Posts in category: Community Collaboration

Many years ago, I had a Golden Retriever called Dominique, who then died.  My sadness stayed with me for a long long time and I could not bring myself to have another dog.  Last year I decided to spend more time in Toraja starting 2018. I picture myself on my house verandah in Toraja with a Golden Retriever like Dominique.

Suddenly in November 2017, my sister Nina told me, that there was a Golden Retriever up for adoption-not for Sale!  I immediately contacted the pet shop, that took care of the dog, situated about one hour’s drive from Central Jakarta. After a long interview, I was allowed to have the dog.  I have to promise that the dog has to sleep in the house, he cannot be chained, he has to be taken to the doctor if he is sick. I also have to promise, that we will not eat the dog!

We named the dog, Melo which in Torajanese means Beautiful or Good looking.  In early February, 2018 we flew Melo from Jakarta to Makassar. Afterwards, we drove for ten hours to Toraja.  We stopped every two hours to stretch our legs and to let Melo play on the beach or in the garden of a restaurant.  Late that night, we arrived at our home in Batutumonga, around 30 minutes north of Rantepao, the capital of Toraja Utara Regency. The cool air of Sesean mountain, 1400 meter above sea level makes Melo healthier and his hair shines brighter.

Friends and guests often come and stay at our home called Banua Sarira, which means “House of Rainbow”.  We often see a single or double rainbow from our verandah. Melo always welcomes our guests warmly, with a hug. He is happier when the guests give him a piece of meat or rice.  Some guests do get scared, because Melo is around 1 meter high standing up and weighs almost 30 kg.

However, in no time, most guests will start playing with Melo or even start taking a walk with Melo around our village, Batutumonga.

Melo loves taking a walk and going on a car ride.  Melo always smiles and enjoys the scenery from our old Kijang van.  So, we often take Melo to accompany our guests in their travel around Toraja.

Melo has two favourite walks, each lasts for about two hours.  The first one, we call “Batutumonga Valley Walk”.  Melo loves to walk down into the Batutumonga valley, past the rice fields, jumping into a clear water creek, meeting grassing tedong or Toraja water buffaloes.  From there we can look up to admire Sesean Mountain, which guards Toraja area and is often covered by clouds as white as cotton. The second one, we call “Back of the Dragon Walk”.  We will take a walk with Melo in the afternoon.  We will walk past the rice field strewn with black volcanic boulders, dip into little stream and water-fall, talking with the locals who usually are drinking coffee in front of their tongkonan or traditional homes. Along the walk, we will admire the beauty of Sesean mountain from the side, which looks like the back of a gigantic dragon.

We hope Melo will gain more friends to go for a walk with from outside Toraja and from the villages of Toraja.

Bertahun yang lalu, saya pernah punya seekor anjing Golden Retriever, si Dominique yang lalu meninggal.  Kesedihan tentang Dominique mengendap di hati saya dan membuat saya tidak mau punya anjing lagi. Tahun lalu, waktu saya memutuskan untuk lebih banyak tinggal di Toraja, terbayang terus, bahwa saya ingin ditemani oleh seekor anjing Golden Retriever seperti Dominique.

Tiba-tiba pada bulan November 2017, Nina adik saya memberi-tahu, bahwa ada seekor Golden Retriever yang akan diberikan untuk adopsi (bukan dijual!).  Saya langsung menghubungi Pet Shop yang mengurus anjing itu di pinggiran Jakarta.  Akhirnya saya boleh memelihara anjing itu, setelah proses wawancara yang panjang dengan berbagai janji, seperti anjing itu harus tidur dalam rumah, tidak boleh dirantai, harus dibawa ke dokter kalau sakit.  Harus janji juga, bahwa anjing itu tidak boleh dimakan.

Kami namakan anjing itu, Melo.  Dalam Bahasa Toraja berarti bagus atau ganteng.  Singkat kata, Melo kami terbangkan dari Jakarta ke Makassar.  Lalu selama sepuluh jam, kami tempuh perjalanan darat ke Toraja. Kami berhenti tiap dua jam untuk meluruskan kaki dan membiarkan Melo untuk bermain di pantai dan di kebun rumah makan. Malam itu, kami dan Melo tiba di rumah kami di Batutumonga, 30 menit naik mobil di utara dari Rantepao, ibu kota Kabupaten Toraja Utara.  Udara sejuk di lereng gunung Sesean, 1400 meter dari permukaan laut membuat Melo makin sehat dan bulunya berkilat.

Sering banyak tamu yang datang dan menginap di rumah kami Banua Sarira, yang berarti Rumah Pelangi, karena kami sering melihat pelangi dari beranda rumah.  Melo selalu menyambut para tamu ini dengan ramah. Apalagi kalau tamu memberikan sepotong daging atau sekepal nasi. Sebagian tamu memang sering takut kalau melihat betapa besarnya Melo yang kalau berdiri lebih dari satu meter dengan berat badan hampir 30 kg.  Tapi setelah berkenalan, para tamu akan mulai bermain bahkan jalan-jalan dengan Melo ke sekeliling kampung di Batutumonga.

Melo senang sekali jalan-jalan dan naik mobil.  Melo selalu tersenyum dan menikmati pemandangan dari jendela Kijang tua kami.  Sehingga kami makin sering mengajak Melo untuk ikuti menemani tamu-tamu TORAJAMELO waktu keliling Toraja.

Ada dua jalur jalan kaki yang disukai Melo, masing-masing lamanya sekitar dua jam.   Yang pertama kami namakan “Batutumonga valley walk”.  Melo suka sekali jalan pagi hari ke lembah Batutumonga, melewati sawah, main di sungai yang jernih, bertemu dengan tedong atau kerbau Toraja yang gagah. Dari situ, kita bisa mendongak ke atas dan melihat Gunung Sesean, penjaga Toraja yang penuh wibawa yang sering diliputi awan seperti kapas. Yang kedua, kami namakan “Back of the Dragon walk”. Kita akan jalan-jalan dengan Melo, biasanya di sore hari. Kita akan melewati sawah dengan batu-batu hitam yang besar, sungai dan air terjun yang jernih dan ketemu dengan penduduk yang ramah yang sedang ngopi di depan tongkonan atau rumah adat mereka. Sambil berjalan kaki, kita akan mengagumi punggung gunung Sesean yang bentuknya seperti Back of the Dragon atau punggung Naga.

Kami harap mudah-mudahan Melo akan mempunyai makin banyak teman untuk diajak jalan-jalan, dari luar Toraja maupun dari kampung-kampung Toraja.

Many of you may have heard and joined the festive Toraja funeral ceremony that can last for days. However, for non-Torajanese, maybe you have not experienced the long journey home when a Torajanese dies away from their land.

Well, a few months ago, my husband and I were in Makassar where I was asked to share my experience in developing my TORAJAMELO community based business with other women micro-entrepreneurs. We were preparing to fly back to Jakarta, when my husband received a phone call. It was from his brother, telling us that his mother-in-law who was hospitalized in Makassar had just passed away. For Torajanese, it’s very important to attend funerals.So, in a hurry, we cancelled our flight, changed our clothes into an all black garb that we always have in our suitcase and rushed to the hospital. In front of the morgue, a big tent with plastic roof had already been erected. The guests, mostly Torajanese were already there, talking with each other, not unlike a reunion. We prayed in front of the coffin.Then sat together with the other guests. Soon, lunch boxes with rice and meat were distributed. More and more people came. Before we knew it, it was already late afternoon. Cakes and drinks were served.

The oldest son of the deceased made a speech about how he struggled to accept the death of his mother. Then the coffin was put in the van and off we went. We were part of a motorcade of around two dozens of cars, led by a police car with wailing siren. We drove in the night, out of Makassar towards north. After about an hour, suddenly the police car stopped and we all stopped by the road. I stayed in the car. Creeping in the dark were several people giving out dinner boxes of rice and fried chicken! We all sat in our cars and ate. After the men finished their after dinner cigarettes, we moved on.

I fell asleep. Around midnight, I woke up. It was dark. Our car was parked. The driver was nowhere to be seen. My husband was snoring in the front seat. I looked outside, the van with the coffin in it was next to my car. I walked outside and into a small restaurant by the beach. Everybody was there, eating grilled fish and drinking coffee. They were talking and laughing. Amazing!

We drove on, turning north east into the mountains. The police siren was still going strong. I fell asleep once more.At around 3am, the cars stopped again in a little town on a hill. Everybody scrambled out to have coffee. I was too tired and stayed in the car. The van with the coffin was parked in front of my car.

At dawn, I woke up to the sound of revving engines of dozens of motor cycles which joined us at Salubarani, the border into the Toraja land. This is the Toraja way of welcoming home the deceased who will be buried in their ancestor land. As we passed Makale, the first big town in Toraja, dozens of cars followed us into Rantepao, the main town of North Toraja.

At last, after a twelve hours journey, we arrived at the house of the deceased where family members and friends were already waiting. Steaming hot coffee and cakes were served. A short prayer was recited and another speech was delivered. Afterwards, we all had breakfast of rice with chicken or pork cooked in bamboo tubes. It was yummy, but I was so tired, that my face fell on my rice.

From this experience, it’s clear to me, that funeral procession in Toraja is a way of family and friends gathering, as well as celebrating life.

Many of you may have heard and joined the festive Toraja funeral ceremony that can last for days. However, for non-Torajanese, maybe you have not experienced the long journey home when a Torajanese dies away from their land.

Well, a few months ago, my husband and I were in Makassar where I was asked to share my experience in developing my TORAJAMELO community based business with other women micro-entrepreneurs. We were preparing to fly back to Jakarta, when my husband received a phone call. It was from his brother, telling us that his mother-in-law who was hospitalized in Makassar had just passed away. For Torajanese, it’s very important to attend funerals.So, in a hurry, we cancelled our flight, changed our clothes into an all black garb that we always have in our suitcase and rushed to the hospital. In front of the morgue, a big tent with plastic roof had already been erected. The guests, mostly Torajanese were already there, talking with each other, not unlike a reunion. We prayed in front of the coffin.Then sat together with the other guests. Soon, lunch boxes with rice and meat were distributed. More and more people came. Before we knew it, it was already late afternoon. Cakes and drinks were served.

The oldest son of the deceased made a speech about how he struggled to accept the death of his mother. Then the coffin was put in the van and off we went. We were part of a motorcade of around two dozens of cars, led by a police car with wailing siren. We drove in the night, out of Makassar towards north. After about an hour, suddenly the police car stopped and we all stopped by the road. I stayed in the car. Creeping in the dark were several people giving out dinner boxes of rice and fried chicken! We all sat in our cars and ate. After the men finished their after dinner cigarettes, we moved on.

I fell asleep. Around midnight, I woke up. It was dark. Our car was parked. The driver was nowhere to be seen. My husband was snoring in the front seat. I looked outside, the van with the coffin in it was next to my car. I walked outside and into a small restaurant by the beach. Everybody was there, eating grilled fish and drinking coffee. They were talking and laughing. Amazing!

We drove on, turning north east into the mountains. The police siren was still going strong. I fell asleep once more.At around 3am, the cars stopped again in a little town on a hill. Everybody scrambled out to have coffee. I was too tired and stayed in the car. The van with the coffin was parked in front of my car.

At dawn, I woke up to the sound of revving engines of dozens of motor cycles which joined us at Salubarani, the border into the Toraja land. This is the Toraja way of welcoming home the deceased who will be buried in their ancestor land. As we passed Makale, the first big town in Toraja, dozens of cars followed us into Rantepao, the main town of North Toraja.

At last, after a twelve hours journey, we arrived at the house of the deceased where family members and friends were already waiting. Steaming hot coffee and cakes were served. A short prayer was recited and another speech was delivered. Afterwards, we all had breakfast of rice with chicken or pork cooked in bamboo tubes. It was yummy, but I was so tired, that my face fell on my rice.

From this experience, it’s clear to me, that funeral procession in Toraja is a way of family and friends gathering, as well as celebrating life.

Two days ago I received an invitation to attend the commemoration of the World Leprosy Day 2011 with the theme “No Leprosy Among Us”. This brings my mind to Grandpa Marcia, who lives in the Leprosarium Batulelleng in Rantepao, North Toraja. (In Toraja, if you have a grandchild, you will be called with the name of your oldest grandchild. Thus, Marcia is Grandpa Marcia’s oldest grandchild).

I met Grandpa Marcia at Pasar Bolu, the main market of Rantepao, which happens every six days. I was looking for a traditional bamboo hat to be worn to funeral ceremonies. As usual, when I go shopping I always look for a seller who smiles. I will pay a higher price, even without bargaining to a smiling seller. Among all the hat sellers, Grandpa Marcia’s wide smile drew me to him. From then on, I often go to his little, but clean wooden hut in the Leprosarium.

Grandpa Marcia is a Master hat maker. He has taught his daughters and neighbors how to make top quality hats.They share the work in making each hat. Grandpa Marcia does the most difficult part, which is the bamboo center top and the top cone. It takes them up to four weeks to make a hat, which includes the time to dry the bamboo strips in the sun.

Grandpa Marcia goes to Pasar Bolu every six days to bring his hats and those of his neighbors. Many of his neighbors do not dare to leave the Leprosarium, because they have lost their fingers and toes. Grandpa Marcia has also lost his right leg. However, he now wears a false leg. And once he wears long pants and shoes, he looks like any ordinary people. That’s why he does not have any problem about going to the market.

The World Leprosy Day was created and announced for the first time on 31 January 1954 by Raoul Follereau. He is a journalist and a fighter who believes, “that people affected by leprosy could be cared for like all others who are ill and so that those in good health could be cured of their absurd and often criminal fear of this disease and those who are affected by it”. 2011 is an important milestone in eradicating leprosy with the start of WHO (World Health Organization) program of “Enhanced Global Strategy for Further Reducing the Disease Burden Due to Leprosy 2011-2015”.

In Jakarta, the World Leprosy Day will be commemorated on 31 January, 2011 with three goals: to build confidence and independence for the survivors of leprosy, to eradicate stigmatization on leprosy sufferers and survivors and to empower the leprosy survivors to build their own future, their family and community. These goals are important, especially with the fact that according to the Indonesian Minister of Health in 2010, that there are still around 14 provinces and regencies in Indonesia which still have leprosy. Additionally, Indonesia together with India and Brazil are the top three countries, which still have new Leprosy sufferers.

It is clear then, that Grandpa Marcia is one of leprosy survivors who has managed to empower himself socially and economically while supporting his family and helping his community. At the same time, with his traditional hats, he maintains the continuation of Toraja culture.

Two days ago I received an invitation to attend the commemoration of the World Leprosy Day 2011 with the theme “No Leprosy Among Us”. This brings my mind to Grandpa Marcia, who lives in the Leprosarium Batulelleng in Rantepao, North Toraja. (In Toraja, if you have a grandchild, you will be called with the name of your oldest grandchild. Thus, Marcia is Grandpa Marcia’s oldest grandchild).

I met Grandpa Marcia at Pasar Bolu, the main market of Rantepao, which happens every six days. I was looking for a traditional bamboo hat to be worn to funeral ceremonies. As usual, when I go shopping I always look for a seller who smiles. I will pay a higher price, even without bargaining to a smiling seller. Among all the hat sellers, Grandpa Marcia’s wide smile drew me to him. From then on, I often go to his little, but clean wooden hut in the Leprosarium.

Grandpa Marcia is a Master hat maker. He has taught his daughters and neighbors how to make top quality hats.They share the work in making each hat. Grandpa Marcia does the most difficult part, which is the bamboo center top and the top cone. It takes them up to four weeks to make a hat, which includes the time to dry the bamboo strips in the sun.

Grandpa Marcia goes to Pasar Bolu every six days to bring his hats and those of his neighbors. Many of his neighbors do not dare to leave the Leprosarium, because they have lost their fingers and toes. Grandpa Marcia has also lost his right leg. However, he now wears a false leg. And once he wears long pants and shoes, he looks like any ordinary people. That’s why he does not have any problem about going to the market.

The World Leprosy Day was created and announced for the first time on 31 January 1954 by Raoul Follereau. He is a journalist and a fighter who believes, “that people affected by leprosy could be cared for like all others who are ill and so that those in good health could be cured of their absurd and often criminal fear of this disease and those who are affected by it”. 2011 is an important milestone in eradicating leprosy with the start of WHO (World Health Organization) program of “Enhanced Global Strategy for Further Reducing the Disease Burden Due to Leprosy 2011-2015”.

In Jakarta, the World Leprosy Day will be commemorated on 31 January, 2011 with three goals: to build confidence and independence for the survivors of leprosy, to eradicate stigmatization on leprosy sufferers and survivors and to empower the leprosy survivors to build their own future, their family and community. These goals are important, especially with the fact that according to the Indonesian Minister of Health in 2010, that there are still around 14 provinces and regencies in Indonesia which still have leprosy. Additionally, Indonesia together with India and Brazil are the top three countries, which still have new Leprosy sufferers.

It is clear then, that Grandpa Marcia is one of leprosy survivors who has managed to empower himself socially and economically while supporting his family and helping his community. At the same time, with his traditional hats, he maintains the continuation of Toraja culture.

WET MARKETS OF TORAJA

Going to the malls in Jakarta from time to time is fine – to buy books, meet some friends, sip coffee and munch on donuts, etc. You look up and see the fake sky, complete with fake clouds and around you, fake plastic trees…ugh. I am not trying to be pretentious, but please take me to a wet market any day…especially the wet markets of Toraja…and my heart will sing!

The markets in Toraja go in a six-day cycle. The story goes… a long time ago, these markets have their own specialties in addition to the usual vegetables, fruits and fish. One market will be full of mats woven from the tall grass. Another will have terra-cotta pots of different sizes ready to be used to boil coffee or to cook rice. One market will have stalls of coffee beans and powder. But the biggest of them all is the main Rantepao market, which is called Pasar Bolu or betel vine leave market. Maybe long time ago, there used to be a lot of betel nut trees there. Or maybe because a lot of betel vine leaves are sold there together with betel fruit, areca nut, lime and tobacco. This mixture creates red saliva when put and munched together and is still loved by many Torajanese, especially older people from the village. As one lady tells me, “I’d rather not eat than not chew the bolu leaves.” Despite the name, the market is the main buffalo and pig market of Toraja area.

On the night before the market day, my neighbors in Batutumonga-about one hour out of Rantepao- at around midnight will start walking down to the main road carrying vegetables on their back. Actually, Torajanese hangs the bamboo basket with a strap around their forehead and the basket sitting on their back. Then they wait for a car to take them to the markets or some will continue walking down the whole 22 kilo meter. As the sun rises, you can hear the hum of the cars and trucks going down full with people. A few hours before sunset, the cars will return still full of people plus their shopping goods. More often than not, one or two buffalos and some pigs will also ride in the trucks.

On market day, sometimes you cannot take the car to cross the bridge into Pasar Bolu area, because the traffic is simply not moving. As soon as you enter the market, all your senses will perk up: the noise of people bargaining, the bright colors of the fruits and vegetables, the sweet smell of newly roasted coffee, the heat of the sun and bodies jostling together, the bitter sweet taste of the palm wine, the soft texture of woven mats. On my last trip, I took my brother, who is an IT Manager in San Francisco and he sighed happily: “Sense overload…”

I will go across to the open field in the southwest part of the market. There, in the middle of the mud, as far as your eyes can see, stand hundreds of buffalos: big and small, black and white, with or without spots. Their keepers hold them on the leash. And one thing that always strikes me is – despite the presence of hundreds of people and buffalos – it’s quiet. Nobody screams to offer you their buffalos. Nobody pushes you around. The keepers just stand quietly and wait for a buyer. The buffalos also stand or sit around quietly, munching some grass. The scene will change drastically as I reach the pig area on the other side. The pigs are squealing on the ground, trussed up on bamboo poles. The ones in the pig pens will be eating noisily. The piglets are squirming and snorting in the plastic sacks.

Then it’s time to get away from the heat. I will go back to the main part of the market, past the sellers of rock mortars and pestles. Inside, there will be rows and rows of fresh fish from Palopo in the east coast. I choose the fishmonger who smiles the most (‘Why bother spending your money on a grumpy person?’ is my policy in shopping) and buy from him a week’s stock of seafood: white jack fish, bright red tuna, fat striped prawns, blue clawed crabs, fresh silvery anchovies. Not far from him is the chicken lady. I will buy two chickens already cut up into small pieces. Next is the tahu and tempe (soy bean cakes) stalls. Then, I will buy a small container of katokkon, a mini paprika-like chillies of Toraja. I love vegetables, so I will buy a lot of them, i.e. daun paku or fern leaves, pepaya flowers, young bamboo shoots, water cress, soy bean sprouts, carrot, spinach, green beans, dried red beans, tomatoes, potatoes, shallots, pumpkins, etc. I will never forget to buy a litre of the black pamarassan or keluak powder of Toraja, cooked with fish or pork – it will become a yummy soup. If I am in the mood, I will also go to the pork area and buy some ribs. Oh, don’t forget to buy some fruits: pepaya, lime, oranges, yellow passion fruit from high mountains or markisa, purple Toraja passion fruit or terung Balanda, bananas, salak or snake fruit, kedondong (fruit with hairy seed) and sometimes durian from Palopo. A litre of freshly ground coffee and ground soybeans are a must. I love bamboo baskets and pandanus mats. A few months ago, I bought two baskets to be used as laundry containers at home. When I have guests, I usually take them to the traditional souvenir area. Over there, they can buy local costume, woven textile, jewelries, wood carving and hand-bags to take home. Pasar Bolu has everything you need!

At last, my hands laden with goodies, going past the fighting cocks area, I will walk to my car and start heading back home to the cool Batutumonga. I will start looking forward to the sixth day again. However, if the calling or need is very strong, I will go to the pretty as a picture Pasar Pagi or morning market by the Sa’dan river. A few weeks ago I went there with Andrew Zimmern and his crew from Travel Channel to shoot the Sulawesi episode of his program: ‘Bizarre World’. But that’s another story!

WET MARKETS OF TORAJA

Going to the malls in Jakarta from time to time is fine – to buy books, meet some friends, sip coffee and munch on donuts, etc. You look up and see the fake sky, complete with fake clouds and around you, fake plastic trees…ugh. I am not trying to be pretentious, but please take me to a wet market any day…especially the wet markets of Toraja…and my heart will sing!

The markets in Toraja go in a six-day cycle. The story goes… a long time ago, these markets have their own specialties in addition to the usual vegetables, fruits and fish. One market will be full of mats woven from the tall grass. Another will have terra-cotta pots of different sizes ready to be used to boil coffee or to cook rice. One market will have stalls of coffee beans and powder. But the biggest of them all is the main Rantepao market, which is called Pasar Bolu or betel vine leave market. Maybe long time ago, there used to be a lot of betel nut trees there. Or maybe because a lot of betel vine leaves are sold there together with betel fruit, areca nut, lime and tobacco. This mixture creates red saliva when put and munched together and is still loved by many Torajanese, especially older people from the village. As one lady tells me, “I’d rather not eat than not chew the bolu leaves.” Despite the name, the market is the main buffalo and pig market of Toraja area.

On the night before the market day, my neighbors in Batutumonga-about one hour out of Rantepao- at around midnight will start walking down to the main road carrying vegetables on their back. Actually, Torajanese hangs the bamboo basket with a strap around their forehead and the basket sitting on their back. Then they wait for a car to take them to the markets or some will continue walking down the whole 22 kilo meter. As the sun rises, you can hear the hum of the cars and trucks going down full with people. A few hours before sunset, the cars will return still full of people plus their shopping goods. More often than not, one or two buffalos and some pigs will also ride in the trucks.

On market day, sometimes you cannot take the car to cross the bridge into Pasar Bolu area, because the traffic is simply not moving. As soon as you enter the market, all your senses will perk up: the noise of people bargaining, the bright colors of the fruits and vegetables, the sweet smell of newly roasted coffee, the heat of the sun and bodies jostling together, the bitter sweet taste of the palm wine, the soft texture of woven mats. On my last trip, I took my brother, who is an IT Manager in San Francisco and he sighed happily: “Sense overload…”

I will go across to the open field in the southwest part of the market. There, in the middle of the mud, as far as your eyes can see, stand hundreds of buffalos: big and small, black and white, with or without spots. Their keepers hold them on the leash. And one thing that always strikes me is – despite the presence of hundreds of people and buffalos – it’s quiet. Nobody screams to offer you their buffalos. Nobody pushes you around. The keepers just stand quietly and wait for a buyer. The buffalos also stand or sit around quietly, munching some grass. The scene will change drastically as I reach the pig area on the other side. The pigs are squealing on the ground, trussed up on bamboo poles. The ones in the pig pens will be eating noisily. The piglets are squirming and snorting in the plastic sacks.

Then it’s time to get away from the heat. I will go back to the main part of the market, past the sellers of rock mortars and pestles. Inside, there will be rows and rows of fresh fish from Palopo in the east coast. I choose the fishmonger who smiles the most (‘Why bother spending your money on a grumpy person?’ is my policy in shopping) and buy from him a week’s stock of seafood: white jack fish, bright red tuna, fat striped prawns, blue clawed crabs, fresh silvery anchovies. Not far from him is the chicken lady. I will buy two chickens already cut up into small pieces. Next is the tahu and tempe (soy bean cakes) stalls. Then, I will buy a small container of katokkon, a mini paprika-like chillies of Toraja. I love vegetables, so I will buy a lot of them, i.e. daun paku or fern leaves, pepaya flowers, young bamboo shoots, water cress, soy bean sprouts, carrot, spinach, green beans, dried red beans, tomatoes, potatoes, shallots, pumpkins, etc. I will never forget to buy a litre of the black pamarassan or keluak powder of Toraja, cooked with fish or pork – it will become a yummy soup. If I am in the mood, I will also go to the pork area and buy some ribs. Oh, don’t forget to buy some fruits: pepaya, lime, oranges, yellow passion fruit from high mountains or markisa, purple Toraja passion fruit or terung Balanda, bananas, salak or snake fruit, kedondong (fruit with hairy seed) and sometimes durian from Palopo. A litre of freshly ground coffee and ground soybeans are a must. I love bamboo baskets and pandanus mats. A few months ago, I bought two baskets to be used as laundry containers at home. When I have guests, I usually take them to the traditional souvenir area. Over there, they can buy local costume, woven textile, jewelries, wood carving and hand-bags to take home. Pasar Bolu has everything you need!

At last, my hands laden with goodies, going past the fighting cocks area, I will walk to my car and start heading back home to the cool Batutumonga. I will start looking forward to the sixth day again. However, if the calling or need is very strong, I will go to the pretty as a picture Pasar Pagi or morning market by the Sa’dan river. A few weeks ago I went there with Andrew Zimmern and his crew from Travel Channel to shoot the Sulawesi episode of his program: ‘Bizarre World’. But that’s another story!