A Dayak Chief [courtesy of Google Images, not my camera]
On Sunday some girls from my work took me out sightseeing. We went to the local Dayak Village. I'll put on my Mararet Meade hat for a hot second and explain with a little help from Wikepedia:
The Dayak or Dyak (pronounced /ˈdaɪ.ək/) are a people indigenous to Borneo.[3] It is a loose term for over 200 riverine and hill-dwelling ethnic subgroups, located principally in the interior of Borneo, each with its own dialect, customs, laws, territory and culture, although common distinguishing traits are readily identifiable. The Dayak were animist in belief; however many converted to Christianity, and some to Islam more recently. Estimates for the Dayak population range from 2 to 4 million.
Headhunting was an important part of Dayak culture, in particular to the Iban and Kenyah. There used to be a tradition of retaliation for old headhunts, which kept the practice alive. External interference by the reign of the Brooke Rajahs in Sarawak and the Dutch in Kalimantan Borneo curtailed and limited this tradition. Apart from massed raids, the practice of headhunting was then limited to individual retaliation attacks or the result of chance encounters. Early Brooke Government reports describe Dayak Iban and Kenyah War parties with captured enemy heads. At various times, there have been massive coordinated raids in the interior, and throughout coastal Borneo, directed by the Raj during Brooke's reign in Sarawak. This may have given rise to the term, Sea Dayak, although, throughout the 19th Century, Sarawak Government raids and independent expeditions appeared to have been carried out as far as Brunei, Mindanao, East coast Malaya, Jawa and Celebes. Tandem diplomatic relations between the Sarawak Government (Brooke Rajah) and Britain (East India Company and the Royal Navy) acted as a pivot and a deterrence to the former's territorial ambitions, against the Dutch administration in the Kalimantan regions and client Sultanates.
I have a sneaking suspicion that this post might make me sound a little bit like this guy:
Anyways, when we arrived at the village we were told that the traditional dance that usually happens at 2 o'clock on Sundays had been cancelled due to the death of one of their priests [a fair amount number of the Dayak are Christians thanks to some missionaries who made it all the way to Borneo to spread the good word]. However, there was still a room full of sweaty, slightly grumpy, children from the village who had some native clothes over their shorts and t-shirts. For about 4 USD I was allowed to take their picture. Even though I felt their whole gig lacked a certain amount of authenticity, I paid them for their photo because their costumes were pretty cool and it didn't look an easy way to make a buck. It sorta reminded me of the indigenous people's of Borneo version of Old Sturbridge Village [for those of you not from Central Mass it's a colonial village where weirdos dress up in period costume and refuse to break character for love or money], but less strange because no one was trying to convince me that it was actually 1752 and these were the clothes they wore every day because they were John Winthrop, the village candle maker.
The more for real Dayaks live in villages upriver. I've heard you can visit the villages if you get permission from the chief and bring a present, like a bag of rice. Part of me feels like I should try to make it to one of these since I'm here and all. I have a feeling the chances of finding myself in Borneo for a second time are pretty slim. The other part of me thinks that a remote Dayak Village upriver is no place for a lady that is terrified of animals and is unsure how comfortable how she would feel surrounded by tribesman in a remote village [most likely maybe not completely or totally calm]. I'll have to give it some thought.
The Longhouse
Uci and I in the Longhouse
The kids who were really thrilled to have their photo taken with me
Santi [who I think might be the cutest pregnant lady ever] and I in the Long House
Little Warriors
The Longhouse wall
Those kids DO look thrilled...
ReplyDeleteAt first I had to skim over this post. I felt like I was reading something out of National Geographic. BORING! But then it got better. I went to Old Sturbridge Village once. I helped them make a barrel from scratch.
However, I found that Plymouth Plantation was much more interesting. They had Injins running around as well.
I vote for the journey upriver. Could it really be more frightening than the crazy white people at Old Sturbridge Village? Doubt it.
ReplyDeleteAlso, you look fabulous in these photos!