.
After lunch (not too hungry after that) we visited several burial sites. These vary somewhat by village. Some coffins are put into caves, where they decay over the years, leaving the skeletal bones. Family members still visit the coffins and leave drinks or especially cigarettes by the skulls. It was like a very creepy haunted house except that it was all REAL. Caves are patrolled by villagers at night to prevent looting. Coffins of the very wealthy are put high up on cliff faces because they have many valuables in them. Other villages put the coffins in holes in rocks with a decorated door. Then there are the babies. If they don't have teeth yet, they are put into holes cut into a certain kind of tree and the hole covered by a bamboo mat. The tree grows and covers the opening. When the woman has another baby it is believed that the dead baby has come back and is being born again. If the baby has teeth, however, it has another kind of burial in a hole in the rock in a special area for babies.
There were (are still) 3 castes, royals, commoners, and slaves. Originally the slave was killed and buried with the owner when he died. The Dutch banned slavery in 1905, but still people are bound to their owners and often buried in simple graves nearby. Elvis said it is a bit more collaborative these days, with the owner stopping by and saying, "I think we should plant the rice next week. What do you think?". There are complicated rules, different for men and women, for marrying up or down castes, but most people marry within a caste.
The area is very agricultural, raising large amounts of rice, but also coffee and cocoa. They put out large tarps by the side of the roads for drying these and rake them frequently. The coffee is very famous. I am not a coffee drinker, but Tom had some and said it was good. There are rice storage houses which are smaller versions of the boat shaped houses and it is a measure of one's wealth how many rice storage houses one has.
After a full day seeing these sites, we slept again in our tongkanan traditional house, and the next morning drove the grueling 10 hours back to the airport. I think we all felt it was worth it to see this unique area. I remarked to Tom that this was the Indonesia I had been hoping to see all along. I now understand that long arduous travel is probably necessary to get to some of these spots. I wish I had realized it sooner.
It was astonishing to me that this rigid, complicated, hierarchical culture could grow and survive in such an isolated area. We also could not help but notice that many of the people looked like Vietnamese or Cambodians, so maybe their oral history is true. I titled this the land of the living dead because one's whole adult life is devoted to burying one's parents and earning enough money to have an appropriately lavish funeral for oneself. I don't know how anything gets done, but I was told they are richer than average Inonesians, probably because they have to be.
