Our first stop however, was the beautiful village of Ke’te Kesu. It is the home of some of the oldest traditional houses, some dating back 700 years. It was also Arru’s home village so he was happy to show us around. A major site here, are the ancient hanging graves. A stunning site, the Torajan’s of old used to bury the bones of their dead in ceremonial wooden coffins, and then hang them up high on the side of a rock face to protect them from thieves and other critters which might have interest in them. One coffin would house the bones of an entire family. In old times they would keep the body at home as a mummy until it was reduced to a skeleton. At this time the bones would be deposited into the family grave box. Wild rituals. The site was filled with many coffins, with many visible bones. At the top of a long stair case was a dark cave housing many coffins, and still being used by the villages. It was a strange feeling in there, and the site of newer coffins really struck home the fact that this is a resting place for the dead. However, it did possess a strong natural beauty, and the emotion you feel quite possibly reflecting your thoughts on our final resting place.
After this it was time to head to the funeral. I was a bit anxious as we arrived but the hosts made us feel welcome immediately. The event was for a lady who had passed away 9 months earlier, at the age of 69, almost the exact age and time of death of my own mother. This really hit home for me, and was a unique experience to say the least, to compare the rituals we humans share in regards to death. The ceremony may have been elaborate, but at the root, we all feel the same deep sorrow and loss, we are all human beings, no matter where we live or how we are raised.
Temporary structures are built to house the guests that arrive, and many bring pigs or buffaloes to be slaughtered. The hosts serve sweets and coffee/tea to us, and offer us cigarettes, palm wine and betel nuts ( beware.. ). After some socializing, the family’s close guests arrive in a ceremonial procession, and are taken to a special sitting area where they are served by the host family. The hosts are marched out to a mournful singing, and slowly greet their guests. They are all wearing beautiful clothing to suit the importance of the occasion. In the open square is he coffin of the deceased, which will be carried to a higher platform at noon, signifying the setting of the sun, and the end of life. After this time, one buffalo will be slaughtered to bring the end of the first day of the funeral.
The atmosphere was powerful, first however, as they brought all of the donation pigs down the open square in front of the family and the coffin. The pigs were squirming and squealing in the heat, and would soon be meeting their maker. Julie and I were unsure how we would feel about the animal sacrifice, but I felt like a hypocrite to judge, as I’m an avid meat eater, and so far these animals had been treated better than any North American farm animal. Perhaps a good time to reflect on my eating habits. It was an intense scene as they pulled the pigs away, knowing they were about to die. The were casually killed and prepared to be butchered so the meat could be distributed to the families in the village. As we passed from one area to the next, without much warning, we observed a slaughter. A man stabbed a pig in the heart, and he spurted out to his death. It was very hard to watch, but am glad I did. I believe too many of us think of our meat as a faceless commodity, and all meat eaters should understand where it comes from.
High noon had come, and the family carried the coffin on their shoulders to a higher platform to finally begin the next phase of the ceremony. A large water buffalo was soon marched into the square, and tied to a post. The thin veil between life and death was dangling before us as we awaited what was about to take place. The buffalo’s throat was cut by a machete, and the giant beast bled out, while bucking for it’s life. An indescribable sight, we watched in awe. Another tourist at the event fainted at the gruesome scene. I will spare the details, but it was a powerful image that would flash through my mind for the next while along with that of the pig. The local butchers quickly descended on the animal and soon the skin would be sent to a leather maker, and the meat quickly cut into it’s pieces. Again a reminder how we use animals in our everyday so casually without giving much thought to what has really taken place.
This description really does no justice to how amazing an experience this was. We were honored to be welcomed to such a personal event, and share in their long standing customs.
We rounded out the day with some more stunning grave viewings, and taking in the scenery before heading back to our hotel. That night we would head out on a night bus back to Makassar, flying out in the morning to Lombok to beging the next stop. Toraja made a huge imprint on both Julie and I with it’s stunning natural scenes, and even more stunning culture.
See you in Lombok!
