Southern Sulawesi: Mysterious Tanah Toraja to Going Batty in Tentena

Returning to Indonesia after almost three years was like seeing an old friend you had lost touch with for a bit.  At first we were a little shell shocked getting back into the swing of a more bustling and hectic country after the relative calm of Malaysia, but very quickly we were used to each other again and it was like old times.  We arrived in the airport in Makassar at a reasonable time and were helped onto a bus into the city by an extremely helpful and friendly guy of about our age, who is blind and teaches blind students English and how to use computers at a school in the city.  It was amazing how well he knew his way around.  He ended up getting off of the bus with us and walking us to a cross-street so we could find a place to stay in the sprawling metropolis.  Big Asian cities aren’t exactly our thing, so we set out on a journey full of misadventures towards Rantepao, the central tourist hub of Tanah Toraja.  We ended up getting stuck for a night in Pare Pare, a seaside town that sees very few tourists.  We spent some time chatting with locals in an attempt to learn a bit of Bahasa Indonesia and checked out the very lively Pasar Ramadan that sold all sorts of sundries and some food.  Colin managed to find a pair of shorts that were “Proudly made in America”, then apparently donated by someone, wound up for sale in a market in this out of the way corner of the world, and were finally purchased by another American.  Globalization is weird.  After some finagling we found another public car to cram into with eight Indonesian folds and shot off up into the mountains of Toraja.

Tana Toraja is known for its unique funerary practices and we just happened to arrive in the hot season for burials.  It also happens to be one of the most beautiful landscapes that we have seen anywhere in the world, sitting high up in the mountainous spine of central South Sulawesi.  Although Rantepao is a typical Asian city with loads of car and motorbike traffic spewing fumes and buzzing you as you navigate the streets without sidewalks, the surrounding area is full of quaint villages of traditional houses, called tonkonan, sitting on the outskirts of ripe rice fields and flanked by jutting escarpments of limestone hills.  We balanced our days chatting with the owners of our homestay in Rantepao about the local culture while polishing our language skills and going for walks in the countryside.  Everyone we met was exceedingly friendly and the peeks of everyday farming life were thought provoking and a delight to perceive.  We eventually met some other foreigners (people in Indonesia assume that all foreigners are “friends”, which seems a little strange at first, but when you think about how much travelers talk to each other and how quickly you get friendly with people you meet for only a short time, it makes sense) that told us about a nice hike to do in the far north of Toraja and we headed out the next day.

We first walked across the main valley of Toraja that is made up of a huge flat area full of rice paddy that eventually reaches the first outlying limestone cliffs of the high lands.  We had a short detour to the top of the highest of the jutting limestone cliffs, since we continually asked for directions to Lalimanauk, which we thought was the name of a town.  It turns out that it means the “crest of a rooster” and apparently this rock looked like one, so everyone diligently pointed us up the steepest path in the area.  At least there was a fantastic view of our progress of that day so far, which we shared with some kids who had climbed up to fly their homemade kites in the strong breezes.  After sorting out the directions, we continued on through fields with a steadily increasing ratio of rocks to open farm land and small hamlets of tonkonon adorned with the buffalo horns cut from animals sacrificed for burials of loved ones. The more horns a tonkonon has, the more prestige the family has acquired through the ritualistic gifting of buffalo meat at a funeral ceremony.  Just as light was failing we slogged across our last bit of paddy and ascended the final hill to Batutumonga.

We stayed in a homestay there and in the morning decided to climb Gunung Sesean, the highest peak in the vicinity.  It was a rewarding walk through forest, goat pasture, and finally wild moss and fern strewn high country in the heavy mists at cloud line.  We were only able to get short peek-a-boo views from the summit, but the climb and small glimpses were worth it.  Next day we headed across country towards Pangala and another homestay there.  We walked most of the day, except for one stretch where a truck driver shepherded us into the back of his pickup, amidst caravans of locals dressed in black zooming back and forth along the road.  There were also many motorbikes laden with large pigs headed in the same direction as us and bloody bags of meat headed in the opposite direction.  Some local folks told us that there was a very large funeral going on in a town that we would pass through on our way and these were the tell tale signs of it.

We could see the large temporary structures of lashed and woven bamboo rising three stories from the hilltop they were planted on as well as hear the clamor of a large group of people long before we arrived at the funeral.  Pausing just outside of the festivities to buy some sugar and cigarettes for the hosts (the tourist office in Rantepao told us that this is what we should bring, although these are terrible commodities for health and Indonesians are addicted to both on a grand scale) we met one of the grandsons of the deceased and he invited us in.  The first sight we saw as we went towards the family seating area was a large buffalo getting its throat slashed open with a large machete.  It took some swipes before the blood began to flow, but once it did it gushed for some minutes until the large black beast finally went down to its knees.  It was a difficult sight to see, but the locals didn’t seem fazed, and in some way it is appropriate to see death at a funeral.  We were brought up to one of the viewing platforms and chatted with some of the family as they offered us many sweets and also a large selection of food, freshly slaughtered and cooked pork, vegetables, and rice from the surrounding fields.  In the background guests arrived and did a circuit around the grounds before being received formally by the family and offered gifts.  Then they would form a circle on the grounds and sing wordless songs for the dead.  All the while the buffalo that was killed when we first arrived was being hacked apart with machetes and axes.  There was also a church service complete with singing of psalms and a minister giving a speech in full priestly attire.  The deceased was apparently a very rich man, who made his fortune in Papua, and this was supposed to be the largest funeral ever in Tanah Toraja; the family was going to kill 111 buffalo, plus all of the animals that guests would bring, as well as an undefined number of pigs, but more than the buffalo.  It was an extremely interesting experience to have and I won’t soon forget the hospitality of the family, or the flamboyance of the rites.

In the afternoon rain we eventually reached Pangala, where we spent some days hiking in the surrounding hills.  We were enveloped in a cloud for most of the time we were there.  It fomented an interesting feeling of unreality to be hiking along small foot paths in the fog with the soaring gables of tonkonon or effigies of the dead seated atop their mausoleums appearing out of the mist and then receding again just as suddenly.  We eventually had to head back down to the lowerlands around Rantepao, so we set out in the sun to walk the many miles down to the city.  As we neared a pass in the mountains it began to rain and although we hid out for some time in a small warung drinking coffee and trying to wait it out, we eventually had to give up and head back out into the deluge.  After some time trudging through the rain, an open bedded truck came speeding by and we hitched a ride standing up in back singing songs about sunshine as the driver bumped his way along the rutted road and the rain whipped our faces.

We eventually left the mysterious land of Toraja on an "AC" bus that was too cheap to actually turn on the AC.  It was a long ride, especially since we were told that the bus would leave at 7:30am and we actually left around 11:00am.  The small windows left little room for fresh air as the obnoxious Indonesian kids in front of us chain smoked.  The bus slowly wound through the mountains of central Sulawesi through cocoa plantations, potholes and ramshackle houses.  We finally made it to Pendolo around dusk, finding a perfect cottage situated right on the beach of Danau Poso, Indonesia's third largest lake.  Pendolo is a sleepy, small
Indonesian town set along the main north/south Sulawesi highway (which is not much more than a two lane road).  The large lake was nestled around mountains to the south and west and had a very nice beach with crystal clear water for swimming.  We spent our time relaxing in our hammocks, swimming and appreciating small town Indonesia as the days quickly slipped by. 

Although Pendolo was our small piece of paradise, we eventually moved north to Tentena which is on the north side of Danau Poso. We ended up traveling on the last day of Ramadan, which made it almost impossible to find public transportation.  We decided we would hitchhike and eventually got picked up by a couple of giggly girls from Makassar and their male driver. They drove us part way, where we had to find another ride the rest of the way.  After a horrible lunch of packet noodle and several hours waiting by the roadside we caught another ride in the bed of a truck for the final hour.  We almost made it without any difficulty (it was sometimes a challenge to keep our lunch down on the winding roads) until it started to pour cats and dogs as we were pulling into Tentena.  We were soaked to the bone by the time we found our homestay, but we had made it!

We rented a motorbike in Tentena to cruise the countryside, visit a waterfall and check out some beaches. Tentena itself is nothing to write home about, but once outside the ramshackle town we got beautiful vistas of the lake and the rice fields surrounding it.  We took a very small, rutted road past a Balinese village to the waterfall, which was full of domestic tourists screaming "Hello Mister!" and wanting to take photos with us.  The waterfall was actually quite impressive with several different tiers of pools and water cascading over the rocks.  It was even overflowing into the path leading to the top. After the waterfall we decided to find some lunch and stopped at a small roadside warung where we found the owner absolutely delighted to see Western faces.  She was happily ushering us in, pinching and hugging Amanda and laughing as she spoke Bahasa Indonesia that we didn't understand.  She was out of chicken and fish, but had pork and some other items that looked like vegetables to be served with rice so we decided to give it a try.  She brought out several dishes overflowing with food, laughing and rambling as she prepared the meal.  After serving us, she told us the mysterious vegetable was actually bat, which is commonly eaten around Tentena.  The pork also turned out to be pork intestine. Colin, who tried both, preferred the bat to the intestines.  Amanda, after a few exploratory nibbles was happy to stick with the bamboo dish.  All in all, it was a hilarious situation that read a bit like a horror novel, but who can deny a smiling old lady even if she does serve bat?  We can't.

Traditional "tonkonan" at Kete Ke'su, a tourist village outside of Rantepao

Kete Ke'su is supposed to have some of the oldest tonkonan in Tanah Toraja

Poor buff ready for the slaughter.  Well, maybe not yet.  Since the buffalo are so important they are actually well taken care of until funeral day.

Behind the traditional village there are many hanging graves.  These remains were scattered about for the benefit of the tourist.

Colin tastes the local palm wine out of his palm.  Note the small thimble sized taster on the long stick.

Summit snap on Gunung Sesean.

Pigs and people flocked to the the giant funeral ceremony in Lempo.

The terraced rice paddy that surrounds all the villages in Tanah Toraja.

A man walks his harvest down the road.  If you look closely you can see the bloody carcass of an animal on the back of the motorbike on the right.

Mourners gather to sing songs to the dead at the funeral ceremony in Lempo.  Note the bloody mess on the platform behind them.

Stone graves on the walk towards Pangala.

The sleepy village of Pendolo.

Our little paradise on Danau Poso.

Air Terjung, the giant waterfall outside of Tentena

A meal to remember.  Bat, pork intestines and bamboo!

Hitchiking in style towards Poso.

Amanda left her "heart" in Indonesia three years ago, only to find it again at the local supermarket!  The best ice cream in town.