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71. the end

Blog entries

a genuine one-armed crab, they do still exist!

So we made it back home again. Last days were suitably relaxed: from Sumba back to Bali to pick up some left luggage, and enjoy one last day of sun, sand, sea and swimming pool – expertly killed by 24 hours of rain -, then to Jakarta for one last day of shopping and associated iced cappuccinos – expertly achieved to the extent that we now needed an extra bag to travel home -, and then the long haul to The Netherlands.

Looking back at three months Indonesia, there are a few observations that come to mind. Firstly, on earlier occasions I had not appreciated the enormous variety that exists within the country, the differences between islands. People in Java are different from those in Sulawesi or Kalimantan, let alone Sumba. And even within islands, within Java, within Sulawesi, we found people different, in the way they interact with each other, and with us, and not only because of different religions. Yet there are plenty of similarities, too. Almost everywhere people are friendly, and helpful – perhaps with the exception of the most touristic areas, where the approach is, understandably, more businesslike. People walk you to the bus, to make sure you get on the right one, on occasion they even paid, totally unnecessarily, our bus fares for us. People came from behind the counter to walk me to the right shop, if they didn’t have what I was looking for. People would stop their car to ask what we were looking for, and then offer to drop us there, just for the opportunity to practice a bit of English.

Also almost everywhere, people adopt, let’s say, a rather less-than-optimal approach to productivity. If you can make a little money without doing much, than there is no reason to do more. For instance, most hotels, even the more upmarket ones, are rather poorly maintained, there is always something malfunctioning somewhere – again, with the exception of the touristic areas, Bali especially, where more investment and more competition have resulted in a superior hotel scene; so it is possible, it just takes a little more effort. Where the Thai, the Cambodians, the Vietnamese are entrepreneurial, and work hard to get ahead in life, the Indonesians often displays an unbelievable lack of ambition. Negotiating is a way of life, in Indonesia, yet we have been in several situations where a seller just didn’t budge. Perhaps it is pride – I have set my price and I am not going to give in to the foreigner – , even if the seller is ultimately left with no deal. But often I had the impression it was just indifference, in many shops we entered they couldn’t care less whether they make a sale or not, continuing talking to the neighbor seemed more important. No wonder the economy is largely driven by Chinese.

we do not exactly travel light: the library at the bottom of the suitcase, half of which we carried from home and the other half purchased locally

Next question is how much of the Dutch colonial era can be traced back in present day Indonesia. I am sure there exist plenty of scholarly studies on this subject, and my contribution here is no more than shooting from the hip. One of the books I read claimed that, in fact, there is nothing left, and my two observations above – the friendliness of the Indonesian, as well as his lack of ambition – seem to confirm this: both treats one cannot accuse the Dutch of, in general. Yet, I think there are still quite a few traces of Dutch left in Indonesia. One is, of course, the country itself, a completely artificial grouping of islands and part-islands, entirely the result of colonial history. Sumatra, really, would culturally fit much better with Malaysia, and there is no real justification to separate Borneo in an Indonesian and Malaysian part. Likewise, the Lesser Sunda islands have little in common with Java, and there seems to be no other reason for incorporating Papua – Dutch New Guinea – in Indonesia than its common former colonial power.

There are more traces of the Dutch left. And I am not so much talking about remnants of Dutch buildings, of which there are a few, but mostly not particularly impressive – nothing compared to French and British architecture in other parts of South East Asia. Some of the Indonesian refurbishment of those buildings hasn’t helped, either. The Indonesian language has a lot of Dutch words left, some obviously for technological developments that the Indonesian language at the time had no words for – wastafel (washing basin), koelkas (fridge), knalpot (exhaust pipe) -, others, like wortel (carrot) or buncis (in Dutch boontjes, which means beans), perhaps because they did not originally exist in Indonesia? The Dutch introduced other crops, too, of course, like coffee, and other cash crops, now all important export products. The funniest contribution to language, however, was explained to me by a Yogjakartan politician, who claimed that electricity poles are called anems, after the text on the small metal plates that used to be attached to those poles: ANEM, for Algemene Nederlandsche Energie Maatschappij – general Dutch electricity company -, the owner of the poles (in all honesty, I have subsequently tested this with some Indonesian friends, but they weren’t aware of this particular terminology).

But the best prove of lasting colonial influence is that the only two nations that eat chocolate sprinkle, the stuff used to decorate cakes, on their bread, are The Netherlands and Indonesia, and I am pretty sure this is not an Indonesian invention. Pity those nations that have not been colonized by the Dutch!

Looking back on the trip, ours was a fabulous journey, with lots of different highlights, whether old temples, pristine beaches, steamy jungles, or even steamier volcanoes. A great variety of traditional houses, a great variety of burial techniques. A great variety of fish, fish markets, fishing boats and fishing villages. To top it all, theonearmedcrab saw lots of different crabs, and amongst them a genuinely one-armed crab: the port of Waingapu was teeming with them! Many different markets, too, from buffalos and pigs to dogs and snakes, not necessarily all pretty, but definitely interesting. Many forms of transport. And above all, many different people.

I enjoyed every moment of it – or, more realistically, almost every moment. And I enjoyed writing about it – even though not every entry was of the highest standard, not every entry crisp and to the point, I know -, and illustrating the writings with some of the photos I took – even though I often couldn’t choose, and ended up posting far too many pictures. And most of all I appreciated you reading some of it, and posting the occasional comment, just so as to let me know that I have not been writing this blog only for myself.

and even worse, the contribution to our collection of artefacts, from this one trip only; no wonder we need extra bags

70. Waitabula

Blog entries

fishing canoe on the beach of Waikelo

Three streets and a dual carriage way comprise the new district capital, with a nearby harbour to provide some colour.

We end our Sumba journey – and with it our Indonesia journey – in Waitabula, another recently promoted district capital, and thus enriched with a dual carriage way. Why little Sumba needs four districts is anybody’s guess, especially because it creates an overdose of prestigious but utterly useless government buildings – and needless kilometers of dual carriage ways. After all, the town does not amount to much more than a few houses and shops, and an ever-present market, centered around a road junction. The spin-off, however, is that Waitabula, close to second airport on the island, Tambolaka, is now also home to what must count as the best hotel on Sumba: AC, hot showers and flushing toilets. And real food, no more ayam goreng!

salt and pepper in the Waitabula market

fish and flies

the all-important betelnut

serious-looking man

many people still sport head scraf and machete

catch of the day, colourful it is, and proud they are!

another canoe on the beach

Close to Waitabula is Waikelo, described by one of the guide books as a picturesque fishing village, but in reality not more than a jetty protruding into the sea, where ships can be loaded and off-loaded, using their own cranes, and trucks can drive up and down – this constitutes Sumba’s most important harbor. On the beach to the south the fishing canoes are pulled up on the beach – or being pulled up whilst I was there, using bamboo sticks to roll the boats across the sand. Once again, a colourful intermezzo, the boats as well as the catch!

Sumba has been a real nice surprise. A little stuck in the past, perhaps, but thanks to its slow development it has retained a large part of its authentic culture, spectacularly represented by its traditional villages – you may have seen quite enough of it, by now, through the many photos, but it remains an extraordinary sight, and to us each village was different, in its lay out, in its characteristics, in its atmosphere. How long Sumba will remain this way is anybody’s guess, and although we may wish it stays like this forever, the Sumbanese will probably want some progress, fast, and they have every right to it, I suppose. Tambolaka airport is a case in point, the runway has been extended, the new terminal is almost finished, soon Sumba will have a modern airport, to accommodate the two or three flights per day it receives. And it already has some impressive dual carriage ways!

at least somebody though I was funny

no, even two people though so!

Some perspective is offered when we arrive back in Denpasar, in Bali, one-and-a-half hours later. Bali also has an almost finished new terminal, for its international airport. But the domestic terminal is in shambles; it takes well over a hour for our suitcase to arrive on a conveyor belt. Just before Christmas, the high season has started, and the terminal is a complete chaos. And all the dual carriage ways of Denpasar are blocked with traffic.

finally: some looking back

trucks in Waikelo waiting to unload ships

modernity is coming to you, even on Sumba – in the form of future construction

69. Kodi

Blog entries

boy climbing down from his house in Wainyapu

The west of Sumba is another beautiful stronghold of traditional villages, with the tallest roofs on the island.

The southwestern-most area of Sumba is called the Kodi district. Many Sumbanese claim that the Kodi people are the original island inhabitants, on account of them being slightly darker coloured, and apparently strikingly handsome – which, I can testify, is not true for all of them. They are also a little more cocky, and a bit more forthright perhaps, than the average Sumbanese – which, I can testify, is at least true for some of them.

To get to Kodi we have engaged our trusted guide and driver again, comfort trumping adventure in the last days of our trip. We drive for an hour or so – distances are small, here – through well-wooded countryside, initially still adorned by some old, mossy stone tombs along the road, but soon devoid from the traditional villages that have dominated the Waikabubak area. People are Christian, more churches appear, collective cemeteries without the outsized tombs become the norm. And still, the underlying tradition is never far away. Tombs may have a big cross on top, instead of the carvings, but often a buffalo horn is also adorning the tomb, just to make sure. Villages may not have tall roofs anymore, and may include stone houses, and wooden houses with tin roofs, but they are still laid out with two rows of houses facing each other, and a few tombs have slipped into the centre. There is also often a communal house, with benches on the verandah – more often than not with people, too, who don’t seem to have a lot to do, or any intention to start doing something soon. The churches become more and more garish, not as monstrous as in the Minahasa area around Manado perhaps, but still, quite oversized given their humble surroundings. Occasionally, a modern house, stone or cement, perhaps even a second floor, coloured tin roof – obviously a rich, important family – will have a huge tomb in the front garden, with crosses, Jesus-image, the whole lot, decorated with bathroom tiles and plastic flowers, the whole lot, and covered by a traditional, conical roof; corrugated tin, but still, tradition is lingering just below the surface.

tallest roof in Sumba, once finished, in Ratenggaro

splitting the bamboo, to provide rope for construction – no nails!

and building the roof

not everybody needs to be involved

Ratenggaro from the beach

Ratenggaro tombs outside the village

traditional house in Kampung Rangabaki

roof in Kampung Rangabaki, in need of repair

tombs are being used efficiently

Rangabaki

one of the village ladies

the structure of a traditional house, in Wainyapu

inside, rudimentary rooms

and four enormous, carved poles that form the basis of the house

one of the Wainyapu village clans

carvings adorning an old tomb

boy riding a horse testing the Wainyapu pasola field

The Kodi district itself is all traditional villages again, with even taller houses than before. The villagers in Ratenggaro claim to be building the tallest of all, 22 meters high; indeed the not-yet-covered roof beats all the surrounding houses. Lots of people are involved, some splitting the bamboo into thin strips to tie beams, others building the roof construction – but there are still plenty of people around to show us their artefacts, and ikat. The village does well, obviously, which is expressed by the number of empty tombs outside. Unlike elsewhere on the island, where a tomb is only started once somebody has died, here they say that as long as they have money, they will build tombs, just to be prepared. They are well prepared!

Part of Ratenggaro’s attraction is its location, along a broad river, close to the beach. From the beach the village is even more impressive. Some tombs, presumably of important people, have been erected here, in isolation rather than in the village center or the cemetery outside.

Wainyapu is just across the river from Ratenggaro, but high water forces us to drive around, and approach the village from the other side. It is interesting in that this village is actually a collection of 12 clans that have put their houses in a circle, surrounding their tombs and an open space used for prayer, and for football. One of the villagers invites us inside, to have a look at the extraordinary structure, a tall house built without any nails or screws, just wood, bamboo and vines. There is a fireplace inside, under the tall roof, and some rooms have even been constructed, but the house is essentially nothing more than one big communal floor with a roof.

men sheltering from the rain – or maybe they were here long before, and long after the rain stopped

a bamboo window

Pero beach and limestone

the fishing fleet of Pero

canoe with single outrigger

The Kodi area is apparently also a surfer’s favourite, but not in December. We end up in the small Muslim settlement of Pero, with beach and surf, and sharp coral limestones. Pero is also a small fishing village. The Sumbanese are scared of the sea, and are traditionally no fishermen, leaving this to people from elsewhere, like the Bugis from Sulawesi, who have established themselves along the coast. The colourful fishing boats are a welcome change for the predominantly brown and grey of thatched roofs and tombs.

next: the last location, Waitabula

68. Wanokaka

Blog entries

roof decoration in Kampung Waigalli

The south-west is a beautiful part of Sumba, with the most pristine beaches and the highest density traditional villages.

Wanokaka is the name of a district to the south of Waikabubak, stretching all the way to the coast and sporting some of the most beautiful beaches of Sumba. This is a relatively densely populated area again, and there are also plenty of traditional villages – but difficult to reach, in the absence of public transport, so we have engaged the services of a driver, and a guide, this time.

early morning view towards the south coast

rice paddies

and more paddies, and palm trees

Because of the rain, which has been falling every day, in buckets, from about midday, we leave early, 6 am, which has the added advantage that we have great light for photos, from the various vantage points that our escort knows. Rice paddies, river deltas, the distant coast, everything is equally beautiful.

sculpture in Kampung Waigalli

the impromptu art shop, also Waigulli

these tombs keep on impressing me: hollowed out rock, with a massive slab on top

the goats have less respect

the village of Praigoli

large-scale cooking for the men working on the roof replacement

some of whom are expert throwers

and some of whom are more contemplating

the kids have no worries whatsoever

in almost every village you’ll find ikat weaving

nationalism, anyone? or just colourful

There are several villages to be visited, all with their conical thatched roof houses and large tombs. Yet all of them have their own, unique atmosphere, or characteristics. Waigalli is very entrepreneurial, and villagers straight away get the stone and wood carvings out, stone still the limestone, although the village, other than so many others, is actually built on dark igneous rock that we haven’t seen earlier on Sumba – and which is obviously no good for carving. In Praigoli the villagers are all busy replacing the roof of one of the houses, a fascinating process, especially because the infallible precision with which some of the men manage to throw bunches of dried grass to those on the roof – they would probably do quite well in an American football team. Interestingly, it also appears that some villages are, in fact, no-go area for some or another reason, and it remains unclear why exactly –but our guide is adamant we cannot go there. Tahu (?) village, for instance, looks a very attractive kampung, tightly packed together on a hill top, but seems to be off-limits.

the pasola field in Hobakala

and one of the tombs on the pitch

The most striking feature is the Hobakala pasola field, and vast stretch of land where one of the five or six annual mock-battles on horseback is being held in February or March, complete with the stands, and with tombs, right in the middle of the field, allegedly of people who didn’t survive the pasola – but possibly also tombs of important priests.

Marusi beach, is nice indeed, no? The sand flies are too small to distinguish

fishing off Wanokaka beach

and more boats, on Wanokaka beach

nice that they paint the canoes in the colour of the dominant flower

fisherman preparing his catch for the market

Of the several beaches we hit, Marusi beach, reputedly the nicest beach in South West Sumba is indeed a very nice place, but also favourite with the sand flies! The more lively beach is Wanokaka, where a river, or perhaps one of the channels of a delta, flows into the sea, creating a natural shelter for fishing boats. Many have been put on the beach, or a sand bank; others are actually doing something, fishing offshore. And with results, witness a fisherman cleaning his catch prior to bringing it by motorbike to the market in Waikabubak. Where he is not the only one!

next: Kodi, more villages and ending on the beach

and this is how the market looks, on the back of a motorbike

67. Waikabubak

Blog entries

outside Waikabubak, Kampung Praijiang from a distance

The second-largest town of Sumba is actually mostly a collection of traditional villages with tall, thatched-roof houses and ancient tombs.

Waikabubak, all seven streets of it, is one of those typically Sumbanese towns, not much happening, but full of genuinely friendly people; all curious about the foreigner, to be sure, but breaking into a smile as soon as you establish eye contact, and all eager to help – sometimes annoyingly so. But tourism has penetrated here, more than in Waingapu; the area around Waikabubak is more densely populated, and easier accessible. So more children have taken to holding up their hand, for a sweet or for money, and some have even taken to sticking up their middle finger, although I am sure they have no idea what it means.

the football pitch of Waikabubak, in the center of town

tombs are everywhere, and have multiple uses, amongst them drying the laundry

Kampung Tambelar, right behind our hotel in the center of town

Kampung Tambelar, behind our hotel in the center of town

roofs decorated with the “horns of the house”

not all animals keep to the lower levels

The town is a strange mixture of those facilities you expect in a town, government buildings, shops, a few churches, even a real football pitch, and that combined with the traditional kampungs with conical thatched roof houses. In the outskirts, but also right in the middle of town, whenever there is a rocky hill, there is a kampung on top, complete with tombs, praying totems, and rows of traditional houses. Scramble down again, over the slippery stones that make up the steep access to the kampong, and you end up in the main street, with cars, busses and noisy motorbikes, an ATM machine and the occasional restaurant.

some of the houses are excessively decorated with buffalo horns and pig jaws, all from ceremonies

Kampung Tarung, well developed with concrete walkways and modern technology

prayer hut and old tomb in Kampung Waitabara, suburb of Waikabubak

woman pounding vegetables in Kampung Tarung

Obviously, our interest is mainly in the traditional villages – after all, the ATMs here distribute only very small amounts of money, and the restaurants, as if by prior agreement, only serve ayam goring (fried chicken and white rice), nothing else. A relaxed stroll on a Sunday morning takes us through four or five kampungs, all different, all unique. Upon entering the village, we are stopped by people who want to know who we are, where we are from, where we are going to; all eager to show off their village, and exceedingly hospitable. We are invited to sit down, and chat about whatever seems appropriate, and between our limited Bahasa Indonesia and some limited English of our hosts, we manage – especially because some of the younger people actually speak excellent English. Some kampungs consist of five houses, no more, and are a rather muddy affair in between the exposed rocks, others are large establishments, twenty or more houses, and better equipped, with concrete walking paths and even street lights. Like in East Sumba, animals are scurrying in between the houses, and the tombs. Laundry everywhere, and – thanks to grandpa – the tombs, the big slabs of stone, make an excellent place to dry.

the stairs leading up to Kampung Prairami, outside town

the tombs anouncing Kampung Praijiang, visible on the hill

although some older inhabitants also do not object to being photographed

but in Kampung Gollu, the children have taken over the tombs

in Kampung Bondemarotto the tombs contain a few sculptures

some of the tombs are impressive

Kampung Segarum, outside town, is another traditional village

the hill top of Kampung Praijiang is mostly limestone, cut into stairs and paths

Outside Waikabubak, just a few kilometers east, there are more villages, once again mostly confined to the hill tops, but here they are not surrounded by a town, just jungle. Once more, I scramble from village to village, occasionally asking for directions – not seldom helped by somebody who decides to show me all the way -, and always being received kindly. It is that I am not a great fan of betelnut, but otherwise I am sure my teeth would have been coloured deeply red, by now. Great experience, wandering around in these villages. Difficult to explain, though, so enjoy the pictures, instead.

next: more villages around Wanokaka

keeping an eye on it all

woven bamboo baskets are ready to store the rice in

66. the road to Waikabubak

Blog entries

one of our fellow passengers, disposing of betelnut juice

A relatively uneventful bus journey across half of the island of Sumba.

Waika-where? Waikabubak, the second-largest town in Sumba, after Waingapu. And I could continue for a while, we passed Waibukal, another town, and there is Waitabula, where we will end up later. In fact, quite amazing that we managed to get the right bus and ended up in Waikabubak and not one of the other Wai’s (wai, apparently, means water, or spring, the obvious place to establish a town, never mind the confusion for the foreigner).

the bus, not your average type

As I said, we managed to get the right bus, which, however, was a bit of a hit-and-miss. The owner of our guesthouse had arranged for a public bus to come and pick us up at the guest house at 7 am, but by 7.30 there was still no bus, which worried the wife of the owner – funnily, I would not have worried for another hour, or so, this also being Indonesia. So she suggested we go to the bus station, instead, and even offered to bring us there by motorbike, an offer we declined because of all our luggage, we rather walked. Only to be spotted by another bus, cruising town for additional passengers, three minutes into our walk, long before we arrived at the station. And which was going to Waikabubak, it sounded – although we would not have picked up the difference between Waikabubak and Waitabula and Waibukal. Luckily, it did, indeed.

rice paddies

the bare hills, outside Waingapu

more bare countryside

The drive, covering about half the width of the island, is quite attractive. The landscape is dominated by rolling hills, mostly devoid of trees, but covered with grass. Not like what you would expect of a tropical island, more like the Yorkshire Moors – except for the climate, of course. I assume that originally the hills were tree-covered, but that these have mostly been chopped, for firewood and building material. Yet, trees do grow, and have been planted, together with bamboo, to fence off small plots of land, and the gardens around houses, all very neat, and also kept relatively clean. The island here is not very densely populated, whole parts are empty, and are not cultivated – if that would be an option at all, because many of the hills do not seem to have a lot of top soil left. Only near the larger towns are rice paddies evident, and some other agriculture. (Come to think of it, vegetable are indeed scarce, and much of the food served in the small warungs, the restaurants, is rice with a small piece of meat, and tempe or tofu, no greens.) The rest of the countryside is given over to skinny cows, water buffalos, goats, and horses – another unusual sight in Indonesia. Horses may have been imported by the Portuguese, and have ever since been part of Sumba culture, used for transport, for dowry, but more importantly, for the Pasola, an annual mock-battle event in which the young men take part, and prove themselves. For the rest of the year, the horses are just wandering around, it seems, in groups, unguarded; although in some towns horses are kept, too, groomed and well taken care of.

traditional houses, tin-roofed, sticking out of the tree cover

a canoe left under a bridge

Along the road, villages, most of them with the traditional conical roofs. Some of the traditional houses are communal houses, but many of the other houses also have a traditional roof, which often merges with modernity: they cover stone houses, and concrete ones, as well as wooden and bamboo ones, and they are often adorned with a satellite dish or a solar panel. And they easily merge with religion: like in Tana Toraja, where some of the churches were designed as traditional houses, here churches, or church towers, have plenty traditional elements, too, and often sport a conical roof.

The bus dropped us in front of our hotel in Waikabubak, just before it started raining. Which it kept doing for the rest of the day.

65. South East Sumba

Blog entries

stone sculptures adorning the traditional village of Umabara

A journey from Waingapu to the South East goes past traditional villages Umbabara and Prayawaign, and ends at a very special cemetery.

An easy trip from Waingapu is a drive to some of the traditional villages in the South East. There is a whole protocol for visiting traditional villages, including bringing presents of betel nut, and subsequently chewing it with the village head, as a sign of friendship, but the villages we visit are already pretty acquainted to the tourist industry. As soon as we arrive, even in the rather unknown entity of Patawan, where we stop because of the traditional houses we spot from the road, the ikat, the local weavings are immediately unpacked and exhibited in the hope of a sale.

row of traditional houses in Umabara

The traditional houses are characterized by their tall roofs – so constructed for the people to keep their spiritual things high in the roof, closer to heaven and the spiritual world. In the past the roofs would have been thatched, but nowadays many are made of corrugated iron, or tin, but still with the traditional conical shape. The houses are usually built on poles, with a the raised floor made of bamboo and with sufficient space outside for a large verandah. Which always seems occupied by people, of all ages, who have nothing better to do.

row of tombs in Umabara, the first ones, of concrete, still unadorned, awaiting a deceased king

row of tombs in Umabara, the first ones, of concrete, still unadorned, awaiting not-yet-deceased kings

The other two aspects of the traditional village are the tombs, originally huge stone slabs, carved with images that represents the deceased, but these days often made of concrete – much easier, no need to carry –, still decorated with sculptures; and the little totems, wooden or stone sculptures placed next to a house, or in front of a series of tombs, indicating a praying area. I heard the people call these totems patongs, too, like the wooden spirit sculptures in Kalimantan.

another tall roof, outside Umabara

in the village square, a sculpture surrounded by rocks: the praying area

tomb decoration

everything goes, as far as tomb decoration is concerned

The best-known, and most-visited villages in the South east are Umabara, in the district of Pau, and Prayawaign, a kampung in district Rende. Both have visitor books, where upon signing a donation for the village is expected – a much better idea than bringing betel nut, a kind of drug that works as a mild stimulant, but as a side effect ruins one’s teeth and turns one’s mouth and lips a horrible black (another reminiscence from Papua New Guinea, by the way). Both villages also have a fair amount of ikat for sale, which, judging from the many hand looms, is indeed locally woven. Not our taste, though.

not all the houses are traditional, this is just a window

two of the future kings and queens, perhaps?

Umabara is the more authentic village, despite visitor book. A couple of traditional houses, very tall, still have thatched roofs, and in front are several big tombs for Rajas, or kings, consisting of raised and decorated stone slabs. The lesser people have been buried behind these, and just got a slab, no decoration, no support poles. Half of the fun is actually getting out of the car and walking back, an hour or so, to the main road, zig-zaging in and out of the other kampungs, observing village life and exchanging whatever we manage to communicate; our Bahasa Indonesia is already limited, but many people here only speak their local language, lost even on my travel companion.

tomb decorations in Prayawaign

roof top

traditional houses and tombs in Prayawaign

the king’s house

and the king’s walls, of buffalo hide

door decorated with a buffalo skull and horns

Prayawaign is more organized, it seems. A well maintained kampung, with traditional houses on both sides of the central square, where the tombs have been lined up: equally large decorated slabs of stone, interspersed with concrete structures. We wonder whether these houses are actually inhabited, or just maintained for tourists, but the children arrive from school, dropped by a truck, and they do disappear into various houses: this is really how the people here live, so much is clear. One house stands out, in a corner of the square, a fabulous two-story wooden structure with several connected living compartments, some with walls of buffalo hide. This house is closed, however, the king to whom it belongs is elsewhere.

We have another few targets for the day, a fishing village and a cemetery near the town of Mburukulu. Town is actually a big word, when we stop along the road at a kiosk to buy some water, the first kiosk we have seen for an hour or so, this turns out to be Mburukulu. The fishing village can only be reached by motorbike or walking, the road is too bad for a car, but the cemetery, yes, just down the road. But why do we want to go there, there are no people? Having explained our somewhat morbid interest in tombs, a woman jumps on her motorbike and tells us to follow her; on the way she picks up another woman, and together they guide us to the place, called Okawatu. There are supposed to be some 160 people buried here, but we only find a few tombs back. It is an eerie location, surrounded by a wall on the verge of collapse, overgrown with trees, quite beautiful. And peaceful, indeed, there are no people, other than us.

the wall surroundong the cemetary of Okawatu

the wall surrounding the cemetery of Okawatu

tomb just outside the Okawatu cemetery

tomb, overgrown with roots

it is a special area, special atmosphere

Communication is fraught with misunderstandings, but as far as we get it, this is a cemetery no longer used, because once the king was buried here – with his disciples, or his slaves, or his wives, who killed themselves after the king had died, to be buried with him -, the place was off-limits for further burials. Not for grave robbers, though, who plundered the tombs thoroughly. It remains unclear how old these tombs are, there is some reference to Dutch colonial times, but somebody else mentioned the 1950’s. One of the slabs of a tomb is overgrown by roots from the nearby tree, which must have taken a while.

There is no time left for a walk, or an ojek ride, to the fishing village, and we make our way back to Waingapu to arrive before dark. Something different again, today.

next: towards the center of the island

64. Sumba

Blog entries

decoration of a traditional house includes the horns of ceremonially slaughtered buffalos

An unusual island in the Indonesian archipelago.

Sumba is one of the poorest islands of the Indonesian archipelago. And it has always been poor, which is why it never received much attention from the outside world. Nominally under various Indonesian empires in the 14^th and 15^th Century, no outside forces really interfered with the indigenous clan structure, determined by small-scale kings from fortified hill-top villages who fought ferocious wars between each other, complete with headhunting and cannibalism. The Portuguese arrived in 1522, and left again. The Dutch didn’t take note until well into the 19^th Century, when they started to appreciate the value of sandal wood, which grew in abundance on the island – therefor better known as Sandalwood Island -, and which was chopped down in great quantities. In 1906 the Dutch decided to clamp down on the island, and invaded. As elsewhere in Indonesia, they subsequently set up a local administration through the existing power structure, maintaining the influence of the elite. With Indonesian independence, the Indonesian government did exactly the same, a strategy that came to a blow in 1998 – a time everywhere in Indonesia things came to a blow – when less advantaged people went on a riots and killing spray, especially in Waikabubak in the west of the island; the old times of headhunting were back, albeit briefly.

Sumba from the air, grassy hills and trees in the river valleys

even from the air, the pointed roofs are obvious

The overall lack of interest in Sumba has resulted in the preservation of a unique culture, largely based on animist spirit beliefs. Although officially about 2/3^rd of the population is Christian, in most cases this is just a thin veneer, under which the Marapu religion manifests itself: a belief in eternal afterlife, from which ancestors continue to influence happenings on earth, and thus the importance of burials, to send them off into the spiritual world, and of ceremonies to keep the ancestors on one’s side. Ceremonies, including burials, we did not witness, but they usually come with plenty of animal sacrifice – spilled blood is good -, despite efforts by the government to limit this, a rather huge expense for poor people.

Sumba cultural expression in minuature

traditional houses with thatched roofs

the roof has decorations on top, called “horns of the house”

tombs may carry a cross, but for the rest are more Merapu religion-like

tombs may carry a cross, but for the rest are more Marapu religion-like

The day-to-day evidence of the Marapu way of life can be seen in huge tombs everywhere, those of important kings in the center of the village, others outside, at road junctions, or wherever there seems to be space; and in traditional houses, built on poles and with tall, conical roofs, closest to heaven, under which the spiritual tools are kept; as opposed to the earthly world on the raised house floor, and, literally, the animal world under the floor, in between the poles, where pigs and dogs and chicken roam freely. The houses are usually built in two rows facing each other, with the tombs, and several prayer areas, in between – not unlike some of the Ngada villages around Bajawa in neighbouring Flores.

ikat, intricately woven, is an important cash generator

and in horses, a very un-Indonesian animal

wealth is expressed in water buffalos

Sumba has other chracteristics, too. Again, like Flores, it produces ikan, an intricate weaving, the best pieces coloured with natural dyes. For the rest it doesn’t produce very much, although we wouldn’t be us if we would not have found a number of artefacts, in wood, in stone and in bone, to add to our collection. Wealth is measured in water buffalos, and , rather un-Indonesian, in horses – which are also an important part of the dowry, although increasingly this is substituted by a motorbike. Apparently, the dowry system is also stimulating cattle theft, by the braver, and import of women from other islands (where no dowry is expected), by the wiser. And it leaves many Sumbanese women unmarried.

the teeth-destroying curse, betelnut chewing, affects even young men

Of course, all of this is under threat. The practice of transmigration, bringing people from densely populated areas to where space is plentiful, introduces different cultures and different religions into Sumba. Tourism brings foreigners with strange habits – I read somewhere that the Sumbanese are “bewildered by foreigners either baking in the sun or riding the waves all day on a plastic plank” -, and habits experienced as offensive; after all, how would you feel if some camera-wielding stranger walks into your back garden and pushes his lens in your face? But mostly, of course, Sumba is not so isolated anymore, from the rest of the world, there is satellite TV in even the tiniest village, and internet, whilst still rare, will ultimately be available, too. But for as long as it lasts, this is still a unique place, with a unique culture, of which not many are left in the world.

next: exploring South East Sumba

NB: An excellent source of information on Sumba, frequently updated, is the site www.sumba-information.com, edited by German Sumba enthusiast Mathias Jungk.

fortunately, laundry livens up the village scene somewhat; Indonesia, after all!

63. Waingapú

Blog entries

carriage in Wainggapu – colonial remnant, no doubt

Sleepy capital of one of Indonesia’s poorest islands, with a pleasantly laid-back atmosphere.

Wainga-what? Waingapú. Capital of Sumba. And where on earth is Sumba? Sumba is one of the Lesser Sunda Islands that make up a large part of Eastern Indonesia. But Sunda is a bit out of sync in that it is located further south, more or less in line with Timor. It has no volcanoes, and geologically it is actually more a piece of Africa – adrift, to be sure – than of the Indonesian island arc.

fishing boat in the old harbour

Of course, politically Sumba is an integral part of Indonesia, and ethnologically it also fits well in the Indonesian melting pot. And yet, landing in laid-back Waingapu, it seems as if we are stepping into a different world. Tiny airport. Just a few cars outside, to transfer people to town, five minutes down the road. A couple of hotels and guesthouses, no tourists, so easy to find a room, one would say. Wrong! Every hotel in town – all six of them – is fully booked, some sort of government meeting going on, and that it is. In the end we found a small guesthouse somewhat out of town that still had a free room, but for a moment I thought that our luck had ran out.

more fishing boats

canoe awaiting higher water

quay of old harbour in Waingapu

mangroves outside the harbour

A short ojek ride – the pillon of a taxi motorbike – into town brings us to the old harbor, where colourful fishing boats – mostly canoe type – are waiting for higher tide to take to sea. A couple of bigger boats are being loaded, including some of the local schooners we saw in Makassar and Surabaya. A few stall sell fresh fish outside the harbor, and for the rest, not much is happening. And that pretty well describes Waingapu: not much is happening. It is hot and humid, people hang around in the shade, or inside their small fan-cooled shops. We are about the only idiots walking, first exploring waterfront, dominated by mangroves, and the old town around the harbor, with the occasional old Dutch house, then towards the new town, slightly further inland, where the hotels that are full are, and the government buildings, the market, even a bus station. All along, rather wide streets, low bungalow-type houses with gardens, all very unpretentious, relaxed. It makes me think of Wewak, the small town in Papua New Guinea where I began my expatriate career some 30 years ago.

large old Dutch house, falling apart

although parts, like this tower room, seems still OK

the Kambaniru river, just outside town

Late afternoon, when it is a little cooler – just a little – we take another ojek, to the dam in Waingapu’s main river, the Kambaniru. The dam itself is nothing special, at least not for us spoilt Westerners – yet it is likely to be the most impressive modern construction in Sumba, I would think -, but the drive past villages, through low hills and inundated rice paddies, is another nice experience. Waingapu never gives the impression of being a city, and five minutes out, you are indeed back in rural neighbourhoods, pigs roaming the courtyard, goats nibbling whatever looks the slightest green, and cows occupying the tombs people keep next to their houses. Perhaps not the most picturesque, but definitely thoroughly authentic. And so different from Bali!

next: a bit more on Sumba, the island

the fence of the house, how much nicer than glass shards

62. Bali

Blog entries

small altar somewhere in a Bali street

The Holiday Island, much as expected, albeit from a short and predictable stay.

In know, I know. We were not going to go to Bali: too many tourists, too developed, nothing to do with the real Indonesia – you have all heard us saying it so many times. However, with our change of plans, having been slightly disappointed by Kalimantan – not enough spectacle, and people not nearly as nice as elsewhere in Indonesia – we have decided to spend our last few weeks in Sumba, one of the Lesser Sunda islands, located west of Timor. And in order to get there, you need to change planes – no time left for ferry travel anymore, I am afraid – in Denpassar, Bali. Which is where we got off, for a few days, to test our prejudices.

sunglasses, anyone?

I may be somewhat sarcastic about the shops, but next to all the trinkets, Bali is also the first place where we can buy wine, even have a choice!

We were only going to stay two days, for some beach experience, so admittedly, whatever we have seen from Bali is very limited, limited to the most touristic area only. But hé, how else to confirm those prejudices? We stayed in a place called Seminyak, just north of Kuta, but really, this part of the coast is just one continuous build-up area, seamlessly merging from one village into the next. On the surface, not different from Thailand, Turkey, Tunesia: a large beach, with deck chairs and parasols for rent, with hawkers selling trinkets, and with terraces selling food and drinks; hotels everywhere, interspersed with spa’s, restaurants, bars and café’s. With decent massage parlors when we walk past together, which turn sleazy as soon as I pass by on my own. And with the type of shops so typical for the tourist trade: how on earth these people can survive I don’t know, but all are selling T-shirts, sunglasses, towels, funky jewelry, shell necklaces, hair clips.

small temple behind the brand

temple door

small altar with offerings

small Hindu sculpture

early in the morning, there is nobody, except a lone angler

equally, the surfboards are still stacked up

the beach in Siminyak

And yet, the one thing different in the streets, even the most touristy ones, are the small altars, on many corners, in front of many buildings. And the temples, many apparently just part of the gardens of houses. Hindu culture is pervasive, many an altar has small boxes with Cambodia flower offerings, or with burning incense sticks. Which, I suppose, means that there are still plenty of Balinese in between the large numbers of import Indonesians seeking their fortune here. Which is another difference from elsewhere in Indonesia: so far I have found the entrepreneurial spirit sorely lacking, wherever we have been, but here in Bali, people do work, and do work hard. No ‘hello Mister’ in the streets, but ‘hello Boss’, from somebody who wants to sell you something – which can be just as irritating as the ‘hello Mister’, after a while, but never mind. And the results are there to see: where many of the hotels we have stayed in, even the more upmarket ones, failed in one way or another – broken shower or no hot water or incompetent kitchen or dirty rooms – competition for the tourist dollar ensures that hotels in Bali do achieve decent standards. And the realization that tourists don’t put up with rubbish means that the streets are clean. So it can be done, higher levels of development are within reach, as long as there is an incentive strong enough to convince the collective.

Still, we haven’t changed our prejudices. Nice to enjoy for a few days, but this is not the Indonesia we are seeking to discover. Back to basics. Off to Waingapu on Sumba.

flamboyant in town

and this is a real gin-and-tonic, in front of the christmas tree

first-hand travel experiences and impressions of travel destinations

71. the end

70. Waitabula

Three streets and a dual carriage way comprise the new district capital, with a nearby harbour to provide some colour.

69. Kodi

The west of Sumba is another beautiful stronghold of traditional villages, with the tallest roofs on the island.

68. Wanokaka

The south-west is a beautiful part of Sumba, with the most pristine beaches and the highest density traditional villages.

67. Waikabubak

The second-largest town of Sumba is actually mostly a collection of traditional villages with tall, thatched-roof houses and ancient tombs.

66. the road to Waikabubak

A relatively uneventful bus journey across half of the island of Sumba.

65. South East Sumba

A journey from Waingapu to the South East goes past traditional villages Umbabara and Prayawaign, and ends at a very special cemetery.

64. Sumba

An unusual island in the Indonesian archipelago.

63. Waingapú

Sleepy capital of one of Indonesia’s poorest islands, with a pleasantly laid-back atmosphere.

62. Bali

The Holiday Island, much as expected, albeit from a short and predictable stay.

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Three streets and a dual carriage way comprise the new district capital, with a nearby harbour to provide some colour.

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The west of Sumba is another beautiful stronghold of traditional villages, with the tallest roofs on the island.

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The south-west is a beautiful part of Sumba, with the most pristine beaches and the highest density traditional villages.

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The second-largest town of Sumba is actually mostly a collection of traditional villages with tall, thatched-roof houses and ancient tombs.

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A relatively uneventful bus journey across half of the island of Sumba.

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A journey from Waingapu to the South East goes past traditional villages Umbabara and Prayawaign, and ends at a very special cemetery.

Share this:

An unusual island in the Indonesian archipelago.

Share this:

Sleepy capital of one of Indonesia’s poorest islands, with a pleasantly laid-back atmosphere.

Share this:

The Holiday Island, much as expected, albeit from a short and predictable stay.

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Translate

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