Paths of Origin, Gates of Life: A Study of Place and Precedence in Southwest Timor [203, 1 ed.] 9789004454408

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PATHS OF ORIGIN, GATES OF LIFE

VERHANDELINGEN VAN HET KONINKLIJK INSTITUUT VOOR TAAL-, LAND- EN VOLKENKUNDE

202

ANDREW McWILLIAM

PATHS OF ORIGIN, GATES OF LIFE A study of place and precedence in southwest Timor

2002 KITLV Press Leiden

Published by: KITLV Press Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde (Royal Institute of Linguistics and Anthropology) P.O. Box 9515 2300 RA Leiden The Netherlands website: www.kitlv.nl e-mail: [email protected]

Cover: Creja ontwerpen, Leiderdorp

ISBN 90 6718 198 6 © 2002 Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the copyright owner. Printed in the Netherlands

Contents List of figures, maps and plates Preface Acknowledgements Orthography Introduction Anthropology on Timor 9 Theoretical considerations and the language of precedence 13 Chapter outline 21 II

Place and people in West Timor Introduction 25 Administration and government 27 Social identity and affiliation 32 Agriculture and the domestic economy 33 Rituals of agriculture 39 Subsistence and the cash economy 41 Coordinates of space and place in Amanuban 43

vii ix xiii xv 1

25

III Histories and myths of Amanuban Introduction 49 The colonial encounter 50 The emergence of Amanuban in myth 61 Political organization in Amanuban 64

49

IV Images of a political order; A Nabuasa narrative Introduction 71 Background to the narrative 72 The gate and path of Nabuasa 79

71

V

99

The cat who would be king; Order and instability in a Meto domain Introduction 99 Conceptual framework of the policy: ordering the domain 102 The rainmaker, Nubatonis 103 The four fathers: Benu, Neonane, Sopaba, Toislaka 107 The four lords: Telnoni, Isu, Tenistuan, Ataupah 112 The expanded federation: reordering the domain 115 A bitter sweet federation 124

Contents

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VI A political economy of headhunting Introduction 129 Headhunting and the use of ceremonial violence 131 Prosperity through ritual violence 140 Centre and periphery in a Meto domain 147 Dissolution and reincorporation within Amanuban 150

129

VII Images of a social order; Precedence and social practice Introduction 159 The basis of community 161 Marriage alliance and the classification of kinship relations 167 Alliance and the flow of life 176

159

VIII Case studies in place and precedence Introduction 187 The settlement of Kae 188 Settlement origins and history 188 Contemporary features of social life 192 Christianity and the church 199 Land, authority and diputation 200 The settlement of Oe Aiyo 205 Relocating the hamlet 215 Community fission and migration: the hamlets of Maunfunu and Oe Sebot 216

187

IX Meto houses; Built structures and social enclosures Introduction 223 Meto houses as built structures 225 The house as a social structure 243

223

X

249

Rituals of the house in southern Amanuban The birth of new life 249 The performance of marriage 258 Death and mortuary ritual 278

XI Place and precedence in southwest Timor Comparative conclusions 291

287

Appendix The gate and the path of Nabuasa

295

Selected glossary Bibliography Index

307 313 325

List of figures, maps and plates Figures 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Conceptual model of Insana Population of Noebeba (now part of kecamatan Amanuban Selatan) Directional coordinates in Amanuban Historical population data for southern Amanuban Conceptual outline of Nabuasa political domain The genealogical basis for Nabuasa expansion Expanded structure of the Nabuasa domain Brand markings (malak) Internal order of precedence within the kanaf Kin categories in Amanuban Prescribed marriage categories Cross-cousin marriage Diagrammatic tree of alliance The return of the young banana and the young sugar cane Marriage statistics in four settlements Lada-Ataupah marriages Origins of Puai households in Oe Aiyo Marriage links between Nubatonis and Puai in Oe Aiyo Marriages links between Puai, Lopo and Lasa Households in Maunfunu Relationships between households in Oe Sebot Diagram of the house Diagram of roof structure

11 30 45 47 115 118 120 134 165 170 171 173 181 182 184 196 209 211 213 218 221 234 236

Maps 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Former political domains of West Timor (1960) Southern Amanuban villages: formerly Noebeba Approximate path of Nabuasa migration Expanded domain of Noebeba Extent of raiding by Nabuasa (nineteenth century) Southwest Amanuban in 1919 Kae settlement

28 28 87 126 139 151 193

List of figures, maps and plates

viii

Plates 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Man and Timorese pony Narrating the gate and the path Senior Nabuasa elders with author Ume kbubu' (Amanuban Selatan) Meto house (recently constructed) Arrival of the wife-takers Shutting the gate I closing the siki Meeting at the gate Entering the compound The marriage gifts Exchanging the gifts Claiming the bride I uprooting the siki Meat distribution at funeral

front cover

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101

239 240

265 266 268 270 272

273 274 281

Preface As I finalize the preparation of this volume, the island of Timar in the eastern extremity of the Indonesian archipelago has experienced a major upheaval following the rejection of the East Timorese referendum for continuing integration within Indonesia on 30 August 1999. Publication of the result of the ballot was followed by an orchestrated program of chaos and destruction by militia bands, mass deportations of East Timorese people and the grudging Indonesian withdrawal from the former Portuguese colony. The events prompted a dramatic international military intervention under the auspices of the United Nations and a protracted period of instability and uneasy relations with now bordering Indonesia. From early 2000 East Timar has been the beneficiary of substantial financial and development assistance from the world to address the challenging task of rebuilding the nation. These extraordinary events, pushed East Timar into the international spotlight, and in so doing, also shed light upon its shadowy counterpart region of West Timar which has remained a little known but seemingly loyal corner of the Indonesian state. In recent times, West Timar has itself not been immune to violence and instability. Following the turmoil in East Timar in late 1999, thousands of refugees were evacuated to the west along with the substantial military and paramilitary forces that had maintained a severe internal security in the east during the previous 25 years. The existence of a series of squalid refugee (pengungsi) camps in West Timar and an upsurge in random violence and looting have become a sorry legacy of the East Timar struggle. Additionally, the financial and economic crisis across Indonesia since 1998 has also resulted in economic hardship and the rise of interethnic conflict in West Timar as the government and community alike work through the uncertain process of reform and decentralization in the post-Suharto era. West Timar forms the focus for the following ethnographic study which presents the results of an extended enquiry into the culture and history of Timorese communities in the southern central highlands of the island. It broadly covers a period between 1984 to 1992 and to this extent does not engage the immediate determinants of present instability in West Timar, much of which have to do with broader forces at play in contemporary

x

Preface

Indonesia. However, to the extent that the research explores key aspects of society and history among Timorese mountain communities in this region, it sheds light on many of the enduring cultural themes and values that continue to inform social life in the context of changing political circumstances. In its original form, this study was presented as a doctoral dissertation at the Australian National University in 1990. Since that time, however, I have continued to undertake applied anthropological research and consultancy work in the mountains and interior of West Timor which has provided an opportunity to clarify and review my understandings expressed in the original work. Over this period until 1992, primarily working as an adviser on a number of technical assistance development projects, I travelled extensively across West Timor collaborating with a range of Timorese communities, as well as government and non-government organisations. This enabled me to develop a broader understanding of the ethnographic context of West Timor and the place of the central southern mountains within this setting. Leaving Timor for Australia in 1992, I have nevertheless continued to make annual visits to South Central Timor for periods of two to three weeks, most recently during February 2000 in the midst of the East Timorese refugee crisis, with roving militia bands and a simmering anti-Australian sentiment. The additional field material and better understanding gained over these multiple visits, perspectives and conversations with a variety of Timorese residents allowed me to undertake a complete revision of the original manuscript in 1998 during a period of residence at the International Institute for Asian Studies at the University of Leiden. This gradualist and continuing revision and reflection on my understanding of south west Timorese society is expressed through the following study, most notably in the use of and reference to events and data which have occurred over a period between 1984 and 1996. The result is a perspective which might be described as an extended or historicized version of the 'anthropological present' covering a period of over 15 years. Attempts to 'stretch the contemporary' in this way certainly have their limits, and in contexts of rapid social and technological change where peoples lives may be dramatically transformed over short periods of time, such an approach might be of questionable value. However, despite the significant upheavals that have gripped Indonesia as a country in recent years, and by extension, the island of Timor, I would argue that most of the conditions of social life which I explore in the following study have been little affected by these momentous events. There is still no electricity in the mountain villages of southern Amanuban, no one drives a car, there are as yet no refrigerators, televisions, telephones, stoves, or computers in the typical mountain hamlet. Government visits are perfunctory and, on the whole mercifully brief. No one is on the net. Social change, while an inherent property of social repro-

Preface

xi

duction, is nevertheless a relative concept which affects communities differently. Things have certainly changed in southern Amanuban since I began tentative enquires in 1984 among scattered mountain communities, but from my recent visit to the area in February 2000, they have not changed all that much. Or, to put this another way, which acknowledges the historical and continuing entanglement of mountain Timorese society with the external world, they have changed the conditions of their lives comparatively slowly and largely on their own terms. As has been all too evident in Indonesia over recent times, violence waits in the wings. The murderous activities of the militia in East Timor, and the brutality expressed in diverse areas such as Central Kalimantan, Ambon and the Moluccas Islands more generally, highlight the tensions that have emerged in the weakening centralist state of Indonesia and the possibilities accompanying increased autonomy. While I was privileged to live in West Timar during a period of relative calm, the subject matter of this volume, and especially the strong cultural traditions of warfare and headhunting in West Timor provide insights into the potential instability and contested environment of Timorese social contexts. The possibilities for intercommunal violence are culturally and historically embedded in Timorese society, and tend to emerge when the coherence and moral authority of the wider political domain disintegrates. This is the lesson of Timorese history, which is strongly evident in the portrayal of the past and the heroic memories and representations of military and headhunting prowess in South Central Timor. Ethnographic material on which this study is based, was gathered, for the most part, when I was simultaneously working as an applied anthropologist on a range of rural development assistance projects. Conditions of work on these projects enabled me to explore multiple interrelated issues that went beyond the immediate concerns of project implementation and narrowly defined project activities. Consequently, the following study is not principally concerned with development issues, nor applied anthropological matters directly; a subject I have explored to some extent elsewhere (McWilliam, 1995, 1999a). Instead, I have chosen to examine a broader range of sociopolitical and cultural principles which inform and influence social life in West Timor, and which are brought to bear on contemporary events and economic developments. In the multiple ways by which Timorese society adapts to change and reproduces itself over time we can recognize something of the resilience and resistance that has enabled them to survive, even prosper, in what is a difficult and demanding environment.

Acknowledgements In the course of fieldwork and preparation of this work I have been assisted by many people over many years who have shared their time and knowledge generously. It is appropriate that in the first instance I extend my gratitude and good wishes to the farmers of Amanuban Selatan in West Timor who granted me access to their world. Their genial tolerance of my imperfect command of their language and my persistent enquires was a humbling and rewarding experience. I would like to single out a number of Timorese individuals who contributed in special ways to my understanding of their culture and history. Kolo Meo Feto, Nuna Nabuasa, Lais Nabuasa, Daniel Ataupah, Nikolas Puai, Lukas Banamtuan, and Johan Selan, all leaders of their respective communities, guided my understanding of the ritual knowledge of the past. I am indebted to the late Welim Talan and Magdelena Mauboi, Jesaya Nesimnasi, Deborah Nenomnanu and the defiant community of Fatumfaun who, when confronted with a daunting foreign project on their doorstep faced it with courage and aplomb. I also acknowledge Timiteous Nubatonis, Katarina Nabuasa, Bastian Seu and the communities of Kae, Oe Aiyo, Maunfunu, O'Manat, Binel, Maiskolen and Tua Aome for their hospitality and friendship. In the district of South Central Timor where I undertook the majority of my field studies I wish to extend my gratitude to Peit Tallo S.H., formerly bupati of Timor Tengah Selatan (TTS, South Central Timor), now Governor of Nusa Tenggara Province. He and his staff have always been generous in their support of my anthropological studies. I have also enjoyed many conversations with the remarkable Timorese ethnographer Dr Hendrick Ataupah, whose encyclopedic knowledge of Timorese customary practices gave me insights into the subtleties of their world. Throughout the course of these studies and the writing of this work I have been supported and encouraged by Professor James J. Fox, currently Director of the Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies at the Australian National University. He has led by example in the field of eastern Indonesian comparative ethnography. My understanding of anthropology and of eastern Indonesian culture and society has also benefited from the expertise and wis-

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Acknowledgements

dom of colleagues and teachers in anthropology at the Australian National University including the late Anthony Forge and Roger Keesing, Michael Vischer, E. Douglas Lewis, Penny Graham, Chris Gregory, Cecelia Ng, and Leslie Devereux. My gratitude also to Sally Brockwell, who has shared numerous Timar experiences and offered valued advice over many years. The opportunity to conduct anthropological fieldwork in Timar has been supported by the Australian Agency for International Development (AusAID) in my capacity as a project adviser, and over subsequent years by the Australian National University. I also acknowledge the support of the International Institute for Asian Studies (University of Leiden) in providing me with an opportunity to revise and complete this manuscript. An anonymous reviewer provided useful critical comment, I thank them for their efforts. In chapters VI and VIII of this volume I have elaborated upon and revised arguments presented in several previous publications (McWilliam 1988, 1996). In particular, I acknowledge use of previously published material from Janet Hoskins (ed.), Headhunting and the social imagination in Southeast Asia, 1996 by the Board of Trustees of the Leland Stanford Jr. University, by permission of the publisher.

Orthography The Timorese language discussed in this study is referred to by the generic term uab meta (literally, indigenous speech). It forms the numerically dominant indigenous language of West Timar and is currently spoken by over 750,000 people. Within this broad classification however there are at least six regional dialects which are nevertheless mutually intelligible. In the study area of the volume a dialect known as uab banamas (Amanuban speech) is spoken. It has the following characteristics: Consonants [b] [f] [h]

[j]

[k] [l] [m] [n] [p] [s] [t] ['] glottal stop.

Vowels

Dipthongs

[a] [e] [i] [o] [u] eu ae

oe ao ai iu ui

In accordance with the system of spelling adopted by P. Middelkoop and H.G. Schulte Nordholt, I have omitted the use of accents for certain indigenous words. Their pronunciation is based on the following principles: a. All stems in the language consist of two syllables with the stress falling on the first syllable. If the second syllable ends in the letter [e] or [a], the [e] of the first syllable is always short and does not require a grave accent. Words such as mate (green), pena (maize) and bena (flat) are examples.

xvi

Orthography

b. If the second syllable ends in an [i] or [u], then the [e] of the first syllable is long and does not need to be indicated by an acute accent, for example peti (box, coffin) menu (bitter). One of the common patterns of uab meta is the pervasive use of metathesis in the spoken form. In this way the word Jaji (pig) becomes faif, as in faif ana (piglet), or for example the word neno (day) becomes neon, as in Neon mese (Monday). Metathesized forms are only applied in conjunction with a qualifying term and may result in a phonemic shift in the vowel. Further discussion of these and other structural aspects of the language are considered in Ch.E. Grimes 1996 and Steinhauer 1993. In the formation of negatives, use is made of the discontinuous negative marker kahaf. On its own the word kahaf simply means 'no'. When used to negate verbs, adjectives or simple nouns, the term kahaf is split and added as a prefix and suffix to the word to be negated. So for example the word leko in its standard stem form means 'good'. In its negative construction, 'not good', the term becomes ka-leko-fa. In this case the end syllable is metathesized because it follows a final vowel.

CHAPTER I

Introduction Standing on the shores of Kupang Bay near the western tip of Timor, the mountainous hinterland of the island looms in the east. At times starkly outlined against a blue sky, otherwise shrouded in cloud mist, the mountains of Timor project, as they always have, a combination of mystery and challenge to outside intervention. In early 1984 with the island still lush green from the wet season I followed the road along Kupang bay and into the mountains to begin a period of fieldwork and ethnographic inquiry in the hinterland of west Timor. For most of the next three years I was employed as an anthropologist attached to a joint Indonesian-Australian agricultural development project located principally in the southern central highlands of West Timor. The following study arises out of this applied anthropological enquiry into Timorese history, agro-ecology and social practice. Timor, particularly the interior of the western half of the island, has for some time been recognized as one of the poorest regions of Indonesia. Rising population levels combined with a voracious slash-and-bum agricultural regime have resulted in the increasing impoverishment of the indigenous rural populations. Some forty years ago the Dutch geographer, F.J. Ormeling clearly articulated the issues constraining the development of the island. In his study, entitled The Timar problem, he highlighted the degradation of the environment through deforestation and soil erosion, the problem of low agrarian production, and the shortages of potable water supplies for the human population (Ormeling 1957:241). In recent decades the recognition of these problems has prompted a significant development effort in Timor and the neighbouring islands of eastern Indonesia. Large amounts of money and resources have been channelled into the region through the national government and a wide range of foreign aid agencies in the interest of promoting sustained economic development. Yet, despite these efforts, observable change in existing land use practices and increases in per capita income remain slight, and the landscape is littered with the broken and abandoned remnants of once promising development projects. If anything, conditions have only worsened and while it is apparent that the possibility of dire ecological collapse is probably not immanent, agri-

2

Paths of origin, gates of life

culture based around low-input shifting cultivation has become an increasingly marginal occupation. It is one that leaves farmer families even more exposed to the vagaries of Timor's notoriously unpredictable monsoon climate. The apparent inability of local populations to improve their economic circumstances has compounded the widespread ethnic stereotype of Timorese as inherently backward and resistant to change. Fox (1988a:259) has shown how this stereotype has its origins as far back as the eighteenth century in the writings of Dutch colonial officers frustrated in their efforts to integrate Timorese society under their administrative authority. In my own experience of working in Timorese communities, I frequently came across this form of stereotyping especially in the main towns and offices of government. Over time I formed an impression of a marked disjunction between local government perspectives and the 'development' (pembangunan) policies and programs initiated from central agencies, and the hundreds of small indigenous Timorese communities who were notional recipients of this development. The participation of the latter took the form of a reluctant, albeit obedient, acceptance rather than any positive collaboration. I have described this relative disjunction between government development programmes and the unenthusiastic nature of Timorese participation as one characterized by rhetoric and reticence (McWilliam 1995). Many government programs and projects are promoted on the basis of agendas established outside the island, most of which are inappropriate to Timorese conditions or completely misread local needs and problems. The fact that the language of development and government is Indonesian, which is generally understood but is not the language of everyday communication in the village, undoubtedly contributes to this reluctance. As a foreigner working with a project that was similarly identified as foreign in origin and funding 1 I was conscious of the need to encourage strong communication links and involvement of local Timorese communities in the surrounding villages. The project began as an experimental exercise to identify a range of locally appropriate technologies and strategies for improving agriculture. Food cropping techniques, livestock and pasture management, and the development of small-scale earthen dam water resources were among the activities pursued. 2 My role as an adviser to the project was to work with the surrounding Timorese communities to develop an underThe project formed part of the Indonesian-Australian bilateral technical assistance program during this period. Projects such as these are usually jointly funded in part to ensure that the development activities are consistent at least with Indonesian government development priorities. 2 I discuss the project and its relationship with local communities in more detail elsewhere (McWilliam 1999a).

I Introduction

3

standing of local needs, interests and constraints. As a result most of my explorations between 1984 and 1985 in and around the project area were directed toward learning what the Timorese themselves considered important issues and, in the process, promoting opportunities for the integration of their concerns and practical experience in the project development process. The initial focus for the agricultural project activities was concentrated in a thinly populated area of savanna woodland (4,000 ha) covering portions of four villages (desa) in a subdistrict (kecamatan) known as southern Amanuban. Small hamlet communities were located on the fringes of this area much of which had been designated as a forestry reserve. However, as the scope of project investigations widened to include other villages within this region and beyond, the nature of my own fieldwork became, of necessity, somewhat peripatetic. In 1986 and 1987 I developed an extended network of personal relationships with Timorese farmers and became familiar with a large number of widely dispersed Timorese settlements. My work program involved visiting different areas for varying lengths of time to pursue project-related issues and other more prosaic cultural matters from political history to concepts of illness, and from marriage negotiations to cattle-herding practices. In retrospect, this approach had its disadvantages. I was unable to spend an extended period of residence in one selected settlement after the fashion of much classical anthropological fieldwork. This tended to limit my particularistic understanding of the rhythm of social life in any one social context. On the other hand, social life in West Timar is also predicated upon movement and a continuing identification with multiple localities and social relationships. The circumstances of slash-and-burn agriculture and the dispersed settlement pattern of residence ensure that people move frequently between different localities for longer or shorter periods of time. My own mobility enabled me to pursue some of these lines of connection and over time I developed a perspective on the intricate ties that bind individuals and groups to one another within and across social domains. The focus of this study reflects the results of these rather decentred studies into contemporary social practice and an interpretation of local principles of order and tradition which inform social life in this part of Timar. My concern is less with the pragmatics and politics of economic development processes as such than it is with analysing the ways in which mountain Timorese society adapts to processes of political and social change. One of the significant themes to emerge from my involvement in the social networks of people in southern Amanuban was the importance of names as guides for understanding. Names provide keys to social recognition. In the natural environment, southern Amanuban is classified with a bewildering complexity of named places. Each place carries the story of its

4

Paths of origin, gates of life

naming. Any locality, and the prominent natural features which define it, encodes through its names the echo of past events and the experiences of the people who came before. In this way the toponyms of southern Amanuban provide a cultural map which orients individuals and groups to their ancestral origins and the historical processes by which they came to establish claims upon the land they now occupy. 3 This understanding was one that I only gradually came to appreciate. Initially much of the bewildering complexity of named localities and individuals was a reflection of my own struggle to make sense of what was for me an entirely novel and unusual environment both physically and socially. Over time, my growing familiarity with the toponymic map of the region, assisted by numerous patient local guides, allowed me to piece together some of the prominent links and relationships between names of places and names of people across this region of Amanuban. One of the patterns to emerge from my mapping of local hamlets and the charting of genealogical linkages that bound them together was a strong sense of a comparatively recent settlement by the great majority of the resident population. This was especially evident among the western villages of southern Amanuban where many households claimed to have settled the area since the Second World War or thereabouts. None of the households I interviewed could claim a settlement history beyond five generations. The fact that the area contains relatively extensive tracts of underutilized arable forest land added weight to the idea that the region was an expansion settlement area for migrating groups and individuals. During my own period of residence, the settlement of new immigrant households into the area was a continuing feature of social life. This conclusion was not to suggest that the area had been completely unpopulated in the past. There was certainly some evidence of earlier occupation and residence in the region, especially in the existence of old gravesites and some historical archaeological scatters in a number of locations.4 However the identity of the people associated with these sites was usually denied or considered unrelated to the present configuration of settlement. Those people who ventured an opinion considered them to be earlier resident populations associated with domains to the north, who had been pushed out many years before as a consequence of warfare. Among the present-day residents, the majority located their ancestral Rosaldo (1980:47) made a similar observation for the Ilongot of Northern Luzon where 'events of the past are meticulously mapped onto the landscape not onto a calendar'. 4 One of the impressive objects which occasionally emerges from these old burial sites, whether from erosion or intentional fossicking, are large (a handspan in diameter) circular brass anklets or amulets often broken into pieces or sections. Local residents do not have any recollection of wearing such objects in the past.

I Introduction

5

settlements in the mountains to the east and specifically from the region of the villages of Lasi and Olais on the eastern border area of southern Amanuban. They cited the problems of overpopulation and the difficulties they faced deriving a livelihood from the depleted soil as the main reasons for their migration. Typically these migrations were expressed in terms of the metaphor of movement from the thin or confined lands (ma'lenat), to those that are broad and wide (manuan). The term ma'lenat expresses a general cultural idiom associated with hunger and crowding, one that is synonymous with the outbreak of disputes and acrimonious feuding among residents and neighbours. By contrast shifting to the wide open country (pah manuan) is associated with abundant forest and arable land resources as well as the opportunity to establish new settlements unfettered by the constraints of a comparatively densely populated community. At the same time, these migrations did not result in the complete severance of ties with their former territory. On the contrary, the existence of a complex network of ongoing exchanges and social alliances ensures that the two areas remained closely interconnected. Throughout the year a regular stream of people carting produce and gifts move across the region linking east with west and the village communities in between. The second feature I initially observed in the western villages of the study area, was the greater social and political weighting accorded some groups over others. This is often couched in terms of how recently a particular named group has settled in the area. Certain groups are considered prior settlers (atoin ahunut) in relation to the generally more numerous households and groups who have came later, or followed behind (atoin amunit). While this distinction was a relative one and subject to challenge, it did seem to be translated into differential access to political authority and land resources at the local level. In each settlement within southern Amanuban, which may range from a fenced compound comprising several houses to one with up to thirty or fourty distinct dwellings, one named group will be acknowledged as the senior authority in the hamlet. That group is generally also linked with the earliest origins of the settlement. The name which was consistently held in the highest regard across the region of southern Amanuban as a whole, was that of Nabuasa. All communities within the area appeared to acknowledge a form of political pre-eminence of this name group in this area of Amanuban. This was evident in at least two important ways. Firstly, many of the older settled communities recognize that their claims to arable forest land derive from a former Nabuasa permission or direction to settle the area. They therefore related their own settlement origins to the historical primacy of the Nabuasa name in the area. This pattern was repeated in a many areas although the specific Nabuasa identity could vary. Secondly, many of the elected village headmen

6

Paths of origin, gates of life

throughout southern Amanuban are either named Nabuasa or trace an affinal relationship to the Nabuasa clan, or name group (kanaj). In other words, there existed an evident continuity or at least a partial overlap, between the reputed traditions of the past and the contemporary patterns of social and officially sanctioned authority. This is perhaps not altogether surprising, and it highlighted the importance that people place on legitimating contemporary practice in terms of claims established in the past. Further exploration of Timorese representations and perceptions of the past seemed to offer a productive avenue for further inquiry into the present configuration of settlement patterns and social exchange networks. The principal way in which Timorese and specifically the Meto peoples of Amanuban recount the past, is through a tradition of orally transmitted narratives. 5 They are sometimes referred to generically as the ritual language of the land (natoni pah). In my efforts to clarify the central position accorded the Nabuasa family, I began collecting a series of narratives and tales about the recalled past from different knowledgeable speakers in the various villages and communities within the region. In response to my queries I was often directed to various old men (women rarely take on this role) in different villages who were said 'to know the past' or held the authority to 'speak the past'. Often however, their contributions, whether by design or through imperfect memory, seemed fragmentary and partial. It was not until I recorded the performance of an oral narrative from a respected Nabuasa ritual chanter in the village of Lasi that a clearer picture began to emerge. In the style of canonical parallelism characteristic of formal speech in West Timar, the narrative related the historical journey of the Nabuasa ancestors. The narrator referred to his knowledge as 'my gate and my path' (au enok ma au lanak). Objectively this was expressed and conveyed through a complicated series of sequentially named places and groups. More than this, however, the narrative appeared to represent a coherent and authoritative perception of the past which implied the existence of an indigenous model of political process and organization. At the time I saw the evidence of the narrative as another piece of the jigsaw puzzle of meanings about Meto society which I was attempting to draw together. Still, much of the sense of the narrative remained elusive and unclear, expressed as it was in a metaphorical and elliptical style of speaking with terms and references entirely opaque in meaning. Eventually after more than a year of intermittent inquiries and the gatherAlthough literacy has become a feature of contemporary social life through the introduction of formal schooling for children since the 1950s, most adults over fourty years are illiterate. Moreover, the narratives of the past are still reproduced in oral form and there is no emergent practice of recording them in writing.

I Introduction

7

ing of exegetical commentaries and supplementary narratives, I came to see Kolo Meo Feto's narrative as a coherent political record of claim. It served both as a preserved authoritative version of the Nabuasa past, as well as a kind of contemporary assertion of political rights and privileges over the region. It was also a version of the past that seemed to have wide appeal across the region. When I recorded the narrative origins of other groups in the area they also tended to acknowledge to a greater or lesser degree, the centrality of the Nabuasa name within the broad narrative of the past. It is this understanding which provides a central theme for the following discussion. Specifically I argue that in southern Amanuban, it is ultimately the shared consensus over the legitimacy of the Nabuasa narrative of the past, and the implications which flow from it, which underlie the social order of contemporary life in the area. As an indigenous model, its importance lies both in the substantive information it contains about a particular socio-historical context, and in the cultural principles and classificatory schema upon which it is constructed and elaborated. Meta social practice, I argue is conditioned by a dynamic localized system of asymmetrically structured social relations that are legitimated and framed by recourse to historical precedence. Ideas of place and precedence are central to an understanding of local status differences within and between hamlet settlements. They also inform the historical patterns of present-day settlements and may help explain aspects of the broader historical expansion and migration of Meto populations. It is apparent from the existing records of the colonial past that the Meto people as a whole have been pursuing a gradual, yet persistent expansion from the densely settled eastern heartlands to the relatively underpopulated forests and grasslands in the west. Fox (1988a:267-9) has argued that this historical expansion of the Meto, now the most populous ethnic group in Timor, was fuelled by the introduction of maize during the late seventeenth century. This in effect increased the carrying capacity of the land and enabled the Meta to flourish. It also brought the formerly scattered mountain populations into conflict with one another with the result that expansionist policies were pursued under the guise of warfare. To the victor went the spoils, including access to new land and important economic resources such as sandalwood and beeswax as well as vassal populations who supplied tribute to the political centre. During the nineteenth century in particular, warfare and its principle expression, headhunting, emerged as the primary means for expansion. In presenting the Nabuasa narrative of the past I seek to show how the successful strategy of warfare and expropriation of land and labour resources were the principal means which enabled the Nabuasa clan and its allies to become the dominant political force within the territory of southern

8

Paths of origin, gates of life

Amanuban. An analysis of the reconstructed political organization of the Nabuasa domain, based on their oral tradition, provides insights into both the nature of traditional attitudes towards political structure and the significance of the twin concepts of place and precedence. The indigenous model of political history is seen to be culturally ordered at the same time as the cultural model of the past is historically informed. This forms the background to a description of contemporary social organization in southern Amanuban with particular emphasis on the character of settlement formation and migration strategies. Here I focus on a number of key aspects of social life: political authority at the local level, the control of land and the question of labour and marriage alliance. These issues are seen to be closely interrelated and provide avenues for the negotiation of status and prestige at the local level. In examining several case-study settlements within the region, my intention is to show how the analytical notions of place and precedence help to explain the dynamics of settlement organization and the structuring of social relations between households and groups both within and between hamlet settlements. In exploring these themes in terms of contemporary Meto social practice I am also conscious that West Timorese society has undergone dramatic and significant change during the twentieth century. In 1900 Meto political domains beyond the western fringe surrounding the Dutch colonial government outpost of Kupang retained a high degree of autonomy and independence. In the space of a few short years this autonomy was irrevocably compromised following a series of successful colonial campaigns to 'pacify' the interior. In this process, the intricately complex indigenous political systems were restructured, the excesses of warfare and headhunting were suppressed and a process of Christian missionization was intensified.6 The intervening years led to the incorporation of West Timor into the modern Indonesian state, and with it the creation of new administrative systems of government. Today, the process of Christianization is virtually complete, and economic development programs in the form of schools, bridges and road building, irrigation systems, population migration and resettlement patterns have exposed the interior to far reaching economic and political change. To a significant degree, the mountain populations of West Timor find themselves in a world very different from that of their ancestors. This was brought home to me very clearly during a visit to the old Nabuasa settlement site in the village of Oe Peliki. As I listened to an old man describe the significance of the former sacrificial structures which now lay in ruins overThe Protestant preacher H. Groothuis is acknowledged as one of the first to translate the gospels and preach in the language of the Meto prior to 1915 (cited in Brookes 1980:72).

I Introduction

9

grown with vegetation, the choir from the nearby Pentecostal church service filled the air with the hymns of a new religion. Yet, as the linguist De Saussure (1959:74) once noted, 'What predominates in all change is the persistence of the old substance; disregard for the past is only relative. That is why the principle of change is based on the principle of continuity'. It is all the more interesting therefore that, in spite of these evident transformations in the twentieth century, indigenous cultural models of the past and the legacy of the political order centred on the Nabuasa clan continue to provide many of the parameters for social practice in southern Amanuban. This is exemplified by the indigenous notion of order (atolan). Concerns of atolan lie at the heart of Meto ethnic identity. It is expressed in all domains of social life, including material concerns such as the construction of the house, agricultural practices and the process of life-cycle rituals, styles of speaking in everyday life and the range of idioms and metaphors by which they classify and represent the social world. West Timorese society in the year 2000 face a whole new set of uncertainties to those confronting their ancestors in 1900. The political turmoil and financial crisis within Indonesia in the last few years has had its own consequences in Timor, especially in terms of reduced regional funding for development infrastructure. The main saving grace in rural West Timor is that while farmer families and communities have comparatively little to show from fourty years of New Order Indonesian government in terms of material changes in their lives, they also have relatively little to lose. On the other hand, the continual degradation of the land through overgrazing and reduced fallow swidden places an increasingly greater number of Meto communities in marginal circumstances. The severe drought conditions experienced under the influence of the El Nino weather pattern only highlighted the precarious conditions of near subsistence agriculture in West Timor.

Anthropology on Timor Timor and specifically the Meto people of West Timor have been the subject of several detailed ethnographic studies. Of these, the work of Cunningham (1962, 1964a, 1964b, 1965, 1966, 1967) and Schulte Nordholt (1971, 1980) are prominent examples of an anthropological appreciation of the structural features of Meto society as an interconnected whole.7 Both ethnographers have acknowledged the contribution to their work of the remarkable Dutch misI note also the work of Indonesian writers who have produced significant ethnographic material on Meto society and culture, including, A.D.M. Parera (1971), M. Widiyatmika (1985), H. Ataupah (1992) and P. Lake (1997) among others.

7

10

Paths of origin, gates of life

sionary P. Middelkoop, who spent over thirty years in West Timar and developed a deep and sympathetic understanding of the Meta people. 8 My own understanding of Meta society has been assisted greatly by the observations and analyses of these previous works. In their ethnographic portrayals, both Cunningham and Schulte Nordholt focused their analyses to a significant degree upon the former political domain of Insana in North Central Timar. As a consequence, Insana has come to be seen as an archetype or metonymical model of former indigenous political structures among the Meta. Part of the reason for this is the remarkable consensus throughout the domain concerning the conceptual structures that informed political life in the past. Cunningham, explaining his decision to focus on Insana, wrote that, 'despite the short duration of my work there[ ... ]. I found the informants in Insana particularly able at describing the traditional polity as a system' (Cunningham 1962:53). He attributed this to the fact that Insana was still an integrated princedom led by an active and accepted ruler. Schulte Nordholt, as a former Dutch colonial controleur (administrator) in Insana both before and after the Second World War, was also particularly well placed to consider the political order within the territory. He played an instrumental part in the conduct of political negotiations at the time, and was clearly struck by the remarkable persistence and stability of the political structure. The model which both ethnographers identified was one based on a traditional concept of ritual communication for describing the state. In this conception, the territory was composed of four political subdomains (actually double pairs) surrounding a sacred fifth ruling centre to which harvest tribute was directed. The ruling centre was conceived of as a dual sovereignty or diarchy. It was composed of a ritual lord known as the atupas (one who sleeps) who was considered symbolically female and whose ritual authority was of a religious nature. This figure was supported by an executive counterpart (kolnel), who was symbolically masculine, and concerned with governance in the domain as a whole. Together they comprised the ruling centre. This dual character of the centre was replicated at the higher level of the polity itself, conceived of as a female half associated with the west and north, and a male half in the east and south. Each half was also differentiated into conceptual units of male and female double pairs. The schematic model Figure 1 summarizes a dense configuration of politico-religious relationships replicated at each quarter of the princedom to which named clans were affiliated (see Schulte Nordholt 1971:229-31 and Cunningham 1962:152-4). During his period of residence from 1922 until 1957, Middelkoop combined his missionary activities with detailed linguistic and ethnographic investigations. He published over thirty articles and books on West Timor and its people (see especially 1949, 1960, 1963 and 1969).

I Introduction

11

Even today, despite the dissolution of the old raja system of leadership and the absence of any officially recognized traditional ruler, there are still many people who are capable of reproducing the conceptual model of the traditional polity. I experienced an example of this impressive preservation of the 'order of the domain' one time myself during a visit to the region of Fafinesu in Insana. One evening I sought the names of the traditional political figures identified as the apopet anaet, in that quarter of the princedom. Cunningham (1962:153) had inadvertently not recorded these two names in the reconstruction of the Insana polity. One ritual specialist, a man named Michael Feo, was able to locate the names, Nufa and Tania, by chanting all the traditional names associated with that quarter of the former princedom. The names in question emerged in their appropriate place during Feo's recital although he had been unable to remember them beforehand. Overall his narrative closely resembled the orthodox political reconstruction presented by Cunningham and Schulte Nordholt. NORTH

female

'

fema~

WEST

half

Male Male

EAST

female SOUTH

Figure 1. Conceptual model of Insana (Schulte Nordholt 1980:240)

This encounter in Fafinesu during late 1985 confirmed the fact that there is a continuing high level of agreement about the structure and content of the indigenous model of Insana, notwithstanding Schulte Nordholt's expressed differences with Cunningham over the weighting accorded certain elements. The model is one that continues to inform social practice within Insana despite the absence of any official recognition of its role in contemporary

12

Paths of origin, gates of life

government, or the fact that substantial changes have occurred in the political fortunes of the old named groups in Insana. The question, however, of the form and persistence of the Insana domain structural model is not at issue here. Insana is indeed a remarkable example of a Meto domain constituted in a diarchic mode. My concern is the extent to which it can be taken as an archetypal model of political order among the Meto. In the first place, it is clear that the reconstructed representation of Insana is one predicated upon maintenance and stability. Schulte Nordholt (1971:228) said as much when he wrote that Insana was unique in that permanent disruptive divisions did not take place. But the historical reality is that prior to the twentieth century, the political climate for the majority of Meto populations was one based upon division and fission into smaller disparate units, interspersed with brief periods of order and integration. It was clearly not one of coherence and maintenance of the status quo. In this respect Insana was unusual, if not indeed unique. At various points both Cunningham and Schulte Nordholt have acknowledged this feature in relation to other political structures. Schulte Nordholt (1971:449) has written, 'the ruler is the unifying force but the urge for superiority on the part of the constituent subsections is sometimes so strong that unity breaks down'. Elsewhere (1971:384) he noted that, 'in our analysis of the various princedoms we discovered that they were prone to scission'. However, he is by no means clear in the discussion of such processes, what form this breakdown or scission could take. We learn little about the implications of political fission in terms of the ritual ties of community and the effects on the integration of the political organization. How, for example, did the narrative models of political order and configuration accommodate radical alterations in the structure of political alliances in practice? Related to the issue of political instability in Meto domains is the expression and persistence of diarchy as a central composite authority. Schulte Nordholt has noted that the notion of a ritual 'female' ruler (atupas) has variable importance across Meto domains while the 'masculine' principle tends to become more prevalent as one moves west in Timor. There was no reported symbolically 'female' ritual lord in Amanuban for example, and this feature is one that points to a more significant degree of diversity and variation across Meto domains than might be inferred from a focus upon Insana. This is why the following focus on southern Amanuban is important. What is known about that area, and the larger domain of Amanuban itself, points to a far less integrated internal coherence and one prone to persistent internal division over long periods of recorded history. Indeed, it is probably valid to speculate that the most unified period of Amanuban politics occurred only after Dutch intervention in the area during the early twentieth century. One of the aims of this study is to explore some of these dimensions of

I Introduction

13

Amanuban politics in the past by focusing on the example of southern Amanuban and the former leading named group in the region, Nabuasa. My contention is that in the study of southern Amanuban we gain an alternative comparative perspective on the practical processes of Meto politics, one which perhaps more readily reflects the reality of political uncertainty and widespread warfare that characterized pre-twentieth century West Timor. Certainly this is the case for the geographical heartland of Meto society which takes in the major divisions of Amanuban, Molo and Miomafo. The important theme which emerges in the study is the inherently contingent character of indigenous political models which reflect adaptive responses to changing circumstances in culturally specific ways. The structural principles of these models are based around creative and systematic manipulations of dual structures and fourfold structures in particular, and to this extent they resonate with the order of the domain identified in Insana. But the differences lie in the ephemerality of the particular configurations created. What persists is the design or the pattern of a political unity which serves as a template for ordering alliance between groups. Both Cunningham (1962, 1966) and Schulte Nordholt (1971) have also discussed some of the processes of incorporation and assimilation of Meto domains within the hegemonic structures of wider state administrative control. To a significant degree they have explored these issues in relation to North Central Timor especially the Meto domains of Insana and Bikomi. Similar processes of incorporation and accommodation have also occurred in South West Timor. The present study provides some comparative perspectives on these historical processes in southern Amanuban and explores a range of contemporary adjustments to these influential nationalistic external forces of change.

Theoretical considerations and the language of precedence In approaching the subject of Timorese social life, this study is informed by an analytical approach which has come to be associated with the term 'precedence' or what is variously referred to as the 'practice of precedence' or the 'language of precedence'. This is a concept which has grown out of studies of eastern Indonesia and relates to the investigation of social differentiation involving asymmetric or unequal relationships. As an analytical tool or emergent theory of social practice, the concept of precedence is also a composite term which describes a broader set of related themes or ideas. Collectively they have proved productive in the development of comparative perspectives on social transformation in eastern Indonesia and the wider Austronesian world.

14

Paths of origin, gates of life

As a genealogy of ideas the study of precedence and the emergence of a comparative ethnography of eastern Indonesia and beyond has its immediate intellectual origins in the school of structural anthropology which emerged in the Netherlands prior to the Second World War. 9 In 1935 J.P.B. de Josselin de Jong was appointed Professor of Anthropology at Leiden University, and presented an inaugural address in which he outlined a program for a comparative Indonesian studies. He described this approach in terms of an ethnologisch studieveld or a 'Field of Anthropological Studies' (FAS) 10 as it came to be known. The key feature of this approach was the identification of a structural core of elements which De Josselin de Jong believed to be common to all Indonesian societies but with sufficient variation to enable productive comparison. The structural core was a pre-defined model within which the most significant principles were a conceptual or classificatory system of 'socio-cosmic' dualism, the existence of double unilineal descent and a system of so-called 'asymmetric connubium'. The latter phrase referred to a predicted system of continuous uni-directional marriage exchange between allied groups, based on exclusive cross-cousin marriage. It remained to test these theoretical ideas about social organization against empirical data within the 'mutually interpretive context' that Indonesia offered. The most significant early attempt at applying the FAS model in eastern Indonesia was F.A.E van Wouden, a student of De Josselin de Jong, who, in 1935 produced his doctoral dissertation, later translated, under the title Types of social structure in eastern Indonesia. Van Wouden's attempt to develop a regional anthropological synthesis was based on a close examination of the unreliable and fragmentary literature. Through these literary studies he confirmed the existence of the structural core as one common to the societies of the region. 11 He argued that a system of asymmetrical connubium (one form of exclusive cross-cousin marriage) represented a 'pivot' for the organization of clan systems in social life. Further, he argued that marriage as a system of social categories, did indeed serve as a model for an 'all embracing classification' in which cosmos and human society were organized in the same way (Van Wouden 1968:2). Myth, ritual and social forms were representations of an essential unity expressed through the systematic application of dualistic and tripartite principles. Van Wouden's study of classification and marriage formed an important De Josselin de Jongs's own understanding appears to have been particularly influenced by the l'Annee Sociologique tradition associated with E. Durkheim and M. Mauss (1901-02), as well as AR. Radcliffe-Browne's depiction of Aboriginal Australia as a 'field of study' (1931). 10 Also known as a 'field of ethnological study'. 11 Though he did not explicitly define his work in terms of a field of ethnological study.

I Introduction

15

pioneering analytical outline for research into eastern Indonesia. In many ways it anticipated the later popularity of structural anthropology and works such as C. Levi-Strauss' The elementary structures of kinship (1969).12 It also formed the basis for the study of prescriptive marriage terminology systems and the rise of what became known as 'alliance theory' in anthropology. However, for several decades following its publication, Van Wouden's contribution went largely ignored and unrecognized.13 It wasn't until the publication of an English translation of Van Wouden's book in 1968 by Rodney Needham, then a leading figure in the debates on alliance and prescriptive terminologies, that the work was brought to a wider audience. Indeed it was perhaps this factor more than any other that contributed to a significant increase in ethnographic interest in eastern Indonesia. By the 1960s a series of detailed ethnographic studies had been initiated in eastern Indonesia much of it directed to an analysis of the complex marriage systems that had so intrigued Van Wouden. One of the outcomes of these intensive studies across the region was to call into question the model advanced by Van Wouden and De Josselin de Jong. Notwithstanding the similarities between the many societies in the region, it was readily apparent that the significant differences could no longer be accommodated within the formal model with its predefined structural core of cross-cousin marriage, clan system and socio-cosmic dualism. There were continuing attempts to apply the FAS model in terms of various 'transformations' of the basic principles, notably among adherents to the Leiden tradition (see P.E. de Josselin de Jong 1984), but there were limits to the usefulness of extending the model in this way. The disenchantment with the FAS approach gave way to a closer examination of indigenous social categories in their own terms and a focus on the relative emphasis of what Fox (1980b:333) has termed 'metaphors for living which are encoded in a pervasive dyadic form'. In retrospect this decisive shift in orientation to eastern Indonesian anthropology was marked with the 1980 edited volume, The flow of life, published somewhat ironically to commemorate and evaluate Van Wouden's legacy. In a short concluding essay entitled 'Models and metaphors', Fox (1980b:330-1) summarized the emergent change by noting that: research on the social categories of particular societies has tended not to dispel the notion of a structural core but rather to reinterpret it. Instead of relying on a formal model consisting of pre-defined elements, researchers have begun to gradually re-define a structural core in terms of a common set of shared social categories. Originally published in 1949 under the title Les structures elementaires de la parente. Due in part no doubt to the fact that it was written in Dutch under the title Sociale structuurtypen in de Groote Oost.

12

13

16

Paths of origin, gates of life

His examples of category distinctions were drawn from indigenous social practice across the region. Some of these elemental distinctions included relative age categories (elder-younger), gender categories (male-female), colour symbolism (black-white, red-white) and spatial coordinates (inside-outside, higher-lower). Fox and the contributors also highlighted two other key common features: the notion of the House as a physical and social grouping, and a focus on indigenous metaphors, particularly botanical ones, and their potential for generating useful comparative perspectives. The flow of life also signalled a major shift in the scope of a re-interpreted FAS by linking eastern Indonesia within the wider Austronesian speaking world. 14 The development of the ideas and conceptual relationships introduced in the volume, The flow of life, provided the basis for a range of new directions in comparative research. During the 1980s, the Department of Anthropology (Research School of Pacific Studies, Australian National University) provided a focus for much of this work. Initially the main emphasis on ethnographic research was directed at an exploration of the systematic expression of the ideas surrounding the 'flow of life' and the thematic application of shared social categories in eastern Indonesia (Lewis 1988; McWilliam 1989; Graham 1991; Vischer 1992; B. Grimes 1993 among others). However, this focus was substantially expanded during the Comparative Austronesian Project (19881992) which brought together a multidisciplinary group of scholars in linguistics, anthropology and archaeology. Among the diverse collaborative achievements of the project was a wider appreciation of the shared cultural as well as linguistic heritage of the Austronesians. It also highlighted the possibilities for the productive extension of ideas associated with the 'flow of life' and the language of precedence from a focus on eastern Indonesia to a wider linguistically related domain of Austronesia as a whole. Papers by Reuter (1993) on precedence in Sumatra, and Bellwood (1996) exploring the archaeology of Austronesian population expansion highlight this interpretive shift. 15 A further outcome of the Comparative Austronesian Project has been the 14 The issues of the boundaries of the FAS approach in Indonesia tended to be left rather loosely defined. Van Wouden's focus on 'eastern Indonesia' comprising the Lesser Sunda Islands and southern parts of the Moluccas, was basically an arbitrary distinction within the wider field of the 'Malay archipelago that J.P.B. de Josselin de Jong originally identified. P.E. de Josselin de Jong, himself a long term supporter of the FAS approach, appeared to be moving towards a wider linguistically based definition for locating the comparative field (1980:319). My own view is that a more appropriate approach is to adopt 'eastern Indonesia' as a focus for these studies without determining an outer boundary, but allowing the methodological principles to inform interpretation in the wider region. 15 I note that the linguistic distinction of Austronesian and non-Austronesian is not intended to represent some expanded FAS boundary here. Work in a variety of non-Austronesian societies has highlighted the utility of these ideas as well (see for example Platenkamp 1988; Young 1993). Austronesia, however, is a conveniently expanded domain to explore thematic variation.

I Introduction

17

consolidation and further clarification of what might be termed, an 'analytical toolkit' incorporating the idea of precedence. Although it would be premature to describe this thematic approach as a formal model or theory of social practice, it is now possible to identify a number of common features or thematic elements which inform its application. These elements have evolved out of an extended process of reiterative research and comparative reflection by a growing number of social researchers. But much of the specific characterization of precedence can be attributed to James J. Fox who has consistently found a variety of useful definitional terms to encapsulate these commonly expressed themes in Austronesian social life.16 One of the persistent features identified across a wide range of Austronesian societies is a deep concern to share and celebrate in some form of common derivation or origin. The derivation is socially constructed and may be variously based on the acknowledgment of 'a common ancestor, a common cult, a common name, or set of names, a common place of derivation, and/or share in a common collection of ancestral artefacts' (Fox 1996:132). The elaboration of this concern with origin structures and the use of a discourse of origins as an expression of individual and social identity has provided a means to interpret indigenous social processes more in keeping with local usage. In doing so analysts have been able to avoid some of the pitfalls of predefined and presumptive forms of descent, clanship or lineality (see Vischer 1992; Lewis 1996; Charles E. Grimes 1996 on origin structures). One of the expressions of this compelling interest in socially constructed origins is the preservation of social knowledge in forms of narrative 'histories' and myths of origin. Orality and the capacity to define one's origins in terms of a spoken order of event and relation are often crucial elements in establishing social identity and politico-ritual authority. One of the distinctive forms of recounting the past in different regions of eastern Indonesia is the use of topogeny or the recitation of a sequence of place names (Fox 1997:8). In contrast to genealogical records of ancestral origins, many Ian16 Like many ideas that are 'in the air' so to speak, there is some uncertainty over the origins of the analytical notion of an 'order of precedence'. Fox has noted Dumont's use of the phrase '/'existence d'un ordre de preseance' in his work, Homo Hierarchicus (1966:104). However, Vischer (1996a:195) has identified an earlier mention of the idea by Schulte Nordholt who speaks of a 'sociale rangorde' (1966:47) which was translated in the 1971 version of his thesis as 'an order of precedence' (1971:104). Lewis on the other hand, can make some claim to identifying and presenting an early explicit and detailed analysis of an 'orders of precedence' in his elaboration of the concept of oda (precedence) in Tana Wai Brama, Central Flores (1988, 1999). The idea is also implicit in Gordon's paper (1980) on the marriage nexus in Manggarai. Finally, I note that Cunningham in his 1964 article on the Atoni house was approaching the idea of precedence ranking in the following commentary, 'Appropriately, when an individual recounts events which are said by others to have occurred later, and are therefore not an ultimate precedent, they are said to have occurred tnana' (in the inner or middle past), an inferior recent time'.

18

Paths of origin, gates of life

guage communities use topogenic records of locality as forms of spatial and temporary preservation and assertion of origin. Typically these narratives are recounted as a journey, the quasi-mythical journey of the ancestors from an ancient beginning to the present. As orally preserved forms of tradition they are also amenable to political adjustments and manipulation over time. Competing topogenies and narratives of origin provide one of the significant and dynamic arenas for negotiating status and the order of relations between socially defined groups. As Fox (1988b:15) has noted, origin structures are not abstract or neutral structures. They exist for the social purpose of establishing (or asserting) precedence: 'They determine who is to be first, foremost, elder, superior, greater, or to occupy the centre'. The principal means by which these origin structures and hence expressions of precedence are organized is the classification of multiple social relationships, objects or practices in terms of elaborate registers of dual symbolic categories. These dual cultural categories can focus on a variety of relational qualities or values. One of the more significant of these relational categories or 'symbolic operators' is a commonly expressed botanical idiom of the tree and its contrastive qualities of trunk and tip or branches. In many Austronesian languages the term for trunk is synonymous with that of base, origin or source. The arboreal metaphor of trunk and tip, or trunk and branch therefore is conducive to representations of past and present, centre and periphery, first and last. Other prominent relational categories are those of life and death, of age distinctions (elder and younger), of gender (male and female), space (inside and outside, upper and lower), colour (black and white, yellow and red) and temperature (heated states and cooled states) among others. The particular dual categories that are emphasized both within and across cultural communities may be highly variable and dependent upon such issues as context, purpose and intention. The elaboration of dual classification is also often extended into multiple realms of social life. Elaborate forms of ritual or formal speech and chanting, typically expressed as a form of linguistic parallelism is a feature in many societies. These narrative traditions can incorporate extensive registers of synonymously paired categories and ideas (Kuipers 1982; Fox 1988b). A preoccupation with forms of binary classification is also commonly expressed in the symbolic conception of the person and personhood composed of elements of flesh and blood or bone and semen, and to political structures, symbolic diarchy and the delegation or usurpation of authority (Graham 1991). The rich corpus of dual relationships and their diverse application remain vital features in the conduct of social life. A further formal aspect of dual classification in Austronesian contexts is the unequal or asymmetric weighting accorded the relational categories. In other words within certain paired sets of categories, one element is conven-

I Introduction

19

tionally accorded a higher value or status.17 So for instance, elder may be considered superior to younger, male accorded a higher status than female and so on. These relationships however, are often context dependent and the possibility of modifying the relationship may be realized through category reversal and a reweighting of the values accorded the relational terms. Alternatively, because the classificatory schema of particular traditions is never entirely concordant, there is the possibility of generating relationships defined in terms of 'analogical cross-over' (Fox 1989:48). This involves matching two or more sets of dual categories in ways which appear to dissolve a clear distinction of value. The superior category 'elder' for example may be associated at times with an inferior category 'below or down'. Thus, there may be an interplay of categories and the manipulation of precedence accorded particular classifications in particular cultural contexts (see also Barnes, De Coppet and Parkin 1985:15). These generative possibilities of category asymmetry provide an important ingredient in the classification of difference and inequality in many Austronesian societies. But in order to create a relationship of precedence, and particular orders of precedence, certain dual categories need also to be applied recursively. The creation of patterns of recursive complementarity18 is one of the distinctive ways that status and social rank is ordered and contested (Fox 1989). This can be demonstrated by the following sequence.

a

>

(b/ a)

>

(b/ a)

>

b

This sequence represents a simple line or order of precedence. The particular categories that might be represented by (a) and (b) may vary, but in all cases the relationship between them will be opposed, complementary and applied recursively (Fox 1994). For example one sequence of precedence commonly found in Austronesian societies is that structured along birth order. Elder > Younger /Elder

> Younger I Elder > Younger

In this sequence or ranking of seniority a sibling group may typically distinguish or define itself in these terms, with any particular individual or group located within a recursive chain as elder and/ or younger in relation to others. Another common sequence of precedence is one arranged around 17 This has also been compared to the application of linguistic markedness that involves a relation among categories in which the unmarked is hierarchically superior to the marked (see Allen 1985 and Fox 1994). 18 Also described elsewhere as hierarchical opposition, recursive dualism or forms of 'binary trees' (Hage, Harary and Milicic 1995).

20

Paths of origin, gates of life

marriage exchange and the creation of alliances between marrying groups. This has been commonly expressed in the literature as exchanges between wife-givers and wife-takers or, more recently as 'progenitors and progeny' to emphasize the idea that groups give life and engender other groups, in the process of marriage (Fox 1996; Lewis 1996). On this basis a sequence of marriage exchange might be expressed in the following way. Progenitor > Progeny I Progenitor > Progeny I Progenitor > Progeny The significance of these lines of precedence is that any particular group will find itself in relationships of wife-giver and wife-taker, of progenitor and progeny, in relation to other groups. To give life is to be accorded a higher status just as in the above example, to have an elder sibling status confers seniority over younger siblings. In the asymmetry created and required between marrying groups, any particular group will recognize both wife- givers and wife-takers. They will therefore engender some groups and be engendered by others. The key to these 'orders of precedence' is the starting or inception point for the sequence and this in turn helps explain the great focus on social origins and temporal or spatial priority (Fox 1994). To be the source or point origin of a particular ordered set of relationships is to be accorded seniority and status. The real issue is which origin point matters. One of the distinctive features of Austronesian societies is that there is usually no single origin point that serves as a defining inception or starting for an order of precedence. More commonly the question of origins is a contested one and orders of precedence may be asserted on the basis of different relational categories. The issues here are contingent ones where context becomes highly relevant and where an understanding of the issues depends on a detailed examination of the relevant ethnographic factors in play. A concept of origin need not refer to some ancient beginning, merely to a form of relative priority in time or place. One of the outcomes of the possibility of a contested plurality of orders of precedence within Austronesian societies is that precedence as a process may support the creation of social hierarchies as well as undermine them (Graham 1994). It can serve equally as a strategy for asserting seniority as one to challenge it. This contingent quality of precedence makes the exercise of status differentiation a dynamic and contested one. For this reason analytical notion of precedence has developed as both contrastive and supplementary to the idea of hierarchy, especially the hierarchical models of Louis Dumont (1980) developed around an analysis of Indian society. One of the central tenets of Dumontian hierarchy, is the notion of encompassment by which successive levels of contrasting values are subsumed within higher-order values leading to a single encompassing opposition which stands for the

I Introduction

21

whole. In Dumont's analysis of caste in India, he determined that the dominant principle of idea-value was one based on purity and a pure/ impure distinction. In other words Indian society could be understood in terms of a single ultimate structure of hierarchy which encompassed and subsumed all other contrary values and levels (Barnes, De Coppet and Parkin 1985). Eastern Indonesia and related Austronesian social forms by contrast tend to have multiple competing oppositional values or orders of precedence at work (Vischer, in press). While single-order hierarchies of the Dumont type articulated may well emerge or coalesce around a primary principle of status differentiation, they tend to do so in constrained or defined contexts. Beyond those limits alternate or contesting values apply which may be more compelling or which may coexist in a kind of unresolved tension. In short, there are no universal hierarchies of value in eastern Indonesia, there are only pluralities of precedence. 19 Status differences tend to be contested and negotiated around claims and counterclaims articulated and demonstrated by recourse to a number of alternative orders of precedence. 20 The idea of precedence thus conveys in its various permutations, the dynamic negotiated quality of Austronesian social forms. To date the approach expressed in the analytical concept of precedence, has offered a range of productive avenues for extending our understanding of comparative social processes in the Austronesian world. It has moved a long way from the FAS notion of a structural core of predefined elements as originally conceived by De Josselin de Jong or Van Wouden. However, it retains much of the comparative vision and the central idea that 'certain features are or have been of such frequent, widespread occurrence that we may use them as basic units for comparison' (De Josselin de Jong (ed.) 1984:254 ).

Chapter outline As a contribution to the study of precedence in eastern Indonesia and its comparative relevance in the context of Austronesian ethnography, the fol19 Dumont (1980:245) has commented that 'one observes that every time a notion gains importance, it acquires the capacity to encompass its contrary'. In relation to the use of hierarchy as an interpretive approach, Fox (1994:95) has suggested that a similar situation has arisen. Hierarchy has become all encompassing in its approach. The danger is of course that precedence, as an analytical orientation, may become a totalizing process as well; one that subverts difference within a comparative discourse. 20 Alternative perspectives on Dumont's insistence of a single-order value are not new. As Clarke (1985:206) has noted in relation to his exploration of hierarchy in Nepal, 'Hence both the local constructs and analysis are marked by heterogeneity. If a multitude of factors have to be considered in historical context in order to ascertain which is the dominant in any particular case, then it is not clear that any one is dominant in any holistic or principled sense.

22

Paths of origin, gates of life

lowing study explores many of the key issues which I have described in terms of the language of precedence. At the time of the completion of the original draft (1989) a number of these terms had not entered into common usage and the elaboration of precedence as an analytical approach was still developing. Recent terms and conceptual definitions such as topogeny, apical demotion and lateral expansion, and the depiction of marriage alliance in terms of progenitor and progeny are specific examples. Given the opportunity now to revise the earlier work in the light of these developments, I have made a number of alterations to the original text in the present volume to more readily reflect the present state of understanding. I have resisted making wholesale changes however, to maintain the sense of the exploratory nature of the original and the provisional use of terms such as precedence. At the same time, in terms of presentation, the following study can also be viewed as extended discussion on the concept of precedence expressed through the ethnography of South West Timor. Following an introductory chapter on the broad social and economic parameters of social life in the region, the presentation is divided into three general sections which elaborate different aspects of the concept. Chapters III to VI represent a discursive study of origins, origin structures and history in South West Timor. Here I am concerned to situate and explicate the narrative of Nabuasa as a topogeny of origins and its representation as a politico-ritual domain. The multiple representations of order and relation expressed in narrative form and exegetical commentary are framed in terms of an array of culturally significant asymmetric symbolic categories. In chapters VII and VIII I turn to a discussion of the processes of settlement formation in contemporary southern Amanuban. Here I seek to highlight the central importance of Timorese cultural conceptions of a 'flow of life' expressed as negotiated forms of exchange and alliance. This is played out in the complex interrelationship between precedence as a contested social order of relations, and place as a context for the articulation of local authority and control over land. Just as no Timorese hamlet community is identical to any other, so the local expressions of the practice of precedence will vary with circumstances. This is demonstrated in practice in chapter eight which explores two case-study communities from South West Amanuban, highlighting particular features of local variation. Chapters IX and X shift the focus of representation from the community to the house and to household rituals in southern Amanuban. My purpose here is to highlight the significance of the house both as a built form encoding an array of cultural meanings, and as a metaphoric expression of social enclosure and affiliation. The discussion is complemented with a study of three major life-cycle rituals which focus upon the house, in this double sense, namely childbirth, marriage and death. I am concerned here to high-

I Introduction

23

light indigenous metaphors of life, exchange and alliance as modes of representation which ground contemporary practice within an ancestral heritage. Thus, the order of procedure in the study is one that shifts from the general to the specific, from the past to the present, and from the macropolitical perspective to that of the hamlet and household.

CHAPTER II

Place and people in West Timor Introduction

I begin this description with a broad view of the cultural landscape in West Timor in order to present a variety of images of late twentieth-century social and political life. My approach to the study begins with an outsider's perspective and gradually shifts towards a more informed and engaged reading of Timorese sociality in its multiple local expressions. The island of Timor lies at the eastern extremity of the Indonesian archipelago in the Lesser Sunda chain of islands. Its topography is generally extremely rugged and mountainous, dominated by a series of discontinuous mountain chains that rise along the central axis. Interspersed throughout the highland regions are rolling plateau areas and steeply incised water courses and river valleys. Geologically, the island is highly complex, with broad belts of uplifted limestone marl and marine deposits overlaying a dominant base material of scaly cracking clays. The vegetation reflects this diversity, ranging from complex evergreen and deciduous monsoon forests, through dense stands of gewang palm (Corypha elata) and white eucalyptus (Eucalyptus alba) forests reminiscent of northern Australia. In the more open savanna areas acacia woodland and grasslands predominate. The monsoonal climatic pattern is one of the principal influences on the environment in Timor, and is characterised by a short intense wet season followed by an extended period of seasonal drought. During the wet season the western monsoon brings heavy rains, generally of short duration and often associated with severe soil erosion and flash flooding. By contrast, in the dry season from May to December, there is little or no rain except in a few topographically favourable locations. Dry winds from the Australian continent blow continuously, rivers slow to a trickle and may even dry up completely, and the landscape, bleached by the sun, becomes increasingly sparse and dusty. In the marked seasonality of this tropical environment live ethnically complex and diverse populations. In the eastern half of the island, Austronesian and non-Austronesian language speakers are divided into some four-

26

Paths of origin, gates of life

teen language groups (Traube 1986:24) and multiple dialects. In the west, four indigenous language communities are recognized, all speaking variants of Austronesian languages. Tetum and Bunaq speaking peoples occupy the central lowlands and mountains immediately along the East Timar border. In the far west of Timar and on the adjacent island of Semau, there are remnant Helong speaking populations, the original population of Kupang. The subject communities of this study and the most populous ethnic group in West Timar, numbering over 750,000 people, occupy the hinterland and mountains of West Timar. They have been referred to by a variety of collective names and labels over the years. Historically, the Dutch colonial administration referred to them as the Timorese (Timoreezen), while most contemporary references adopt some variant of the terms Dawan, Atoni, or more formally Atoni Pah Meto. My own preference is for the alternate term, Meto, which in my experience is the most commonly used collective self-reference by the mountain Timorese themselves. Other names are used in different areas and contexts throughout Timar, but are generally inappropriate for a variety of reasons. The name, Dawan, for example, although widely used by government officials and now commonly understood in most local settlements, is an exonym, probably from Belu (central Timar) which carries with it derogatory connotations1 and local people sometimes express objections to its use. The term Atani, meaning variously 'man, person or people' depending on context, functions primarily as a category marker when used in reference to the social collectivity. It has the same meaning and function as the term 'orang' in the phrase 'orang Indonesia' (Indonesian person/people). More typically people use the phrase 'hai Meta' (we Meto), or hai atain Meto' (we Meto people) in reference to themselves. In this context the term, meta carries the sense of indigeneity, and is used in opposition to the category kase, meaning foreign and all things that derive from beyond their land of Timar, the 'pah Meto'. The distinction between buffalo (bia meta) and horse (bi-kase, foreign buffalo) reflects this nomenclature as do references to non-Timorese, such as Chinese (kaes 2 Sinas), Javanese (kaes Jawa) or interlopers like myself, conventionally referred to as a 'white foreigner' (kaesmuti). When Cunningham (1962) used the phrase 'Atoni Pah Meto' in the title of his dissertation, he translated it as 'People of the dry land'. Although formally correct as a description of ethnic identity, I would argue that the meaning of the phrase here refers not to the dry land as such, but to an indigenous status; one that carries a superior standing from a Meto perspective. Hence, I would render the phrase 'Atoni Pah Meto', as something more akin to 'native land people'. The term Vaiquenos is used to refer to Meto speaking populations of the East Timor enclave of Oe Cussi. I have not been able to determine the derivation of this term. This is an example of linguistic metathesis that proliferates in the language.

II Place and people in West Timar

27

Although Meta populations are ethnically dominant in the hinterland and mountains of West Timar, significant numbers of immigrant populations are also established. The most prominent of these include ethnic Chinese and people from the neighbouring islands of Savu, Flores, Sumba and Roti. Rotinese farming communities, in particular, have lived in Timar since the early nineteenth century and are well established in the western hinterland and coastal settlements. Baja and Butonese fishing communities live along the coastal fringe and in recent years significant numbers of Buginese immigrants from Sulawesi have settled on the island seeking trading and fishing opportunities.

Administration and government The eastern Lesser Sunda. Islands are known as Nusa Tenggara Timur and form one of the 263 provinces of Indonesia. Kupang, the fast developing administrative capital of the province is located on the western tip of Timar overlooking a broad shallow bay. The whole of the province is subdivided into a second tier of government, termed the kabupaten, meaning regency or district. This follows the pattern established throughout Indonesia to create an administrative homogeneity across the nation state. In West Timar there are four such kabupaten: Kupang, Timar Tengah Selatan (TTS, South Central Timar), Timar Tengah Utara (TTU, North Central Timar) and Belu. The regional focus for the following study is southern Amanuban which forms part of kabupaten Timar Tengah Selatan. This division is itself based on the former Dutch administrative subdivision (onderafdeeling) of Zuid Midden Timar. It combines the three former self-governing Meta political domains (swapraja) of Amanatun, Malo and Amanuban. Today, although many of the former district names have been retained, they now represent administrative subdivisions of the broader governmental structures. Nevertheless, age-old differences still influence the relations between the three domains, despite government efforts to break down the historical and political barriers that separate them. One of the principal reasons for the location of what has become the present kabupaten capital, Sae, for example, was to defuse hostilities between Amanuban and Malo during the early part of the twentieth century. The border area between eastern Amanuban and northern Amanatun has also experienced hostilities which erupted into civil war in 1956 until order was restored by units of the National Army (Cunningham 1962:39). Today relations remain strained and are characterised by mutual distrust and animosity which breaks out into direct hostilities from time to time. The boundary region between Amanuban and Belu in Central Timar is East Timor being no longer the 27th province.

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