Sumba, Indonesia

July 2, 2009

When we got off the plane we saw family members greet each other by rubbing their noses together and I had to ask myself "where are we?" We had just landed in Tambulaka, Sumba after a 40 minute plane ride from Bali. Sumba is to the east of Bali and we stayed in the western part of the island. The plane we flew on must have been at least 40 years old and I was thankful to disembark into a small one roomed terminal where we were immediately swarmed by people offering us "transport mista". We had to endure the pestering for about 30 minutes until our luggage arrived. Luckily Sumbanese are not aggressive and are just looking to make some money and if not maybe conversation. Finally we left with our privately hired transport to Waikabubak, yes it took me all week to finally be able to remember the name. Waikabubak is a run down, dusty town with hardly any if not no entertainment whatsoever. We checked into the hotel and decided to take one of the extremely basic rooms, fan, bed, bucket shower and western toilet (nice treat not having a squat toilet) and no sink. The next day a wedding was taking place and the tour guide from the hotel was going to be busy with that so we decided to walk around and see the town and the near by traditional villages. We went to the market where we saw dogs and goats tied to posts for sale and later for eating, motor bikes with a wood pole horizontally placed off the back and tuna and mackerel hanging of that. We saw the typical betel nut used for chewing and spitting up large pools of red saliva and rolled tobacco which they smoke, chew or just stick under there top lip. The women and men wear woven "ikat" sarongs as skirts, the women long and the men short. The men wear a wide leather belt to keep theirs in place and in the belt they carry a medium sized sword/machete in an intricately carved wooden sheath with a buffalo horn handle. There were barely any restaurants and most people eat in make shift little shacks where food is served. They usually have the typical fried rice, grilled chicken or fish and all served with an extremely spicy chilli sauce (my stomach is still thanking me today). Our guide had invited us to the wedding and we went for a little bit and because we were the only white people there, not to mention in the town, we attracted a lot of attention. Finally after the wedding was over our guide took us on a motorbike trip to some of the nearby traditional villages. The first village was truly amazing. The traditional homes with high roofs made from long grass and the houses made of bamboo were like out of a movie. The grass hangs low over the balconies and that's where the villagers sit performing their daily duties, breaking the skin from coffee beans, weaving baskets, sharpening knives, drying vanilla etc and of course all the while chewing their betel nut and the men smoking their cigarettes. In front of each cluster of houses is a ceremonial area where there is a small carved statue and large above ground tombs with immense rock lids. The dead are buried sitting up hugging their knees and depending on the size of the family sometimes the whole family is buried in one tomb. We went from house to house visiting the villagers, while some ran to hide, most invited us over and offered us betel nut, bananas and tea. The houses were set up on a hill and it was very green and lush the surrounding area. It was not a tourist thing and like I said it was an incredible experience. We went on to another village later that afternoon which we could only get to by hiking up a winding narrow path. We also rented the motorbike a few days by ourselves and we drove to some of the beautiful deserted beaches and visited other villages. One of the days while we had stopped to take pictures of a procession on the street, a girl ran over and in very good English invited us to participate in a funeral. The funerals can last days and they slaughter many pigs, buffalos and this time even a horse. Luckily we didn't stay long enough to presence that.
In The whole duration of our stay we may have seen 10 tourists and were always received enthusiastically with a "hello mista" and an occasional "hello misses". In fact all the while walking thru towns, villages, driving on our motorbikes people yelled the same "hello mista" and if you gave a wave they were happy. Even the first night we were there and the lights had gone out and there was no moon people still recognized us in the pitch black and yelled after us.
Today we left on another 40 year old plane to an island north of Sumba called Flores. We will be here for the next month. When we arrived at our hotel and saw our room Antonio said "ooh it's nice to be back to a little civilization". This comment came from the fact that there was a "mandi" a shower head in our bathroom. Aaaah, life’s little luxuries.