Sorake Beach, Lagundri Bay, Nias

Nias

After leaving Lake Toba at 7.30am we finally arrive at Sorake Beach, Lagundri Bay, Nias at 9.00pm; ferry, bus,plane and car. When you arrive in darkness you’re disorientated and don’t know what to expect....just wait till the morning...........It didn’t disappoint...tropical sunrise over coral reef, palm trees and surf breaking right in front........heaven. A few days surfing, eating and sleeping doesn’t hurt anyone!

It doesn’t take long to realise the locals are still doing it tough after two tsunamis and an earthquake. The resulting tourist down turn meaning many losmen are empty or still in ruins and not looking like they will be rebuilt in the near future. Over the next week we buy souvenirs (though we don’t really want them) and don’t bargain too hard for them. I exchange rupiah for useless Thai, Malaysian and Singapore currencies and $2 worth of Aussie coins and an American $1.00, the locals happy to have even the small amount of money this gives them.

 












We buy fish straight off the beach as the boats come in and have it cooked in different restaurants..Paying a little bit extra as a donation in kind. Some confusion when we were bargaining one day saw us nearly buy 1 large and 6 small fish for 30,000rp ($3.50), when we only wanted the large one for a generous 20,000rp ($2.20). Help in interpreting from another fisherman saw a rapid change in negotiation and we walk back with our fish in a bag and leave behind a happy fish monger.

 

On top of a nearby hill is a traditional village with the largest surviving King’s House, a 350yr old structure of colossal timbers dwarfing the surrounding traditional homes....a status symbol of power. The homes in the village are all of the traditional style, they are close together lining the wide cobbled street. Huge megalithic stones are also prevalent in this village. Again we see similarities with this village and other traditional villages we have visited elsewhere in Indonesia. These similarities are uncanny despite the enormous distances that separate them.

In this village a huge stone wall stands outside the kings house. It’s about 2.2 m high and the village boys train hard to jump it. Traditionally it proved their strength and would be used to solve problems.... if you can jump it your village is correct, if not....you lose! If you can jump it you can become a warrior and you are ready for marriage. For a donation to the village a young man shows how it is done. Dressed in traditional costume, a prayer to the gods and a few stretches then he is ready. A 20m run up to a launch rock, then up and over landing on the stone courtyard. ...........easy.

 
 
 
















We enter the Kings House and marvel at the construction, the size of the timbers and the amount of then. Upstairs is a large meeting/ living room with a cathedral ceiling that is a maze of support timbers that seem to go on endlessly. A large drum for calling the villagers hangs from the rafters, carved like a canon. Carvings on the wall denoting where the King and Queen sit also show external influences (umbrellas and Christian and Muslim looking icons incorporated), as does a pictorial carving of a Chinese trading boat.

Sitting on an elevated platform above row of large single slabs (1.8x1.5m) is the 5th generation descendant, we talk with him about the house and he explains that three families still live in a rear section and village celebrations still occur in the main hall. Above him, hanging on hooks, are pig jaws from the house opening ceremony. Over a hundred line the room......it must have been a big party.

The village life shows a few modern touches; satellite dishes on grass rooves and colourbond making a longer lasting replacement for the natural alternative. Washed clothes are placed on every useable surface; ancient megalith, tin roof and lines stretched to poles in the courtyard. Access to the village is via a large staircase preventing vehicles from entering, giving a old world feel to village life.

A hike into a local waterfall through rough farm land is well rewarded with a magical array of pools and cascades of blue/green water lined on either side by forest; a refreshing and cool relief from the equatorial heat and humidity. We stay for an hour then hike out then back to the beach and heat.

 Farm produce is used locally and a new friend “Steven” delivers a large bunch of small, sweet bananas and a pineapple we pay him better than market prices....Good for me, good for you...........Other people think he’s ripping them off, but you only pay what your happy to at the time. If you find out later you paid 4x too much is it his problem? They live a life of bartering and can convince you of anything. He says “I like you papa you know our situation and pay fair, end of deal”.

Steven comes by most days and sits and talks and jokes, he can be our middle man for anything we want, a small commission is all he would get. He never pushes a sale or service, only suggests. One day he sells me another pineapple and I exchange a few foreign coins for a small amount, did I also want a T-shirt, “No thanks” I tell him. He then asks for a loan of some money as he has a sick son, I lend him 100000rp ($12) and he leaves immediately. I don’t see him for two days and we hear of the death of a boy from the village. No one at the beach can explain how or anything in detail. I’m a little bit concerned and try to find out where Steven is, but no news until he turns up at the beach.

It wasn’t his son but a nephew, 7yrs old, who had red marks on his leg and hip. He noticed them when out walking with his father and told him they hurt. Two visits to the local medicine man but no improvement, then to hospital overnight, but unsure of any diagnoses. They could not afford treatment or they could not do anything so they sent him home. Another visit to the medicine man and he died 3 days after the first signs of the problem. A tragedy because of the lack of money/ lack of resources.............

Steven told us of the evil spirits present in this part of Nias, he couldn’t translate to English but the word was either maling (thieves) or mala malaI (bad), and they would come if you weren’t careful. Especially at times when there was a sun shower, then everyone was quiet and didn’t speak. They came at other times and this is what had happened to the boy. He was bitten by them and that was why he had the large black marks on his death bed............ He was buried the next day, not waiting for distant relatives because of the circumstances of his death. All this happening in a village with 9 churches and a devout community of Christians.

We console with Steven and wonder if there was anything the tourist community could have done to help?........In reality the first we knew of anything was after he had died. They live with life and death on a daily basis. Three locals having died during our nine day stay on Nias.

 
 
I surf a lot and we walk the beaches in the afternoon then stay up late(9.30) talking and eating with other tourists and the locals, again asking for food cooked as they would eat it. Being a tourist here is great fun.

 The 2005 earthquake raised the island half a metre and left two of the surf breaks to shallow except on really high tides. The perfectness of the main break fully compensating the lack of other waves.



On our last day we go to Steven’s village, about 500m behind the beach losmens. Its a totally different world. Newer housing of simple brick or timber construction, small family farms then at the top of the hill the traditional village. We are meet by a number of children jumping down from the courtyard onto a pile of sand, “photo, photo papa”, I take their photos and show then. Some follow as we walk down the length of the village. Outside one locked house is a 3yr old sleeping on a small megalith, awaiting the return of his parents from a day at work. The other villagers keep an eye out for the children during the day. Some of the houses are neat and painted or tiled others are ramshackle and in need of repair. A large pig is dragged from one house squealing as it is taken off to market. The neighbours all laughing at the ensuring drama that enfolded.

 

Stevens mother’s house is towards the end and is two stories. Inside is a front sitting room with a traditional chair, alter on the wall and photos; Pope, President and family. Behind is a central cooking fire and sleeping platform. Upstairs are two rooms, one for Stevens family and one for his brothers family. All the walls are blackened from the fire. No satellite TV, no mobile phone and no motor bike in this family. I feel they are not too well off as everyone else seems to have one or all of these things.

 


















We meet his children and one is noticeably ill, Angela asks a few questions and he answers honestly. He knows there is a problem but cannot afford the medication. He loves the child but he can only pray that God will look after him.......

We return to the beach with a deeper understanding of their existence, a struggle day to day. And this is in one of the few villages which benefits from the income derived from tourists........ Rxx

Lake Toba, Sumatra...

Lake Toba, Samosir Island, Sumatra. 5/10/10

Lake Toba is the largest volcanic crater lake in the world. The once massive volcano that existed here erupted about 70 000 years ago. It dumped 15 m of ash on India. It is believed, by many scientists, to have altered the population of the world, creating a genetic bottleneck wiping out about 80% of human population. It’s quiet here now, no eruptions just beauty.

Samosir Island sits in the middle of this enormous lake. Home of the Batak people. The Batak are music loving artisans, very friendly and welcoming, their history of cannibalism and warfare is no longer evident, only in stories and some remaining architecture. We visited one of the villages where a Stone chair circle still stands. Within this circle, the King, Queen and medicine man determined the guilt of the criminal, then removed him to another circle where his body was sliced with a knife and he was beheaded. The King drank the blood, ate the heart and liver and threw the remains in the lake! And that’s the abridged version!! I’ve saved all the gory details.....

Our cottage is a traditional Batak house and sits so close to the lake it virtually overhangs it. Our outlook is forever changing with differing light. Surrounded by an exquisite view of water, distant volcanos and surrounding mountains the wind either gently blows, or howls across the lake, making for a delightfully cool temperature. When the wind really picks up, the waves are continuously rolling past and slapping into the wall beneath us.

The weaving here is superb with the “ulos” (a woven sash) being an essential part of everyone’s wardrobe. These ulos vary in intricate designs, from fairly plain to pompom additions or beads woven through. To watch the women weave is a real treat.

 













On a motorbike adventure one day, I spy an elderly woman hanging out reams of freshly dyed threads. We turn around and I ask her, in my limited Indonesian, if we may look. It appears my language knowledge isn’t too bad, as we not only saw the threads but she welcomed us into her home and showed us her weaving.

Sitting on the floor, her bent over and crinkled frame no obstacle, she attached herself to the weaving apparatus and began to weave her magic. I was mesmerised by her withered hands that so meticulously and artfully flung back and forth, leaving a trail of colour and pattern behind. So many of our traditional arts/crafts are lost in our modern world....once again I feel a longing for simplicity.

 
















The road that circumnavigates the island is scattered with huge Christian graves. They sit /protrude from many high points and vary from coloured tile lined to enormous monoliths that brightly display Jesus or Mary shining out. Some can be several storeys high, with empty ‘cases’ awaiting the next family member who ‘drops off’!

We attended church on Sunday.

The Christian faith is extremely strong on the island and so I decided I wanted to experience their faith. The congregation sang with gusto. The church was packed! The singing, accompanied by trumpet was warm and inclusive. The familiar/predictable tunes made it easy to sing along; my own words blended in beautifully. I sang of peace, I sang of beauty and I sang of love!

Then began the “sing offs.” I was moved to the point of near sobbing as the first women’s choir stood and sang. Their voices soared and soothed and lifted and lilted like you could never imagine. They harmonised and overlapped their voices with sheer beauty. There I was, not only with copious tears, but fighting off the shuddering shoulders of absolute sobbing. When they came to a close, I wanted to stand, to cheer, to hoot and holler!! I didn’t. I continued to wipe the tears!!!

Next came a young women’s group. Maybe 50 girls aged around 15-20. Again their voices challenged all the senses. Men’s groups followed; fabulous baritones, amazing basses, altos and tenors, the harmonies were divine! In between the whole congregation would pray and sing various hymns.

We understood very little....yet we understood it all...it was about love..............Ax

We hire the bike again and wind our way to the top of the island, an undulating plateau. The road follows the escarpment around half of the island through villages and warungs at scenic lookouts. The vastness of the lake spread out below. Pine plantations and gum trees on the slopes and plateau replace what was once all natural forest. Rice fields full of weeds awaiting cultivation before the wet arrives and buffalo roaming around the villages.

After a few hours the road deteriorates into a potholed nightmare and we turn back. But too late it turns out because the front tyre has a puncture and as we ride along I notice a change in the bike’s noises and eventually we stop. We had just passed through a very small village and push the bike back. The local mechanic is shut but at a dingy little pool house/warung a local offers to take the tyre for repair to the next village. We have tea/coffee and enjoy the view for an hour then head back to our Batak house.


Viona, whom we hired the bike from, asks about where we have been eating and we tell her the tourist restaurants are all very boring. She offers to cook a traditional spicy lake fish dish with vegies and we accept. A large bbq goldfish of some sort with chilli and spices........enak (delicious). The next night chicken curry and gado gado.........enak sekali (very delicious)......

We do all the tourist things...hang around for 9 days and visit traditional villages, dancing, markets, hot springs, kings grave and stone chairs always returning to our batak house on the water’s edge. Lake Toba, Sumatra a great place to be...................R
 

Sumatra. Bukit Lawang and Lake Toba

Bukit Lawang Sumatra 30/9/10.

A flight from Singapore to Medan, Sumatra takes only about an hour. From Medan we caught a becak, the motorised type, to the bus station. It was about 10 kms away through intense traffic and hence very fumy!! The local bus took about 3 hours to reach our destination. We found a gorgeous place up the river. A large open room with big doors onto a veranda, and windows which opened onto a great view of the jungle, the rushing river below was always a source of wonderful music.

We came to Bukit Lawang to see orang-utans.....we were not disappointed. Over the last few days we have seen orang-utans and so much more!

This area is part of the Mount Leuser National Park, an area of 900 000 ha . Sumatran forests are fast being gobbled up by the onslaught of palm oil plantations and I could rave on about the incredible environmental damages this is causing to both flora and fauna, however, for now let’s say the orang-utans are rapidly declining as their habitat is snavelled!

Bukit Lawang is situated on a river ...up the river is a feeding platform where rehabilitated/ing orang-utans can come to feed. It’s a steep climb up and the rangers make it available for 1 hour morning and afternoon, when they provide milk and bananas. (The feeding is kept simple with minimum contact to encourage the orang-utans to forage for themselves.)

These huge incredible animals are so magnificent they take your breath away as they swing down to the platform.

We decide to take a two day trek into the jungle to experience more of what it has to offer. We are taken by Dede and Mbra, our guides. Our first stop is the feeding platform. To get there you have to cross the river in a dugout canoe which is attached to a cable across the river and driven by an incredibly fit young man who battles the current! Then it’s up hill and stairs to the platform where we are urgently stopped before reaching because ‘Mina’ is blocking the way. Mina is a fully grown orang who is aggressive and needs to be fed first. The ranger scoops into his bucket and feeds her milk. When she’s had a cup or two off she goes.

This particular morning there are several mothers who make their way to the platform over the period of one hour. They swing/ wander/ meander their way down, each with their babies clung to them. They are simply awesome!!

From here we head on our way. UP!!!

Up..............straight up...........

The terrain is amazing....this is the jungle and it’s a steep one!

The track/path is narrow and it’s definitely single file. Reece, behind me, is below; often his head is level with my feet.

When we get to the top, the jungle is thick and dense but you can still get glimpses through. We are very high, and yet this ridge is only very narrow, then its downhill!!

We pass a Thomas Leaf Eating monkey...the funky monkey..great hairdos!! He is not far from the track. We soon learn it’s a young male ousted from his group by the dominant male. He will wander the jungle for several years and build up strength so that one day he can rejoin a group.

But “Thomas” is more than a lone monkey. He decides to follow us on our way. About 1km later, when we stop for a snack he is right there with us again. Watching. Coming ever closer. Watching: Amazing.

It would be tempting to encourage him with fruit and we try not to engage him as he is a wild animal, and doesn’t need to become too friendly with humans for obvious reasons. But I want to take him home, he is so cute, big, but cute!!

He follows for several kms. We lose him on one of the ridges. I kind of miss his stalking!!

Sometimes the terrain is so steep we climb holding tree roots as handles to heave our way up. I can’t help but wonder at the marvels of nature ...it seems a root ‘handle’ or vine is always where I need it...well mostly. It’s best not to look down. The foot holes and grips are like a climbing wall, only I would NEVER go this high on a climbing wall. Yet somehow here it’s different. It’s muddy and slippery, we are miles from anywhere....but it’s one hell of an adventure and we are in it!!

We see a chameleon about 30cms long. It just sits on the trunk of a tree and even lets me touch it. Reece, M’bra and myself walk straight past it, probably putting our hands on the same trunk as it sits. A pair of Rufus backed kingfishers stun us with their display. Politely bobbing to and fro to each other they are undisturbed from their ritual as we silently watch on. Their bright red beaks rhythmically moving like a metronome.

By 2.30pm the skies open ..the rain falls torrentially. Now we are really alive. The rain soaks us and there is something so exhilarating about it. I’m in my element! As I trek on it’s so... here and now. You cannot afford to think about anything else except the task at hand or you may end up down a mountain! Yet, it’s not scary by any means. But foot placement is crucial!!!

As the rain beats down the path becomes more slippery, and, as the base is clay, quite treacherous. The last part of the day is down. Down to the river. Huge Lianna vines help with our descent...and at times so does my bum!

We arrive at the river to find out we have to cross to the other side. The clamber across the rock shelf lining this side of the river is very challenging. It’s still pouring, the river is raging and it’s getting late! At the camp site, which is now in view, two other members of the team have set up our ‘jungle camp”. There is a fire burning and I can see a big billy on. The thought of hot tea spurs me on.

A wiry man in his undies arrives out of the rapids and lands ashore a little farther downstream. He had jumped in upstream to come to help. He has a large rubber inner tube slightly further upstream, to where we have to make our way. Although small, Abdul becomes our Superman! Holding onto, I’m not sure what really, we make our way along the ‘cliff’ faces that line the river. Abdul is standing in the river below to catch us.

One of my only falls is when he reaches for my hand to help on a particularly huge stretch. Although he had a firm grip, I just knew my foot placements were not quite right when he said go. ..needless to say, the rock ledge was hard!!!

I decided I too would be better in the river at this point so lowered myself in the water. It was about thigh deep and near the edge not ‘boiling’ as it was in the middle. We pushed upstream to the ‘raft.’ Here our belongings were wrapped in a big plastic bag and one by one we crossed in the Tube. From where we took off we would land about 20 m downstream the other side. Abdul “superman” was in the water swimming/pushing us in the right direction. Safe at the other side we walked back up to our overnight camp.

Jungle Camp was great. A crystal clear waterfall provided our shower and fresh water. The kitchen tent provided tea, tea and more tea....aaaaaaaaahhhhhh! The rain continued as we huddled around the fire. Dry clothes were not really an option for us because our packs weren’t really waterproof! I had sort of wrapped a rainsheet around them but ...pathetic really! After our swim in the waterfall we donned our new clothes and allowed our body heat and the fire to dry them. Abdul cooked up a storm!!! Chicken curry, sambal tempe and vegies....with lots of rice. Fishing with bamboo poles was a success, with M’bra catching 4 fish for breakfast.

Sleep was rather thin to say the least... no rain came into the sleeping area but the mats were rather uncomfortable and the rain beat down all night and I couldn’t help but think of landslides and rotten trees!!!

In the morning it was still raining and the river was really flowing. The smile on my face and in my heart seemed even bigger.

Breakfast was superb....omelette, fried rice, fish and the most exquisite fruit salad, presented ‘jungle style’. So much food we couldn’t eat it all.......Ax



They pack up camp and we head off on a short trek....10m from the river edge then 100m near vertical, Dede waiting as we clamber up, advising on footholds and hand placement. That was the easy part, now it’s a path angling down across a near vertical escarpment. The overnight rain, distance between safe footings and slippery vines/ roots/ branches makes the fast downhill slide seem inevitable. We continue trekking along while taking in the abundant ground cover of antheriums, ferns, gingers and flowering shrubs and overhead fruiting trees with vines and orchids.

“Jungle Woman” takes it all in her stride; some oversized to scale fallen trees or large vertical ledges, some tentatively around parts that have collapsed with a muddy path angling to a far below cascade......Up another hill then a vertical downhill to the river...”pelan pelan” (slowly slowly) advise given and heeded....The return to the village is down river on truck tyre inner tubes, 3 bound together.

Two guides to steer and push off boulders, one at the front and one behind and us in the middle. What seems like a novelty ride at the start, has us both squealing and yahooing after the first set of rapids..........the river is really flowing quite strong.........inner tubes aren’t very responsive..........

Dede stops in a quiet patch of water and jumps ashore saying he will make Angela a jungle hat. 10mins later he reappears with an elaborate crown of leaves, pinned with bamboo. The newly crowned “River Queen” squeals and yahoos for the rest of the downriver ride. ......Rx

We decide to go to the feeding platform one more time so head there for the afternoon session. As we make our way up the track with the ranger leading we are stopped as “Jacki” is on the path. They feed her a small amount then try to encourage her to follow. However, she just sits there with her gorgeous baby and melting eyes. I am close to the front of the line. The ranger instructs the line to move past her slowly. Four men walk past, then it’s my turn. I slowly walk past her and as I do she stops me and reaches for my hand. She touches me..............

The ranger tells me not to worry. My only concern is the literature I have read which concerns the possibility of humans spreading disease, hence, “please don’t touch them”. She is truly a gorgeous animal; her hand feels spongy and a little bit cool.

Aided by the ranger she releases my hand and moves off the path. Several more people move past, she rejoins the path after Reece and follows him up to the feeding platform. It’s hard not to be a little anxious in their close proximity, these are powerful, wondrous animals.

What I haven’t mentioned here is the crowd of Grrman Tourists who were also on this particular walk. Led by their Indonesian minders, it’s hard to say anything positive about their company. By all accounts they simply ignored any instructions given by the rangers and obviously had no understanding of the requirements of the park. They were there for a quick visit and, shoving ever closer, no matter what, was paramount to their visit. With a huge up welling of sadness, I find myself questioning the whole tourist presence in such a place. It’s the double edged sword of tourism.......I’m sure it could all be managed so much better, but in Indonesia, rules are not really there to be adhered to. Daily existence and, what happens right now is the most important thing, not the ongoing consequences....

Ironic really, “right here right now”...such a desirable state in consciousness, yet in reality, real life, a total disaster not to have any forward thinking!!! .......Ax