The last head hunters

Rhiann Marie - Round the World
Stewart Graham
Thu 2 Dec 2010 13:30
Thursday 2nd December 1145 Local 0345 UTC
 
09:50.61S 122:39.15E
 
Up bright and early to escape the "hotel" and to hit the road again. We made another very early morning stop at a roadside eatery before heading further east towards the East Timor border and up into the mountain village of Temkessi built high on the rocks where it is airy and secure. This was a stunningly preserved way of life and though the king was not home we met his wife who greeted and welcomed us to her home. 
 
Every seven years a young warrior climbs the vertical cliff face opposite the village witha  goat over his shoulders and ritually slaughters it and roasts it at the top of the hill. He is then not allowed to come down till he eats it all. This is some kind of sacrifice to ensure a good harvest or as thanksgiving for a good harvest. Seven is a special number in Timor and has all kinds of significance arising from one story which tells that seven beautiful sisters came down to earth and when the most beautiful remained behind she becanme the mother of the Timorese people. 
 
If the route yesterday was tortuous this one atop a ridge from where we could see the ocean to the north and the south pushed Trish's nerves to breaking point and she had to get out of the vehicle to calm herself.
 
Never mind it was headhunters next.
 
In a market town along the way we stopped for Padang food where you eat with your hands. Trish said it suited me fine as I could get more into my mouth at one time! It was delicious and three mouthfulls could finish a plate ........
 
A few hours drive later we arrived at the head hunters village in torrential monsoon rain. Only I and the guide walked to the village through what I think you can describe as a quagmire! e met the chief who was far too gentle to chop any ones head off and whose mouth was like a bloodbath with Bettel Nut. I was offered some and tried it but I just couldn't get it. So along the way just like the other guys I spat it out, except I spat the nut out with the juice also. My toungue however knew all about it was numb or sore I'm not sure which, until the next morning
 
These guys stopped chopping off their enemies heads in 1940. They used to go out and fight after a bunch of rituals and then bring the head of the enemy back to the king. However before presenting it to the king they slept with it and danced with it for four days apparently. Nice. 
 
I could go on for ever with the minutiae but I would bore you. 
 
One back in Kupang we did the dodgy deal with our agent on the beach where we got our papers and our RIB back and he got his money.
 
Today we would leave at 0500 at first light bound for Komodo where we can be chased along the beach by man (or perhaps woman if she can't run as fast) eating giant lizards. I think it will be a short stay. 
 
We are now moving at a hectic pace which is only really possible for us with a boat like the wonderful Rhiann Marie.      

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