Below the Baliem sky

Below the Baliem sky

The two lofty mountains standing between a vast field in this
Baliem valley of Irian Jaya are so beautiful because they look
like huge women's breasts. New visitors to this central highland
will find the view fantastic. A cool wind sweeps this idyllic and
peaceful valley everyday.

But to the local Dani tribe, who still live in the Stone Age,
the landscape is nothing more than a daily reality. Many tribal
people now feel that their life is boring.

Five women wearing primitive dress were busy harvesting sweet
potato, the local staple food. They were wives of Weakmotok
Gozina who, like many other members of the tribe, practiced
polygamy.

Today, while his wives were busy in the field, Weakmotok was
strolling around the regency town to enjoy himself. The weather
was too cold and no birds were seen flying. Even the sun had
difficulty breaking through the morning mist. Instead of the
usual birds' songs, people only heard the sound of traditional
wooden spades piercing the soil.

Women here are really hard workers. But they do the job not
because of an accepted work ethic but for fear of their husbands.
Their marriages are no better than a jail in which they are
physically and spiritually imprisoned. It is another form of
slavery.

That is why Dani women prefer a polygamous husband because the
more wives he has, the more their daily burdens are reduced.

Weakmotok's women sighed from tiredness, and their sweat was
able to pass through their mud-covered pores. The people here
like to smear their almost naked bodies with mud to protect
themselves from the cold wind.

From the direction of the town the silhouette of Weakmotok was
seen fading in. His two hands met on the neck, the common way the
Dani people reduced the impact of the wind on their body.

Dani men are naked except for the koteka, what anthropologists
call a penis sheath, covering their most private part.

Weakmotok looked darker this morning because his skin was
smeared with coal powder mixed with pork fat as a protection
against cold weather.

He peered at his wives with eagle's eyes. Watching his third
wife wielding a spade so slowly, Weakmotok shouted: "Way, what
has happened with you?"

Hanno Watlaqa did not react. She was a strong woman with
muscled hands and vigorous shoulders. Her husband's bark actually
frightened her but she said nothing.

She looked at the man who was standing not far from her with
an inconceivable expression, a mixture of anger and pain.

Her silence made Weakmotok even more quarrelsome. He repeated
his shout several times. Getting no answer, he picked up a
handful of soil and threw it towards her. He did not mean to hit
Hanno. He only wanted to frighten her.

The way he expressed his anger also frightened his other
wives. There had been so many times when they had been victims
of Weakmotok's failure to control his emotions.

Hanno decided not to move. She stared at her husband with the
same fierce look. But suddenly she felt her powerful legs go
numb. She fainted while holding her big belly.

The sight made Weakmotok more emotional. Instead of helping
the woman, he roared at the top of his voice, "Shit, what kind
of woman are you?"

He was actually concerned to see her condition but that did
not mean he had sympathy for her. All the women in this valley
are supposed to be strong and their stamina is the gauge of their
husband's prosperity. The more prosperous he is, the greater is
the possibility he will take a new wife.

A wife's weakness not only reduces productivity but also
tarnishes the husband's good name in this men's world. A man with
ailing wives is the laughing stock of his fellow tribe members.

Hanno, who was still clutching her belly, tried to rise.
Weakmotok's other wives began to help her, but they stopped after
hearing their husband's yell to go back to their work.

Weakmotok left the scene to find out whether there were people
watching Hanno's condition. If there were he would return to box
her black and blue.

Hanno tried to endure the pain by biting hard on her thick
lips. She limped slowly to reach the fence gate of the large
garden from where she could move further to the bush.

The mist darkened the slippery path but Hanno knew every inch
of the area. She realized how hard life was for her and other
Dani women. But she had to be strong.

She wanted to go to a site in the bush which is off-limits to
men. The path leading there was opened by women two weeks ago and
was not bad. No sound was heard in the bush.

Hanno moved further. When the tall casuarina tree was in
sight, she felt her pain disappear. But fear suddenly engulfed
her as her two earlier tragic experiences came to mind.

Both babies were, unfortunately, male. This was what troubled
her. If the embryo in her womb came out as another boy, she could
imagine how furious her husband would be.

In the primitive society like theirs a boy would just be
useless. On the other hand, a girl is expected to be a very
productive offspring who one day will be able to boost her
father's well-being.

When Hanno reached the tree she took a rest under it. Nearby,
somebody had placed a traditional birthing kit for a woman in
labor. This included a bag made of tree bark, which will be used
as a bed for the baby, complete with a bed cover made of dried
swamp grass. There was also a piece of the inner part of tree
bark to clean the baby of blood, and a sharp bamboo stick to cut
the umbilical cord.

It had long been tradition here that a woman should be able to
help herself in the labor, and that was why men preferred a
strong woman to be a wife.

Hanno's two previous labors gave her no problem. But this time
she felt uneasy. She remembered a woman of the village who had a
bad experience during labor less than "a cycle of the moon" ago.
The woman had given her husband a baby girl after producing three
boys.

But that day everything had gone wrong for her. She fainted
while giving birth. When she regained consciousness she found her
baby had been torn apart by a wild boar. This scene played over
and over in Hanno's mind.

She saw blood streaming down the lower part of her body. She
raised her traditional frock, which was made of long and coarse
grass. She leaned against the tree and gathered all her strength
for the toughest task.

Suddenly she heard someone coming. She tried to stand up and
cover the lower part of her body. What she had been most afraid
of was now a horrible reality.

"Hush, hush, hush! Go away!" she shouted at an approaching
skinny wild boar, which pierced her with its hungry eyes.

The panting beast might have smelled the blood. But it
retreated several steps before it stared back at her.

Hanno tried with all her energy to hold off the labor but
mother nature wanted otherwise. She cried loudly as the baby
spurted out of the womb. No sooner had this happened than she
fainted.

Meanwhile at Weakmotok's field, his other wives worried about
Hanno's condition. They took a risk by discussing ways to help
her despite their husband's ruling that any gesture of solidarity
was taboo.

The co-wives decided to give full authority to the eldest
among them to help Hanno.

When they were later asked by their husband about the first
wife's absence, the three said she had gone to the bush to
defecate. But the trick did not work. He exploded in anger on
hearing that and vowed to find out the truth.

His wives understood that with such an intensity of rage he
would end up beating a wife.

Weakmotok's search ended at the edge of the bush because he
was not allowed to transgress the border of the restricted area.
Mother nature would curse him if he did.

At the site where Hanno had just given birth, the wild boar
was approaching. In a moment the beast had seized the blood-
soaked placenta.

The boar suddenly looked up when it heard the sound of someone
approaching. The boar was ready to attack as the old woman
appeared, but she had brought a spade.

As the beast attacked the old woman was combat ready. Even
after the boar was wounded, it continued to attack by trying to
bite the woman's leg. But she managed to land another blow on the
boar's body and wounded it quite seriously. The beast limped
away.

Hanno regained consciousness. The old woman was happy to find
the newborn was a she and shouted joyously: "Aih, it is a girl".
She took the baby and put it near the mother.

"Now you have a daughter, Hanno," she said.

"Oh, it is a she?" Hanno asked with a broad smile although she
still felt pain.

Both of them left the bush for home. At the border area they
were shocked by the sight of their husband, who was waiting with
fury etched on his face.

"You are both rogues. You don't know what you are doing. Do
you think that I haven't paid you? Your dowries are a great loss
to me."

Trying to calm the man, his first wife said with a quivering
voice: "But Weakmotok, Hanno has given you a baby."

"Baby? Useless!" the husband retorted. "I have asked
the fortune teller, who told me that I would never have a
daughter."

"What did you say? I'll kill your daughter now!" Hanno said
taking out the baby out of her tree-bark bag.

The baby cried suddenly. Weakmotok was surprised to see the
baby and his mouth fell agape. He looked at his wife. "You,...You
can produce a girl? Oh, I've got a daughter." Taking the baby
into his arms, he exploded in laughter.

Then he continued to bark orders but with a difference. "Hey,
why do you just remain silent? Quick, let's go home. Invite the
community leader to our feast..."

The two women looked at each other without saying a word. But
they were happy to find their husband was kinder now. They
proceeded home behind him, while Weakmotok kept shouting:"I have
a daughter, ... I have a daughter!"

He must have been imagining the fortune this baby would bring
him one day. He would have to wait for someone to pay him the
advance payment on the baby's dowry. And that would be his
opportunity to take another wife.

Writer's note: Hanno's bitter experience is rarely found in the
Irian Jaya's central highlands today. Development efforts have
brought sweeping changes to the area.

Translated by: TIS

Aria Kamandaka was born in a village on the slope of Mount
Willis, East Java, on May 22, 1960. He started writing after he
met Kho Ping Ho, a popular Indonesian writer of Chinese self-
defense (silat) novels, in 1981. Aria began writing stories for
elementary school pupils. Later he also wrote several silat
novels, a biography, essays on education, short stories and
poems. Between 1984 and 1991, he worked as a primary school
teacher in Irian Jaya, subsequently returning to his birthplace
to assume the same job.