The Great Rock
The body of Luther Ampangallo, residing in a sizeable white coffin with a golden cross, is taken out of the great rock of Lo'ko'mata. The family members watch each step of the people carrying the casket on a ladder made of bamboo. The rock holds several dozen tombs and belongs to one large family who gathered from around the region and outside Indonesia to visit their deceased relatives. It takes around one year to manually create one of the tombs by hand. It usually costs two buffalos - the local currency for such jobs among the Torayan people of the island of South Sulawesi.
Family members gather around the coffin when it's open as part of a Ma'nene' ritual. The same is happening every three years to many other graves in Lo'ko'mata and the region. Luther's body is rewrapped in a fresh canvas to dry. The thick odour of the rotten body spreads densely among the crowd and from dozens of people a handful is left. Usually, the bodies are re-dressed, yet, as the deceased died during the COVID-19 pandemic, the government requested that each such body be wrapped in several layers of plastic, thus not allowing it to dry naturally. It was a preemptive measure if the deceased died due to the virus.
All this is happening in Tana Toraya regency located on world's eleventh-largest island. It's populated by the "people of the uplands" which is a direct translation of the name "Torayans". Formerly locals have lived in isolation from one another in autonomous villages where animism was practiced prior to the country being colonised by the Dutch in 1900s. Nowadays, 86% the local population are Christian (mostly Protestants) with only a few hundred still engaged in animistic religion of Aluk Todolo ("the way of ancestors"). It is from the latter that Ma'nene' is practiced together with many other rituals making it a blend of two faiths.
David M. Eagleman in "Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives" once said:
“There are three deaths. The first is when the body ceases to function. The second is when the body is consigned to the grave. The third is that moment, sometime in the future, when your name is spoken for the last time.”
Ma'nene' is the answer to just that - making sure that the name is not forgotten and the memories of the past relatives remain for generations to come. It's the moment when people spend time with the deceased, clean and re-dress their bodies in new clothes, take selfies, and ruminate about their lives. People smile, cry and meet with their extended family, who often travel from distant places for these events.
Ma'nene' looks slightly different in the region. The bodies are usually placed in tombs carved in rocks, cliffs or, sometimes, in small, one-room houses made from concrete next to the family's existing graves. Toddlers who died without their teeth fully grown are wrapped, and placed in nooks of tree graves. After years, they are increasingly surrounded by branches and the tree itself, as if, in a way, becoming one with nature.
In Lo'ko'mata, there are very few spaces left which can be used for a new tomb. Each new grave to be carved out requires a specific inspection from experts who check the moisture and other parameters to ensure it does not break apart. It's an expensive endeavour, to say the least. Regarding Torayan rituals, the expenses do not finish with carving out a grave. When a person dies, their body is held in a traditional house on piles called Tongkonan. The houses continue to be built in the same fashion, although the original need to avoid attacks and pillages from hostile tribes has ceased to exist.
The sacrifice
I visited the body of Marthen Tonapa Parrangan together with his relatives - brother Manurun and his granddaughter Kesia. When she returns home during a university break from Makassar, a city on the East of the island where she studies, she brings her grandfather breakfast, lunch and dinner daily. Until the funeral is held the dead are treated as if they were ill. Thus, they are brought food and their favourite cigarettes, provided they smoke.
Marthen was the leader of the village of Lempo and a local parliament member in Toraya Utara. Because of his position in the local community, his funeral will be more expensive than for a regular village member. Rambu Solo' (a funeral in Torayan) for him will happen at the beginning of 2024.
It's not uncommon for the body to reside in one of the Tongkonan rooms for months, up to a year or more. The longest time I heard about a body waiting for a funeral was that of another village leader. His rite of passage will happen in mid-2024, two years after his death. Due to normal body decomposition processes local people use a mixture of herbs and, quite recently, formalin to mummify their deceased. Afterwards, they are usually kept in a coffin or wrapped in different cloths. Sometimes, the bodies are left in the open in one of the rooms.
Torayan funerals are elaborate events lasting from few up to ten days. Marthen's body will be carried in a special small, mobile Tongkonan through the village before the ritual sacrifice of animals begins. In one funeral a few to a hundred or more buffalos and pigs are sacrificed. Animals are bought as gifts from family members who come from around the world for such occasions. The rarest pink buffalos can cost from 10 000 to 30 000 US Dollars while a pig is the equivalent of 200 to 1000 USD. The cost of the buffalos depends on the colour of the skin, size and shape of horns and other traits. The meat from the sacrifice is distributed among family and the villagers (around 20% as a way of supporting each other).
The family also needs to secure temporary accommodation (built from bamboo) for all visitors, enough food, drinks like tea, coffee and tuak (palm wine) and other amenities which additionally increases the cost of the endeavour. All this is always taken care of the closest family member to the deceased with support from the relatives. Similar to Ma'nene' when the closest family decides which body they are going to take out of the grave.
It's customary to tell jokes during a funeral in order to scare away the sadness. It was no different when I attended the farewell of a woman Indo' Lopi from the village of La'bo'. Sitting in a temporary accommodation next her cousin Ne'rande we watched the ritual slaughtering by different pa’tinggoros (men who slaughter buffalos). The air was full of anticipation and smell of fresh blood. The crowd cheered after each slick hit in the jugular. The blood kept gushing and covering the main area of the event. After the hit the buffalos go wild and only a thin line tied to it's leg holds it back not to hit the crowd. There are no second chances. Both, the children and adults seemed to be accustomed to this view as this tradition has been going on long before they were born. Once all the buffalos and other animals are sacrificed they are skinned in the same spot they were slaughtered and the raw meat is shared among the participants. The day comes to an end.
People sacrifice animals and do elaborate funerals as they believe this status will accompany the deceased in the afterlife as well as they will be able to intervene better to help those still alive. Torayans, contrary to people from the West, do not seem to fear death. They embrace it and treat it as part of the normal cycle of life. In the West most people look from the perspective of a fulfilment and successful life where success is a dictated societal concept. It leaves an open question to how do we approach living and what value does death play in it? What concepts do we choose to follow instead of being reduced by them? Where does our fear lie and what is represented underneath?
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This article was fact-checked by a local Torayan activist.