Indonesia > Staying with a Local Family

The bathroom looks simple, but to my surprise, warm water comes out of the shower. Only the sink has no hot water. I use the shower water to shave. I pack my luggage, putting the things I won’t need in the coming days in the main bag. The items for tonight go in a separate bag, and finally, the stuff for the hike goes into my backpack. Today, we visit two traditional villages at the foot of the Inierie volcano. As we drive to the first village, I see the 2,245-meter-high volcano summit covered by a layer of clouds. The volcano is still active but last erupted about 10,000 years ago. The villages belong to the Ngada people. Their thatched houses with strikingly high roofs stand around the village square. Each clan has a Ngadhu on the square, a kind of thatched parasol, and a Bhaga, a small thatched hut. These are used to honor ancestors and hold ceremonies. The first village we visit is Luba. Some older residents watch us from their verandas, while most others work in the fields. Most children are at school. There are four ‘parasols’ on the village square, meaning four clans live together in Luba. The second village is nearby; we walk there. This village, Bena, is visited more often by tourists. At the entrance, we are given sarong scarves as a sign that we have paid.

Indonesia - View of the traditional village of Bena

This village is larger and has more traditional houses along its elongated village square. The residents present all try to sell something. Some people are cracking nuts, weaving cloths, or cleaning verandas. At the very end, behind the statue of Mary, there is a beautiful view over the deep valley. It’s special to see how the people live. After visiting the villages, we continue driving west along the coast of Flores. At the town of Aemere, lunch is ready. Because we already chose yesterday, the dishes are served by name. The waiter struggles with some Dutch names but laughs heartily about it. After lunch, there are three options to reach the mountain village of Belaraghi. Walking from Aemere is about a three-hour hike. Another option is to first ride part of the way by pickup truck and then walk about an hour, or to drive the entire way by pickup. I choose the first option. Four of us follow Rennie, the guide. Two attendants also accompany us, which seems a bit much for such a small group. Probably they expected more people to choose the longer hike.

Indonesia - Waiting room at the airport of Kupang

Since we depart from the coastal town, the route mainly goes uphill. We pass village houses. Rennie shows us coconut palms, the palms used for making arak, papaya, and vanilla. Outside the village, the path goes through grassland. The climb continues at a steady pace. The Inierie volcano is clearly visible but still shrouded in clouds. I don’t think the volcano will appear today. It’s getting cloudier and distant thunder rumbles. Dark clouds hang ahead of us. As we climb further through the forest, one of the guides climbs a tree to pick a fruit. Within moments, he’s five meters up. A branch breaks, but luckily he doesn’t fall. He returns with pitahaya, a kind of passion fruit. Rennie shows us how to eat it. It tastes good but contains large seeds. Occasionally we take breaks during the climb. When we ask if it’s far, Rennie laughs and says we’re almost there and that the music can already be heard. Five minutes later, we enter the village of Belaraghi. The other travelers are there too. We are welcomed with a ceremony featuring music and dance. Perhaps I should have changed clothes earlier. Due to the climb and the high humidity, my T-shirt is soaked through. In traditional clothing, the dancers and musicians escort us to the village center, where tea is offered. Stickman already warned us that a pig would be sacrificed according to tradition during the ceremony. It’s proper to be present, but anyone who doesn’t want to watch can look away, he emphasizes. A pig is brought in. The animal senses its fate and squeals loudly. Its legs are tied together, and with a strong blow between the eyes with a knife, it is sacrificed. The blood is collected in a bowl. Everyone will sleep tonight with a family in a house. I sleep with Mama Mani. Although no one speaks a word of English, I am kindly welcomed into the wooden, thatched house.

Indonesia - The small airport of Ende

My sleeping place is shown. The first room is always the guest room. Here is a double mattress and a mosquito net hanging. I am still soaked from the walk. I take my towel and go to the mandi, the local bathroom. In a concrete basin, there is water and a scoop, a plastic cup, to pour the water over yourself. The water doesn’t look very clean. I wash a little and pour the water over my head to cool down. Then I use deodorant to feel cleaner. I sit with the family on the veranda and am offered tea. Despite the language barrier, I show them my booklet with photos of the Netherlands. It’s dark now, and I use a flashlight. At seven o’clock, there is another ceremony with offerings. It happens to take place in my family’s house. Because they see us as family and not guests, we are allowed into the living room/kitchen. I step through a small wooden door. In the corner of the room burns a wood fire. This seems risky to me in a house made entirely of wood and thatch. When we are all inside, a chicken is brought in. The chicken is ritually slaughtered by cutting its beak open, so the animal is not immediately dead. A twig is used to remove the entrails. The head of the house can determine from the entrails whether the chicken gives good or bad omens. Fortunately, he concludes the omens are good while the chicken itself is already roasting over the fire. Shortly after, a bowl of arak liquor is passed around, followed by pieces of chicken. I sip the strong arak and take a piece of chicken. The meat is tough. After the ceremony, food is ready outside in the central square. A delicious combination of rice, chicken, pork, and vegetables. After dinner, we get a performance of bamboo flutes. It is a village tradition that everyone learns to play a bamboo flute. The orchestra plays several voices, creating a beautiful sound. Rennie is the conductor. The players laugh when we join in singing the song “Den Uil is in de olie,” a carnival hit from 1974 for us. After the performance, I go to bed. I put my own pillowcase on the pillow and crawl into my sleeping bag.

Indonesia - Green and mountainous surroundings near Bajawa