My first try as a travel guide was a rousing success, or my visitors were good liars. The interesting thing about visitors is that they see things from the perspective you once did. In other words, what is old is new again.
We spent a few days in Jakarta and showed them the parts that I knew. They were still adjusting to the time change so nightlife was an early dinner on the famed backpacker street, Jalan Jaksa. You could really tell that the backpackers were staying away and the pubs were empty. The tourism here has taken a nasty hit over the last few years.
From Jakarta, we took a flight on Air Asia, a low-cost carrier with leather seats. It was a little late and we were bussed to an entirely different terminal after about a half hour’s wait. Eventually, we get to Bali and get a taxi up to Ubud, a wonderfully quiet town north of the hustle and bustle of Kuta. I had reserved a couple rooms at Sania’s Guesthouse. Sania’s is a nice little place with or without hot water in the shower, a small pool, and lush garden. My guests were amazed that they could spend 12USD and be in this place.
We stayed on a few days and went on Bali Eco Educational Tour’s mountain biking tour. I went on this a couple years ago and was not disappointed this time round. I don’t think Al or Jen were either. After that, I dropped them off in Sanur (an area of beach on southern Bali) and flew to Makassar.
In Makassar, I did some ‘work’ and booked tickets (Litha & Co.) for a trip to Tana Toraja (Toraja land). The nearly nine hour bus ride was punctuated by stops for lunch and afternoon coffee. We were told this was one of the fastest bus lines because it didn’t stop often. The A/C, legrest, and ample legroom made the trip bearable.
We were dropped off in Rantepao at Wisma Maria I around 7.30p that evening. As our luck would have it, the yearly motorcycle races would start in the morning. It wasn’t good luck. The evening night was filled with the loud mufflers and racing motorcycles that would close off a section of town and entrance the local population for two days. As we were dropped off, a guide approached us immediately. He told us that a funeral was going on this weekend. Funerals are the main reason people travel to Toraja. He put together an itinerary for two days for 180USD. Too rich for our blood, we told him. He countered with 150 for two days. We’ll think about it over dinner, we told him. My companions were tired from traveling and we decided to offer the guy 80USD for one day. He agreed.
A restless night of loud mufflers, revving engines, and boisterous guests kicked me out of sleep. I woke up round 6a and took a walk in the town. Thirty minutes later I was back at the wisma for breakfast. No one will tell you Rantepao is a big city. The markets were just warming up.
Paulus, our guide, picked us up at 9a and off we went to the funeral. Of course, we took a few wrong turns before having to stop off. We then walked about 20 minutes into the paddies and jungle before arriving at the funeral site—the home of a complete stranger. We were welcomed graciously and passed off the gifts that Paulus bought on out behalf: sugar, tea, cigarettes. These things would be used as offerings to the other guests who would arrive throughout the day. We were treated to coffee in the receiving area while our host and Paulus chatted. They had just met also. We asked who the deceased was, our host’s mother. Paulus told us that a person in Toraja is considered ill until the funeral rites occur. How long was he woman ‘ill,’ we asked. Almost a year. After these rituals she would be placed in a large mausoleum on the compound.
After a while, we were relegated to the ghetto area. It was a covered area like the rest but the floor was incomplete and the bamboo mats that covered the floor of the other areas was replaced by rice bags. Did we care? No. A few pigs were already roasted and cooling in the center of the compound. Other pigs that were given to the family were strapped down in the shade of the buildings, the smell of death in the air.
We sat around for a bit and some men butchered up the pigs. Some of the meat was then stuffed into green bamboo with banana leaves and laid at an angle across the fire. The is the traditional way of being cooked here. As the day progressed, more pigs were brought , hoisted in the air and squealing. We were told that a buffalo was to be sacrificed around noon, but there was no telling exactly when. We opted to go check out the pig killings.
The pigs are killed by inserting a long blade under the ribcage and thrusting it into the heart. We saw two dispatched. After piercing the pig, the killer puts his foot over the wound so no blood spurts over everyone and wipes his blade on the hair of the pig before returning it to its sheath. After seeing this, I was ready to go. On the far side of the killing field were three buffalo skins drying in the sun. They were the unlucky sacrifices from the day before. Off we went.
Next we visited a traditional village with traditional Torajan houses. We were told that these house can cost up to 50,000USD to build. Expensive for anyone. After that we trudged toward the rocky ground and to the burial area. A few mausoleums dotted the way to the side of a cliff. A few wooden coffins shaped like Torajan houses were stuck in crevices of the rock or rested on a pairs of large wooden beams stuck into the side of the cliff. They were suspended and in various states of decay. At least one had fallen and cracked open on the ground. The family of that person would have to perform more funerary rites before being able to put the deceased’s bones back in a coffin. Another thing that occurs there is the carving of an effigy of the deceased. These effigies were put behind bars to prevent thievery. Next, the catacombs…
The next place was a cave where coffins were put. The effigies here were high up and out of the hands of thieves. We entered and saw many coffins in the crevices. A pair of skulls were sitting upright. We were told these were Romeo & Juliet. Apparently, they killed themselves when they weren’t allowed to marry. Another area revealed a pile of bones with hundreds of cigarettes tossed upon them. Paulus told us that if the people have a dream and the deceased asks for something, it is their duty to buy it for them. In addition to the wooden coffins were a couple modern coffins of recent burials. I left feeling a little unsettled.
Finally, we went off to see more traditional houses. We’d seen quite a few already. It turned out that the houses were the real attraction here. The real attraction was the pair of skulls encased in glass at the apex of the house. The Torajan people were cannibalistic in the past and these unlucky individuals were sacrifices for someone’s funeral—and eaten. The tour was finished and back to the wisma we went.
The ride back to Makassar wasn’t so bad. The next day I took my visitors to the country club and went off to work alone. The final day of their adventure with me was several hours at the university and a Q & A session. Only one questions out of the 1.5 hours was inappropriate. However, that one inappropriate question was a doozy. Asking a woman to ‘hook up’ with you in front of her husband is not something you think would be acceptable in any culture. Damn.
2 Comments
In his defense, Al & I did discuss that he may have worded the question in such a way that while WE heard ‘Hook Up with me,’ he may have worded it like ‘what do you think of me’ and because of the accent & the immediate laughter, it was hard to tell. Either way, it is another funny story to tell about our trip
Either way, it could and was construed as inappropriate. That’s a deal breaker for anyone. I heard ‘go out with me’ and that’s still inappropriate. By the by, we (you, me and Al) never discussed the stereotype of America as a ‘free sex’ society. I’ve never been told a clear definition of what that means but have been asked about it too many times already.