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Published: September 30th 2008
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Kandangan house
Many of the houses are unpainted wood, but those who have a bit more money like to make things colourful. I catch a bus from Banjarmasin to Kandangan, check into the Loksado Hotel and arrange for a guide to meet me later in the evening. I go out for a quick meal and a stroll though town. It's not a big place but they have a large mosque here, recently rebuilt and painted in colours of cream and soft green. Ramadan continues so from this main mosque they broadcast not just the call to prayer but the "sermon" itself. It goes on and on and the imam's voice is gentle, conversational. No thundering from the pulpit or televangelism here. Just easy, reasoned, faithful discourse along with moments of prayer.
I stroll past a group of kids, 10 or 12 years old, who call out “Hello Mister” and ask my name. I tell them and ask theirs. The first one or two tell me and we slap hands, high-five. Then others start to tell me but I'm sure I'm no longer hearing names. They're probably telling me His name's Idiot...Dummy...Asshole. I laugh and they laugh and I continue my walk.
The next morning my guide, Syahdi (pronounced Shah-dee), picks me up early. He brings his motorbike and I've rented one.
Dayak village
Dayak tribes used to live remotely but you can see in this picture the road leading into the village. Motorbikes and 4X4s can come here easily. We follow a winding highway through the beautiful emerald forest of Borneo, furred with vegetation, hills rising around us. At times the road goes up and down steeply. Hills wrapped in mist. We ride for more than an hour, coming at last to the village of Loksado. We park our motorbikes on the outskirts, in a Dayak village, and people greet Syahdi. It's clear he's liked here. I already like him well. He's enthusiastic and easy to get along with. He's a member of the local mountaineering club, knows the area really well, is confident and full of relevant information. Guiding is natural to him. He tells me he studies English at university - how to be an English teacher.
I'd been expecting something primitive in the village - grass skirts and spears. A cliche, I know. They're wearing jeans, T-shirts, have motorbikes, cell phones. Beside their houses they have satellite dishes the size of radio telescopes for astronomy. Syahdi tells me there are more primitive tribes further back in the forest but to get there will take a long time.
He introduces me to the village head man, who's also the religious leader for all Dayak tribes
Typical Dayak longhouse
Some North American native tribes also had longhouses for communal living and community events. in South Kalimantan. The man tells us he was chosen head man in the 1970s and that he's 116 years old. I don't believe he's that old and Syahdi doesn't seem to, either. He looks to be 65 or 70, but who knows? These islands are reputed to be full of magic. In the scientific West we scoff at this but here it's serious business. Is our way of seeing the world better, more authentic, more real, or more true?
We leave on foot and follow a small road to the next village. A few wooden houses on stilts around the longhouse. This is a communal residence with rooms off a large central area. In the middle is the shrine made of bamboo and wood. Dayaks hold ceremonies here, each inviting the other nearby tribes turn and turn about. Harvest ceremony is an important one, but there are others. They'll dance and celebrate around the shrine for a night, feasting and being very social. I suspect boys meet girls here, too - future mates. Many marriages are still arranged but many are not. They marry quite young here, in mid- to late teens.
We move on up the
Inside a Dayak longhouse
It's dark and cool inside, with electric lighting. trail, Syahdi pointing out rubber trees. These have V-shaped shallow cuts around them, often with a leaf fastened at the bottom of the V. The sap is milk-white and runs down the V to the leaf to drip into a small bowl sitting a the base of the tree. I guess it takes a couple of days to fill a bowl. These are then collected in pails and carried to a collection point at a nearby river where they're poured into moulds and sunk in the river for a week to harden a little. Then the blocks of latex rubber - about the size of a 20-kilo bag of cement - are removed from the moulds and carried to the nearest village of any size where they'll be picked up en masse by truck and shipped onwards for processing. I see a guy come past us on the trail, bent over, carrying one of these blocks on his back. It looks damn heavy. Many Dayak men are very strongly built and I don't see any gyms out here.
Syahdi also points out cinnamon trees. My experience is that cinnamon comes in small bottles. Dayaks carefully cut some of the
Longhouse shrine
This is the central shrine in a Dayak longhouse. Each time there are festitivities they remake it anew from fresh branches and grasses. This is an older one. bark from trees, let the pieces dry, scrape off the cortex, cut what remains into thin lathes, bundle them and take them to a bigger place for sale. It's ground into powder at a processing plant and bottled. Syahdi tears a small piece of bark from a tree. It smells like...cinnamon!
There also farmers working small plots of land, growing peanuts. By law these people must also grow some rice, although there's plenty available and they don't need to grow any for sustenance. We see patches of clear-cutting on the hills, the land to be planted with rice. The rainforest grows back fairly quickly, although full-size trees will take 20 or 30 years. It doesn't look good and because the soil isn't deep and rich the plots can only be used once. Still, it's not Amazon-scale destruction.
We trek for a couple of hours through the rainforest, following a very small trail and it's rocky going. We cross streams, climb slopes, follow a stream. At last we come to another village. I eat lunch here but Syahdi's following Ramadan's rule on fasting. Indonesia's version of Islam is more liberal than strict Saudi Arabia or Iran. You have to
Dayak village head man
Head man of this village, he is also religious leader for all Dayaks in southern Kalimantan. try hard to avoid breaking the fast but if you can't, well.... Exceptions to fasting include doctors, sick people, travellers and menstruating women, children younger than 12 and the elderly. Kids are encouraged to try, but aren't expected to succeed. Non-muslims don't have to observe the rule here, although I feel a bit ashamed to be eating in front of Syahdi. It can't be easy for him to watch. He tells me that the Dayaks aren't Muslim, they're animist, so they're not fasting either.
We climb to a nearby waterfall, then return to Loksado, pick up our motorbikes and race back to Kandangan. Syahdi goes briefly to the mosque, then waits for the announcement to end the fast. We're at his brother's internet cafe and they've got bowls of fruit salad waiting like sprinters at the starting line. As soon as the announcement comes over the mosque's loudspeaker they grab spoons.
Later he drops me at the bus station, waits with me an hour for my bus to arrive. This is Indonesia so we're on rubber time: schedules are all a bit elastic. But it comes and I thank him for his help, his professionalism and friendliness, then
Dayak men
Dayak men play a game of cards in their village. roar away into the night.
Had I known what lay ahead I would not have gotten on this bus.
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