Torajan funeral ceremony attracts the world's tourists
Torajan funeral ceremony attracts the world's tourists
By Johannes Simbolon
TANA TORAJA, South Sulawesi (JP): It was the third day of
nobleman Cornelius Isi' Paembonan's funeral ceremony in Ba'tan
village in the Kesu district of Tana Toraja, South Sulawesi.
Hundreds of people, both villagers and tourists, had started
to gather in the paddies-turned-funeral-site since early morning,
anxiously waiting for the main attraction of the day's ritual: a
mass-slaughter of buffalo.
The slaughter is a major part of the Torajan funeral ceremony,
called Rambu Solo'. It, of course, attracts the most tourists.
In her book Sa'dan-Toraja, A Study of Their Social Life And
Religion, Rituals of the East and West Dutch anthropologist
Hetty Nooy-Palm says up to 200 buffalo can be killed during the
ritual.
In comparison, Paembonan's funeral ceremony, where only 17
buffalo were sacrificed, was very modest.
The modesty, however, did not seem to lessen the attraction.
The buffalo stood in the open, surrounded by spectators
sitting in the dozen shelters built for the occasion.
The long-awaited slaughter began. A pa'ting goro (executioner)
led a buffalo to the center of the arena and pulled a rope
attached to its nose to raise its head.
The villagers were silent; the tourists prepared their
cameras.
The pa'ting goro yanked a long machete from behind his back
and slashed to the buffalo's neck. The animal bellowed as blood
spurted out of its neck.
The villagers shouted with glee while clicking cameras
captured the scene.
In less than half a minute, after futile efforts to stand up,
the buffalo collapsed and died.
The slaughter continued, each dying beast creating the same
delight. The field turned red with blood.
An old French woman left before the ceremony ended.
"I can't stand seeing it," she said.
This unique Torajan funeral ceremony has raised controversy.
Decades ago, Dutch colonial rulers tried hard to make the
ritual "more civilized" by issuing many rules, such as limiting
the number of cattle to be slaughtered and ordering the burial of
a villager within 24 hours. Later the Indonesian government, and
many churches, which all gained many converts from the Torajan,
also took part in the effort. But Torajans -- not only the
believers of Toraja's traditional religion of Aluk Todolo, but
also believers of contemporary religions -- cling to the ritual.
They are only willing to modify it.
Rambu Solo' (descending smoke) is the general term for a
Torajan funeral ceremony, a ceremony made up of many rituals.
Children are buried different from adults, and the lower the
social class of the dead, the simpler the funeral. The ritual
also varies from one area to another.
The Torajan do not bury their dead straight away, but wait
until they have enough money and time to conduct a big funeral
ceremony.
The date is a major consideration because the deceased's
relatives, including those living faraway, should attend the
ceremony. A time must be found when everyone can attend.
The wealth, age and social standing of the deceased determines
the timeframe before burials. The to buda (slaves) can be buried
within 24 hours without ceremony. Babies and infants are also
buried within 24 hours, with babies being buried beneath a rice
barn together with their umbilical cord and a hen's egg. An
infant who dies before cutting its teeth is placed in a hollowed
tree trunk.
The body of a rich person is wrapped in special cloth and can
be kept at home for months, years and even decades before being
buried. Paembonan, who was 60 when he died in November, 1995, was
buried five months later, in late March, 1996.
In her book, Nooy-Palm reports of a case where a man buried
his grandfather, who died before he was born 25 years back.
Coping with the stench is the main problem. The introduction
of formalin has reduced the stench somewhat. Magic was used
before formalin.
One magical technique was to wash the corpse with water and
then the Aluk Todolo death priest would take the water in a
container one kilometer away from the house and leave it there.
"The bad odor was supposedly removed from around the house to
the area where the water was dumped," said Stanislaus Sandarupa,
a Torajan who is completing his doctoral degree on Toraja at the
University of Chicago.
The success of this magical method is disputable.
Renda Sarungallow, 72, chairman of the Ke'te' Kesu village
foundation, said: "I remember how, as a little boy, I was always
very reluctant to return home because of the stench emitted from
the corpse kept there. Fortunately, now there is formalin."
Until burial they corpses lie in the room they used during
their lives and are treated not as dead but as sick.
Families routinely give them food, tuak (local alcohol made
from palm fruit) and cigarettes. The bad odor is considered a
greeting from the sick.
Once a family has accumulated enough money and has agreed on
the burial date, the preparations begin. The family must get
permission from the government, prepare the ceremony site, and
build the many guest shelters around the site. These preparations
can take months to complete and involve hundreds of people,
usually the landlord's slaves.
Rich to buda are permitted to stage big ceremony where they
can slaughter the traditional maximum of buffalo and pigs. If
they slaughter more than the permitted amount, in a bid to show
off their wealth, they will be ridiculed.
"No one will eat the meat they prepare for the funeral feast,"
explained Joseph Tangke, vice chairman of the Indonesian Guide
Association in Tana Toraja.
Grand ceremonies are reserved for rich landlords. Tradition
permits them to sacrifice as many cattle as they wish. In the
past, burial rituals included the beheading of the landlord's
slaves. The souls of the slaves were believed to herd the
sacrificed buffalo to the realm of the spirits.
Torajan belief claims that after burial the souls of the dead
go to the realm of the dead, called puya, which is governed by
the Judge of the Kingdom of the Dead, Pong Lalondong.
They believe life in puya is an extension of life on earth.
Souls can still have property. That's why the Torajans sacrifice
as many cattle as possible for the dead, and also bury the dead's
valuables in the tomb.
The more buffalo sacrificed during the funeral, the more
respect the dead will receive from the inhabitants of puya and
the sooner they will become deata (deified souls). If the
ceremony is deemed inadequate, the soul will wander about on
earth, frightening the living.
"If the family stages a funeral ritual worthy enough for the
dead, the spirit will take care of the family and deliver graces
to them," said Theo H. Girik Allo, one of Paembonan's relatives.
Not many Torajans can afford the ceremony, which can cost
billions of rupiah, and many go into debt.
Getting into debt in Toraja is also done uniquely.
The buffalo sacrificed in the ceremony don't all belong to the
deceased's family. Many are presented to the family by the
guests.
By giving presents, some guests show that they want to form a
relationship with the family. The acceptance of the presents
means that the family welcomes the gesture.
There are other reasons for giving presents. The gift-bearer
may be repaying what they received from the dead person in his
life during one of their own funeral ceremonies. If the dead
person, in his life, presented them with one buffalo, they must
present one buffalo at his funeral.
The family of the deceased notes all the presents given by
their guests, counting them as a debt to the guests, which they
will repay at future funeral ceremonies.
The debt cycle never ends. Children pay their parents' debt
and their grandchildren will take over the obligation if not
completed.
"When my father died some years ago, 100 buffalo were
slaughtered. Now, to repay this, my mother must prepare 17
buffalo a year for the funeral parties of our former guests. If
my mother dies, I will take over the responsibility," said
Tinting Sarungallo from Ke'te' village in Kesu.
At the end of a funeral, the coffin is placed in either a cave
or a tomb hewn from the mountainside. The unique burial has
become a tourist attraction.
A tau-tau doll, carved from jackfruit wood, is placed in front
of a prominent person's coffin. The effigies made in the past
look different from the ones made today. In the past, the
effigies looked exactly like the dead person they represented,
whereas today they are only similar.
Tinting said the change is because Christianity forbids them
from idolizing the dead through the dolls. By making the tau-tau
only similar to the dead, they can make the excuse that it is
just like a picture.
Toraja has changed. The number of people who believe in Aluk
Todolo is decreasing. The younger generation, who have been
converted to other religions, face a dilemma as to whether to
continue Aluk Todolo funeral ceremonies.
Most have decided to continue the tradition, while modifying
it to the teachings of their new religions. Some churches
tolerate it, while other churches ban their congregation from
taking part.
"For us younger generation, it's no longer part of our
religion, but part of our culture," said Sam Lande, the manager
of the Toraja Garden Cottages in Rantepao.
Stanislaus says it is very difficult to draw a line between
culture and traditional religion.
He believes only the followers of Aluk Todolo are willing to
preserve the Torajan culture. Toraja is in danger of losing its
unique culture.