Tag Archives: Central Kalimantan

Tiwah Kampuri

Posted on November 28, 2015 by John Boyd Macdonald| Leave a comment

The rains have arrived, the fires and smoke have gone for another year, and life has returned to what passes for normal here in Central Kalimantan (KalTeng). In fact the wet season storms arrived with such gusto that they demolished much of the power line from South Kalimantan. As a result, KalTeng has had little or no electricity, telephone service, internet or even piped water for the past few weeks. Normal service appears to have been resumed the past couple of days, and so now we await further unexpected developments. Meanwhile…

I’ve previously written about the Tiwah (Dayak funeral ritual) that we attended back in November last year, and about another very large Tiwah in August this year. Both were quite extraordinary. When we heard that another mass Tiwah was being held in the village of Kampuri, we quickly made arrangements to attend. Kampuri is a village of around 600 families, in the Gunung Mas region of Central Kalimantan, about three hours drive to the northeast from where we live. It’s on the Kahayan River, whereas the two earlier ceremonies were on the Katingan River to the west of here. We were very interested to see how different the Kaharingan religious practices might be.

By a happy coincidence, my workmate (and our friend) Ibu Andarini is from Kampuri, and she very kindly provided us with transport, accommodation and great company for the main ceremonial days (Tubuh Basir Muduk and Tubuh Ngarahang Tulang) of the Tiwah. We were the only non-Indonesians there.

When we first arrived, the ceremonial site had been prepared, but things were pretty quiet, so we drove an hour north to the district (Kabupaten) capital of Kuala Kurun, and stayed overnight with members of Andarini’s family there – who made us very welcome.

Kampuri Tiwah_20150830_832

Back in Kampuri early the next morning, the crowd was gathering. Musicians had started playing the gongs and drums that continued for most of the next two days. The food, snack and drink vendors had set up their temporary warungs. No less than eight gambling operations had started business – but, being (technically) illegal, they were located a discreet distance away amongst the trees behind the main proceedings. “No photos!”

Seventeen tall painted wooden sapundu were erected, one for each of the deceased. The poles were securely planted in deep holes in the ground. On top of each one was carved a stylised representation of the deceased. One man who had served in the army, for example, was depicted in khaki and carrying a rifle. The sapundu are used to tether the buffalo and cattle that will be sacrificed during the tiwah.

The rituals of Tiwah are part of the Dayak Kaharingan religion. Adherents of this animist faith believe that the spirit of someone who has died will stay around the village that was their home in life, and will not be able to make the journey on to the ‘Prosperous village’ (i.e. Heaven) without assistance and encouragement.

So there are prayers, music and offerings to get the assistance of beneficial spirits (and to repel the malevolent ones). Chickens, pigs, cattle and buffalo are sacrificed, and the animals’ spirits will also accompany the deceased and support them when they arrive at the ancestral spirit village.

The gods and spirits are very finicky about protocol, and the complicated rituals must be performed exactly if they are to be successful. So one or more basir, experts in the minutiae of Kaharingan ritual and the sacred language of Sangiang, are required to preside over proceedings and to keep it all on track. At Kampuri, there were nine of them, mostly wearing rattan caps with the word ‘basir’ woven in so there could be doubt of their role and status. They were an amiable group, keen to try and explain things to us whenever time and our limited bahasa language skills allowed. And, like all Indonesians, they were ready to pose for photos at the drop of a (rattan) hat.

There weren’t nearly as many prayers and songs as we had seen at the Tiwah on the Katingan River, but the ones that did occur were quite beautiful, in an extended, hypnotically repetitive cycle of solo voice and chorus responses. The little drums (katambung) that they play are significant, and their use is one of the things that distinguish the basir of the Kahayan from the pisur of the Katingan. Their prayers, chants and music went on well into the night.

By day, the crowd was generally more boisterous than those we saw on the Katingan. There were frequent outbreaks of hujan tanah (literally, ‘raining dirt’) where clods of soil (perhaps later mixed with some buffalo faeces and blood…) would be picked up and lobbed across the heads of the crowd. After I got targeted and pelted a couple of times, including one quite solid missile that hit me square in the glasses, I expressed my clear displeasure and invited the throwers to come over and discuss the matter in more detail. That seemed to be the end of it.

More benign were the people who moved through the crowd, applying white rice flour paste to the faces of all present. We are not certain of the ritual significance of this paste, but the lady below made a fine advertisement for its beautifying effect.

On each day, the first animals to be sacrificed were the pigs (babi). Unlike on the Katingan, where the pigs were slaughtered very quickly and relatively painlessly by a knife to the heart, the largest babi Kampuri were speared while held in a bamboo enclosure. Each family member took a turn, and so it took a little while, and the squeals of the indignant pigs were heartbreaking to hear.

The mass Tiwah was held for the souls of some 17 people, and there was a major sacrifice – usually a buffalo (kerbau), but sometimes a cow (sapi) – for each one. The buffalo can cost up to nearly the equivalent of AU$1000, so it is a very major expense for each of the families that provide them. The decorated animals are brought out one by one, and tied to the appropriate sapundu with a halter (saluang) made from rattan.

Disconcertingly, they would frequently fix their gaze on me, as if imploringly asking for help

The basir and key family members formed a ring around the sapundu, each one now with a buffalo attached, and performed the slow dance of Ngangjun, Pakai selendang, which invites the spirits to descend to the village and take up temporary residence in the sapundu.

The family members then take turns to spear the buffalo. The spear (tombak) is long and decorated with red fabric and pink and white chicken feathers. Afterward, the spearer was given a glass of rice wine (or beer), which was downed quickly then he (or she) would face east, raise their head and let out a loud ‘Woooo!!!’.

The spearing continues until the beast can no longer stand up, at which point a wooden block is placed under the beast’s head, and its throat is cut. Unlike the Katingan Tiwah, there was less interest in collecting the spilt blood, or washing hands and feet ‘clean’ in it.

A batik cloth is thrown over the animal, the family members all gather and squat down around it, and a basir waves a clump of leaves over their heads.

Small pieces of the rattan that had tied the buffalo to the sapundu, or even bits of the animal itself (lips and nose) were collected by people to take away as good luck talismans. At the completion of ceremony, the animal is hauled away, for butchering, distribution and cooking. Not an easy task.

Its even harder to load onto the back of a ute. But, like most things in Indonesia, it can be accomplished if you have enough people, a couple of basic bits of equipment, and a lot of shouted advice.

The heads were taken away to be stored and displayed at the main ceremonial area.

The Tiwah is a ‘secondary funeral’. That is, it is held for people who had died and had been buried some time previously – often many years earlier. The bones of the deceased are exhumed from the site of burial, carefully cleaned and placed on fine cloth in small wooden trays or coffins. They are then taken to the specially built wooden structures (sandung) where they join the bones of other family members who had pre-deceased them. All going well with the performance of the Tiwah, their souls join the ancestors in the ‘Prosperous’ village’.

Our understanding and appreciation of the Kampuri Tiwah was greatly assisted by Pak Goldison (2nd from left below), who was the basir chiefly responsible for the organisation of the Tiwah. He was a very busy man, but he went out of his way to ensure that we were comfortable, well informed and well supplied with drinks and food throughout our stay.

And of course without Ibu Andarini (3rd from right) we probably wouldn’t have got there at all. She ensured that we had a place to stay (there is no commercial accommodation in Kampuri), that we didn’t miss any of the key events, and that we were made welcome by her family and friends in the village.

And when it’s all over, it’s time to go back home. Five on a bike? No problem.

More of my photos of the Kampuri Tiwah here.

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Tagged Central Kalimantan, Dayak Ngaju, Gunung Mas, Kaharingan, Kahayan, Kalimantan Tengah, Kampuri, Kuala Kurun, sandung, sapundu, Tiwah

Green crested lizard (Bronchocela cristatella)

Posted on November 27, 2015 by John Boyd Macdonald| Leave a comment

We get a fair amount of wildlife as regular visitors in our garden. We see lots of bulbuls and other birds, squirrels, bats, even one small snake that wriggled into the innards of my motorbike and hasn’t been seen since.

But yesterday was the first time we’ve had a Green Crested Lizard (Bronchocela cristatella) come to visit. He ran rapidly along the railing of the side fence, before stopping to pose for photos, and then scampering up a tree. He (and apparently it was a ‘he’ – only males have the crest) was very attractive. Bright green head and body, big eyes, and a long long delicate brown tail, which made up three-quarters of his 60cm length.

Although it’s the first time we’ve seen one, the Green Crested Lizard is in fact common, and can be found across Southeast Asia, from southern Burma right through to New Guinea. They mostly eat insects, and in turn they get eaten by snakes and some of the larger varieties of birds.

He is a lizard (Ind: kadal), not a chameleon (Ind:bunglon, but he can change colour. When stressed, he will turn brown. Our visitor must have been feeling relaxed, because he remained a brilliant green colour during his visit.

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Posted in Indonesia, Wildlife

Tagged Bronchocela cristatella, Central Kalimantan, Green crested lizard, Kalimantan Tengah, reptiles

Kalimantan smoke haze emergency

Posted on October 27, 2015 by John Boyd Macdonald| 2 Comments

Around this time last year I wrote about the seasonal smoke haze that blights large parts of Southeast Asia each dry season. But last year looks mild in retrospect, as 2015 is shaping up to be the worst year on record. And without doubt the worst place for the worst smoke in this worst year is … our ‘home town’ of Palangkaraya, the capital of Central Kalimantan province.

This is no idle claim. The World Air Quality Index monitors atmospheric conditions in over 8000 cities and towns around the globe. It compares them based on the number of micrograms of fine particulate matter (less than 10 microns) per cubic meter of air. For the past two months, Palangkaraya has had the world’s dirtiest air – by a wide margin. When I checked a couple of days ago, for example, the worst places I could find were New Delhi on 350, and Izmir on 500. Most cities (including Beijing on 85, New York on 10, and Sydney at 15) were well below those levels. Anything below 50 is regarded as ‘Good’.

But the level in Palangkaraya showed up as ‘999’ – and that’s only because the system wasn’t built to show numbers of 1000 or greater. The actual figure for Palangkaraya that day was 3334. That’s ten times the level classified as ‘Hazardous’. It’s enough to take your breath away.

When we found the conditions had become intolerable in late September, we evacuated to Java to enjoy the (comparatively) fresh air of Jakarta. We got ‘homesick’ and so returned here about 10 days ago. However the 2015 Kalimantan haze emergency has worsened, and may still have a little way to run… But we are in good spirits and relatively good health.

The smoke occurs due to (mostly illegal) fires in several provinces on the Indonesian islands of Sumatra and Kalimantan. Fire provides an easy means of clearing vegetation from land which can then be used for plantation agriculture, particularly oil palms. They are set in primary and secondary forests, but the biggest and most problematic location is in the areas of peatland, dried remnants of the former peat swamp forests which have been largely cleared and drained by canals. Once established, peat fires are almost impossible to extinguish, as these fires can continue to smoulder deep underground for weeks. Smoke rises eerily from the bare earth.

The peat can be many metres deep, and consists almost entirely of carbon-rich organic matter. It is one of the largest carbon storage deposits in the world. Its destruction constitutes an environmental catastrophe as well as a health and humanitarian crisis, because the burning of peat releases not only carbon dioxide, but large quantities of methane, carbon monoxide and other toxic compounds to the atmosphere.

The 180 degree panorama above shows an area south or Palangkaraya that was once a peat swamp forest, now entirely deforested and drained by those canals. The peat, which has been saturated for hundreds or thousands of years, becomes bone dry, and highly flammable.

According to NASA, the 2015 fire season is likely to be the most damaging on record, surpassing even the impact of the catastrophic 1997 fires. There are several reasons for this. Firstly, there has been little or no rain for the past six months, lowering the water table and causing the vegetation to become tinderbox-dry. Secondly, this year is subject to a particularly strong El Niño event, delaying the arrival of the wet season, and reducing the total rainfall which may be expected. Thirdly, and most significantly, there is more human pressure on the landscape, as the total population has steadily increased, primary forests are destroyed, and an ever-increasing proportion of the land is allocated to concession-holders for commercial development.

Authorities have been slow to recognise the severity of the situation or to respond proportionately, but remediation efforts are now under way. Thousands of members of the armed forces have been mobilised, water-bombing planes and other assistance has been provided by Malaysia, Singapore, Russia, and Australia. The Indonesian Government has called an immediate moratorium on peatland development, and has sent naval vessels to provide for mass evacuations, particularly of babies and small children with health problems due to smoke inhalation.

There are billboards and signs around the district aimed at discouraging people from starting more fires, which is good – but in itself it’s not much of a deterrent. This one says: “Stop pembakaran hutan, lahan dan pekarangan karena menakibatkan hidup kita sengsara!” – “Stop burning forests, fields and yards because it makes our lives miserable!”

But the scale of the disaster exceeds the capacity to respond, and emergency services are being stretched and overwhelmed. There is some (rather understandable!) anger about the situation, and there have been a couple of smallish protests, though remarkably few considering that this catastrophe could have been prevented. But now even the head of the Indonesian Bureau of Meteorology, Climatology and Geophysics (BMKG) has publicly described the crisis as “a crime against humanity of extraordinary proportions”.

The statues in the picture above of a happy family, which adorn one of the intersections in downtown Palangkaraya, have been fitted out with face masks. The sign that the girl is wearing says: “Kabut asap bukan bencana alam tapi kejahatan manusia” – “The smog is not a natural disaster, but due to human wickedness”.

It isn’t surprising that long-term smoke inhalation is having profound impacts on the health of all people living in the affected areas. Few homes are sealed against the smoke outside, and effective protective masks are not widely available or used.

It is estimated that nearly 500,000 people have contracted upper respiratory tract infections (ISPA), including over 52,000 in Central Kalimantan. Most at risk are people with pre-existing medical conditions (particularly asthmatics), the elderly, babies and infants. A number of deaths have already been attributed to the smoke, but it is difficult to establish precise numbers of proven fatalities.

One major and insidious issue is diminished oxygen uptake. Gases in the smoke, particularly carbon monoxide, bond far more readily with haemoglobin in the than oxygen does. The metabolic impact of chronic oxygen deficit can result in low energy levels and weakness, depression and mental distress.

The lifetime health effects of extended exposure to the smoke are uncertain, in part because the exact composition of the complex chemical emissions from peat fires is still not well understood. However the smoke is known to contain a number of toxic compounds, and there is likely to be an upsurge in incidence of chronic cardio-pulmonary disease and cancers in years to come.

My host organisation (YUM) is actively involved in delivering emergency assistance to those affected by the Kalimantan smoke haze emergency in the Bukit Batu district. There has been a large-scale distribution of N95 masks to participants in YUM’s agricultural and other projects. Copies of an information leaflet have been distributed in the community, and mobile medical clinics have been held, in conjunction with the NGO Dompet Dhuafa, the University of Palangkaraya and the Politeknik Kementerian Kesehatan (POLTEKKES) Palangka Raya.

YUM (whose office is just on the right of the photo above) is looking for funds to build on and expand its existing response to the crisis. The primary objective is to deliver basic first-line assistance to remediate some of the most urgent and critical needs resulting from the Kalimantan smoke haze emergency. This will include distribution of thousands of N95 face-masks, medicines, oxygen supplies and much-needed information to the 13,000-strong community of Bukit Batu. A mobile medical team will continue to provide diagnostic services and first line treatment for the thousands who are suffering from respiratory ailments, and ‘safe rooms’ will be established to provide a clean air environment for people to recover from respiratory distress.

If you’d like to contribute to this project, visit the YUM website at www.yumindonesia.org/donate/, and specify “Haze emergency” on your donation.

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Tagged Central Kalimantan, haze, kabut asap, Kalimantan Tengah, Palangkaraya, Smoke

Isen Mulang competitions

Posted on October 7, 2015 by John Boyd Macdonald| Leave a comment

A while back I wrote about the wonderful parade that kicks off Central Kalimantan’s week-long Dayak cultural festival, known as Isen Mulang (“Never give up” in the Dayak Ngaju language). But, grand though it is, there is a lot more to Isen Mulang than just the opening parade. And much of Isen Mulang is quite unique.

Many of the events take the form of competitions between the 13 Kabupaten (districts) plus one Kota (city i.e. Palangkaraya) that make up the province of Central Kalimantan (Kalimantan Tengah, usually referred to as KalTeng). There are music and dance performances (traditional and contemporary), presentations of produce and cooking, and a number of ‘sporting’ events – but unlike the sports that we are accustomed to. For example, there is football – but played at night-time, barefoot, with a flaming coconut for a football (sepak sawut). There is a fishing contest, where the (female) competitors stand waist-deep in a small muddy dam and catch the fish – with their bare hands (mangaruhi).

And there is target shooting – with blow-pipes (sumpitan, or sepit). Hunting with the traditional blowpipe, with poison-tipped bamboo darts, used to be the preferred method for stalking game in the forests of Kalimantan. It is a stealthy and remarkably effective way to hunt, and those little darts can easily be propelled tens of metres (even reputedly up to 200 metres), with surprising accuracy.

But rifles (often home-made) are pretty good for hunting too. So nowadays the blowpipe is (mostly) employed for sport, shooting at archery targets rather than at deer, birds, pigs – or enemies.

The pipes are around 2 metres long, and very straight. Ideally they are made from kayu ulin (ironwood), but other timbers are also used. There’s a narrow (about 0.5cm) barrel running the length of the pipe. Each competitor has five darts, each about 20cm long, with a sharpened point at front end, and a little cone (to catch the ‘blow’) attached to at the tail end. With the dart inserted and your lungs full, you hold the pipe as steady as you can, slowly lowering the tip till the target lines up, and then… blow. You don’t even need to blow particularly hard to propel the dart with considerable speed.

Each district team of competitors was decked out in traditional clothing of their area – though sometimes traditions were re-interpreted a bit… There were vests made of bark, satin, velvet, cotton; elaborately beaded garments, and lots of the swirling amoeba-star shapes that are amongst the most common of Dayak motifs. Finished off, in most cases, with running shoes (this is after all a sporting event).

There were simultaneous competitions for men and women, with the women’s targets 10 metres from the firing line, and the men’s targets five metres more distant.

As the only foreigners in attendance, we got a lot of attention, and got some private coaching and practice in between the rounds of the competition. We managed to hit the target each time – and Karen scored better than me! It was fun… but you must always remember to take the deep breath BEFORE putting the loaded blowpipe up to your mouth.

The Lawang Sakepang is a stylised dance/fight between two ‘warriors’. They stand on either side of an archway, with magical strings suspended across the arch, adorned with flowers. They ‘fight’ without ever actually coming into contact with each other, mirroring each other’s movements, and the bout is complete when the string between them is broken, and they swap sides of the barrier.

In times past, the ritual of Lawang Sakepang was performed whenever a visitor sought entry to another village. He or she would have to prove their martial prowess before being admitted. Now it is performed as a competitive event between two-person teams, but we have also seen it performed when the groom arrived at the beginning of a Dayak Ngaju wedding ceremony in Palangkaraya.

The teams were clearly well trained, and their moves were thoroughly choreographed, because they were perfectly synchronised across the barrier that separated them. The audience gave them rapt attention, and loudly gasped and cheered whenever a particularly impressive move was made.

From combat to the kitchen: one of the buildings at the Museum Balanga (where Karen works) was given over to displays of produce and food preparation, featuring local ingredients and favourite foods of the Dayaks – from the forests, the rivers and the home gardens.

All was presented in elaborate displays which reminded us – although the actual ingredients were rather different – of displays and competitions at the Royal Easter Show in Sydney. Clipboard-wielding judges roamed around the hall, taking notes and asking questions of the chefs and ‘food stylists’ (all of whom were female).

We didn’t stay till the end of judging, so we don’t know the result, but I rather hope that the food-filled longboat above won first prize for its creativity.

Also a bit reminiscent of an agricultural show in Australia was the wood-chopping competition (maneweng). But the axemen had to use traditional handmade axes, which slowed them down considerably.

Chopping through the log is only the first part, after which another member of the team has to split the cut logs neatly, while a third member trims and stacks them into a pile to dry. All very interesting and practical, but it’s not really one of the great spectator sports…

But the spectators were there in droves (whatever ‘droves’ are) later that day down by the Kahayan River. For a couple of kilometres, on both sides of the river, it was standing room only.

We had the best vantage point, being guests (in fact the only guests!) on a luxury river cruiser (the Rahai’i Pangun). At first the river was quiet, just its usual muddy self, with the occasional klotok (canoe) passing by.

The fellow at the front of the klotok in the photo above is Putu, our friend and river guide. The Kahayan River bridge in the background is the only crossing for several hours travel upstream or downstream, and locals are very proud of it. The bridge, opened in 2002 by then-President Megawati Soekarnoputri, seems to feature in just about every tourism photograph of Palangkaraya.

And then, from under the bridge, they started to appear: Dragon Boats! The boats (actually known as jukung hias, or ‘ornamental boats’) are in competition too, with prizes for the best decorated boat, and for the boat with the best traditional costume, music and dance performances on board.

One by one they arrived and joined the procession on the river, each boat with its own complement of costumed crew.

As the dragon boats passed by, other vessels would lean over for a better look.

It was quite a spectacle when they all assembled!

On board each of the boats, dancers and musicians strutted, posed and danced to entertain the onlookers.

They seemed to be enjoying the occasion as much as we were. Note the Dayak motifs in the leg tattoos above, the bark vests, wild boar tusks and Hornbill casques worn by the male warriors, and the enormously long feathers of the Great Argus pheasant. (And yes, it’s an endangered species).

Some of the warriors looked quite fearsome. This fellow above made an excellent figurehead for his boat. Note the mandau (bush knife) clasped between his teeth, more (temporary) tattoos, and the Hornbill feathers in his headdress.

Some of the costumes were splendid enough for Mardi Gras. This headdress has feathers of both the Great Argus pheasant (the feathers with the many ‘eyes’) and the Hornbill (the white ones with the black band)

After the excitement of the dragon boats, our own boat chugged up river. We anchored for the night, and slept at an isolated stretch of the river, with the (mostly tranquil but sometimes weird) sounds of the forest all around, and prepared to spend the next couple of days with a Japanese film crew, looking for orangutans. But that’s another story…

More photos from the Isen Mulang Festival can be viewed on my website.

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Tagged blowpipe, Central Kalimantan, dragon boats, Isen Mulang, jukung hias, Kalimantan Tengah, maneweng, Museum Balanga, Palangkaraya, sepit, sumpit, sumpitan

Tiwah Tewang Rangas

Posted on September 21, 2015 by John Boyd Macdonald| 2 Comments

The Dayak Tiwah ceremony that we attended back in last November was one of the most astonishing and powerful things that we have experienced in Kalimantan. So when we heard that another, much larger Tiwah Massal was to be held in the nearby Katingan River village of Tewang Rangas, we were determined to get there. Fortunately our dear and very knowledgeable Dayak friend Lelie was able to accompany us, and we were able to stay at the family home of Pak Damelson, who is one of Karen’s workmates at the Museum Balanga in Palangkaraya.

The Tiwah is a secondary funeral, sometimes held many years after death, which aims to help the soul of the deceased on its journey through the afterlife to ‘the Prosperous Village’ i.e. Heaven. ‘Good’ spirits, and the spirits of the ancestors, are invited down to the village to help in this task, and also to help protect the village from other, malign spirits that might be around.

The Tiwah ceremony is a big, complex and expensive affair, and it is increasingly common for a mass Tiwah to be held for a number of the recently (or not-so-recently) deceased. The Tiwah at Tewang Rangas village was large indeed, and was for some 57 people who had died between the years of 1945 and 2013. The government of the local district (the Kabupaten of Katingan) helped to fund the event, which involved ceremonies over a period of about six weeks. We attended for the main days, when the big ceremonies are held, a large number of animal sacrifices are made, and the remains of the deceased are reinterred in specially built wooden crypts (known as sandung, or pambak).

In the central square of the village, a number of kayu ulin (Ironwood) posts are erected, each with a carved and painted representation of one of the departed. A large circle of people move in a slow anti-clockwise dance around these sapundu, raising their arms and inviting the spirits, with every sideways step, to descend.

In the Dayak Ngaju Kaharingan religion, there are no priests as such, but the ceremonial proceedings are led and presided over by one of more basir – specialists in the complex and precise details of correct ritual procedure. The basir must have the gift of being able to communicate directly with the spirit world, and be adept in the ancient Sangiang language, which is the language of the Kaharingan spirit world, and is used for recitation of lengthy prayers.

At Tewang Rangas there were no less than seven basir (known locally along the Katingan River as ‘pisur’’). Chief amongst these was Babak (above), who comes from the nearby village of Tewang Rangkang, and was in fact the basir at the Tiwah we attended there. He was very busy throughout the Tiwah.

Three bukung characters were also busy throughout the days we were there. The role of these masked and costumed figures is to protect the village and participants in the ceremonies from any ‘malevolent’ spirits who might try to attend. They wander around more or less continuously clacking together poles of split bamboo, to scare them off. They also manage to terrorise small children around the village. Apparently the identity of the individuals inside the bukung costumes is a secret, and they are not even allowed to return home to sleep at night in case their human identities are revealed.

Over the two main days of the Tiwah, a large number of buffalo, cattle, pigs and chickens were sacrificed. The pigs (on the second morning alone there were some 17 slaughtered) are despatched to the afterlife very quickly and relatively humanely, with a single carefully aimed blow of the mandau (the short sword/bush knife universally worn by Dayak men) to the heart. In just a few seconds, it is over.

For the buffalo and cattle, the process is neither quick nor painless. Each beast is tethered to one of the sapundu, via a very strong rope and yoke of rattan cane. Selected family members have the ‘honour’ of taking turns to spear the animal (always on its right side). When the poor creature can no longer stand, it is then quickly finished off with a large knife. This last step is performed by a Muslim villager in proper halal manner, so that the meat can subsequently be shared with the Muslim members of the community. Ever practical and communal.

For the Kaharingan participants, the blood of sacrificed animals is considered to be pure and cleansing. It is collected and used in other offerings and in subsequent rituals. A drop is placed on the chest, neck, chin and forehead of participants. Mothers dip their infants’ feet in blood to give them strength and good fortune for years to come.

On the day before we arrived, the bones of the deceased had been removed from the graves where they had laid since burial. These were cleaned, wrapped in fine cloth and placed into coffins. These were all laid out in state on a large covered platform, where they stayed for two days until all the dances, prayers, sacrifices and offerings had been completed. One or more family members maintained a vigil beside each of them, day and night.

For one important ritual, one of the pisur sits in the doorway of the main ceremonial building, and begins a long prayer in the Sangiang language. At regular intervals he throws rice from a bowl placed in front of him. This invites and encourages the good spirits to come to the Tiwah. He seems oblivious to all around him, and you have to be careful to avoid getting showered with rice as you enter or exit the building.

As darkness comes, the bukung look even more otherworldly. Rice wine (baram) and beer having been freely consumed for some hours, the action on the street can get a bit ‘messy’. Nothing aggressive, in fact everyone was very good-humoured indeed – just a number of intoxicated people…

Next day, after all the preparations and sacrifices have been completed, rattan mats are spread in a large shaded pavilion, and a huge array of offerings and ceremonial objects are laid out. Babak and another basir conduct the prayers, and each of the offerings is bathed in smoke, touched by the mandau of the basir, and raised up into the air three times.

After the completion of the prayers, there is a long procession of family members carrying the coffins about 500 metres to the location of the newly constructed sandung crypts.

Each of the coffins is lined up outside the appropriate sandung, each covered with a batik cloth. Only the bones of blood relatives can be placed in the family sandung, as it is considered possible that anyone else (including spouses) could later turn out to have actually been evil spirits which had taken human form.

A gong orchestra is playing, there is much more baram and beer consumed, and there are a range of strong emotions amongst the substantial crowd. There are people looking contemplative, there is hilarity, there is mourning, yahooing and singing. Family photographs are being taken everywhere – as well as photos with the four bules (foreign visitors) who were in the village.

And one by one, each of the coffins is passed through a little doorway into the sandung, and placed in its final resting place, ending a journey which for some of the deceased had taken 70 years since they passed away.

The woman above appeared to be hysterical, and I was told that the spirit of one of the deceased had entered and taken possession of her. After flailing around for a bit, she grabbed both of my hands while I said some inane soothing things to her. She did actually calm down, and proceeded to thank me profusely, before collapsing exhausted. The (blurry) woman on the left of the photo was concerned that the spirit might have transferred to me.

The friendliness and hospitality of the people of Tewang Rangas was amazing. We were welcomed and encouraged to witness – or participate in – all of the important parts of the ceremonies. We were invited into people’s homes and given several meals (which, not surprisingly, featured lots of buffalo meat, beef and pork!) They were as curious about us as we about them, and we literally lost count of the number of times we posed for photographs.

More photos from the Tewang Rangas Tiwah can be viewed on my website.

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Tagged Central Kalimantan, Kaharingan, Kalimantan Tengah, Katingan River, Sungai Katingan, Tewang Rangas, Tiwah

Dayak wedding ceremony

Posted on September 6, 2015 by John Boyd Macdonald| 1 Comment

We’ve been to a fair number of wedding receptions over the past year in Kalimantan. Actually, Karen counts 11 that she has attended – Dayak, Banjar, Javanese (she’s a couple ahead of me…) – and we’ve been invited to even more. Interestingly, in no case have we met the Happy Couple before showing up at their wedding.

In a reversal of usual practice in Australia, the wedding reception is open to almost anyone who has some kind of connection to the wedding families (one wedding we attended had around 2000 guests), but the actual ceremony is usually a relatively private affair, attended only by family and close friends.

So we were delighted when our friend Lelie asked us to accompany her and her mother to the traditional Dayak wedding of two old friends of hers friends in Palangkaraya one recent evening. Lelie went to high school with Mensie (Mensie Martha Lovianie) and Alben (Briptu Alben Olandi Lambung). Although held in the capital city of the province, it was conducted as if it was held in a village, and as if the groom Alben was coming from another village.

So, first the warriors of the village assemble and greet each other.

While awaiting the groom’s arrival, there’s time to make some wardrobe adjustments. Note the hornbill skulls and feathers in the headdresses.

There’s time also to limber up and practice a few dance moves with an attentive and proud teacher.

Soon everyone is ready. The gong orchestra is playing, and everyone looks down the road for the groom.

Then the groom arrives, flanked by his parents and an entourage of family members. But entry through the gate to the village is blocked (by some magic but flimsy-looking strings with flowers suspended from them) and, more convincingly, by a fierce-looking warrior in full war regalia, armed, poised and ready to fight.

This is the beginning of the Lawang Sakepeng ceremony. A male visitor to the village must prove his worthiness by fighting and defeating a local warrior at the gate. Only then will he be welcomed in – assuming that he is still alive and standing up. Nowadays it is all ritualised; the arrivee can nominate someone to fight on his behalf (presumably a better pugilist), and the fighting is a stylised dance, with no actual contact between the two ‘combatants’.

They circle around on either side of the entrance gate, gradually working in closer to each other, and to the magical strings that separate them. The music from the gong orchestra gets louder and faster, and the onlookers start calling out encouragement and cheering any impressive moves.

Then they engage in the hand-to-hand battle (without actually touching each other!), in the course of which the strings are torn down, the two fighters swap sides and the visitor, now proven to be a good fighter (or at least to have one on his staff as his ‘best man’) is admitted and welcomed to the village.

A dance is performed to welcome and honour the visitor and his family. Having made it through the initial challenge, they are now treated with great courtesy and respect.

The groom is ushered in through all the wedding guests, to an inner room. He’s looking relieved – but his challenges aren’t over yet. There are no less than 16 specific requirements that have to met before the wedding can occur. (This being 2015, all the proceedings are monitored on a video camera and screened in the courtyard outside for the guests to view.)

First up, once settled down inside, the groom’s and bride’s families exchange formal polite greetings and a number of gifts. The groom’s family give gifts of cash, a selendang, a gong, land (on which to build a house), and other things…

Then, down to business. The bride’s father asks: “Well, why have you come here?” And the groom (perhaps a little sheepishly) replies that he’s come to take a bride.

And so begins the process known as Pengantin Bayangan. Attendants come outside a locate an unmarried girl, seemingly at random, from amongst the guests and bring her inside. “Is this the one?” the groom is asked. He replies that no, she’s not the one. She’s not the right height, or the nose is wrong, or some such discrepancy. He apologises to her for embarrassing her in front of so many people, and gives her a gift of money. And the (no doubt relieved) girl is led back outside, and another is brought in for the same examination. This whole process was repeated three times, and caused much hilarity. We wished that we could have understood all of the exchanges going on (in Dayak Ngaju language, not Bahasa Indonesia) at this point.

Meanwhile, dancers helped the groom look for his bride-to-be, and entertained the small gathering of guests outside.

After a few errors, the ‘right’ girl is presented to the groom, who confirms that she is indeed Ms Right, and there are exchanges of vows and much celebration. No-one could tell us what would have happened if he chose the wrong fiancé, or if he rejected the right one – or if she rejected him at this point. They just looked horrified, and said that that simply doesn’t happen! It mustn’t actually have been too difficult for him to make the right selection, as his fiancé was wearing a matching outfit to his.

Both wedding costumes feature the motif of the batang garing (the Tree of Life), a central symbol for the Dayak Ngaju, complete with the four branches, spears and balanga (ceramic jar) at the base. (More about the batang garing at another time…)

More celebratory dancing, and then the warriors, reassured that they would not be called upon to fight, retired for the evening. (By this time the little warrior had already disrobed and disappeared. It might have been past his bedtime).

The bride is now introduced to all of the members of the groom’s family – a process known as Pakaja Manantu.

The next part of the ceremony was really interesting, and VERY different (and I have no photos…) Both families are active members of the Kristen (Protestant) Church. So, when the traditional ceremonies were over, a minister in conventional church attire presided over prayers, a sermon, and a number of hymns that we all sang from the hymn-sheets that were handed out. We sang Di Hatiku, ya Yesus (“In my heart, O Jesus”), Tiap langkahku (“My every step”), and Keluarga hidup indah (“Family life is beautiful”), amongst others.

The contrast between the two halves of the wedding ceremony was striking. But it was explained to us that the two parts are of equal importance: “The Lawang Sakepang ceremony is to show pride in our budaya and adat [culture and traditional customs]; the second part is our agama [religion]”. It’s a neat way to reconcile the two contrasting halves, but the distinction between adat and agama is not always so easily made – for example in the Tiwah funeral ceremonies. (But much more about that at another time…)

So then it was time for the obligatory series of group photographic portraits, a delicious buffet dinner – and then everyone went home. Sudah makan, pulang.

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Tagged Central Kalimantan, Dayak Ngaju, Kalimantan Tengah, Lawang Sakepang, Palangkaraya, weddings

Chicken and veggies

Posted on September 2, 2015 by John Boyd Macdonald| Leave a comment

One of the many nice things about working of the Agricultural Project of the Yayasan Usaha Mulia (hereinafter just ‘YUM Agro’) is that I get to meet the project participants, and to spend time making photographs in the seven villages in which YUM works. (More about the project here).

The photographic work is a pleasure for me of course. But it’s also useful for YUM to document and report on their progress, for educational materials and to promote their activities. Lately I’ve been photographing the ‘home garden’ and ‘small animal husbandry’ (chicken) projects.

It’s now musim kemarau (the dry season). The rivers are way down, and in many locations there is simply no water available for irrigation, so many of the vegetable gardens are dormant until the rains arrive in November or December. But some other places have permanent (or semi-permanent) water supply, and so gardening is able to continue.

In Marang village, Ibu Nursiah is able to keep her crops of corn, beans, eggplant, chilli, tomatoes thriving due to water from a nearby bore. Her bigger problem is soil quality, as the soils in this region consist of mostly sand or peat – both infertile. To grow vegetables requires a big effort to build the soil up with compost, worms, bokashi, manure, and other sources of organic material.

Ibu Yani in Habaring Hurung village, like all 300 of the families that now have gardens established with YUM support and advice, grows eight different kinds of vegetables. The raised beds are enclosed within a mesh fence, to keep chickens and other ‘pests’ out. When I visited she was harvesting spring onions and pare belut (snake gourd). When I commented on how good the fresh spring onions looked, she insisted that I take a bunch home with me. They were as tasty as they looked.

Ibu Rosali is Ibu Yani’s neighbour in Habaring Hurung. She has just picked some bayam – a green leafy vegetable that is common here. Bayam is usually translated as ‘spinach’, but it’s not closely related (though both are in the Amaranthaceae family). Like (English) spinach, it’s a good source of iron in the diet.

Ibu Rosali has twin daughters, seen here posing with their friend in front of the family plot of rubber trees. Their friend is wearing a blouse with the almost-ubiquitous Hello Kitty design on it. Cute pink saccharine-sweet things (clothing, bags, thongs, pillows, keyrings, toys, stickers, notebooks, cups and plates,…) are highly prized here, and Hello Kitty’s dumb (literally – she’s mouthless!) visage appears on just about everything. According to Wikipedia, the Hello Kitty industry is currently worth around US$7 billion per year. Go figure! But I digress…

In Banturung village, Mama Putri’s daughter appears to be looking very excitedly at a freshly picked eggplant, but the truth is that she was watching some other children playing nearby. Indonesian eggplants are usually that long shape, looking somewhat like a purple cucumber.

Mama Putri’s other children (though at least one might have belonged to a neighbour’s family) followed me around everywhere as I checked out the garden and took photos. Like (almost) all children here, they wanted to be photographed too.

The home vegetable garden program is well established in this district, and YUM is now encouraging the cultivation of fruit trees to further improve and supplement family diets. Here, Mbak Joko keeps a proud and watchful eye on her newly planted manggis (mangosteen) tree.

Recently the YUM Agro project has moved into the promotion of ‘small animal husbandry’ (free-range chickens and fish farming) in order to boost the dietary protein intake of families in the region. The aim is to increase the number of family meals which contain meat (chicken) from the current average of 12 per month to 30. Ibu Nursiah is already a successful gardener in Marang village, but she now also has her hands full with chickens.

For the home gardens, experience has shown that they are much more successful when women have responsibility for them. But men are much more likely to be involved in the rearing of chickens. Pak Mispan lives in Habaring Hurung village, which is one of the new villages established a couple of decades ago to house transmigrasi settlers – in this case Javanese people who have moved to the far less crowded (and less fertile) Kalimantan.

Mama Ema is also a successful gardener and small-scale chicken farmer in Marang village. Like many women, she applies a paste of rice flour (and sometimes including ground medicinal root, bark or leaves) to her face to screen her skin from the darkening effect of the sun, and to prevent skin problems like acne. In Java, apparently women only apply it at nighttime for skincare purposes.

It is expected that families will have the production capacity to also sell around five chickens per month. This will provide valuable supplementation to the families’ very modest incomes. Mama Wendi (from Marang village) appears to have already chosen next month’s chickens for sale.

Two years ago Afandi, the boy in the photo above, was 1.5kg and 16cm below the healthy minimums for his age. Since his mother Ibu Nurhayati joined the YUM home garden program, his growth has improved substantially, though he is still under-sized for his age. The family has now joined the YUM ayam kampung (free-range chicken) program, and it is hoped that the extra protein in his diet will further assist his growth.

Bapak Pendi – Marang village

Ibu Tania from Banturung village has one of those smiles that you can’t resist smiling back at. The chickens – although not actually smiling themselves – certainly appear to be happy in her care.

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Tagged Central Kalimantan, Kalimantan Tengah, YUM Agro Project

Isen Mulang parade

Posted on August 25, 2015 by John Boyd Macdonald| Leave a comment

No story this time, just some faces from the opening parade of the Isen Mulang Festival, which was held in Palangkaraya 18-24 May. The festival is an annual celebration of Central Kalimantan cultural diversity – but most particularly Dayak culture. Isen Mulang means ‘Never give up’ or ’Never retreat’ in the Dayak Ngaju language. It is the motto of the province of KalTeng (Central Kalimantan).

The festival program is chock-a-block with performances and competitions between the 13 kabupaten (districts) and one city that make up the province. Dragon boats, dance, music, blow-pipe target shooting, cooking, wood-chopping, night-time soccer using flaming coconuts – it’s diverse, a bit like a Royal Easter Show, even including sample bags from each district. The Festival has strong local support, but seems to be little known outside of Central Kalimantan. We attended many (but by no means all) of the events, and saw no more than perhaps a dozen foreign tourists during the entire week.

The Festival was opened by the Governor Agustin Teras Narang, signalling the start of a three hour parade around the Bundaran Besar (the ‘Big Roundabout!) which is the centre of Palangkaraya. And what a unique parade it was!