Video | Living with corpses: how Indonesia’s Toraja people deal with their dead

The ethnic group treat the dead as merely sick, offering them food, water and even cigarettes, until the funeral is scheduled, which at a cost of up to US$500,000, can take several years if not decades

Religion

Claudio Sieber

Published: 8:18am, 13 Oct 2017

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Talking, or even thinking about the subject may be considered taboo for many of us, but for the Toraja, death is a lifelong preoccupation.

Warning: This story contains graphic images.

An ethnic group indigenous to the mountainous Pangala region of Indonesia’s South Sulawesi, about 800km northeast of Bali, the Toraja are nominally Christian – mostly protestant, but also Catholic – thanks to the influence of Dutch colonial missionaries. But they learn from a young age to accept death as part of life’s journey, and when a family member passes away, in accordance with their traditional religion – Aluk To Dolo (“way of the ancestors”), which sits surprisingly comfortably alongside Christianity – they are treated as if they are sick (toma kula). Food, water and even cigarettes are offered to the toma kula on a daily basis, because it is believed the spirit remains near the body and craves care.

Relatives visiting Nene’ Tiku, who passed away three days earlier aged 106, will treat the deceased as if she were sick (toma kula) until the funeral.

Wrapped corpses are kept in the southernmost room of the tongkonan, the traditional Torajan house, because puya (heaven) lies in that direction, while to the north is where life is found. “The sick” must face west, though, because they are in transition.

The body of Grandpa Ne Pua, who died aged 85 and was laid to rest in his family's mausoleum in Rindigallo, is about to be prepared for the ma’nene ritual. After cleaning, the body will be redressed in fresh clothes and given a “sunbath”.

Not until the first day of rambu solo, the funeral, will the family allow a body to face south, but that could be several months, in some cases even decades, after a person has breathed their last, when the family has saved enough money for a respectable send-off.

The body of Ribka Tanduk Langi, who died from liver failure two months earlier at the age of 53, is offered lunch by one of the deceased’s eight children.

Until then, the odour of the formalin used to preserve the corpse will be neutralised with dried plants placed near the body.

A family poses for photos with deceased relatives Todeng (in the blue shirt), who died in 2009, Nene “Marta” Duma, who died in 2008, and a baby who was named only “Lai”, meaning “female child”, because it died before teething.

The last breath of the first sacrificial water buffalo killed during the rambu solo ceremony marks the official death of a “sick person”. And the more buffaloes that are sacrificed, the faster a soul will find its way to puya. If none are dispatched, it is believed the soul will never arrive.

Yuanita snaps a selfie with the body of her relative Allo Pongsitammu, who died about 20 years ago. The ma’nene ritual is an opportunity for the young to meet some ancestors for the first time.

Twenty-four is the suggested number of sacrificial buffaloes for middle-caste funerals, although some guests will give additional bulls as gifts. In this case, the receiving family is expected return the favour – by donating a buffalo of similar value – when the roles are reversed. As the animals can cost up to US$40,000 each at the Rantepao Livestock Market, etiquette is closely observed.

A woman pays respect to her mother at the end of ma’nene. This is not a goodbye; she will see her again at the next ritual.

The price of a buffalo depends on the patterns on its skin, the length of its horns and the colour of its eyes, and each member of the deceased’s close family is expected to produce at least one.

At the Balle graveyard, in Rindigallo, Ne Duma Tata, 90, waits to return his wife’s body to the family mausoleum after the ma’nene ritual. Ludia Rante Bua died in 2010, aged about 70. Her body (far right) stands next to that of her sister.

The cost of a funeral – more than US$50,000 for lower castes and perhaps between US$250,000 and US$500,000 for the upper classes – helps explain why toma kula can remain in the family home for so long.

Deceased family members have had their bodies cleaned and redressed during ma’nene. The sight of a foreigner at the rituals causes little concern. Some participants even state it is an honour to see a bule – Westerner – during ma’nene, as it contributes to a clan’s prestige.

Some young Torajans feel trapped by the tradition, which, according to archaeological research, could date back more than 900 years; instead of buying a vehicle or visiting the tourist delights of nearby Raja Ampat, they are saddled with the burden of paying for sacrificial buffaloes.

A girl stands over the bodies of her grandparents, Yohanis (right) who died two weeks earlier aged 77, and his wife, Alfrida Tottong Tikupadang, who died five years ago aged 65.

Even after the three- to five-day-long spectacle of the rambu solo ceremony – when the deceased are finally buried in a mausoleum or stone grave – they are not left to rest in peace.

The family of Djim Sambara, who died two years ago aged 90, on the final day of ma’nene. After the ceremony, some members of the clan will start with the cultivation of new rice crops, children will return to Makassar to study, and others will go back to work in the mines, to earn money for upcoming funerals.

Every one to three years, a clan will gather for the ritual known as ma’nene, when the dead will be taken out of their coffins, cleaned and given a new set of clothes. Relatives from far and wide come to celebrate ma’nene, feasting, swapping stories and honouring the deceased.

Ma’nene isn’t about death, it is a celebration of love that goes beyond mortality, inspired by the legend of Pong Rumasek, a hunter who found a corpse under a tree. He carefully wrapped the body in cloth and buried it, and by doing so was blessed with good luck and a long life.

Claudio Sieber is a cultural lifestyle photographer from Switzerland, based in Southeast Asia

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