Tana Toraja

Today was a spectacular architectural day. I asked my guide Martin if we could visit a construction site of a traditional Tongkonan house to see if I could unravel the mystery of how they created the roof's unique shape.

Since it is dry season here I was in luck - it's the best time to reroof of course. Many places have switched to corrugated steel as it is faster and cheaper but Martin found a village that still used traditional materials.

Death is central to life here in Tana Toraja and the line between the two realms is rather blurry. These homes are built as a place to honour the deceased. Often the body of the deceased is housed here after death until the funereal is held. Smaller buildings, usually opposite the larger Tongkonan, are used to store rice.

The roof is well braced during and even after construction in the larger houses.

Layers of lashed bamboo stacked and corbeled out with palm "hair" between layers. The shape is thought to resemble a boat or represent Buffalo horns.

Wall panels are hand carved - bought one today from a man who was re-cladding

a house.

After spending a good amount of time here we crashed a funeral in another village. Temporary seating structures are made and organized around the central court to shade visitors. Hundreds to thousands may attend - the ceremony is intended to bring families and communities together and is much like a big family reunion. It is an expensive undertaking (no pun intended) so there is often a big gap between death and festivities while funds are raised. 

Funerals tend to be in the dryer months of July and August when it's easier for those living outside of Toraja to travel home with out conflicting with other holidays. The Dutch Protestants irradicated many local practices in the early 1900's but this was one that they could not. 

All I can say is that it was pretty visceral. My first ever animal sacrifice. It is believed that the souls of animals must accompany the deceased into the afterlife. The more powerful the person the greater the number of animal sacrifices to speed him or her along the way. Water buffalo are the most sacred of animals for this purpose but pigs are also included.

Walking up the hill to to the village a motor scooter came up behind us playing tinny music. When Martin said "it's the ice cream guy" I thought he was joking but no, the scooter had an icebox full of sweet treats on the back and was heading to the funeral. It was much like any country fair at home with a field full of parked cars, a registration booth, pretty livestock tied up, vendors lining the entrance and a sense of festive excitement in the air.

We took up a position in the shade at the end of the main seating platform next to the chocolate vendor. Soon after I was sitting so I wouldn't have far to fall if it got too much. Today was day two of a three day funeral so it was pigs. I won't go into any great detail except to say the one saving grace is that after the animal is killed no part of it is wasted. It is butchered on the spot and all the blood is collected and the meat distributed to the guests to bring home with them for consumption.

Some guides get a kick out of watching the outsiders pass out at these events - especially if it's a large man with lots of bravado who crumbles. Martin however was sincerely concerned about my pallor so suggested we not stay long. I heartily agreed.

I had been nervous that by going to a funereal I was feeding into some cruel tourist trap but I'm quite satisfied now that outsiders are irrelevant to the whole process. If your guide is personally connected to the host family you are sometimes expected to bring a gift or monetary contribution but this was not my experience. It does smack of barbarism however, I'm told that the water buffalo are kept solely for this purpose, they are not used to work the fields are generally well treated and have a good life. And that sounds better than much of the world's industrial meat production.

Walking back down the hill the ice cream vendor zipped by, his tinny music fading in the distance. 

Lunch was at a hilltop hotel restaurant with a great open air view and with plenty of cats eyeing my nasi goreng.

Free of the felines, Martin and I took a downhill hike through some villages. He seems a little skeptical of my upcoming ambitious cycling trip and my physical capabilities for someone of my advanced years so he planned an easy hike. Its the end of harvest time here and very dry. Cut rice is drying in various formations and some fields are still smoking from the burn off. The main "activity" in this oppressive heat seems to be tongkonan improvements. 

Paint, always red/black/white/yellow, is freshening up carvings, panels are being replaced, roofs are being reconstructed. It is only the upper classes who are permitted to build and decorate these elaborate buildings. 

Tomorrow we go the the big weekly market where the Buffalo will be auctioned off. Apparently the spotted ones are the most valuable. 

Then, on to the Tau Tau.