Local Life in Tana Toraja

A short flight across the island brought me to Northern Sulawesi, and that's where the real adventure had begun. After a 5 hour journey on a micro bus with a driver honking non stop and a woman throwing up next to me and me not attempting a murder (I told you Indonesia reformed me) I appeared in the silk-making village Sadan, where the most charming guide took me to see the floating village.

From Tana Toraja - Central Sulawesi

6 more hours on the bus up and down the mountains and I am in Tana Toraja.. tam tam tam tam - famous for it's elaborate funeral rituals, extensive collection of tombs and mysterious baby graves attached to the trees. All these cultural wonders being set among unbelievable scenery.

From Tana Toraja - Central Sulawesi

Tana Toraja's gateway city non-surprisingly and unfortunately was full of tourists and tourist guides. The guides were charging an average local monthly salary for their precious company and seemed necessary for the attendance of an elaborate funeral ceremony (since one needs to be invited either directly or indirectly via a guide). I took my chances and a local boy with a motorcycle hoping to find among a thousand ceremony attendants a person to "invite" me.

After a scenic and romantically bumpy ride through the fog up the mountains I started spotting a lot of people in ceremonial clothes. But it wasn't until a pig being dragged by one foot blocked our road, that I was sure I was at the right place (the funerals are marked by numerous pig sacrifices) and got off the motorcycle.

A group of local women found my attempts at Indonesian very amusing and let me join them. Little did any of us know that me fainting in front of them was only half an hour away (and that is what marks adventure in my book).

A lot of pigs were carried up the mountain to the ceremonial square, where they were either slaughtered or spared (by being given to a member of the family) . Maybe it was their smell or maybe it was their non stop squealing.

From Tana Toraja - Central Sulawesi

Or maybe it was the burning sun and a lack of water. Perhaps it had nothing to do with the funeral at all and my body was just exhausted by the eventful week and the two grueling days of public transportation. Whatever the reasons were, surrounded by complete strangers, I lost consciousness.

While coming to my senses in a traditional torajan house, I was contemplating the feasibility of finding a motorcycle to bring me to my hotel and wondering if I would have enough strength to hold on to the driver for over an hour. I can count on my toes the number of times when I was less optimistic about the outcomes of the day. Thankfully, kind hearted Yuliana (40 year old women, who had 6 kids, spent most of her life on rice fields, and yet looked stunning) announced that I was staying in her house that night. How warmly I was welcomed in the village was beyond imagination and belief. After "chatting"(no English) with women and being healed by the massages, hot tea and pieces of earth rubbed on my forehead, I fell asleep. Didn't sleep for too long though, a couple of hours later, what seemed to be a half of the village surrounded me, woke me up, and were trying to force feed me, while looking very lovingly at me. Then women started "dividing" me, deciding which house I should go to next.

Next morning I was brought to another funeral (it was a funeral season after all), where I was able to enjoy delicious pork, which was slow-roasted in bamboo sticks on the open fire and rice vine, which was also drunk from the bamboo sticks.

During the funeral I realized how advanced Indonesian men were, they were wearing sarongs and cooking!

From Tana Toraja - Central Sulawesi

I ended up staying in Yuliana's house for the next 4 days, missed my flight to Kalimantan, made friends with her sweet beautiful 21-year old daughter Anti, hiked to the traditional and textile making villages, rice fields and mountain picks.
I wasn't able to go hardly anywhere alone though. The excuses being too far, too late, or no excuses were given and I just was accompanied. The amount of protectiveness and care could beat those of my overbearing parents.

Despite extreme poverty (the ground serving as a floor in the house, a roof made out of a huge plastic bag, cooking fire made out of bamboo) Yuliana's family was very happy, and every night I would fall asleep listening to their singing. The independence exhibited by the kids was impressive as well. One evening they caught a chicken, broke its neck and cooked it.

From Tana Toraja - Central Sulawesi

I can only think of cheesy ways to put in words what I learned in those five days, so I will spare you. But I think if I ever have children, I will try to arrange for them to spend a summer in Tana Toraja.